Chapter 1: Circle In The Water
The night was painted with the sounds of celebration - a landscape of drunken laughter, rattling instruments, and general conversation. A joyous festival of life after a long and hard winter filled only with death. The traditional parades and ceremonies of the day prior bleeding into drink and merriment. It seemed the streets of Mournhold grew heavier with the bodies as afternoon dragged into evening. A glided field of stars opening up above drawing the inhabitants from their dwellings with their cosmic allure.
On the outer edges of the city, where the distant sounds of the merry bands and drunkards floated on the horizon, a collection of wagons lay pulled together in a circle. Resting against the hulking furry frame of a sleeping thort, the one known as Valya sat, faced framed in the dark by the glow of the shimmering mirage-like projection that she suspend in her palm. It displayed a strange cube like object made up of several interconnected pieces and locks assembled together. A Gilbert's box, a creation designed by the Prioy to test mental aptitude. The goal was to dissemble and then reassemble the box in as little moves as possible. They say the Archon can perform the full exercise in under twenty moves, Valya was somewhere in the forties and the box still hadn't come undone. As she tried at another piece which stubbornly refused to move, frustrated she let of a curse beneath her breath.
"You lost the moment you let it get beneath your skin." A warm voice echoed.
Valya went rigid, face flushed as Steward Byerel rounded the corner. Helmer Byerel was an old man, earth-toned skin wrinkled and worn, wisps of grey hair laying atop his head, short in the peculiar way that only that which was once tall could become short, hunched over clutching a walking stick. It was hard to imagine this tiny man as one the primer minds in the field of archaeology, having discovered some of the greatest sites of the modern times. Yet these days he spent most of his time as a teacher of history at the University, one of Valya's favorites.
"Sor-Sorry Brother. I didn't..."
Byerel smiled as he slowly began to seat himself next to Valya using the thick torso of the thort as an anchor, the large beast snorting as it felt the pressure. "You didn't think an old man like me would be up at this hour?"
"No! I mean yes... maybe." Valya sighed defeated as she slid over to allow the old man space as he sat down next to her. Byerel for his part chuckled as he waved his hand in a dismissive fashion.
"Relax child, if I was going to reprimand you it wouldn't be over something as base as a slip of the tongue." The twinkle in Byerel's eyes visible behind the small frames of the glasses that rested on his nose.
Valya smirked a little as she ran a hand through her hair. "Thanks. Sorry, I've just been kinda on edge lightly."
"You don't say? I figured you just normally give off the air of an empty field before a storm rolled in."
"That obvious eh?" Valya replied averting her gaze making little drawings in the dirt with her finger.
"I selected you for a reason Valya. You're ready." Byerel explained as he gently tapped her on the side of the head. "For now though you should rest. Tomorrow is going to big day for everyone and I need you in fighting shape."
"Yeah." Valya responded finally, but by the time she had looked up the old steward had vanished into the darkness from once he came. Another frustrated sigh as she slammed her head into the side of earning a annoyed grunt from the thort as it shifted in its sleep. Sleep. Sleep was the furthest thing from Valya's mind at the moment. How could she sleep right now? No, if she was going to get rid of the excess stress she needed to expend it somehow. She needed to go on an adventure.
She quickly slipped out of her robes, shoving them in a crumpled pile into her bag. This left her in her more standard attire, a simple shirt off-white in color, sleeves hanging loosely off the arms, and a simple pair of brown breeches. Didn't need folks talking about the wandering initiate the next day, Byerel had enough to worry about.
She carefully crept out of the encampment and headed inwards. Valya had seen many cities in her time and each have had their own peculiar character, from the lavish halls of Varkhym, to the austere towers of Hektra. But, Mournhold was a place all of its own. Even now late into the evening as it was, the city breathed a choir of alien tongues into the flickering torch light. Sneaking her way through the masses that thronged the streets; Valya played the game fast and loose between progress and danger as she attempted not to get crushed by the tide of bodies.
Many were looking in the distance where the night sky was exploding into bursts of color. Fireworks, a hallmark of the Jotun tribes. Such displays initially designed to ward off evil spirits. They persisted to modern times especially popular during festivals such as the Budding Wind.
Letting the explosions draw her forward, Valya progressed until she hit the Vira. The Brown Goddess, the vast body of water carries vast tonnes of mud for over 2,000 miles starting in the towering ranges far beyond the Ventari Expanse, before meandering slowly through much of the northern Holdings finally ending in the Far Wilds. In Mournhold the Vira bisects the city into two, serving as the primary method of ferrying both supplies and people to the wayward city, before vanishing into the darkness of the Tyrick.
Much of the entertainment and business ventures of Mournhold are centralized upon the river's banks. Including a large dome-like structure constructed out of sheet metal and heavy cloth that caught Valya's eye. Scribbled into a large wood panel that hung above a pair of double doors - Dagan's Drought. The sounds of laughter and shouting within overpowering even the noise of the fireworks droning them out to subtle tremors in the distance. As Valya step closer to investigate, the doors flung open as three large humanoids tossed another like a sack of potatoes out the door. He landed not far from Valya on the street expunging whatever contents he had left in his stomach.
"Well this looks fun." Valya whispered to herself before righting her posture and stepping through the doors.
Almost immediately, the girl was greeted with the sheer scale of things. The entire Drought was a singular uninterrupted circular room strewn with tables, even above her connected with ropes and ladders, several large suspend platforms which had their own tables and patrons. All of it was connected to a centralized pillar at the center that rose upwards like the mast of a great war galleon. At the base of this pillar was a large bar serviced by an equally rotund Cellva, something which surprised Valya since she didn't even know that Cellva could get fat.
She quickly stepped out the way as a small figure zoomed past her. It appeared to be a variation of the servitor golems that were used to carry messages in the University. The small spherical mass suspended atop of a singular wheel, yet these ones were modified having large server plates that were suspend above their heads with some kind of levitation enchantment, and upon these plates they carried drinks to the various tables, some even going up strange lift like contraptions to reach the upper platforms. This strange menagerie of controlled chaos putting Valya into a sort of staggered awe.
Silently she navigated the sea of tables and people to reach the bar, where she sat down upon one of the provided stools. Ordering a drink, something strong she turned her head over her shoulder to look out into the crowd
---
"Hey, hey no need to get feisty with us here." Priyet spoke his voice a calm warning.
Like any other night he was playing cards at the Drought. Dagan was good to the Vigil providing a sizable discounts to any of their ranks. In exchange, the Vigil was more than happy to provide a little extra muscle to the keep the peace in such a busy establishment. Drunks are a lot less likely to start brawls, when a quarter of the patrons are armed mercs. Tonight, was a little more special than any other evening of course as for many tonight would be the last time they could have a drink, and a hot meal for a long while, so they tended to lean more in the realm of excess than they would normally.
Priyet was playing with Kran, the chapter's quartermaster and a bunch of rivermen in a game of Bal. A popular game among soldiers and sailors alike. Kran who was as readable as a wall having melded a straight flush for the fifth time that night. The rivermen who were down a significant portion of their coin by this point, were starting to reach the point of anger. Accusing, Kran of swindling them somehow without any proper evidence.
"World won't end if I cave his face in." Kran whispered beneath his breath. Kran was another old hand like Priyet, mid to late forties, dark hair and beard peppered with grey, eye-patch over his left eye where a corsair had gauged it out in his days serving in the Varkhym navy. Saltier than the sea that he rode on, but Priyet were sure as hell happy to have him at his back during a brawl.
"Yeah, but Rika will have your balls for it." The Rika that Priyet spoke of was Captain Rika, one of the few Ventarians to call the Holdings their home, the one in charge of their chapter, and the most intimidating woman that Priyet ever had the pleasure of serving under. The mere mention of her name making Kran pause for a long moment. "Come on, just walk away."
Kran sighed in acknowledge and very slowly began to back away with Priyet. The riverman, a large fellow with greasy slicked-back blonde hair and a chest covered in a tapestry of tattoos continued his drunken tirade.
"Ye vig-ul typess ainae 'at toogh ur yeah? He slurred as he puffed out his chest. "Gang 'en rin awa' ye sons ay whoress!"
Kran froze and turned. Priyet cursed beneath his breath.
"Screw it." And with a bounding leap, the quartermaster flung himself over the table and collided into the riverman's chest sending him straight to the ground. Before the man could ever react, Kran began to unload a barrage of blows into the man's face.
The riverman's companion, a weaselly looking fellow with a mouth fill of holes and a wandering glass eye looked at Kran and the riverman, who to his credit had managed to get the quartermaster off of him, and then at Priyet. Giving a broken smile he reached towards his belt and pulled a wicked looking curved dagger.
"Dammit Kran." Priyet muttered as he grabbed a chair by one of its legs and smashed it against the table, leaving him with an improvised club. Raising it into a duelist's stance he looked at the riverman and beckoned him forward. Despite it all, he could feel the smile starting to break across his face. He was rather glad that the idiot had made the unknown mistake of insulting Kran's mother. It had been a long while since they had gotten into a proper scrap.
This was going to be fun.
--
It had all happened so fast. There was a yell, then the sound of something crashing to the floor and then the entire establishment had broken out into a brawl. Valya did her best to stick by the bar and try and wait things out. She watched as a colossal Jotun in the distance took what appeared to be a leg of a chair and hit a man so hard with it he actually went airborne for a second. Others all around were getting into the action as well.
So intensely was Valya watching the scene transpire she almost didn't see the clay bottle that came rocketing towards her head. Seeing it at the last moment she quickly made a series of frantic motions with her hand, her gloves glowing as she did and the bottle was deflected off some invisible conjured barrier. Spinning to the right it collide into the large furry lion-like mane of a Ukanuq that sat the bar. The Ukanuq for his part didn't even flinch as it broke across his head, purple liquid running down his golden fur. His eyes did move though locking on directly to Valya, as he let out a low snarl.
"I'm really really sorry about that."
The girl quickly began to back up trying to put as much distance between herself and the angry cat-man as she could. With the deliberate methodical pace of a predator, the ukanuq rose, his steps slow and measured as he flexed his furred-hands, which ended in some rather sharp appendages that Valya would rather not of liked to have rip her throat out.
"Come on this doesn't have to end violently." Valya insisted as she continued to follow the perimeter of the bar in a long circle.
The ukanuq fired back an unintelligible response of snarls and grunts. Valya who as part of her studies had studied several Ukanuq tribal dialects understood the basics of it, and she didn't like it. The cat-like creature tensed its leg and in a flash he pounced at the girl, knocking her to the ground with minimal resistance.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!"
On the outer edges of the city, where the distant sounds of the merry bands and drunkards floated on the horizon, a collection of wagons lay pulled together in a circle. Resting against the hulking furry frame of a sleeping thort, the one known as Valya sat, faced framed in the dark by the glow of the shimmering mirage-like projection that she suspend in her palm. It displayed a strange cube like object made up of several interconnected pieces and locks assembled together. A Gilbert's box, a creation designed by the Prioy to test mental aptitude. The goal was to dissemble and then reassemble the box in as little moves as possible. They say the Archon can perform the full exercise in under twenty moves, Valya was somewhere in the forties and the box still hadn't come undone. As she tried at another piece which stubbornly refused to move, frustrated she let of a curse beneath her breath.
"You lost the moment you let it get beneath your skin." A warm voice echoed.
Valya went rigid, face flushed as Steward Byerel rounded the corner. Helmer Byerel was an old man, earth-toned skin wrinkled and worn, wisps of grey hair laying atop his head, short in the peculiar way that only that which was once tall could become short, hunched over clutching a walking stick. It was hard to imagine this tiny man as one the primer minds in the field of archaeology, having discovered some of the greatest sites of the modern times. Yet these days he spent most of his time as a teacher of history at the University, one of Valya's favorites.
"Sor-Sorry Brother. I didn't..."
Byerel smiled as he slowly began to seat himself next to Valya using the thick torso of the thort as an anchor, the large beast snorting as it felt the pressure. "You didn't think an old man like me would be up at this hour?"
"No! I mean yes... maybe." Valya sighed defeated as she slid over to allow the old man space as he sat down next to her. Byerel for his part chuckled as he waved his hand in a dismissive fashion.
"Relax child, if I was going to reprimand you it wouldn't be over something as base as a slip of the tongue." The twinkle in Byerel's eyes visible behind the small frames of the glasses that rested on his nose.
Valya smirked a little as she ran a hand through her hair. "Thanks. Sorry, I've just been kinda on edge lightly."
"You don't say? I figured you just normally give off the air of an empty field before a storm rolled in."
"That obvious eh?" Valya replied averting her gaze making little drawings in the dirt with her finger.
"I selected you for a reason Valya. You're ready." Byerel explained as he gently tapped her on the side of the head. "For now though you should rest. Tomorrow is going to big day for everyone and I need you in fighting shape."
"Yeah." Valya responded finally, but by the time she had looked up the old steward had vanished into the darkness from once he came. Another frustrated sigh as she slammed her head into the side of earning a annoyed grunt from the thort as it shifted in its sleep. Sleep. Sleep was the furthest thing from Valya's mind at the moment. How could she sleep right now? No, if she was going to get rid of the excess stress she needed to expend it somehow. She needed to go on an adventure.
She quickly slipped out of her robes, shoving them in a crumpled pile into her bag. This left her in her more standard attire, a simple shirt off-white in color, sleeves hanging loosely off the arms, and a simple pair of brown breeches. Didn't need folks talking about the wandering initiate the next day, Byerel had enough to worry about.
She carefully crept out of the encampment and headed inwards. Valya had seen many cities in her time and each have had their own peculiar character, from the lavish halls of Varkhym, to the austere towers of Hektra. But, Mournhold was a place all of its own. Even now late into the evening as it was, the city breathed a choir of alien tongues into the flickering torch light. Sneaking her way through the masses that thronged the streets; Valya played the game fast and loose between progress and danger as she attempted not to get crushed by the tide of bodies.
Many were looking in the distance where the night sky was exploding into bursts of color. Fireworks, a hallmark of the Jotun tribes. Such displays initially designed to ward off evil spirits. They persisted to modern times especially popular during festivals such as the Budding Wind.
Letting the explosions draw her forward, Valya progressed until she hit the Vira. The Brown Goddess, the vast body of water carries vast tonnes of mud for over 2,000 miles starting in the towering ranges far beyond the Ventari Expanse, before meandering slowly through much of the northern Holdings finally ending in the Far Wilds. In Mournhold the Vira bisects the city into two, serving as the primary method of ferrying both supplies and people to the wayward city, before vanishing into the darkness of the Tyrick.
Much of the entertainment and business ventures of Mournhold are centralized upon the river's banks. Including a large dome-like structure constructed out of sheet metal and heavy cloth that caught Valya's eye. Scribbled into a large wood panel that hung above a pair of double doors - Dagan's Drought. The sounds of laughter and shouting within overpowering even the noise of the fireworks droning them out to subtle tremors in the distance. As Valya step closer to investigate, the doors flung open as three large humanoids tossed another like a sack of potatoes out the door. He landed not far from Valya on the street expunging whatever contents he had left in his stomach.
"Well this looks fun." Valya whispered to herself before righting her posture and stepping through the doors.
Almost immediately, the girl was greeted with the sheer scale of things. The entire Drought was a singular uninterrupted circular room strewn with tables, even above her connected with ropes and ladders, several large suspend platforms which had their own tables and patrons. All of it was connected to a centralized pillar at the center that rose upwards like the mast of a great war galleon. At the base of this pillar was a large bar serviced by an equally rotund Cellva, something which surprised Valya since she didn't even know that Cellva could get fat.
She quickly stepped out the way as a small figure zoomed past her. It appeared to be a variation of the servitor golems that were used to carry messages in the University. The small spherical mass suspended atop of a singular wheel, yet these ones were modified having large server plates that were suspend above their heads with some kind of levitation enchantment, and upon these plates they carried drinks to the various tables, some even going up strange lift like contraptions to reach the upper platforms. This strange menagerie of controlled chaos putting Valya into a sort of staggered awe.
Silently she navigated the sea of tables and people to reach the bar, where she sat down upon one of the provided stools. Ordering a drink, something strong she turned her head over her shoulder to look out into the crowd
---
"Bullshit!"
"Hey, hey no need to get feisty with us here." Priyet spoke his voice a calm warning.
Like any other night he was playing cards at the Drought. Dagan was good to the Vigil providing a sizable discounts to any of their ranks. In exchange, the Vigil was more than happy to provide a little extra muscle to the keep the peace in such a busy establishment. Drunks are a lot less likely to start brawls, when a quarter of the patrons are armed mercs. Tonight, was a little more special than any other evening of course as for many tonight would be the last time they could have a drink, and a hot meal for a long while, so they tended to lean more in the realm of excess than they would normally.
Priyet was playing with Kran, the chapter's quartermaster and a bunch of rivermen in a game of Bal. A popular game among soldiers and sailors alike. Kran who was as readable as a wall having melded a straight flush for the fifth time that night. The rivermen who were down a significant portion of their coin by this point, were starting to reach the point of anger. Accusing, Kran of swindling them somehow without any proper evidence.
"World won't end if I cave his face in." Kran whispered beneath his breath. Kran was another old hand like Priyet, mid to late forties, dark hair and beard peppered with grey, eye-patch over his left eye where a corsair had gauged it out in his days serving in the Varkhym navy. Saltier than the sea that he rode on, but Priyet were sure as hell happy to have him at his back during a brawl.
"Yeah, but Rika will have your balls for it." The Rika that Priyet spoke of was Captain Rika, one of the few Ventarians to call the Holdings their home, the one in charge of their chapter, and the most intimidating woman that Priyet ever had the pleasure of serving under. The mere mention of her name making Kran pause for a long moment. "Come on, just walk away."
Kran sighed in acknowledge and very slowly began to back away with Priyet. The riverman, a large fellow with greasy slicked-back blonde hair and a chest covered in a tapestry of tattoos continued his drunken tirade.
"Ye vig-ul typess ainae 'at toogh ur yeah? He slurred as he puffed out his chest. "Gang 'en rin awa' ye sons ay whoress!"
Kran froze and turned. Priyet cursed beneath his breath.
"Screw it." And with a bounding leap, the quartermaster flung himself over the table and collided into the riverman's chest sending him straight to the ground. Before the man could ever react, Kran began to unload a barrage of blows into the man's face.
The riverman's companion, a weaselly looking fellow with a mouth fill of holes and a wandering glass eye looked at Kran and the riverman, who to his credit had managed to get the quartermaster off of him, and then at Priyet. Giving a broken smile he reached towards his belt and pulled a wicked looking curved dagger.
"Dammit Kran." Priyet muttered as he grabbed a chair by one of its legs and smashed it against the table, leaving him with an improvised club. Raising it into a duelist's stance he looked at the riverman and beckoned him forward. Despite it all, he could feel the smile starting to break across his face. He was rather glad that the idiot had made the unknown mistake of insulting Kran's mother. It had been a long while since they had gotten into a proper scrap.
This was going to be fun.
--
It had all happened so fast. There was a yell, then the sound of something crashing to the floor and then the entire establishment had broken out into a brawl. Valya did her best to stick by the bar and try and wait things out. She watched as a colossal Jotun in the distance took what appeared to be a leg of a chair and hit a man so hard with it he actually went airborne for a second. Others all around were getting into the action as well.
So intensely was Valya watching the scene transpire she almost didn't see the clay bottle that came rocketing towards her head. Seeing it at the last moment she quickly made a series of frantic motions with her hand, her gloves glowing as she did and the bottle was deflected off some invisible conjured barrier. Spinning to the right it collide into the large furry lion-like mane of a Ukanuq that sat the bar. The Ukanuq for his part didn't even flinch as it broke across his head, purple liquid running down his golden fur. His eyes did move though locking on directly to Valya, as he let out a low snarl.
"I'm really really sorry about that."
The girl quickly began to back up trying to put as much distance between herself and the angry cat-man as she could. With the deliberate methodical pace of a predator, the ukanuq rose, his steps slow and measured as he flexed his furred-hands, which ended in some rather sharp appendages that Valya would rather not of liked to have rip her throat out.
"Come on this doesn't have to end violently." Valya insisted as she continued to follow the perimeter of the bar in a long circle.
The ukanuq fired back an unintelligible response of snarls and grunts. Valya who as part of her studies had studied several Ukanuq tribal dialects understood the basics of it, and she didn't like it. The cat-like creature tensed its leg and in a flash he pounced at the girl, knocking her to the ground with minimal resistance.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!"
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