On top of the Sybaris stood Otorock, the ancestral home of the Otori Clan, the ones most well known for their short, thick coats of hair and impressive musculature and blubber. They were the kings and queens of the water in the Riverlands, having spent the last few generations hunting the mostly harmless inhabitants of the rivers and gorging themselves on their bodies and spirits.
Even now, despite being a land structure, Otorock had managed to remain one of the most affluent settlements in the entire region, only rivalled by the likes of New Nata and Yerna.
And yet, despite its perceived impenetrableness, Otorock had fallen. Its outer walls had been breached countless times, while its citizens’ homes smoked in the aftermath of a city-wide fire or laid as scattered debris. The only building that stood mostly intact was the Otori Clan’s royal family’s manor.
It was a beautiful structure – built during a time of opulence in the early days of the Riverlands, a time that was long gone by now. Its beautifully groomed gardens and maintained roofing tiles were now either overgrown or cracked, and the arc that had been placed at the very entrance of the walled manor, imported from the heart of the Dusklands and sold to the Otori Clan by the Sallians, was now decorated with the hanging heads of most of the city’s slaver leaders.
The Silvan man sitting at the manor’s porch contemplated the scene and sighed and rubbed at his temples. Salvia’s bright smile and mud-covered clothes, Caninia’s dance and song under the moonlight, and Sisenno embarrassed grin when introducing his wife-to-be to him. Image upon image of his children flooded the man’s mind, and he shed a tear.
How had it all gone so wrong? He thought. They had only ever meant to gain their own freedom, so how…
The sounds of the celebration going on inside the Manor faded away. To him, the only thing that remained were the memories he had of his family. He’d never see them again, not after what he’d done and what the Otori would do to him once they decided to take back their city.
It was all part of the plan, of course, but who knew that dying and sinning would be such a scary prospect?
II
Following the Bronzed Bloom’s actions in response to the requests made of her in the recent past, the Church of the Bronzed Bloom had diverted most of its funding directly and indirectly into the already vast treasuries of the Fragran Clans, resulting in the creation of a super power never before seen in the Daman Lands.
The ones who had complete control over the supply of Fibres and almost all high quality prosthetics suddenly saw themselves become the leading military might in the Lands, exerting their influence over all the territories all the way from the heart of the Junglelands.
And yet power did not come without its fair share of issues. The sudden increase in power saw rival clans act in impulse, seeking to bleed the weaker Fragran Clans dry and obtain their wealth and technologies for their own use.
War and suffering wracked the Daman Lands and culminated in the creation of the United Daman Clans, a block of different clans united under the leadership of the elusive Orbita. The block seeked to enact its will of peace and freedom upon the Daman Lands, whether it be through influence or force, and immediately set out to subdue and/or eliminate dangerous clans such as the savage Otori, the cannibalistic Ursae, and the bloodthirsty Selachi, all while incorporating and protecting weaker clans such as the Rodentia and the Cervinae.
But even though the UDC preached and practiced peace and harmony amongst its members, there were still clans that were unsure of whether to join up with them or with the more predatory clans. The Vulpine and Hominid for example had members working for both sides of the conflict, opportunistically bleeding their countrymen for as many Xas as they could before throwing them under the Chariot.
It was those opportunistic, still-neutral predatory clans that were key to tipping the scale of power in the conflict towards the UDC, and this coming event would be the key to gaining their support.
In the Riverlands, the great fortress city of Otorock, the Otori Clan’s ancestral home and centre of operations, lay in ruins and occupied by a force of a few dozen slaves-turned-rebels. They were volunteers hailing from the near endless number of slaves that the UDC had freed from slave camps across the Lands, sent on a long-term undercover suicide mission with the goal of taking out the Otori Clan leadership, rescuing the daughters of a well-known Vulpine Warlord from the Otori dungeons, and causing a big enough distraction to allow time for the UDC army to flank the Otori’s reclamation forces.
III
Suniff rushed through the twisting and turning hallways of the Otori Clan’s Manor until he reached a large beautiful painting of a setting sun, which he moved out of the way to reveal a hidden door leading to a little-known escape route, known only by the Otori Clan’s most favoured escorts.
He turned to nod at the pair of little Vulpine girls following him. They held each other close, tails intertwined and ears flat against their otherwise human heads.
“It’s time.” He said, his voice a little rougher than he’d have liked. The girls nodded nervously and ran into the tunnel as soon as he opened the door for them. He closed it after them and smashed the lock in, then put the painting back in place before rushing back to his post. Through the twisting hallways, up the stairs, and into the Otori Head’s Chariot Garage.
The day before he had felt conflicted. To know one’s death was coming was a distressful experience, but it also felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. There was nothing more fruitful that he could be doing with his life, other than giving it away so that his own children could live in a better world, one that wouldn’t see their freedom stolen away by greedy seal-men or impulsive hominids. Whereas before he was on the verge of breaking down, he now felt like the tempered tip of a Fragran Crystallista bolt.
As soon as he entered the garage, other men started to file in one after the other. The men came from all walks of life. Some of them were Daman, others Silvan, and even still some were Benean, Xavorians, or even Sallians. Suniff took the opportunity to change his grimy and ill-fitting armour for a custom-made Chariot Jumpsuit that he’d been carrying in his pack, and then joined the rest of the men in a circle.
One of them, the only Birth-Fragran that had joined them on their mission, started to hand out glowing dogtags to each one.
“Theze are your headzztonez. Hold them with your dominant hand and bind your zzoulz into them zzo that when our bodiez are found our countrymen are able to zzend our lazt memoriez to our loved onez.” he explained and immediately showed everyone what to do with the dogtags. He put them on, grabbed them firmly and with a single flash of his soul bound his soul to the accessory.
Everyone else did the same thing, with Suniff being one of the last to do it. Binding his soul to the dogtags felt like a pinprick that just wouldn’t go away. It was strange, knowing that your memories were being recorded.
The Fragran’s leafy hair vibrated as everyone’s eyes focused on him again and he nodded. “It’s time.”
All as one, they began to chant their oath.
“I solemnly swear,”
Everyone placed their hands on their chests.
“To devote my life and abilities,”
Distant marching rumbled on.
”In support of the United Daman Clans,”
The marching stopped. Metal clinked together. Crystallistas were loaded. At this point, the men looked around nervously and parted ways, though their oath still echoed through the halls of the Manor. Suniff jumped into the cockpit of his borrowed Chariot, a beast of bronze, iron and wood. A one-eyed ex-paladin named Hyundai jumped into the back and started to load the chariot’s crystallista, and Suniff revved up the soul-engine by feeding it some of his soul. The beastly machine came to life with a roar.
”To defend everyone’s dreams,”
A stocky Silvan man named Julius with a stick for a leg pulled the chains keeping the gates of the garage closed and managed to release the lock. The gates opened slowly. An explosion rang out from some other part of the Manor, followed by the sounds of clashing metal.
”And to further the universal rights of all created life.”
The gate opened and the Chariot sped forward into the light. Everyone’s voices but his own and his ex-paladin friend faded away, and yet Suniff and Hyundai kept chanting.
”From the depths of the Sybaris,”
Suniff took a sharp turn and the Chariot came face to face with a crowd of Otori berserkers. They looked at the chariot and charged, pikes and halberds at the ready. Their roars almost drowned out their oath.
”To the heights of the Frita,”
Hyundai let loose a volley of Crystallista bolts at the crowd, the unfortunate Otori men exploding a second later in a shower of gore and fire. A half moment later, the Chariot was bombarded by dozens of arrows from behind the smoke. Several arrows lodged themselves in Suniff’s screen, mere inches away from his head and chest. The Chariot skid as Suniff lost control of the steering bar and crashed into a burned down building.
He coughed and kicked his cockpit open and jumped out. A large splinter of wood had found its way into his right arm, so he held a dagger in his left hand as he stumbled through the wreckage. He was the only one chanting their oath as he saw the hulking figure of a decorated Otori berserker find its way into the wrecked building. He tightened his grip on the dagger and grinned at the Otori.
”For as long as I shall live.”
IV
The mission was a success. While the loss of such an amount of brave people was regrettable, their sacrifices served to bring the Daman Lands one step closer to a lasting peace and a better future. By the time the Otori Reclamation Forces had wiped out the rebels, it was too late for them to realise that they had let all their exits be blocked by the flanking UDC army. It was only a matter of waiting and pulling off victories in small skirmishes until the Otori forces surrendered. There was no food inside the Otori Fortress city after all, after the Rebels had burned down all the food stores.
Following the Otori clan’s complete collapse, the Riverlands fell into a state of temporary chaos until the UDC annexed a vast majority of the territory and brought stability to the region, and after such a show of force and cleverness, the Vulpine clans quickly decided to officially side with the UDC. Now, the only real hardliner predatory factions remaining were those located in the heart of the Daman Lands, in either the Snowlands or the Great Daman Desert.
It was only a matter of time until the Daman Lands were reborn under the kind rule of the Orbita.
Daman Lands is in civil war. United Daman Clans are a faction sponsored by the Church of the Bronzed Bloom, who seek to bring freedom and protection to all in the Daman Lands and bring prosperity and civility to the region. They stage a long-term undercover mission that sees the Otori Clan (sea lions) wiped out and the Riverlands released from predatory leadership.
The Gringam market was an open square in the center of the city of Tringam. Why it was called Gringam and not Tringam was a testament to the city's first mayor, who was more of a warlord than anything else and no one wanted to tell him he misspelled the sign when he announced the building of the market. Despite his academic failures, the market itself was a success. It was a large open area with a glorious fountain modeled after a Benean courtyard (fitted with an arguably fox-like version of Benea at the top). Surrounding this was open flagstones for people to ponder around while browsing the mishmash of stalls and blankets or to run across from store to store — the buildings marking the perimeter of the area.
Renault was standing in front of the statue, staring at the likeness of Benea and pinching his chin. This was the first time he saw another culture’s depiction of her, and from what he heard, the warchief had a bit of a crush and it was apparent in the stonework… very apparent. Lifting a brow, Renault soaked in the artistry, trying to figure out why they picked a fox of all animals when an elbow rammed into his rib and he jumped.
He turned to Fora and blinked. “Did you spot the merchant yet?”
To still be visible and yet to avoid having too much to wear, Fora was at the moment a long fur cloak with a wooden mask and a hood. “Yes. The path is not the easiest though, you have to go up a catwalk of wood planks and ropes, and walk over the market, you can see it from here, where the squirrel kids are playing in. Surprisingly easy when you are a lithe invisible woman, but I fear you might struggle.”
“Hey, I can be lithe!” Renault frowned and looked up at the suspended walkways that a completely different warchief had installed after declaring “This square is a bit flat.” Once again, no one felt the need to disagree. The paladin cracked his knuckles and craned his neck.
Fora smirked, since nobody could see it. “Hmm~ Well then, go for it, champ. Make sure to keep a swing to your walk as you go up there, helps to keep your balance.”
“Whatever,” Renault waved a hand. “I’m a paladin, it’s just a mess of planks.” With little else he made his way to the catwalk and marched right up it to the mangled mess of suspended planks, ropes and platforms. Here and there a stall was nailed to a platform and the more desperate merchant was hawking in front of it.
Taking his first step off the catwalk and onto one of the planks, the wood immediately began to swing forward underfoot. “Woah!” Renault hissed as his front foot was sent outward and his backfoot remained on the catwalk until he came to a full split. His voice squeaked. “Weedss.”
Although hilarious, the situation wasn’t exactly helping Fora’s objectives. It didn’t take long until an invisible hand held him. “Sigh.” Fora said, aloud, not even sighing. “Come here, hold my hand, I will help ya with this, before you fall down on that poor pottery stall down there.”
Renault grabbed Fora’s hand and yanked himself up. Making sure his voice was back to normal and standing up tall, the proud man shook his head. “Nah, I can do it — just caught me off guard is all.” Clearing his throat, Renault scanned the upper level until he spotted a dingo-man over by a booth of fish. The paladin clicked his tongue. “Fishy.”
A pause and Renault looked back down at the planks. This time aware of how far they swing, he started to walk across them nimbly and with precision expected of his footwork. He danced around a family of possum-people and skirted around the squirrel kids until ultimately he landed on the platform with the fish stall.
Drengant Bartago immediately slapped a massive fish down on a cutting board and bared a cleaver fit for a horse. “How much you want?”
“Depends on what you're selling.” Renault crossed his arms and the dingo-man squinted.
“Fucking fish.”
Fora had been at the stall already a bit before Reunault, and had been poking around as well as she could. While the dingo was distracted, she swiped a few goods that were definitely not fish, and put the ambrosian tech right in the stall’s display, not too far from the lobsters and shrimps.
“Well what about those?” Renault pointed a finger at… an ambrosian finger. Drengant twisted a scowl.
“Those aren’t for sale, they aren’t even mine.” He started to swipe them from the display but Renault pressed.
“Then whose are they?”
“My sister’s.” Drengant slammed his cleaver into the cutting block. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“Well maybe I should ask them of your sister!” Renault leaned over the counter, matching Drengant’s tone.
“Maybe you should!” Drengant barked back.
“That’s it!” Renault hissed. “I’m kicking your ass!”
“Bring it on, flower-forehead!” The dingo man rolled up his sleeves and started to march around the stall. Renault cracked his neck and shook his arms free of his cloak.
“I’m gonna muzzle you, you dog-faced piece of shit!”
“Shit!” A squirrel child mimicked as it ran by giggling. Renault angrily shook his head and jabbed a finger forward at Drengant
“Look at what you’ve done!”
The dingo-man scoffed. “Me!?”
While this sad display was unfolding, Fora continued her work, taking advantage of the new dingo-less status of the stall to check for as many clues and tech as she could, eating some shrimp too, the little treats native to Daman were far tastier than any swamp prawn from the Dusklands.
A sharp knife pricked Fora’s back and a silky voice fell over her shoulder. “Something doesn’t smell like fish, did I find it?”
Eeping with surprise and pain, Fora did the best she could to slip down the ground and quickly turn to meet her attacker, doing her best to stay quiet despite the desire to ask questions or yell. Above her was a fit woman who didn’t look too different from Drengant; sharing his dingo-like qualities. The biggest difference was this woman had two ambrosian arms of the highest quality that Fora had ever seen and a mean look in her eyes.
“Drengant!” She barked, causing the fish hawker to flinch. “I think one of those Chameleon brats is trying to rob us again.”
Renault peeked over and curled a smile. “Are you this sister I keep hearing so much about?”
“Quiet you!” Drengant turned back the paladin.
“I am no chameleon. How rude!” Fora yelled, but only after she had already seized, and thrown, a bucket full of fish entrails, at the general direction of the dingo lady. The splash of red and purple painted the woman and her immense scowl.
She visibly shook with anger. “Who…. Whoooooo…. Whooooooo!!!”
“Are you sure you’re not owls?” Renault quipped before getting a punch to the gut from Drengant.
Fora was not gonna wait and see for what happened next, she was no paladin, and one stab was enough for the day, so with her agile reflexes she jumped backwards, one time to get off the stall, two times more to fall in range of a dangling plank-and-rope bit from an upper walkway, the plan would have been flawless if not for a detail.
Magistrates were naturally invisible, and drank pigment potions to become visible. The most common one was black, which is what gave then the paper white and oily black gradient features most commonly seen in the Dusklands. In Badja Kiri, newer magistrate compatible pigments were invented, which is why down there it was not uncommon to see magistrates in white and blue, or white and purple. New compatible pigments were discovered from time to time, a newly found one, it turned out, had been shrimp pink.
With the tension and adrenaline pumping, the once fully invisible Fora was slowly, but notably, gaining a hint of pink, looking still very see through, but notably visible even for an entrail covered dingo woman. Everyone stopped and stared. Drengant’s fist fell from Renault’s stomach, his sister looked on with wide eyes, and Renault looked on with an arched eyebrow that only meant trouble.
With the scene frozen, and with as much willpower as he could muster, Renault forced his eyes away and took advantage of the pause. His fist was a blur, slamming into Drengant’s side so hard the man let out a squeak before collapsing to the platform. In half a moment, Renault had leapt over the stall, snagging a fish on his way. The sister stabbed forward with her blade, but Renault held up a cod, the knife stabbing into the scaly beast. He let go of his fishy weapon and spun, grabbing another fish as he did and sent it in an arc.
“Oof!” The heavy fish smacked the sister right in the nose and stunned her backwards. Renault’s hands disappeared under his cloak only to reappear, sending out a wire weighted with metal balls. His elbow shot out at the captured target and smacked her right at the base of the neck — her eyes dimming.
The sister’s deadweight fell into one of the paladin’s arms. He turned back to his partner, victorious.
Fora took the chance to swing and jump back, looking at them both up and down and smirking, for once that act being visible to everyone else, “Good job, but…” looking sharply to the side, she could see some sort of commotion starting, and the market would soon erupt in a chaotic rumble. “I think it's time to bail. I got an escape route, just follow my voice and be ready to jump from rooftop to rooftop.”
Renault gave a serious nod. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Fora nodded too. “Alright. Come with me.” she jumped again past the stall and the boxes, quickly making way to a nearby makeshift bridge. “Over here. Quick, and kick it off the edge soon as you are past it.”
Although the fallen bridge would delay others for a little while, it would not stop them for long, and with so many eyes in the rooftop market it would be a long walk before they had fully eluded any pursuer. Fora showcased her agility around the maze of ropes, taking more dangerous paths to scout ahead for Renault, and now half-visible, giving him full view of just what she meant by ‘lithe’. Once past the shanty of stalls and wooden structures, she stopped for a moment, observing the structure.
“Renault, kick that wooden pillar to your left, and then run, run as fast as you can.” she ordered, because as the already half-rotten from the humidity of the last snow melt structure was hit, it started to crumble, causing a chain reaction all over, ultimately causing the collapse of a whole poorly kept stone building onto the street. Renault would be able to spy Fora with a smirk and shaking fists as the world crumbled and a large cloud of dust rose, covering them all and making it impossible to see past one’s armsreach.
A hand soon touched Renault’s arm. “Over here, I got the whole path ahead memorized.” Fora added, smiling, her face increasingly visible and showcasing an excitement at the whole planned chaos unfolding. The two would continue their rooftop path but not for long, Fora pointed at a shanty house with a half-collapse roof and then both would slide in.
“Shh” Fora signaled, pointing at an old mole woman, the house owner, staring at the ruckus and cloud of dust rising from the market. With light steps they would move from her living room to her kitchen, and take the back door to a stairway, now it was time to run, if not slide, downhill, as the snowmelt from the heat of all houses provided a small stream down straight to the edges of the town. A bit foul smelling, and with many close calls as they had to move past iron grills and under makeshift stone and wood bridges, but ultimately, they were fully out, the noise and smell of the town left behind as they entered a nearby forest, stopping at a grove where Fora had already hid a basic cache of supplies, including enough ropes to bind a dingo woman.
“Hah! Now that was quite something, wasn’t it?” she almost glowed in the quality of her work. Truth be told, most of it was unnecessary, but it was better to be safe than sorry. She also continued to be fully unaware of just how vibile she was, which made the fact she had a proud victorious pose as she looked back at Renault notably dorkish, as no one was supposed to see it, so why even bother? “Now, can I trust you to finish it and bind her? I would help but I need to rest, my legs and arms turned into gelatin.”
The paladin was already tightening the final knot on the unconscious dingo-gal when he shook his head at his pinkish companion. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a little scary?” He cracked a grin. “Pink might be your color, though.”
“Yes, quite a few times actually.” she nodded to herself. “Had quite a name for myself back in the academy.” she added walking around as she talked.
“You are getting quite good at hearing me out too, you barely could notice me back when I first went invisible, now you can pretty much follow me around. Guess I gotta murder ya later to make sure we can spy on Benea’s garden and baths.” she stretched. “That is a joke though, I am not even one of the agile ones as far as active magistrates go.”
Renault blinked and stood up straight from his stooped position. He slapped a hand on Fora’s shoulder to pin her midwalk and laughed. “You idiot, I can see you.”
“Huh?” she blinked. “What do you mean, I haven’t taken the ink in so long… What the…” she looked down, and saw her form, still a bit see through, but increasingly visible, to confirm, she picked up the nearest metal object and gazed upon herself, from the braided hair to, well, everything, it was all visible.
“Oh!” she gasped and stepped back, eyes wide. “Renault… This is…”
“YES! Oh Renault! (the paladin choked on his breath) You wouldn’t know for how BLOODY long I have been seeking something like this! Nyoriko that bitch will have her chin upon the ground when I show up with a fully natural, renewable, pink dye. This will be talk of the boutiques, THE dye for all chic magistrates in the next festival. If I was a Xaviorard merchant, I’d be rich!”
It took her a long moment for her to cool down, the woman slapping at Renaults’ shoulder with a wide, wide smirk, almost making her look like one of those half-foxes of the Daman. “Man, what a day, got to break stuff up and make scientific breakthroughs. Phew!” she took a deep breath. “Anyway, uh. Do you have like, spare clothes? I guess walking about naked isn’t that viable when I am visible, no?”
“Hmm..” Renault fell into a deep thought, eyes sizing Fora up as he did. He looked down at his cloak and then back up at Fora and repeated. “Hmm…” Another second went by and he shook his head. “Nope.”
“Okay then. Guess I will just walk around with you like this then. All day. Until I die of hypothermia or something.
“Ugh.” Renault shimmied his cloak free and tossed it over Fora’s shoulders (a veritable clank sounding as hidden weapons jangled inside the folds). He crossed his arms, now bare and revealing the multitude of needles and knives strapped to his biceps and forearms. “I’m not that much of an asshole. Close, but not quite.”
Fora was quick to adjust the cape into a tunic, keeping a few daggers in the fold. “Much warmer. You are a good guy Renault. Remind me to give you back your wallet when we get back to your main camp. I needed a bit of collateral for when we had our mark.” it was impressive how much more annoying she became when she was humanized in form, fancy clothes and invisibility really did lots to make her more imposing. “Wanna make bets on what we will have to do for her to spit out all we want? Oh! Maybe set up a good kidnapper bad kidnapper routine!?”
Hefting the sister over his shoulder, Renault regarded Fora with a raised brow before letting loose a sigh. “Add a little bit of pink and suddenly your bubbles come out, huh? We can go with that plan, and if it doesn’t work I can wind you up on another rant until her head explodes. Deal?”
“Ah. Do you know what we call doing that in the Badja Kiri Psychological Department? Benean tactics~”
Using his free hand, Renault flicked her forehead. “And don’t you forget it.”
Renault and Fora are back at it again. We open up with Renault sizing up a particularly generous sculpture of Benea and an invisible, naked Fora doing surveillance for the merchant Drengant Bartago. They find him in the upper floating platforms of the Gringam market and decide to squeeze some information out of him. It doesn’t work and Renault and Drengant get into a fight (well if you can call it that) before Fora is found out by Drengant’s sister, the assistant to Jole. Her and Fora have a spat and in the end Fora (unbeknownst to her) becomes visible by eating a shrimp. The nudey ghost routine does wonders at distracting the siblings and Renault manages to use all his will to take his eyes off Fora and use it to get the upper hand. He goes all paladin on their asses and kidnaps the sister, and then escapes with Fora.
Later Fora showcases a bubbly side to her on account of the shrimp chemicals and Renault is amused. They decide to interrogate the sister when they get back to camp, but not before Renault reluctantly lends the naked Fora a cloak to wear.
Eleanna tapped her chin. She couldn’t quite understand how the crystal in front of her eyes had formed. Much less why it was just… Out on the surface, rather than deep down in the earth. Daman minerals and crystals were always found in the deepest caves after all. Then again, perhaps comparing this strange new land to her own was the wrong way to go. This land called Maelite, for one, had no sky. It also had no grass, no light (other than that of the road of light barely visible over a dark hill), and no heat.
The goddess absentmindedly shot her arm-ballista into the darkness, a shrill whimper echoing through the miniature valley. She put her attention on the dark crystal again and broke off a small piece of it and licked it. It tasted awful, like wet charcoal. She then sniffed it and sneezed. It was extremely powdery once broken, and all that powder had found its way into her lungs (she probably will have to wash her lungs out later, she realised as she coughed). Ultimately, she rubbed it hard and fast, and pursed her lips as the crystal failed to catch fire.
Next she grabbed a random black pebble she saw on the ground next to the crystal. She liked it and sniffed it, confirming it tasted and smelled the same, minus the powdery part. Then she rubbed it and perked up as it immediately lit on fire.
It didn’t just put itself out either. It kept burning… And burning… And burning. After a full five minutes, Eleanna blew the fire out and put the pebble in one of the many pockets sewn into her Ambroisen-enhanced furs and leathers. She also took a big chunk out of the crystal, then pulled a couple sacks out of her pockets and collected as many pebbles and crystals as she could find.
Eventually, both sacks had been filled up to the brim so she tied them off and brought them back to the Road of Light, where Yenna was waiting for her sitting on the hood of her Chariot, reading through one of the many books Eleanna had bought for her when they’d driven past Eunomia. Breyan books, apparently, salvaged from the wreckage of some random library down south. Eleanna didn’t care at the end of the day, as long as her gift made Yenna happy.
“I have zero idea how you can read Breyan, Yenna. That language is craaaazy.” Eleanna said as she popped the side cargo door open and threw the sacks of resources inside unceremoniously, the whole chariot bouncing as a response.
“It’s called studying. Also my husband grew up in Brey’s land, he even went to his classes! Can you imagine that, being able to attend a wise god’s lessons?” Yenna asked dreamily, to which Eleanna rolled her eyes.
“I’m off to hunt. You know, so we can eat. Enjoy your book!”
“Yeah make me a sandwich while you’re at it, woman.” Yenna chuckled. Eleanna couldn’t help but chuckle too as she grabbed a spear out of the cargo hold and went back out into the Maelite Wilds.
II
The Hunt had been super dope, Eleanna thought. Tied to her belt were numerous skulls, ranging from tiny all the way to human-sized. They all once belonged to one of the many kinds of monsters inhabiting Maelite, but now they belonged to her as trophies.
She was in the process of cutting open her last kill of the day and stripping its exoskeleton off when she heard footsteps approaching her from the darkness and looked up to see a glowing white goddess walking towards her. Eleanna furrowed her brow, threw a final bit of raw insect flesh into her mouth and stood up.
The approaching goddess had her hands clasped at her waist and her wings furled to either side of her. Her face was sullen and a strange film twitched over her form — not unlike an unclaimed node’s region. Stopping to meet Eleanna head on, the despondent deity murmured at a volume that pissed Eleanna off. “Oh, hello.”
The bronzed Goddess nodded at the despondent one. “Name’s Eleanna. You this land’s owner?”
“How silly…” Monica said under her breath. “I cannot own anything and yet we are all owned.”
Eleanna blinked, then squatted back down to continue harvesting every last piece off her kill. “Sis I live in a land full of mutated beastfolk and none of them have said nonsense like what just came outta your mouth.”
“Live… living…” Monica gasped. “I don’t know what living is, here I am alive — no I wish to be dead. Both the start and the end, to experience both at once.” A realisation dawned on the strange goddess' face, “I am not your sister, I am your enemy.”
Eleanna dropped her survival knife and stared at Monica. A moment later, as her own body and equipment started to glow, she grit her teeth and shot her arm-ballista at the Goddess. The bolt whistled through the air and severed the Goddess’ right wing. One scream rang out, born from excitement.
Eleanna’s vision swam in red as she picked up her spear and charged at the shocked goddess. Feathers filled the air. Black blood sprayed from Monica’s back. Eleanna laughed when she felt the familiar feeling of metal grinding against flesh and bone as her spear found its mark, Monica’s mouth.
Eleanna’s charge had been so powerful that both Goddesses eventually found themselves crashing through a boulder and falling onto the dark grass. Realising that her spear had broken in half, Eleanna dropped the useless stick and clawed at Monica’s torso. A full ten seconds later, Eleanna realized that she couldn’t feel any blood spraying from Monica’s corpse. In fact, she could still see Monica gurgling blood and staring at her with bloodshot eyes.
From her position on top of Monica, straddling her waist, Eleanna grinned.
“Can’t move huh? Tends t’happen when you get your spine severed. Now, I wonder how much effort went into this armour of yours… Shame you need to be wearing it for it to protect you.” Eleanna let out another laugh as she let her hands travel all over Monica’s torso, until she found a series of laces across her back. She effortlessly flipped the defeated goddess around, undid the laces and took her armoured robes off.
“You said you wanted to die, right? Well I can’t make it too easy for you, what with you being an enemy and all…” Eleanna traced a finger down Monica’s spine, relishing the feeling of her claws getting caught in bone and nerve clusters along the way. “... but I’ll give you what you want.”
III
Yenna yawned. Maelite was the weirdest place she’d ever visited, and that included the untamed lands. First the sky was completely black, now it was blood red… It was as if the place was in a perpetual state of apocalypse. It didn’t help that she could hear Eleanna’s laughter in the distance every time she killed some poor creature.
Thankfully it had been a while since the last, and as Eleanna emerged from the darkness outside the Road of Light, Yenna squinted. Her best friend was covered head to toe in splashes of black and grayish-green blood and had a number of insectoid skulls tied to her belt. She also carried two more sacks of stuff. One of the sacks she threw into the still-open cargo hold, while the other she threw onto the ground while she rummaged through the cockpit for what Yenna assumed to be the portable stove.
“Nice hunt?” Yenna asked, eyebrows raised in genuine curiosity. It wasn’t often that Eleanna would come back in such a good mood from her hunts.
“Yeah! Got a bunch of nice trophies this time. And good meat, too. Remind me where you put the Eunomian Sea Salt, Yen? I’ll make us a pair of nice steaks.”
Yenna flipped herself around on the hood of the Chariot to lay on her belly. “It’s under your seat. I had to hide it so you wouldn’t eat it all.”
Eleanna visits Maelite, finds not-coal and not-asbestos, fills two comically oversized sacks full of the things and brings em back to Yenna’s Chariot. She then goes out to hunt, meets Monica, then kills Monica and goes back to Yenna with a bunch of new trophies.
Xavior stood in the central chamber of the temple surrounding his one and only personally owned node, examining the monolith with a fresh eye. The workshop form in which the seemingly endless innovation had sprung had been cleared away because that well, he knew, had finally run dry. Now there was only what he and mortal kind could make with their own hands and minds left to discover.
He had to wonder why that was. There were still so many nodes he could gain access too after all, and yet here was a cap. Was this simply the peak of what was possible? Was it a limit put in place deliberately by something or some one? A creator or a previous law maker? The document of the known history of the crucible, as told by Olipha anyway, sitting on one of the remaining bits of furniture in the room next to a steaming teacup did not give answers, but it did give hints that secrets could be found that he and not even considered might be available to them before Dzallitsunya had gotten her to spill the beans on the rest of her past.
Of course, most of them would have been wiped away with the resets, such as the obelisk the goddess had found when she had first come into being, so there was something of a limit of where to seek them. Best to start with the one constant: the nodes, which was why he was presently wiring together a large array of green glowing gemstones around the base of it, the cooling crystal wax mixture painting pulsating magic circles all over the room.
Some might question if he had time, energy and finances for such frivolous experiments. There were wars on, and an even greater one to train for, but sometimes, in the god’s opinion, you needed to sate your own desires, or in this case do something with the idea you had been buzzing around in your head since the last cup of inspirational honey sweetened tea you had had. That specific idea was a theory that the nodes must be connected somehow for the information they shared to be transferred, not to mention the ability to use them for long distance transportation. And if there was a network down there, then perhaps he could find something interesting from its layout.
Thus the large array of seismic gems and the actual main investment for this experiment, an amulet worn as a buckle on the belt of his nice new tailored suit. Once the array was all set up, he flicked it open, revealing a hyper-dense crimson gemstone of his own making, within which masses of magma churned with roiling power, which flooded out into the room and supercharged the gemstone array.
“Now then, let’s see just how deep this goes”
“Xavior? Are you here? We have training soon!” Annie called out as she entered the central chamber of the temple, having been looking all over for her god. She raised an eyebrow at what seemed to be a trashed ritual array of some kind, lines of crystal wires having been meticulously laid out and then had the gems they were meant to link up torn out.
She was wondering if all this would explain the rumbling that had occurred earlier. That, plus the empty teacup and equally empty honey pot next to it gave her a hint that she was on the right track, and caused her to give the room a proper once over in her search for her god.
While doing so she quickly found something strange. A hole in the floor.
“What is this?” she asked the deep, dark hole as she leaned down to peer into it and saw nothing but darkness within and then, on a hunch, shouted down it at the top of her lungs “Xavior! Are you down there!”
There was a pause as her words echoed down the hole for several seconds, before a call of “Yes!” came back up to her. The demoness sighed, running a hand over her face and then had to ask “Why?”
Down down, so deep down, deep enough that the stone was growing hot the god poured endless power into the haphazard energy drill he had been using to bore ever downwards after his first attempt to find the bottom of the node had failed, the crystals shoving the stone aside and compacting into denser materials to reinforce the absurd tunnel the god was digging. Yet despite all of this, the hours of digging, the ruined suit and exhaustion he was forced to shout back up “Because this just keeps going down forever!”
Xavior, hopped up on inspiration honey, tries to use seismic detection to find out how deep nodes go, and fails. Then he makes a magitech drill to dry and dig deeper to get a better reading. And fails to find the bottom again, because it’s impossible.
But he does make an artifact to supercharge magitech he makes in the process, so it's not a complete waste of time/energy
2/8 mp
-2 mp for the Volcanic Heart: an hyper dense gemstone charged with endless amounts of magmatic power far beyond what a mortal made gem could output. It lets the owner supercharge chaos crystal based magitech, generally requiring special constructions to hold the vast amounts of power within. Normal magitech will overload if fed all the power, but the heart can also spread its charge out to keep mundane tools near the wielder permanently topped up and brimming with energy.
At four in the morning, it is cold and it is snowy. Outside the stone barracks of the 23rd garrison, a great howling wind was carving up the tundra. Without any forest of pine to break the storm, it only gained speed as it blew through the flat land, freezing everything in its wake and leaving a sheen of ice wherever it touched. From the wells to the training posts, to the stone piles, everything was glassed under a thick layer of the stuff. Worst still, at four in the morning, the day started.
No light filtered through the windows of the 23rd, and no light itched Peral’s eyes open. It was the dark season, a strange arctic time when the sun refused to rise and as such Peral hadn’t seen it in months. Instead, the gentle clap of a wooden rod against a hollowed wooden ball with a hole woke him up. It was one of the few compassionate sensations he was allowed as an Artack Elite in training, but it served a military purpose like everything else.
Now, his eyes snapped open, the energy in his body not matching the slow alarm. He jumped to his feet and drew his sword (which had been placed in his sheets). Spinning, he pointed it towards the center of the long room — his bunkmates doing the same. There at the end of every blade was a tall man with a long blue cape. He stood with his arms behind his back and an unimpressed look in his eye.
“Too slow,” Drillmaster Calvin announced without a speck of thought or surprise. “Three strikes of the rod is much too slow. And you!” He pointed at one of Peral’s bunkmates, the woman in question, Lana, furrowing her brow. “You didn’t sleep nearly as deep as you should have, you must make the most out of resting time.”
Lana let out a puff of frustration but before she could defend herself, Calvin tapped a training rod against the floor. “Two hours of deep meditation.” Everyone started to scramble to the floor, but then the training rod tapped again. “Outside.”
Artack training isn’t all about martial skill, but bodily skill and endurance. That’s why Lana and Peral will have things such as old vegetables, snowballs and even stones pelted at them while they attempt to meditate in a battle stance. If they can keep a stable mind under fire, they will be one step closer to being an elite.
Fluff about the Artack and how strict they are. The Trivia hider pretty much says anything important
A family in Dusklander society is big, very big, and very unequal. They remind oneself perhaps of what one would call 'clans' and yet with the social expectations of noble houses. Families are dedicated to one craft, and, in general, the villages and small towns will have a family for each craft, with the exception of farming and similar occupations. To get into a craft, you marry or are adopted into the local house. It does help to keep a level of mobility, when the owner of the land and the workers are all cousins, well, they take care of each other, even if one will obviously get to wear fancier clothes than the more 'expandable' side of the house.
That is however an explanation given from afar, look deeper and the already complex system turns into an actual mess. For example, a house of fisherman would obviously rather have their own carpenters, so the house would start marrying and adopting in that direction, it became so widespread these people got a name, 'manyagjir', and it didn't take long for the government to crack down with rule after rule about the topic. Similarly, taking advantage of the right to divorce and re-marriage, the central core of the houses would start basically swapping partners on a regular basis, a manner to expand influence and maintain a group, as the first central house leaders started to die. Obviously, sometimes one will fall in love with people of incompatible crafts, and that in itself required a whole lot of exceptions to the rules and new rules.
And then there is the whole inter-regional government, the institutions, the researchers and natural philosophers. The military, the foreigners, the diplomats. The way these houses operate in the big cities, be it as a native or as a small lodge from a crafting centre opening up a branch.
I would not say the system does not work, it does, so far, but it is notably delicate.
--
Today I had quite a surprise, I have been assigned my own personal Magistrate, to carry my belongings and remind me of my schedules, she also acts as a pass to many locations that were before out of reach. The only issue: she is always around, with her creepy doll eyes and distant look. Llasara is her name, I think.
For a start, I asked her to take me to the closest one could call a market in Tsorovah.
She guided me straight to the central junction and religious plaza, indeed, the yelling and murmur were equal to a market, with house and village representatives setting up cooperation deals, lots of sailors, gondolas, cranes and crates, with an equal amount of magistrates and their subordinates ordering goods around, taking note of what came in and checking for contraband. From that, you could catch glimpses of all of the nation's riches, and indeed the sight of a shipment of spice arriving was interesting.
But I wanted more, something inspiring, overwhelming even. I wanted displays and people trying to sell me their displays. It surely must exist somewhere, because there is Dusklander artistry. It took a lot of effort to get my little paper skinned friend to finally get what I was looking after, and so, we departed the distribution centre.
"boutique"
Or something similar, to be honest, Llasara diction was weird and her tone too low. Anyway
Boutique, meaning excess, not excess as in excessive, decadent, but rather, 'excess goods'. The houses would often have way more resources in their hands than they needed, what to do with that? Well, if you are lucky, if you are from the central core of the families and houses or just blessed with talent, you get to use that excess to make whatever goods you want and distribute them in the boutique. And I mean distribute, not sell.
Dusklander art is therefore very practical in nature, tailors make outfits, carvers make furniture, smiths make jewellery, miners have their gems and hunters rare furs, fishermen have pearls and shells, and so on. Mosaics, statues, and poetry, I guess, are not to be seen, paintings only in patterns for the architecture of homes and in the pottery, other types of art. One gets these goods by being a 'good citizen, in other words, if in Eunomia one gets to wear gold for being the best at carving a profit in the markets, in Tsorovah one wears gold to show how much of a good pet to Dzallitsunya they are.
Jokes aside, it's a shame the Boutique is hard to access for foreigners. When I went there it was a foggy day, the turquoise patterns in the walls and pillars of buildings with frames of brass shone in a glorious but discreet fashion, as is the way of beauty in the dusklands, the streets were illuminated by the light of the houses of the richest and most powerful, passing through stained glass windows, the light would print the colourful patterns upon the street.
--
All words in the streets of Tsorovah were about Badja Kiri and their alchemists or about the war. Of course, with so many paladins already in the 13 I thought the way I could help was by researching the latest dusklander inventions in their prime college. So I asked Llasara to take me there, and to my surprise, she accepted.
But, the foolish girl actually took me in the complete opposite direction. I thought magistrates were supposed to never make mistakes like this, and yet, we went right into the mirror marches, in a completely different Node.
As far as it goes, the node truly changed a lot from the first reports we got from the companions of lady Benea herself. Tsillara is well known for its wine and silk, but it's the arid salt flats and the upper frozen lakes that are truly impressive.
A whole network of stone tunnels and aqueducts is shaping the region up, for both irrigation and to be used in mining operations, all originating from the frozen lakes and the ever-falling snow of the upper highlands. The black cotton sails of the dusklanders, often sought for ships, are here used for windmills connected to operate a crusher, creating massive force to pulverise the ice and maintain the water flow open. I cannot help but notice this technique could be imported quite easily to the Artack.
The simple operation of these devices was enough to bring others to live in the icy region, add to that the army down in the central region of this node further pushed the locals to really up their game as far as fishing goes. The icy lakes of the mirror marches are not lifeless, even in the past it was noted that creatures lurked beneath and ice fishing was common, now, however, the people were pushed to dive deeper.
The dusklanders like water, comes from their homeland being a swamp I guess. In the canals of Tsorovah it was not uncommon to see the youth swimming about, fishing, playing with pet otters and dogs, most undressed, some however carried satchels of the ever so-common black cotton tsillo, there they casually used it to collect things that had fallen down the river or pretty shells and rocks, many seemed to dive for minutes at a time. In the lake however this was no play time, it was professional. Groups of fifty men and women at times would gather up, pull out a magmatic gemstone, harpoons and chains, then a group of, what, two to four, would undress and jump into the cold water, taking the harpoons, seven minutes later they would resurface in a much worse state, so pale they made the other dusklanders look tanned. They would be quickly helped with blankets and the aura of the gemstones while the group of fifty would take the chains, pull them, and out came absurdly sized fishes, crabs and squids.
Llasara told me that not only did they do the fishing I saw, but many underwater structures were being built using these free divers, from nets to capture fishers to crucial structural parts of the previously mentioned ice crusher. She took the chance to ask me how much I knew about the divers of Node 12, but I really did not know much.
I asked her for an extra night to observe the locals, she seemed... annoyed. She noted that I really liked watching people dive since I had also spent so much time in Tsorovah observing it. I was more interested in the food, and in letting my poor legs get some rest after so many days of the journey, but her assumptions actually helped me old, because for once, she decided not to tag along, leaving me be while she went off to attend other matters.
This was my lucky break. I could have not got a visit to Badja Kiri, but, at the same day I was staying in a small ice fisher village, the Dusklanders were holding an army drill on their latest equipment, by the unusual lights off in the distance it seemed to include the so-called alchemical artefacts.
I could not skip the chance to gaze upon that, and so, wearing a cloak of bear fur and a cloak of thick tsillo, I went off into the cold night.
--
The first thing I saw after getting a good view of them atop a hill was their cannons. Small and of a silver colour, it seemed not to be operated by crystals, but by using some sort of ignitable powder that was then lit up by a match. It was louder and created a lot of smoke, but it seemed to work as far as throwing massive balls of metal around went. These were being tested en masse, and seemed to be doing well, as far as the cheering of the crowd went. At their command was a magistrate, holding some sort of device that reminded me of an astrolabe. In fact, all the squads were led by magistrates with similar equipment.
The other group that seemed cheerful were the crossbowman, if the cannons were notable for being smaller, these were notable for being longer, mostly metallic frames. The bolt seemed to be lever operated and moved with ease, somehow shining, yet when locked, it seemed to become tense as the shine faded, the bolt was then launched in full silence, hitting the targets with ferocity. There were similar experiments with similar devices but that acted like slingshots, these had lesser ranger and impact but seemed to fill a purpose.
One person was very happy later when her weapon worked, it was what at first I thought was a buckle shield in her arm, but it was sharp, hollow, and just before she threw it like a disk, the whole thing bloody caught up in a white flame. It seemed like she could carry at best three of these things, the user could not possibly be practical, and yet, even from a distance, it caught me by surprise as it lit up the dark cold night and fell upon the training dummies like a star.
There were normal archers and they seemed to mostly be testing fire arrows, but the last few salves were of an arrow that left a silvery fog in the air as they moved, from what I saw, they were intended to explode not too long after landing, it was a dry explosion that left low hanging fog around the impact. I say intended because most of the experiment failed, mostly midair, but one unlucky archer had it go off when they were adjusting it in their bow, I was seeing it from a distance, but I could see the effect it had on his arm and the side of his face, even from a distance I could see it, it was like petrification, it became lifeless, too solid and yet brittle... a terrible thing.
There was a break in testing after that, when it resumed, the archers were nowhere to be seen.
Some new people arrived, and I recognised their uniform as that of a city guard, the others seemed like normal soldiers. The guards used a whip that upon impact released sparks of light and had a loud crack noise, not that of a whip but closer to lightning strikes, the soldiers would test a similar spell, but this one on the shield, they took a guarding stance and struck it with a sword, causing a bloom of sparks and noise to be released forward, to where the enemy would be.
That was about it for this night, the field started to empty out a few magistrates talked with a human woman with a colourful pair of glasses, she was very bothered and kept looking eastward, as if waiting for something, or someone, to arrive. Telling others they needed to 'put their souls into it' or something like that.
Out of the cold, back at my lodgings, I can't help but feel underwhelmed. Dusklander technology seemed interesting at first but these results were beneath what I expected for what was supposed to be their own variation of magic. Alchemy seems like an art far too delicate and subtle to be useful in war, if useful in anything at all.
I decided to move from Node 8 to Node 3, they say there is a port city up there, though most of the node is an inhospitable mountain. Its right by the Artack and should make for a trip back home, which I might take, as my enthusiasm grows lower.
--
Alchemy is a wonder, it's truly absurd.
Today, I am at Kollore, the capital of Node 3. The lead-up to it was not pleasant or encouraging, cliffside route after cliffside route, through rope bridges and dry gravel expanses, with one area of meagre green terraces, with people who looked nothing like the typical dusklander, they looked tired, apparently, their work was to go up in the mines.
Not a typo, up. While there are mineral riches down mineshafts, most of the mining work in Node 3 is done by going up the impossibly tall mountain and working on exposed quarries or extracting mountain coral from the bizarre wilds up there. Yes, corals up in a mountain too, at least the fish are where they belong, up in the sky flying among the coral.
Apparently, even breathing is hard up there, and miners will go to lodges filled with plants and boiling water to get some fresh air. Llarasa reminded me of how much easier their lives, as well as the lives of the tunnel diggers would be if the rumours of breathing herbs from Eunomia were real.
But who cares about those, Kollore, the city itself, after so much bleakness, what I saw was stunning. It was a verdant paradise, a hanging garden nestled between the frozen wasters, mount insanity and the hell known as Artack. They that if Badja Kiri is the town of alchemistry, this is the town from alchemistry.
Before it was a sad little harbour, probably as disappointing as the terrace towns I crossed, but it became THE focus of the intellectual elite, all the best minds of engineering, botany, and alchemy not preoccupied with the war arrived here, and they were carving Eden from stone.
Carving is literal, as with acids and picks of metals I cannot properly describe they cut the mountain up at sharp angles, reinforcing it with massive stone bricks walls. Water is pumped up by windmills from underground reservoirs, passing through a sand and gravel field heated up by these massive, massive mirrors, all this high up in the mountain, the water then going down brass-like-metal pipes which spreads in a series of canals and waterfalls on the city, all the way down to the sea.
The mirrors will alert a reader to a fact, this land is not covered by the typical Dzallitsunya "blessing" of eternal dusk and eclipses, indeed, the sun shines upon this land, and to cope with that the dusklanders made the whole city hide under orchards, very few homes rise above the shade of the trees and most are somewhat underground or built into the mountain. This orchard also acts to trap the heat of the water vapours, giving an almost subtropical humid and hot feeling under the leaves, among houses of glass and garden after garden of vegetables and flowers. My magistrate attendant informed me that this heat came from the fact we were in the highest layer of the town, as we went lower, the climate within the leaves and glass would be colder.
The alchemists had provided not only the infrastructure for the city, but the very soil. The process is ongoing so I could see it in many stages, from weakening the stone with acids, salts and silver fumes, to building ditches of red, rich dirt, and from there slowly shaping up the land, transplanting entire trees and planting others, raising up cottages of glass and twisted, flexible wood. The water flow provides the working force for the sawmills, the grain mills, fabric looms and even pottery wheels, this isn't used for intense production, but rather, leaves the citizens with notably a lot more free time to just walk around, enjoying the gardens with their translucent parasols and turquoise and black silk dresses.
Marcus post, sets up more dusklander stuff, this time with more alchemy, here is a list of the info from most relevant to least relevant.
- Dusklanders have used alchemy to have small silver falconet cannons, fancy crossbows and mechanical slings, flaming disks, spark whips and fire arrows. This is all in heavy testing phase, so only the cannons and maybe a few flame-throwing disks will make it to the war soon.
- The project to use all the engineering and alchemy to make better use of the land has started, Node 8 has canals transporting icy water down to the fertile valleys and snowy weather windmills, Node 3 has a garden city of terraces and solar-power heated water.
- Dusklander society is divided into massive families that act like corporation-clans that specialise in certain crafts, also they like to skinny dip and free dive, those who do it professionally manage to do it for more than 5 minutes like professional IRL free divers.
- Excess goods from the houses are used for artistic purposes by the more talented and idle people in the families, said artistic goods, like fancy clothes and jewellery, are distributed in boutiques to those who have proper social credit scores or become part of the trade goods the Dusklands use to exchange for foreign products.
Twilight’s Rest was wreathed in smoke, but the city was not ablaze with anything but the fires of prosperity. Umbrium harvesting had increased massively as the sweeping method was replaced with full scale quarrying facilitated by environmentally sealed suits with seismic senses that allowed mortals to survive the dangerous and pitch black terrain of the 11th realm.
From humble beginnings of a single prototype suit the operations had ballooned as wealth pulled out of the dark land was used to fund the creation of more and better suits and equipment. This patronage and recovering of fuel had in turn drawn much of the burgeoning magmatic magitech tinkerers and industry to the region, transforming the trading town into the industrial heart of the realm.
Xavior had stopped by very briefly and had been forced by decorum to take a quick look around, but this wasn't why he was here. No, he was here because of the blood red aura that still lingered in the sky around the pitch back realm. Sword at his side, the god and his ever faithful guardian Annie, first of demon kind, had left that city long behind as they marched up across the road of light that had grown strangely silent.
Oh, there was still trade traffic a plenty, but the frequent attacks on that traffic by the node’s insectile monsters that the paladins and demonic warriors who patrolled the roads had had to fend off had slowed first to a trickle and then stopped entirely. For the merchants this was good news, for the paladins it simply was, for the demons it was a threat to their livelihoods and for Xavior, it was a dread omen.
There was no hope to be found in the god’s heart that what had passed here was what he feared, only futile self enforced ignorance till the final truth was revealed. The location of the red glare and the nexus to node 33 having closed where the first parts of the evidence, then as the god approached the 12th node he saw it too was no longer shared with him, but the final twin nails where the split black blood, and a witness who had stood idly by as its creator had been slain.
The shepherd of shadows, the towering mass of darkness that could suppress all sound around it if it wanted to, had been in the process of fulfilling its duty, herding up all the insectile beasts, those that remained and had not been slain as a consequence of their endless aggression into a central location. The result was an final orgy of violence, the penned in beasts slaughtering each other around the grave of their creator, a bloody sacrifice to her self destructive fate.
Rather than take her own life even when she fully lost the will for it, the goddess had sought her own death in a manner similar to her children, though rather than simply attacking anything in reach she had sought this via the declarations of enmity with all she met rather than Someone, it seemed, had finally taken her word at face value and treated her like what she said she was.
Someone who had seen no reason not to see things to the bloody end: “Eleanna” Xavier said, his mouth rotten with bile as he spoke the name of his sister’s murderer “She’ll pay for this. I swear it”
“I’m not saying it was right, but she only did what Monica wanted in the end” Annie pointed out, as she extracted the blade of a massive greatsword from the neck of one of the bugs that had decided to fight something other than its kin.
“No, that doesn't make it right,” Xavior said quietly, “nor does ignorance excuse taking Monica’s declaration of enmity without analysis. I dont care if she is stupid or is simply murderous by nature, the consequences of this will be the same either way.”
He drew a longsword of his own and then with a wordless cry dashed to the side and decapitated another bug that was coming to attack them before Annie could go and handle it. Then the grief-stricken god entered the slaughter wholesale, intensive paladin training paying off as he moved with the swift steps and style of another fallen god, weaving among beasts and unleashing his fury.
Annie took one step to follow, and then paused. Even she could not follow him into the melee and guarantee she would live, the seismic sensors in the suit she had been given not being made to parse such numerous foes. So instead she looked up to where Xavior had said the Shepherd was and asked it “So, what about you, what are you going to do now?”
There was a long pause and then it told her that it would go north, to the other land of Maelite, and fulfill it’s duty there as well. When asked if it ment south, it casually revealed the shape of the world that was quite obvious to it. Monica had gone south to reach it, but the shadow had sensed its distant change was closer if it went north, and so it had done so.
“And then?” Annie asked, once she’d had time to process this fundamental truth about the shape of the world that had been casually dropped in her lap “when all of Monica’s other creations are dead, will you follow her?”
A casual affirmation followed to which Annie had to think for a while before saying “Our gods may be great, but… they are still just people” Xavior had made little attempt to build an aura of infallibility as Benea did after all, only one of indispensability, “we don’t have to be what they want us to be”
When the shepherd pointed out that she was what he wanted her to be, the first demon, changed irreparably by that process, replied that “Being what they want is to be is always a choice”
They were stopped in their discussion when a spark suddenly flashed in the black realm, and then fire blossomed, a raging inferno that defied even Maelite’s hungering cold as it swirled and raged around the god, a firestorm that devoured all the remaining bugs, a vast chunk of the land, and those remains of Monica that hadn’t been scavenged by her slayer.
Annie backed up, and then was sheltered by a gentle hand of the shepherd from the fires as they raged and raged and then finally died. Between her vision returning from the blinding light and the darkness swallowing up the sputtering embers of the flames, Annie saw two things.
The runes of a demonic ascension circle sacred into the ground, and her god, now adorned with white angelic wings whose feathers were ever smoldering, as if they had just been scorched by the flames of their creation and and might burst back into that same rage filled inferno at any moment.
Then the dark returned and she was back to relying on the seismic sensors she’d been provided with such that she could accompany her god. That god approached and then stepped past shadow and guardian, and placed a hand on the node, being the capture process. Only then did he turn to the others, speaking up to the titan “I am to be the master of this land. You will serve me, and together we will have vengeance upon Monica’s killer!”
The Shepherd thought for a long while, and then politely declined.
“No? No?! How can you… What am I saying, of course you won't, you let her die after all. Well then fine, go off and die as well seeing that is clearly her will”
The Shepherd also declined to do this. It informed him that it was going to fulfill its duty, just as it had told Annie it would, and that after that, once its purpose had been fulfilled, it would decide itself what it would do with its life. Then, with those words said, it simply left to do just that.
As it strode away Annie quietly approached the stunned god, grasped his wrist and took his hand off of the node, leaving it in the dead goddess’s hands from now “Come on, let's go back into the light drink to her memory instead and decide whether to do this with a clear mind later, yes?”
The god finally got a hold of his breathing, and then sighed, “yeah, yeah i could really use a drink”
It was that way that travelers on the road got to see the curious sight of a god riding on the back of a merchant’s cart, one being drawn by a newfangled rolling stone while he, his towering guardian, and the caravan guards where in the process of getting shitfaced and singing a songs of warriors lament both in honor of the fallen goddess and to the end of the deaths caused by her creations.
Monica’s legacy would be a complicated one, but as the smoke continued to rise above twilight rest, a dark titan strode through the oceans depths and a hungover god reaffirmed his oath of vengeance, it was clear it would not be one to be soon forgotten.
Xavior and Annie travel to node 11 and find’s out from the shepherd of shadows and finds out from it that Eleanna killed Monica. He swears a vague vengeance, and then incinerated all of the remaining bugs in the realm (which the shepherd had gathered up in one place, a place they proceeded to slaughter each other in) as well as the bits of Monica Eleanna left behind and a fair chunk of umbrium to demonically ascend himself a pair of angel wings.
He moves to take the node and commands the shepherd to obey him and help him acquire vengeance for Monica, but it declines and informs them it will instead be going north to node 33 to clean up the bugs there too (casually revealing the roundness of the world in the process) and that it will then decided what it will do with the rest of its life. Xavier, having assumed it would just kill itself as well if not given a purpose, is taken aback enough this (and the world's roundness) for Annie to intervene and stop the node capture, leaving that decision for when he is not fueled by rage and grief.
So instead they go off, find a caravan heading south, buy all its booze stocks, and proceed to get drunk off their asses drinking to Monica’s memory.
1mp contentedly used to acquire a new form: Xavior looks much the same, but now sports a pair of angelic wings highly reminiscent of Monica’s, their white feathers scorched at the edges and capable of bursting into flames for dramatic purposes.
The sun was setting but the Dawnblades weren’t yet done with their new recruitment drive. Like all legions, they went from node to node within the Verdant Realms every so often to draw new recruits into their ranks. Such an event was never a dull affair.
Lit torches lined a circle drawn in the fertile earth just outside of the city. People from city and the surrounding villages came to see the spectacle. Though few could fully understand what was happening without explanation. They held their breaths as eight legionnaires stepped into the circle. Each was holding a quarter staff. They were dressed in lightly padded cloth. Every hit would hurt.
“The legions fight as one!” Another legionnaire shouted so the whole crowd could hear him. He too reached the circle, but remained outside of it. Two more legionnaires dressed in full, iron armor met at the circle as well, but stayed out of it. “To do so we must know each other. Predict each other. We shall show you the blessing of Anak’thas that facilitates such union.”
Drummers that sat beside the circle began to dictate a slow rhythm. The eight legionnaires in the middle of the circle split off into pairs and began to spar at the rhythm of the drums. Every strike was meant, that much was clear to everyone. As the crowd watched, the two armored legionnaires circled around the duelists like a pair of hungry wolves. Their eyes darted from strike to strike. After half a minute the rhythm of the fight was well established, and the duels began to look more like choreographed dances.
The announcer gave a nod to one of the drummers. He changed the rhythm, making it go faster. The drummers beside him followed suit. The tempo was quickened. Some duelists were taken off guard. One swung. Another countered. Silver light shone.
“Out!” The announcer declared. One of the duelists was down on the ground. His legs swept by his opponent. Who looked less than pleased.
“Why is she mad?” A young boy asked the announcing legionnaire.
“Cause she lost as well.” The announcer said.
“Mellica showed weakness.” Another of the armored legionnaires declared dryly. He kept circling the duelists. A legionnaire holding the quarter staff, about to strike her fellow duelist, instead threw her quarterstaff to the ground and fell to her knees. She was defeated. Not by her opponent but by herself.
Two pairs of duelists continued. The announcer gave another nod to the drummer. The tempo slowed down. So did the duels. Counters appeared. Like water the duels began to flow like water again. Until suddenly and deceptively the rhythm was upped again.
“Out!” Another duelist had struck the chest of their opponent. One more pair remained.
They strikes had slowed down. The duel was going on for some time now. Both of the fighters were getting tired. Neither gave up though. The circling legionnaires had their eyes on them as if they were hungry dogs. Ready to call out a moment of weakness. It didn’t happen.
The crowd was looking with anticipation. One of the duelist, Imeria, was from a nearby village. Her people were holding their breath. They couldn’t see the fire in her eyes though. Her opponent, a big man, was striking fiercely. Every strike was shown in his mind though. She could read every move. Just like he could read every move of hers. The people in the crowd couldn’t understand this. It could be explained a thousand times over and they still wouldn’t comprehend the mental depth this duel required. It wasn’t a contest of skill or strength. Not at its core. It was like the games the elders played back in Imeria’s village. Each had a turn, each moved a piece with their turn. The winner was the one who could block off the other until he couldn’t move anymore. She had tried to play it as a little girl and was defeated every single time.
She wasn’t a little girl anymore though. She was Imeria, Legionaire of the Dawnblades and the best duelist of her cohort. And she was about to prove it again.
The duel wasn’t just a game of wits and knowledge though. Her own body slowed down as well, alongside that of Irritus, the brute before her. Her moves became a bit sloppy at times. Though Irritus couldn’t move fast enough to capitalize. She almost had him. Almost.
Then she saw it. The big swing, in his mind. He lifted his arms and in and instant she moved. Silverly light shone from one of the tips of the quarterstaff and Imeria struck.
Irritus was blown down backwards and fell on the ground. The wind was knocked against him and the crowd, especially those from her hometown, burst out in cheers. Imeria didn’t hear any of it though. The glory, the praise, it meant nothing to her anymore. Not since she joined the legion. As she looked over the faces of her village, she had to admit to herself that she barely recognized them anymore.
We see part of the recruitment drive of the Dawnblades. To show their power they go around cities to show their unique form of dueling. It has a few more rules though. Legionnaires can see in eachother’s mind to see which moves are coming up. At the same time other legionnaires circling the duelists will make sure that none of the duelists are pulling their punches. In the end one female legionnaire, Imeria, wins the duel. We also get a small look into the personal cost of joining the legion.
Clouds slowed until utterly and eerily still, the sky around them dulling to grey before flashing a scarlet that consumed the horizon. Grym felt intuitively that this phenomena was probably not localized and would continue outward until every being in the Crucible had seen it, the marking of a dead God. It reminded him of a similar instance that occurred during the march South, though lacked context that now had been provided through first-hand experience. If anything, such a sign would only provide more credibility to the thread he’d spin — assuming anyone would hear him out. Garravar wasn’t wrong to be suspicious, but this wouldn’t be fun without a gamble.
Plenty had to be done before Grym could leave the 22nd realm. Of course he’d claimed the node at this point but, unfortunately, Brey had made it more difficult by hiding his wealth of knowledge and evacuating the main city to surrounding settlements and safe havens. Grym tasked Nea with finding and relaying Vatarr’s brutal murder of Brey to the peoples, lending Akky to facilitate the process. She was better suited for the job and he knew better than to personally interject, considering the last time he’d visited it was with an army bent on conquest.
Meanwhile, Grym scryed into Brey’s memories using his skull as a medium to determine where the geezer hid an entire library’s worth of knowledge. Finding out was simple enough, but returning the vast amount of texts to their shelves (and cleaning up the library itself) was an incredibly time consuming task. Luckily the offspring proved immensely useful in this regard, acting as manpower and being particularly proficient in organizing the library properly through their shared network of information. The offspring were to restore the library and then amalgamate around the node to create a sub-colony with which to reproduce and communicate with the Cradle. Nea would paint Grym as an interceptor who failed in defending Brey, but managed to force the ruthless Vatarr to flee — and the offspring, ever-obedient guardians.
Grym felt comfortable leaving Nea and the offspring to finish tidying up once the projects had been set in motion. No warning bells had been rung in his absence, meaning the Cradle hadn’t been overrun or attacked yet, but it did strike him as strange. Whatever was going on up there, it would be better for him to get ahead of a potential conflict before it’s too late. He already knew next to nothing of the northern realms, aside from Monica’s retelling and that was ages ago it felt. So he fashioned an extremely large saddle for his new flying, fire-breathing megalodon and made haste for his home.
After passing the threshold to 18, he made a few quick stops along the Southern settlements to inquire about any potential developments. Most mortals didn’t travel north out of fear of the Cradle, even though they’d not been bothered, but the few who had mentioned minor skirmishes with an unknown force toward the northern border. Grym boarded his noble steed once again and made a beeline for the Cradle. It was probably too late to prevent a battle now, but that didn’t mean all was lost. For now, he’d have to see the situation for himself and decide from there.
The brave mortals of the eastern army who had marched out to face the insidious eldritch hive glowered out from behind their fortifications at the mosterouse legions that their invasion had stirred from slumber.
Incidentally the fortifications they were currently holed up in were exactly the same ones that they had marched out from, because their glorious leader had taken one look at the hordes of offspring and had about turned the army and marched them right back on the double. Opinions were, to be frank, a bit mixed on this strategy.
“Look, I know it doesn’t look good, but we are now at a strategic advantage!” The heavy set General Damio insisted from atop the walls of a fortress of dirt which were overlooking the siege line. He was speaking with a delegation from the Eumonian council who wanted to know why they had received reports of him setting out, only to then find him having returned back to his initial position without drawing a single drop of blood.
“The enemy is right at our door, yes, but that is what we set up to do in the first place! Really you should be mad that I jumped the warhorn before the east finally got its act together not that I came back” he insisted, which got some grumbling from the delegation but they let him continue “Now we’ve got our defenses primed and ready to meet them, and some new toys to hold them back. We’ll hold them here and grind them to dust if they dare to come at us!”
Indeed, the various trenches and forts that were spread across the pass between the 13th and 18th nodes were extensive and well dug in. Not only that, but their compliments of spears and crossbows were now augmented with a fresh delivery of magitech disk launchers and even the odd stone thrower, though those portable magic weapons where fewer in number than even their big brother artillery pieces, the 12th realm still having a way to go till they could start mass producing the intricate personal weapons.
Arrayed against them, well out of range of any of the siege weaponry, was where Grym found his offspring, who had acted on instinct to respond to the invasion and now that it had been chased back to its starting point where simply standing there. Menacingly.
“Oh dear,” were the words that reflexively fell from Grym’s mouth upon reaching an almost barren Cradle. The path of flattened earth leading north meant the Cradle had clearly mobilized nearly everything it had, but for what reason? He couldn’t help being excited to see for himself, despite initially intending to wait for Nea to catch up. In his new armor and sword-spear in hand, he followed the treaded path aboard the flying, fire-breathing megalodon. Surely, they’d understand he came to vouch for peace.
Soon enough, hordes of offspring appeared over the horizon. They had organized into legions, clearly prepared for an assault and yet stood ominously still just away from the border. It was difficult to say from a glance alone, but the path ended where they stood and there were no signs of a battle waged.
“Did I make it in time? How unlike me.” Grym said aloud to himself. “You guys stay right here. Little G’s gonna see what’s up.” He addressed the offspring directly. “And uh, if I’m not back in a few hours you can feel free to kill everything north of the border.”
His orders were met with a cacophony of dissonant groans. I’m sure they get it. He thought to himself and then turned his attention toward the encampments in the distance. About halfway through no-man’s-land, Grym dismounted the shark and ordered it to join the horde while he proceeded alone; waving a tiny black flag. Until the distance between himself and the trenches was about one hundred meters, assuming the visitors didn’t turn him into a pin cushion on sight, he’d continue waving the flag to signal a request for parley.
“Who in the world is that and what is he doing?” Damio asked out loud when he spotted the parohcing figure, before lifting up a newfangled spyglass and taking a closer look at the figure who aptly matched only one known description.
“What the piz, is that Grym?!” the general identified the incoming figure, right before his head snapped to the side at the sound of crackling magics. One of the new disk clauncher crews had done the same identification routine as him and, as waving flags around in no way being a universal request for peace in this place, they responded as they would to an attack, which was to panic and immediately fire at the incoming god.
Before the general could stop them, a round shield sized disk when hurling off towards Grym, the hastily fired slamming down into the dirt beside him, kicking up a ploom of dirt before it started flashing menacingly.
Soldiers scrambled in their trenches with the echoes of confused yelling audible enough to hear from where Grym stood, but not clear enough to identify exactly what was being said. One rather decorated gentleman seemed to stick out among them, squinting directly at him. Just as the huss and fuss was dying down, a dangerous looking disc zipped through the air and hit the dirt several feet short of him — causing him to wince.
“In hindsight, maybe I should’ve made a sign.” The short-sighted God muttered to himself. Staring at the disk crackling and trembling in the earth, he pointed toward it and loudly asked, “Is this thing dang-”
His question was both interrupted and answered by the disk’s shattering explosion, sending shards of metal and a shockwave of destructive energy in every direction. This sent him into a backward somersault through the air, his cape flailing dramatically before swooping in front of him and becoming pinned once his torso smacked the ground. The armor of armorness had definitely done its job, but this is what Grym imagined getting the wind knocked out of you felt like. While dusting himself off and fixing his cape, amongst other re-arranged particulates, an idea came to mind — one he hoped no one on the other side would realize he could’ve done from the beginning. He cleared his throat and again spoke, only this time his voice boomed loud enough for the realm to hear.
“Maybe you don’t do that again? I’m gonna start with some questions, cool? Cool. Let’s start with who are you people and why is there an army on my doorstep?”
There was more distant confused yelling mnong the armed forces arrayed against him in response to that, and then once voice broke through the chaos as one man raised a weird cone thing to his mouth and barked loudly at the army: “Anyone else fires without my says so gets a knuckle sandwich from Angela and their pay docked from a month, so hold fire!” before the big bald bejeweled man turned his shouting horn towards the god “and you, stay right where you are!” while holding up and hand for him to halt, and then finally agreeing “and then we can talk”
There was a bit more arguing going on atop the dirt rampart between the man, two warrior women and the delegation about that offer, before he raised the trumpet again and informed the god that “We were here to dispose of the abominations you have blighted this land with, but seeing as you are here, Grym, we are here to levy charges against you for your crimes”
The man was handed a document by one of the delegation members, who had put him up to this, cleared his throat and then read it out “Grym, on behalf of the council of the 13th realm you are hereby charged with: Breaking the oldest agreement by claiming node 18 Slaughter of a divine creation Theft of said divine creation Property damage Grave robbing Corpse defilement Returning an evil thogut slain back to live via incompetence or malic And having a stated intent to attempt to kill the people’s gods“
There was a short pause before the man asked “How do you plead?”
Grym listened to the plethora of accusations being made, most vague and lacking context. He certainly had an idea of what many of the items referred to, but the list itself felt like more of a show of force than formal accusation. From the looks of their encampments, these men had been here for some time. While it was impossible for him to discern the exact reason they’d delayed a direct assault, the fact is they had reason to hesitate. These men, women, and strange folk were nothing like the scholars and peasants of the Southern realms, being well outfitted and organized. Grym got the feeling they wouldn’t be pushed around, but he’d have to feel out their tolerance for his - shall we say - unorthodox demeanor.
“It isn’t much fair to paint me into a corner with a loaded question like that, is it? I don’t know of your treaties or agreements and never consented to your laws. I don’t know you blokes, never seen any of you in my life, so why are you here in my realm, enforcing laws I know nothing about? I am rather preoccupied at the moment, but I get the inclination you’re not just going to leave. If you’ll agree to speak on equal grounds instead of spouting accusations, we could avoid a whole lot of bloodshed.”
A gruff hand wrenched the speaking horn from the general. Captain Pricilla pushed the horn to her mouth and yelled through it. “Or we could smatter you into the next crucible with enough firepower to make a node shit itself.” She stuck out her hand to keep the fat general from wrestling the horn away from her, his face squished under her palm. “If you want equal grounds, you’ll have to give it to us first; your invasion of the 18th node has cut off commerce from the south and endangered neutral parties. Give a show of peace, and then we can talk.”
There was another moment of struggle as Angela, Damio’s right hand woman, then proceeded to wrestle the horn out of the captain’s hands in turn, and then man was about to thank her for the help when she raised the horn to her lips and yelled “Your creations are nasty and the world would thank us for getting rid of them” before finally handing it back to the general. He signed and tired to back too it when one last interruption came from the blond haired priest who had insisted he read out the the list of accusations in the first place (and who was a key member of the council delegation) inserted himself into the mix to swiftly add “Ignorance of a law is not a valid defense against breaking it” and at that point the general just gave up and awaited a response from the accused.
“Give the horn back to one of the feisty ladies, robe guy sucks.” Grym booed and pointed a thumbs down toward the priest dressed in what looked like a gaudy dress (priest robes). Not a single chuckle from the crowd, just an awkward cough that felt louder than it should have been. These guys were stiffer than corpses, and he would know. With an exasperated sigh, Grym crossed his arms behind his back and went into boring monologue for the self-righteous invaders.
“Whatever your preconceptions are of me, I have no fuckin’ clue who you are. I’m not defending myself against laws that aren’t mine and to which I’ve never heard of. I’ve not prevented trade and I’ve not attacked you. Did you think it a coincidence that your realms remained unbothered, or that you made it to my doorstep without being intercepted? The Cradle is obedient, my people live in peace, and I am trying to compromise with you lot despite your little ambush. I could have met you in force, yet I came alone. Realize the concessions I’ve made and at least speak with me,” A pause. Grym turns and points toward the cluster of docile offspring in the distance, before facetiously adding, “Or we can fight a bloody battle where many, many mortals die.”
“Being honest here, I’m hearing a lot of words coming from someone we’re apparently not letting speak with us. Only reason you aren't in the midst of exploding is because I have prevented it.” Damio retorted, before continuing “and despite all the air coming out of that skull, all I’ve heard is sidesping of responsibility and now threats.”
“But if you want me to spell things out for you: Did you or did you not claim node 18, kill and reanimate Bena’s hydra, defile our shared creator’s corpse by doing the same to it and re-release the blight that is Garravar on this world, declare your intentions to kill all gods before a witness, and then head to the south, which has ever so consistently turned into a right bloody mess at near exactly the same time as you went there? To a place where a god has died? Did or did not these things happen?” he concluded by jabbing an accusatory finger over the long long distance that separated the two.
Over and over these mortals insisted upon their laws and an unfounded jurisdiction over a land they’d never seen. It was proving rather difficult to manifest a facade when clearly their minds were made up —- had Monica really been that convincing of a witness? No, there could be more to it that he isn’t aware of. Letting his impatience steer the encounter wouldn’t prove better than simply failing to persuade them so, for now, he’d answer their questions to the best of his ability.
“The 18th realm belongs to me. The Hydra attacked me; I took it. By the time I had taken the node, Peninal’s corpse had already disappeared.” A lie. “Garravar is from the previous Crucible if Pop’s memory serves, so how could he be alive?” And another. Grym’s voice deepened with emotional fervour; he was really getting into it now.
“Your lot knows nothing of the South, of the alliance that bonded the Southern realm until Vatarr betrayed it.” Even the weather swayed in wake of the tide of meticulously portrayed passion, sounds of thunder echoing while an overcast sky threatened rain. He took a daring step forward, and then another, and another, pacing methodically as he spun his thread.
“I watched Brey die at the hands of Vatarr; his people reel from the loss as we speak. Vatarr ravages the South unchecked, Asvarad is absent, and I’ve been left to mend Brey’s realm as well as my own. Any mortal could tell you the same.” That last part isn’t entirely true. There were plenty who still feared Grym, if only for superficial reasons. He’d never actually committed any atrocities against them and none of Brey’s scholars or magi had witnessed the wizard's death — Brey made sure of that. Plenty had witnessed Vatarr attack unprompted, though, including Duncan. It was a compelling narrative, at least Grym thought so. Still, chances were this debacle was rigged from the start, but the God had answered their questions. If relations continued to sour, the offspring would, at least, finally get a true field test.
Pricilla turned to Damio. “An enemy of the Hydra is an enemy of the North, the 18th realm belongs to the Northern Alliance.” She looked down past Damio and towards the other Artack elites who lined the fortifications alongside cannons. Leaning in, she glared at Damio. “We await the order.”
“Wait,” Another captain piped up and leaned in to conspire with Pricilla and Damio. “Have him relinquish the 18th node back to the Northern Alliance as a show of faith… do it on the grounds that we would put forth a query to the alliance on helping him stabilize the south (if his claims be true). If he is lying, he won’t agree.”
Damio held his fist over his mouth as he thought about this as the priest pointed out that “He has already lied about the fate creator’s body,” something the knew about only from the admittedly somewhat unreliable source of Monica, who had a habit of declaring everyone her enemy, but the priest took Xavior’s theory about that reported reanimation being the source of Olipha’s old foe’s return as gospel, “how can we possibly trust any of his other words”
“We’re not, but buying time can hardly hurt us either” Damoi replied at last, before surupticialy sending a few aids away with a few short instructions, and then turning his attention back to the god.
“That not one but two divine creations stood guard over the node claimed by our creator should have let in on the fact that it belonged to someone else” he started off by poking a hole in the god’s claim, before offering the concession, “Despite that, we’d be willing to ask the northern alliance for forgiveness on your behalf, and even request aid for your work in attempting to stabilize the south, if you're willing to pay your debt by giving up your claim on the 18th realm as a show of good faith.”
“I’ve no attachment to the nodes or intention of claiming the Crucible, and would gladly grant permission to your Gods, as well as safe passage to your men, but what you are asking for is the impossible. I can’t uproot my base of operations in the middle of a war and the Cradle can’t be moved. Besides, you’ve given me no reason to trust you. Despite that, I would greatly appreciate your assistance. The most I could do currently is offer up the 23rd realm, with the promise of my other nodes once the conflict is over.”
Damio furrowed his brow and crossed his arms “Tch. Tricky bastard” he glanced too the others and asked “Thoughts?” knowing they’d be giving them anyway.
“We’ve got no reason to think he’d keep his word, and it would be committing to a war with the rest of south with someone who could easily stab us in the back” was Angela’s take, before adding “besides, we’re under contract to remove the hive” and leaving the rest of financial implications unsaid.
“He is a foe of our gods and our states, negotiating with him gives him credence and respect he does not deserve” the Priest insisted.
Pricilla shook her head. “General, allow me to speak with the god.” She held out her hand for the horn.
“Fine,” he said, offering her it but adding a final word of caution “Just remember what it is we are facing”
With a nod, Pricilla snagged the horn and held it up. “You’ve been in the south for some time, so I will forgive some of your ignorance — but now allow me to quickly bring context so we can stop floundering. The 18th node has been claimed by you, but it shouldn’t have — to fix this, you are not to give permissions, but allow the recapture of it by the Northern Alliance. Next, you have murdered the Hydra, which was the Queen’s first creation in the 8th crucible — to make amends, you must relinquish its body and ask for the pardon of the Queen herself. Next, you’re at war in the south — you should know that the gods south of the 18th node are lesser in nature to the gods north of the 18th node and are not considered for inheritance, thus the Queen may see fit to aid you, should it prove worth. If you wish to truly become a friend of the North, it’s not an easy road — we are not the beings of the South. Do you truly wish to begin this journey, or should I mark you as another obstacle?”
“Lesser? Ouch.” The God winced playfully at the remark. “You’ve made it painfully obvious how I’m seen through the lens of the North. Even if I were to concede to your demands, what guarantee is there that you wouldn’t betray me? There isn’t. The great northern kingdoms stand above all others, it seems.” He answered his own question, slowly raising one hand and emitting a distinct whistle. Faint rumblings began behind him where, in the distance, a cloud of dust was kicked up by the legions of now advancing offspring. The horde moved, less forward and more outward, fanning into a sprawling formation that resembled a regimented defense. Were there to be a battle, Grym intended to use his home field advantage. He had no reason to meet the northerners at their battlements, after all.
“I will avenge Brey’s death on my own and only when that’s done, I’ll secede my lands to the kingdoms of the North; no hassle. You can leave peacefully now and you won’t be pursued or, if you insist-” And he glanced backward. “then we can skip the fuckin' around and get straight to where you find out.”
“Even if he doesn't just attack us while we are trying to withdraw, he would leave the west of the 12th wide open for invasion at any time, not to mention the whole of the 13th” Damio said, assessing the situation, and finding it unacceptable. The fanning out legions were intimidating, but, tactically and strategically, “we need to hold this border one way or the other” be it by repelling the foe or simply standing, expensively, in his way.
“Everything behind me already belongs to the alliance, we can hardly leave the front door open for untrustworthy folks to just waltz on in” he informed the god via a reclaimed horn, drawing a line in the sand, and on the map, “so you can either back off, put up your own door, or come and try and break ours down”
At that he raised an forearm and fist and sent alertness rippling down the alliance fortifications, soldiers and engineers who had dropped their guard to listen to this protractor argument going back on alert, weapons primed, loaded and at the ready, fliers taking to the skies, magitech devices thrumming and readying to unleash magmatic devastation.
"Oh? How admirable, valiant even." He chortled with what would've been an arched brow. "I don’t know how many times I've got to say it before it gets through your thick skull, fats, but I've no intention of invading your precious Northern lands."
Akasha emerged from his shadow in a wisp of ethereal black smoke. She rested her cheek in his hand with which he affectionately caressed in turn, and then saddled himself.
"It must cost quite a bit for you to be out here and I expect that number goes up by the day, but the offspring require little; so I can wait. If you choose to fight, then you'll have to command your men to invade my lands and die when unconditional peace was an option."
With that, Grym flicked Akky's reigns and took flight back toward his defensive line.
He had a point there, it was very expensive, and nobody knew that more than the merchant turned general. Plus, every moment they sat idle was another where Grym could take more control of the south for whatever ends he had. That said, that did give him an idea.
“I say we hold, for now” the general said, and before anyone could protest he pointed out “He’s given a bit of the game away. Seeing as we know he’s fighting in the south, we don’t even need to risk our own to find out what these ‘offspring’ can do. We just need to send people south, and see if he’s as full of shit as he sounds”
Pricilla cracked a grin. “General Damio, you managed to talk a horde into waiting. I’ll send word to the Commander of the Pristine Palace — I’m sure he will take delight in knowing the enemy is planning on sitting.” She leaned in close. “And with a few choice words, so long as we hold this position, using Vatarr we can fight him from the south up.”
“Hmmm, yeah I did, didn’t I?” he said, cupping his chin and nodding to himself, before adding a correction “Or rather, we did, which I think calls for a celebration!“
“I’ll crack one the wine store then” Angela announced, immediately striding off to do just that.
“A more modest celebration” he called after her, to which he only got a “too late!” before she disappeared from view, leaving the man shaking his head while looking forward to the evening to come regardless.
“And the troops general?” an aid asked
“Hmmm. Stand half down, and a small bonus for those who stay on guard. Just in case” he instructed
Pricilla nudged the general and whispered. “No, keep them on alert and put in a rotation, this is still war.”
“And then after half an hour, if nothing goes wrong, put em on the paladin’s standard rotation” he corrected, once again thanking his god for having sent someone with propper military experience his way.
A subtle nod from Pricilla, and then they were off to celebrate.
Grym retreated to the Cradle, leaving his forces on alert where they stood. At the entrance of the hive he sent Akky back to Nea in the 22nd realm. He entered the depths of the Cradle's cavernous structure and made his way toward Garravar's map located in the deepest reaches.
"Fiddlesticks." Grym exclaimed to himself.
The north had been conquered and Vatarr had gone on a bit of a spree in the south, himself. It was a great misfortune that no divine had been present during this little showdown. The mortals proved to be self-righteous and even xenophobic. Nevertheless, he'd bought himself time and they appeared content in leaving their assets on his doorstep — that would be a mistake he'd make them regret.
He turned from the map and placed his hand against the Cradle. A low gentle resonated throughout the endless corridors and dugout caverns. The floor appeared to bulge and bluster, as if something was trying to break through, until several tendrils emerged. They coiled tightly around one another in a shape that resembled a flower about to bloom. The 'flower' pulsed with a harsh vermillion glow and then it bloomed, releasing a blinding light that consumed the area.
What emerged was humanoid in shape, if nothing else. It was quite a bit taller than Grym and had a slender, dense figure. It was clearly a manifestation of the Cradle, but sturdier and more refined. There was a face with identifiable features; a mouth, four pitch black eyes, and a sea of thin vines sprouting from its scalp that almost resembled hair. It had four arms and two legs, though the rest of its parts remained mostly androgynous. In comparison to its analog offspring brethren, this one gave an impression of purpose and individuality. When it spoke, the Cradle shook as if its words struck every one of its nerves at the same time.
"Finally, a voice with which to speak and a body with which to act." The being had a distinctly feminine voice and spoke well, though it could never be mistaken for human in tone.
"You know me, chronically late."
"So, what will we do? About the fat one and his folk."
"Tunnel beneath them. Use isolated tunnels that don't lead back here, of course. Dig deep enough that they won't be found on accident and dig only during the day so any noise will be drowned out."
"Oh ho, interesting. Then we strike while they sleep. It'll be a massacre!" Her voice trembled with anticipation.
He nodded. "Keep most of your kin at the front for now, though. Make them think we're just waiting — until we're ready to strike."
"Pish posh, Little Grym." She protested, before laughing it off. "A mother’s got to put food on the table! And with a meal like that just waiting on my doorstep, I’ll make sure it all goes perfectly."
Grym comes back to the 18th node, and finds that his hive’s offspring have sallied out from their home base. He finds them on the border of the 13th node, where they have (bloodlessly) pushed the invading forces of the northern alliance back to their fortifications.
After getting blown up once, he engages in negotiations with the mortal armies headed by General Damio. They first accuse him of a list of crimes before bandying offers, counter offers and finally threats at each other regarding an alliance against Vatarr, Grym giving up node 18, who should withdraw from the border. Nothing is resolved and so the two forces end negotiations by hunkering down for a prolonged standoff.
The north thinks they’ve won by getting Grym to back down from attacking them, and scheme to go around his back to contact Vatarr inorder to find out what they are up against, which has always been a concern of the skittish army.
Grym meanwhile returns to the hive and creates for it an avatar to act as his own general on the front, instructing her to tunnel underneath the northern forces in order to ambush them from below while they sleep.
Starting Might: 2
-1 point spent using Brey’s skull to scry into the whereabouts of his absconded peoples and where he’d hidden the contents of the library.
-1 point on creating The Cradle Mother Cradle Mother: The Cradle Mother acts as an Avatar of the Cradle itself. The Mother acts as a “brain” to the Cradle’s “nervous system.” She is a fully realized agent of the Cradle itself and has a will of her own, which she can inflict upon the offspring in the same capacity that the Cradle can. In the same vein she is as connected to the Cradle and offspring as any other of her kind, sharing information and able to communicate through the vast network of offspring that exist within the Crucible. She is capable of speech and projecting her voice through other offspring. Her body is sturdier than most offspring and she can freely manipulate it to suit her needs. Killing her isn’t impossible, but she does not die in the same manner mortals do. Her will lives on within the Cradle and she can even host herself in other offspring if need be, though the creation of another vessel similar to her original would require the expenditure of divine power; as with her initial creation.
Her appearance: What emerged was humanoid in shape, if nothing else. It was quite a bit taller than Grym and had a slender, dense figure. It was clearly a manifestation of the Cradle, but sturdier and more refined. There was a face with identifiable features; a mouth, four pitch black eyes, and a sea of thin vines sprouting from its scalp that almost resembled hair. It had four arms and two legs, though the rest of its parts remained mostly androgynous. In comparison to its analog offspring brethren, this one gave an impression of purpose and individuality.
Francis Bartago, sister of Drengant Bartago and assistant to Jole, was a fit and considerably dangerous dingo woman of the Daman lands. Certainly proud, certainly strong and certainly tied up. She stood strapped to a tree by excess ropes while her two assailants stood under the shadows of the canopy. Even with the light glinting off the snow, she couldn’t get a good look at their faces - but Renault and Fora could see her just fine.
Safe in the shadows, Renault was rubbing his chin while he studied the woman. Fora stood by his side, no longer swathed in his cloak but having changed into a semi-proper outfit, made of excess materials from the emergency stash she had left in the area, and the bag that had been used as the stash itself, cut and bound until it became something close to a dress.
Renault leaned to his side, so that Fora could hear his whisper without him taking his eyes off Francis. “So, a bit of a twist here. I’m starting to think it would have been better if we followed her to Jole — now we must seem like madmen.” He paused and looked his partner over. “Wearing the garbage is definitely not helping our case.”
“At least I am wearing garbage by accident, some paladins out there wear armor that was out of fashion back when we still were using rock tools.” Fora answered bitterly. “And I am tired of this game, she won’t just run to Jole, it's best if we find her price, she doesn’t look like the honorable type.”
“I’m not taking fashion advice from a nudist.” Renault stepped out of the shadows and opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Francis cut him off.
“Who are you?”
“An interested party.”
“Interested in what?”
“Jole.”
Francis raised her brow. “And why would you be interested in Jole?”
“I hear he is the best there is,” Renault answered, “and I would like to employ him.”
“He has too many enemies for me to believe that.” Francis twisted her face into a frown. Renault smirked and let loose a single laugh before reaching behind him. He snagged his wallet and tossed it in between him and his prisoner.
“Money doesn’t lie.” He crossed his arms.
Francis did her best to crane her neck and stared down. “It’s empty.”
“Fora!’ Renault whined. “I thought you put the money back!?”
“I said I was going to, when we were back at the main camp! I can do many things but I cannot teleport, not yet.” she answered before sighing. “Nevertheless, doesn’t bribing her only make us look more and more like hired assassins?”
The pink tinted woman turned to the Damanlander, pressing her hands together. “But truly, we NEED what Jole has. Don’t you think it's a bit pathetic to be just one in the crowd, hiding away with backstreet shops? I know you sunborns don’t like just that, you all have your ambitions and long term purposes, what are yours? I work for powerful people, we could make you, your brother, Jole, the owners of this city, we could give you riches beyond your comprehension, and we could strike down your enemies, many of whom are ours as well.” with each word the magistrate leaned a bit closer to the tree.
“Wait a tick picking minute,” Francis scrunched her nose. “Did you just call me pathetic!?”
“No. I called the market pathetic, and pointed out that you did not fit in there.”
“Well sor-ry that I don’t fit in to you,” Francis scoffed.
“No, no!” Renault raised his hands. “She just means that you’re better than the average dingo!”
Francis’ eyes widened. “Oh! So we are going there now!?”
Fora raised an eyebrow. “What? Do you see yourself as average then? Mediocre?”
“I see myself as a proud and confident half-dingo who is currently tied to a tree and being barraged with questions by two racist, amatuer criminals who have no clue what they are talking about. Also why are you pink!?”
“Because I like it, and in my land we can change color by drinking magical potions, we also don’t have clothes and our bathtubs are made of gold and gemstones.” Fora answered, clearly starting to form a grudge. “And I am sorry if we are a bit surprised at the fact you, a proud and confident dingo, is somehow indignant that we mentioned maybe you deserve something better than a small market stall that smells like fish.”
“Wait!” Renault held out a pausing hand before turning to Fora. “No-one wears clothes?”
Fora looked at him with wide eyes and then they narrowed, as her whole face tensed. “Let's keep the questions to her, not me?”
Francis blinked. “I guess I should have added pervert to the list.”
“Quiet you.” Renault scowled.
“By all means.” Francis smiled.
Renault slapped his own face. “That’s not what I meant! Listen, I was sent here by Queen Benea herself to retrieve the services of Jole — there, does that sound any better?”
Francis’ eyes lit up. “You know Benea?” She looked at Fora. “You too?”
“My side would be what I think your people call Sally.”
“Oh… cool…” Francis said.
Fora held her words, sighed and nodded. “But yes, he is a paladin of Benea. Can you see why we sought your group now?”
“Well yeah, that makes sense.” Francis nodded. “I can take you guys to Jole.”
There was a moment of silence, Fora nodded and turned to Renault, whispering. “Hey, Renault, one question. When you proposed the kidnapping, did you make sure diplomacy was not an option?”
Renault turned to Fora. “Pretty sure it was your idea.”
“I SAID IF WE HAD NO OTHER…” she stopped and took a deep breath. “Okay, you know what, whatever, let us focus on Jole. Where can we find them?”
“Um.” Francis wriggled under the rope. “I’d show you but I’m a little tree-occupied.”
Fora rubbed her chin. “I guess Renault could carry you again. Wouldn’t want a proud dingo to tire herself.”
Francis looked up at Renault, who gave a sheepish grin. The dingo-lady squinted at Fora. “You’re going to have the pervert hold me?”
“He is all bark and no bite, don’t you worry.” she waved off. “If he can’t make a move on plant girls who are blooming in his presence, he won’t do a thing to you.”
“And here I thought you were about to defend my honor.” Renault deflated. “Alright then, let’s get to it.”
A short post in which Fora and Renault try and mostly fail to interrogate the dingo woman who holds information about the mysterious master ambrosia-crafter Jole, thankfully, it seems she was swayed by learning Renault works for Benea.
With the heart of his realm offered enough protection in order to repel the tainted abominations from Node 18, Vatarr had positioned himself near to the defensive walls and waited. Rested. Recovered his power for the fight to come. Despite the hardship that his 'blessing' had caused to the humans as they dug in and prepared for combat, he quietly observed as they strengthened their walls, prepared their cannons and other weaponry while refining their armor. The fact that the very air, ground and water was toxic to the soon to be invaders likely slowed down their efforts to push into the Vex proper... and it gave Vatarr time to reflect and think on many things.
Namely, how it had come to this.
In retrospect, his skirmish into Node 23 had been ill planned... but that had been to overconfidence on his part. He had marched in there, complete sure that he would be able to face and defeat anything that he could encounter. However, it had allowed everything that his enemy had gathered together to be thrown in his path all at once and he had been forced to admit that he couldn't fight an entire army all by himself... At least, not in the manner that he had tried to.
But there were other ways to fight a war... and removing the head was generally a pretty good tactic since few creatures survived long without one. So it was that he decided to take the offensive once again, hopefully throwing his foe off due to him recently preparing his home for defense. But things would be different this time.
With little effort, a small ball of pure molten copper was pulled from the ground and floated in mid air before Vatarr before he started to make small gestures with his hands. The molten orb quickly split into two smaller orbs before they started to form identical ring shapes in midair. As they started to cool into solid copper rings, Vatarr began pouring his energy into both of them, flooding them with power with different, but similar goals in mind.
Soon enough he felt all the power he had gathered up be spent, but the result would almost certainly make up for the temporary lack of flashy, world altering power. The first ring he donned didn't physically change anything about him, but the moment it slipped on his finger he could feel his divine signature disappear. By all accounts, there was nothing divine about him or the various items on his person. This had its uses of course, but it was in combination with its partner that it's true genius shined.
As he slipped the second ring on the opposite hand, Vatarr... disappeared. He himself was still there and aware of that fact, but he had designed this ring to hide himself from the senses of others. Not only was he invisible, but he didn't make noise either. Granted he had considered having it hide his scent as well, but that would have weakened the other enchantments and his scent was a rather subtle, earthy one anyway.
Taking a moment to test his creations, Vatarr returned into view and his divine aura reemerged with barely a thought before both disappeared once again. Satisfied, he shifted into his winged form as he left the ground silently with Life and Death in his grasp, turning his attention beyond the border and seeking to sense the nearby aura of a deity he didn't know.
It was time to go hunting.
Waiting for the invasion to start nearby the border, Vatarr took the time to recover his strength and reflect on the past. Deciding to go on a surprise offense to catch his enemies off guard and behead the god behind the while Cradle mess, Vatarr crafted two copper rings that are designed to make him as stealthy as possible.
With both rings in his service, Vatarr takes to his winged form and heads over the border to track down the nearby divine aura that he doesn't personally know in enemy territory.
Start: 8 Might (5 normally + 3 Quiz)
4 Might spent of Ring 1: Ring 1 (or the left hand copper ring) is designed to hide the divine aura of its wearer from detection, alongside any other divine artifacts that happen to be on their person or in their possession.
4 Might spent on Ring 2: Ring 2 (or the right hand copper ring) is designed to hide the wielder from the senses of sight and sound. They are invisible and make no noise, through it doesn't hide scent or prevent the wearer from being touched.
The first thing that Eleanna saw when she returned to New Dama was a large blue, white and gold flag proudly waving in the wind from the top of the Central Temple of the Bronzed Bloom’s main bell tower.
The second thing she saw was a massive group of soldiers - both Daman and foreigner - flooding the streets and pointing their spears, swords, axes and clubs at her.
Yenna, sitting in the pilot’s seat, grimaced and put her hand on the soul-burner valve, a manoeuvre that Eleanna was quick to interrupt with a gentle grab of Yenna’s hand. The Goddess shook her head at her best friend and graced her with an uncharacteristically honest smile. Yenna stuttered.
“I-I told you they’d know. The shadows-”
“Shh. Don’t do anything crazy now, it’s my turn to walk the Path. Things have changed a lot since the last time I donned the Great Priestess’ Gown, and to be honest I did guess there’d be consequences to sponsoring a bunch of justice-obsessed shrubs. Oh… And killing a god, too.” Eleanna chuckled and shrugged. “I love you, Yenna. Don’t throw your life away for me. Use it instead to ensure your children know how to walk the Path, so that they don’t stumble and fall like I have.”
Yenna grew misty-eyed. The passenger cockpit screen hissed open and Eleanna jumped out, walking up to the two-hundred soldiers anxiously pointing their weapons at her. At that point, the half-hyenakin looked at her crossbow, stowed away folded next to her seat, and bit her cheek.
II
How exciting! To be welcomed in such a way after a long vacation! Eleanna was ecstatic. Every step of hers had a bit of a hop to it as she stepped out and in front of Yenna’s carriage. The men making up the ranks in front of her trembled. They knew of her, and of her time as the leader of the Companions.
“You guys know I’m not going to make this easy for you, right?” The Bronzed Goddess’ booming laughter echoed through the avenue, several stained glass windows vibrating.
Some of the soldiers up front made way for a massive beast of a man to come through. It was the bullkin, Sun-Downer of the Crescent Axe. One of her oldest Companions, and one of her best friends throughout her whole life. A pang of pain shot across her chest. Images of him, young and vigorous and thirsty for glory flashed in her mind’s eye. Nowadays, she could only see a tired old man well past his prime.
He’d struggled. He’d walked the Path. He’d done everything he set out to do, all while Eleanna remained the same.
She grit her teeth.
There was no need for words. They both knew the situation. Eleanna knew that Sun-Downer was tired of the endless bloodshed, and she knew of his undying allegiance to the United Clans. Shem ay have been on a long vacation, but that didn’t mean her shadows hadn’t been keeping her up to date on the conflict’s progress.
She knew she was the last true obstacle in the UDC’s Path.
Meanwhile, Sun-Downer knew that Eleanna would never willingly go into exile. He knew she would never drop her position as the Bronzed Bloom. And he knew better than anyone, barring perhaps Yenna, that Eleanna was probably happy to be betrayed.
Betrayal.
The word left a sweet and sour taste in her mouth.
She took aim at the bulk of the small army with her spear, veins beginning to glow. Sun-Downer raised his hand, stopping her in her tracks.
“Just you and me, El. Let’s not shed any more blood than we have to.”
A pair of large Chariots rumbled their way onto the scene, coming to a stop far behind the army. They looked awfully reinforced.
“A duel? You know I carry a crystallista with me at all times, right?” Eleanna frowned.
“You’re free to use it, though I think we both know you won’t.”
Eleanna smirked, her frown gone and a tired look on her face being all that remained.
“Yeah.” She said simply and proceeded to undo the straps keeping her crystallista attached to her left arm, then tossed the expensive weapon away. She looked at the tip of her spear, polished and perfect, exactly how she hated them, and wielded it in both hands.
Sun-Downer did the same with his Great Crescent Axe.
Then with a scream on each side they clashed.
III
It was a flurry of strikes, parries and dodges. The barely-trained eyes of the average Daman soldier watching the duel could just about keep up with the movement.
At one point, Sun-Downer’s axe came down onto Eleanna’s spear and severed it in half. The Goddess responded by throwing the sharp end at Sun-Downer, the weapon finding its mark as it broke through a rib and dug into one of his lungs.
The bullkin recoiled, coughed up blood and fell to one knee. He began to glow as Eleanna approached, now unarmed. Her black claws shone in the midday sun, a couple of them dripping blood from the many fresh cuts along her arms and shoulders.
She huffed and puffed as she came to a stop before Sun-Downer and wrapped one of her clawed arms around her friend’s throat. The old man winced.
At that moment, Eleanna blinked and looked into his eyes, her own eyes widening as she saw the drops of blood dripping out from where her claws had pin pricked his skin.
“What am I…?” She muttered, failing to notice the intensity of Sun-Downer’s glow until the spear popped right out of his chest and he stood back up, slapping Eleanna’s hand off his throat easily. The air smelled like roasted beef.
Eleanna only managed to look up at Sun-Downer in time to see his hand raised up in a very characteristic way.
The Paladin Chop! Eleanna thought, then everything went black once Sun-Downer’s strike hit.
IV -Weeks later-
Eleanna tapped her claw against the cold stone floor she was sitting on. Her usually barely-tamed hair had grown wild and tangled, and her long blouse and cloth trousers had developed stains all over from having to sit on the usually wet, dirty floor of her dungeon cell. On the other side of her cell’s bars stood a hunched over plantkin, dressed in a cheap Eunomian scientist garb and writing something on his clipboard with a pencil.
“Preparationss are complete.” He said in a squeaky voice before pushing a pair of glasses up his nose and giving Eleanna a brief glance. “Ms. Eleanna, your community service startss now.”
A pair of the biggest, buffest Otori inmates she’d ever seen stood to either side of her cell door as a wolfkin guard opened the door and threw a muzzle and a full set of heavy metal cuffs at her. She complied and put the things on, then followed the group. She was led down a series of haphazardly built and shoddily maintained series of twists and turns, down one too many sets of stairs, and up a ladder to end up in what she could barely recognize as the prison’s feared Hospital Attic.
She sniffed at the air as she entered, scrunching up her nose at the scent of stale blood and bodily fluids. Not that one needed to have a good sense of smell to detect those things, what with the way the floors were stained and how the drain in the middle of the room was nearly clogged with a weird, pulsating mass of semi-coagulated blood.
“Sit, Ms. Eleanna.” Commanded the leafy doctor. Eleanna felt a rush of adrenaline pump into her veins and she almost scratched the life out of the doctor, but she took a deep breath and kept herself under control and sat down on the lonely metal chair off to one side of the room, surrounded by various rusted tables filled with instruments.
Immediately upon sitting down, Eleanna felt a thousand pricks across her back and legs, and felt her body lock up and stop responding.
The leafy doctor saw the look in her face and smirked ever so slightly. “Ambroissen, Ms. Eleanna. You won’t be moving until we’re finisshed here.” He said and came closer,picking up a pair of long-nosed bronze pliers off one of the rusted tables. “It’ss a simple job today. Plierss will do jusst fine.”
The Doctor knelt down and grabbed onto one of Eleanna’s toe claws with the pliers, then pulled the claw out.
“FFFFFUUUUUUUUUAAAAAACCCKKKKKKGGGGHHHH-”
V
“... Aaaand that’s tha last one! Phew!”
The third-generation head of the Church’s in-house smithy shouted in relief and swept her short hair back, spraying every last apprentice behind her with droplets of her sweat. Her arms, muscular and with many, many burn scars, cradled the last of her latest babies.
Commissioned by the UDC’s High Council, the last of the 20 Soul Arms was now in her arms.
Like all others, it took the shape of a nigh-indestructible translucent egg the size of a child’s palm. And like all others, it wasn’t just a seed for one of the most powerful weapons mortals had ever built – It was a living, sentient being destined to bond with someone it deems worthy, upon which moment it would reveal its true form and function as a soul-empowering weapon capable of turning a person into something more impressive..
The Soul Arms. A medium-scale, extreme-difficulty task that only the Church’s most skilled smith could’ve pulled off. It took months.
The Smith grinned and threw herself into her favourite wooden chair, the poor thing creaking under her weight.
“Aight boys, pack it up with tha others. The Couriers will be here tomorrow to pick ‘em up.” Two of the apprentices rushed to take the infant Soul Arm off the Smith’s hands and went to the basement, while the other apprentices started to get ready to go home for the night. “Honda! You’re keeping watch tonight. With me. Bring the kegs!”
A few of the apprentices near Honda gave him knowing smirks and bid him farewell while he was left by himself. Eventually, he groaned and made his way to the basement. It would be a looong night…
Eleanna comes back to New Dama, the Daman Lands’ capital, and is imprisoned by the UDC after a short duel with one of her former Companions due to having sponsored slavery for decades. Weeks later, she has all 20 of her claws extracted by a plantkin doctor. Those 20 claws are eventually forged into 20 divine artifacts called the Soul Arms.
5 Might used to create the Soul Arms. They’re sentient weapons capable of bonding with a single person. They empower their chosen wielder’s Soul to unprecedented levels, allowing them to regularly pull off superhuman feats as well as use wielder-exclusive Soul Magic branches.
It had been a long long time since Xavior had seen an unstabilized realm but there on the horizon one loomed, coming closer and closer with each paddle of their turtle ship’s claws. He saw all this from the central tower of the city built atop its back, a towering spire of dark stone that held up the reinforced volcanic glass dome that sat in place of the turtle's back. Two large curved horns swept out of the top of the tower, piercing the dome in a fit of narcissism and practicality, the twin spikes being the arrays of a magmatic weapon made to defend the ship from other grand foes.
Around that tower were large sprawling buildings, the sharp brutal angles of their rapid construction softened by the gardens and farms that topped every rooftop in the self-sustaining city. Above, Tonikalla danced and played in the enclosed sky, flitting between chimneys that took the infernal fires of industry out of the shell, while below the mortal colonists went about their days, or gathered around the edges of the dome to see the same sight the god could from on high.
Below them the turtle (of the snapping variety), a mix of buoyant stone scales, Ambroisen musculature and divinely crafted flesh, glode through the oceans waves just as easily as it could have swam beneath them.
“So, there it is. You know in hindsight it's the only shape that makes sense given what I learned about the eternal depth of the nodes. They must all link up in the center somewhere down there, at the beating heart of this sphere of a world” Xavior said to his traveling companion as they approached the proof of the Shepherd of Shadow’s words regarding the shape of the world.
Benea leaned over the rails of the balcony and looked beyond the city towards the glass dome. Between the turtle and the unstabilized land, the water sat eerily still. There was no motion from a stable land to thrust life into the water, and without guidance in the sky other than the nightly painting of stars, it was a cold black glass. The goddess blew a stray hair from her face and refused to stand back up as she addressed Xavior. “You know dear, I could have told you it was round.”
“And yet you didn’t” Xavier replied, though not in an accusatory fashion. It wasn’t like it had ever had a reason to come up when they had talked in the past, as far as the god could recall. Still, that didn’t mean he didn’t take the opportunity of the moment to ask “So are there any other fundamental truths of the world tucked away in that mind of yours you think would be useful or even just moderately interesting?”
Benea chewed her cheek for a moment. “That’s a hard question, sweet Xavior, there is so much to this world, where would I even start?”
“We’re making landfall shortly, so I suppose whatever you can fit in in that amount of time that would be immediately relevant?” Xavior replied, not actually having expected her to offer to answer that question directly.
“Let’s see…” Benea trailed on. “Here you pick: either I can give you a small history lesson or regale you with some of Garravar’s theories — either or is useful for someone like you to know.”
“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of reasons to discuss Garravar in future, so let’s go with the history lesson shall we?” Xavior decided after a few moments of thought.
“Easy enough.” Benea twisted around so she was facing Xavior while she leaned back on the railing. Looking him straight in the eye she started. “You know, I wasn’t the first god to be in multiple crucibles.”
“I… huh” Xavior was a bit taken aback by this, but not as much as he had been by Benea’s first revelations. He had kind of got used to being hit with head turning information buy the ancient goddess at this point “How do you know that?”
“The same way I learned a lot of the intrinsic formalities of the crucible, dear.” Benea stood up. “The pillar that took my sister’s sanity. Oh yes, it spoke about another god before my time, and not in a favorable light.”
“We’re two for three then in terms of returning cast members being something of a problem then. Wait… oh my…” the got floundered for a moment for a curse that would make sense for him to use and then just gave up and went straight too “ was it a warning that they would return again?”
“Oh no, they were certainly dead and still are — if not erased from existence completely.” Benea poked her cheek. “His name was Falbach, and he was in three crucibles…” A pause. “Same as me, I suppose.”
“Then why the documentation of his…” Xavier began to ask, before getting it “ah, historical archival. Wise. I’ll stop interrupting” and then doing just that.
“His story is one I wish I never confided to Garravar, if I’m being honest, dear,” Benea looked down. A simple chair formed underneath her, catching her descent into it. It creaked and she leaned back. “Originally, Falbach was a mighty warrior and a man of love and compassion. He was unfortunate to have been born to a crucible of only five where two were violent and macabre. If the story rings true, one wished to bathe the world in an ancient and slumbering fire while the other wished to end the world entirely, and cause the end of time.”
A pause. “But Falbach was great and his love for life united him and the two remaining gods and together the three defeated the fire lord and the lady of nothingness.”
Xavior for his part created a small stool upon which to sit on, setting it next to the banister so he could lean against it and sit at an angle such that he need only turn his head to switch between looking at Benea as he listened and checking the approaching coast for any signs of danger.
True to his word, he simply nodded, and let her continue her tale without comment till she reached its, he suspected, grisly end.
“Well you see, after that — everything went perfect. Falbach and his two friends decided upon naming him the heir to the crucible and he did just that but as the triggering event ended and his will was thrust upon the world, for but a brief moment that only he could notice — his friends were deleted.”
“Simply… gone?” the god asked, confused. After all, the person speaking with him was proof that it was possible to pass from one to the next should the creator will it. So then why, he had to ask, had this occurred.
“For a moment, at least,” Benea continued. “In so many words his friends were then reconstructed as per Falbach’s will, as was everything else and thus began Falbach’s second crucible. It consisted of his two friends and seven new faces as well as several universal curses. I don’t know them all, of course, but I do know that one of these curses actually affects you and I! Falbach’s will saw our innate knowledge of the crucible to be taken away from us, hence why I relied on a pillar and you on Peninal.”
“That… is a lot to unpack.” Xavior took it back, you could never get used to the revelation wagon’s wild ride. “ As per his will… Do you mean he willed them back into being, or that they were created as per he understood their existence. As Peninal understood yours?” he asked, because if it was the latter, he could see the origin of Garravar’s seeking for a third option in this tale of uncertainty.
“Well let me continue for you.” Benea nodded. “So you see, that same issue arose for Falbach. He had no idea if he did either or and as time went on he became suspicious that his friends weren’t truly his friends but some strange creation of his and as his paranoia grew, his will began to crack and loosen, and as that happened, he began to lose his nodes. Before long, the world fell into a mad rush for the nodes as one would expect of a crucible. It was god against god, who would win? Well, Falbach won once again. He was the greatest after all, remember?”
“And then the paranoid man with a cracked will remade the world a second time…” Xavior said, seeing only a ruinouse ending to this tale.
“He did indeed!” Benea sounded almost surprised that Xavior guessed correctly. Her storytelling definitely needed some work. “Granted what he did was create seven new gods but this time, he had no delusions of peace and began to hunt them all for violent fun, or so it was perceived as such. He would laugh and smile and smash his enemies into dust and pulp and then one by one he killed each and every god… except for one, the writer of this tale and my original paragon if you will. Her name was Voittaja and as far as I can tell, there was none like her.”
“How did she overcome someone with so much more power and experience?” he asked, just a hint of desperation for that knowledge hidden in his tione, for that was almost exactly the odds he would face if/when he had to stand against Garravar.
“Luck was on her side, as was time,” Benea explained, “She hid for two hundred or so years, waiting for the perfect moment. She knew that Falbach’s bloodlust would turn into boredom eventually and his violent will would crack again, and once it did and his power started to slip, she struck. She was lucky the triggering event did not come sooner, like it did for me.”
“And unlike you or Falbach she decided she did not want to live once that event occurred?” Xavior asked.
“She lived.” Benea leaned back and smiled. “She lived longer than I have, longer than Falbach ever did — probably longer than both of us put together.”
“... was that not the one before yours then?” Xavior said, realizing he might have jumped to a conclusion. She had said she knew of seven, he now recalled, and that had only been three of the missing 6 before the ones Benea had been in
“It was.” Benea was giving Xavior a wide, fox-like smile. “But it wasn’t a crucible.”
She 100% earned that smile, given Xavior’s jaw was left hanging open and the god speechless.
“So, there have been 8 crucibles now but there is another sort of form this world can take, and as far as Garravar was concerned he found it impossible to count and so we only know of Voittaja’s. It’s called an interim. Basically, the difference between a crucible and an interim is that a crucible always starts when multiple gods are born. In the case of Voittaja, when she won the final crucible of Falbach, her will was so against creating new gods that the world instead was cast into an interim. It is basically a crucible with one god who already owns all the nodes…” Benea slowed down and pursed her lips.
“Um, Xavior dear, perhaps it is best if we don’t share this story.” She pinched her chin. “I am starting to realize how tempting this could be to some.”
“Perhaps, but she dies in the end though does she not? Or eventually changed her mind. Else we would not be here, but instead it would be, what, a chain of her own worlds over and over forever?”
“It was one world, one existence.” Benea held up a finger. “And it lasted longer than the six known crucibles put together. I don’t know why it ended, the story ends with her victory and the birth of her interim. Voittaja’s interim.”
“Then how do you know it lasted so long? Xavior asked, scratching his head thoughtfully ”either way, it is odd that it lasted so long, and yet that was the only thing left in the node that was not remade is it not? The temptation is there, but the unknowns do seem… grim.”
“The pillar was made after the interim had already been going on for a while, and from her account, just that small portion was already incredibly long, as for why only the pillar survived in the end — I have no idea.” Benea crossed her arms. “This story is one of the things that drove Garravar to where he is today, so be careful with it. Don’t make me regret this.”
“I won’t. I swore to not follow his path, and I stand by that oath. I will not kill our kin chasing these gambles of fate” he said, holding up a hand as he reaffirmed that commitment, before adding “though when it comes to other reasons I am as yet undecided.”
Benea frowned for a bit. “Dear, after I murdered my sisters I swore I would never take a life again. For my entire reign, I ruled as a pacifist and even continued that tradition into this crucible. Now I realize I was foolish; you and I are going to have to kill anyone who opposes the decision of our alliance. Containment didn’t quite work when I tried it on Anak’thas. If I name you heir, myself and Tsunya will have to see that decision through.”
“That… is perhaps not the optimum attitude to have when going into negotiations with a neutral power with territorial holds that seem to rival our own if the merchant tales hold true” Xavior replied cautiously, somewhat taken aback by this turn around on her attitude. He himself had only been thinking in terms of an eye for an eye and had expected push back on that, so being forced into the opposite corner of this moral quandary put him off balance to say the least “Besides, we will need to devise a form of containment or imprisonment if we are to deal with your icy shadow.”
"That much is true," Benea folded her arms and sat back in her chair. "Killing him doesn't work, nor does trying to break tolbog. Containment ironically is the answer in that case."
“So we would need a prison of some kind, one that can hold a god. You managed to hold Anak’thas with only a box after all, so it is possible as long as we add more reliable wardens. More defenses. A better box…” Xavior replied, mind suddenly whirring at the technical challenge such a feat would provide “Well, at the very least, we do have test subjects available to prove the viability of such an endeavor” he mused grimly. They certainly did not lack for divine foes after all.
"He is rather tricky even when compared to other divine, considering his ability to shatter." Benea chewed her cheek. "Off topic, but we should split up at the isles. Recapture Monica's node and I'll claim the other two. It's about time we start to put our claim out until we can convene with Tsunya and pick an heir."
“I believe Tsunya was promised one of them,” Xavior pointed out once he had caught up with the rapid topic change, “specificity traded my claim to it too her, and I would prefer to keep that bargain”
“Besides, if she links up one of her nodes to the nexus here, claiming it won't have much of a delay. Not one that will matter anyway, as it will take plenty of time to settle and make use of just the one habitable node”
"As long as it is expedient, dear…" Benea twisted her lips into a frown. "I have an anxiety in my gut that tells me time might not be as long as we wish."
“I suppose all we can hope for is our roll of the dice being a high enough one” Xavior replied, “and take things at an even pace, neither rushing to folly nor being so slow that folly catches us anyway ”
“Then I’ll take one node and turn it into a prison, I’ll leave one for Tsunya, and you’ll take Monica’s…” Benea paused. “Maybe the southern gods can see reason now that we are further into the crucible. I’ll offer them a chance to convene with us over the heir, I think.””
Xavior nodded at her and suggested dividing up of the land and then went on “Maybe. At the very least we need the information they have on Grym’s abominations and, if possible, support in combating him. Collaboration now may lead him to be more open to additional cooperation and eventual unification with our cause” Xavior suggested optimistically.
“I’ll take it; I’d rather not have to repeat the events of Lon and Galina.” Olipha looked to the ocean and stared until her hair erupted in a white flame. “I’ll summon a mount for myself —”
With little else, the black gloss of the ocean was disrupted by quaking vibrations and violent waves started to lap at the turtle city. A deafening roar pierced the sky, blasting the waves into the air as beast as big as the city rocketed out of the ocean. It had the head of a lizard, with eyes as black as coal. From its toothy snout it had golden scales leading down its back all the way down to a long and spear-headed tail. Webbed wings shook the clouds from its back, and claws hung off of strong arms and legs. It let loose another roar, but this time a tornado of white flame blasted outwards and into the sky, lighting the ocean into a cream color for but a moment.
A smile formed on Benea’s face. “Isn’t he wonderful, dear?”
“I’m certain you’ll make a dazzling impression” Xavior semi-agreed. He would have gone with black with gold trim personally. Sill, there was no denying that with two 5 star beasts at their command, taking the node should be a breeze.
“I had prepared an escort for taking the node, but I suspect with this fellow at your beck and call they’ll only slow you down. Still, Shelley will be available to provide fire support should you need it” he said, regarding that task which was swiftly approaching, the great turtle and its new escort now within spitting distance of the chaotic coastline.
Literally within spitting distance in fact, as the chaotic guardians of the node, legions of wretched toad like creatures, announced their existence by sending globs of sparking bile hurting towards the invader’s with croaks loud as cannonfire.
Much of the first volly fell short, but some splashed the head of Shelley, who groaned and then returned fire, magnetic energy flowing up the central tower the gods were standing on and arching onto the twin horns at its tip, there the power coalesced into a mighty fireball, which hung in the horn’s grasp. It swelled larger, larger, and larger still, and then the fireball the size of a merchant vessel was lobbed forth in a lazy arch before crashing down among the toads, vaporizing scores of them in a single blow.
“Boom” went Benea, and thus the battle began much as it went on till its end.
Benea stood by the 34th node, her hand hovering next to it. All around her, the chaotic storm of the realm was ablaze with white flame and high above, cyclones were ripping from her dragon with every beat of its massive wings. Standing the fiery hell of heavenly flame, Benea let her hand fall on the node and all turned to light.
The ground groaned and creaked as stones rubbed against each other. The crack of wood growing faster than it should joined the cacophony and in an instant, the realm was reformed. It was a strange land, different from any of Benea’s previous. Along the border was a ring of simple life similar to node 12, but the center was a vast and empty desert ringed by a pentagon of volcanoes that were angled towards the center of the region, forever blasting a stream of fire upwards to a spot floating far above the node — an island in the clouds.
This island was cloaked in flames and made out of pure metal, fit with a sea of chains and locks. Benea folded her arms — she knew who would be living there.
“So, have you decided what you are going to do with your life?” Xavior asked the Shepherd of Shadows as he finalized claiming Monica’s node, reopening access back home via the nexus, and sharing the claim with Dzallitsunya and Benea.
The guardian of Maelite, who had already tidied up the feral bugs of the ream, eventually replied that it had not.
“So, and this is just an offer not a command, but how would you feel about being a prison warden?”
We meet Xavior and Benea traveling north inside a living turtle ship along with numerous mortal colonists. Their destination is the southern island housing nodes 33,34 and 35.
When approaching the island Xavior and Benea have a conversation atop the ship’s central spire, where Benea tells Xavior about the god Falbach, a wise and noble god who won a crucible, but then when that creation briefly destroyed his allies and then resurrected the as part of remaking the world he started on a downwards spiral due to becoming convinced his friends from the old crucible where not themselves, but false duplicates created by the crucible.
First he started to go mad, losing nodes due to his will loosening. THis caused a mad rush to claim them by the other gods which sparked a war. A war that Falbach won. He made a second world, but his broken mind made a nightmare where he hunted a new set of gods for sport, killing all but one, Voittaja, who hid and then struck Falbach when his mind and will started to slip.
Then she made the world in her image, but it was not a crucible, but something called an interim. If a god remakes the world, but does not create or bring with them any other gods, then the resulting period of peace and singular rule can last for an unknown but lengthy time. What happened that caused it to end, and for all that remind of it to be the pillar from which Benea learned this story, is unknown.
Benea does not particularly want knowledge interims to get out, but only realizes this after she has told Xavior about it. He promises her that he will not kill gods in the name of ploys for eternity, be it an interim or Garravar’s plan.
That brings them to talking about the killing of gods. Xavior considers it valid in an eye for an eye sense, while Benea has considered simply killing anyone who stands in the way of their alliance.
Given that they can't kill their biggest threat, Garravar, however the two resolve to instead make a realm sized prison to hold the gods who would stand against them.
Finally, Benea makes a big dragon and then they attack node 34 and take it with relative ease. Benea then tunis it into a prison, while Xavior goes west, claims node 33, reopens the nexus, shares the node with Benea and Dzallitsunya and then finally ives the Shepherd of Shadows a job offer as a warden of their new prison.
Node 35 is left unclaimed so Dzallitsunya can take it, as agreed upon some time ago.
Bae-nea: 5 might
5 might creature: a giant golden dragon the size of a ocean-city-sea-turtle (really big). Its wings summon massive storms of wind and it can breath pillaring tornados of white flame, fit to scorch whole areas. A veritable monster of titanic proportions.
Xavior: 7/8 MP
5 might creature: A giant turtle, affectionately named Shelly, with a shell about the size of a fortress. Said shell is clear like glass, and acts as an environmentally seal-able dome within which is a settlement filled with brutalist buildings with rooftop gardens, capable of housing a sizable population. A large tower sits at the middle, and at its top are two great horns that stick out of the top of the dome, forming a giant fireball launcher.
Node 3, with its sky-piercing mountains, was slowly being tamed. With the importation of Eunomian techniques, more and more people had the means to brave its heights and explore the unique riches it contained. At the same time, beneath their feet, the promised tunnel that went from the frontier with node 2 to the frontier with node 4 had been completed. The route was made connecting the many breaches to the sea or opening in the midst of the mountains, people often built villages in these which in the past would often get called "hold outs" for the fact they life was quite miserable comparable to others and even the most fanatical dusklander didn't see much hope in small fishing and mining villages deep in Node 3.
Then came the Alchemists, the farms of Kollore, the council's workforce and the full tunnel, and now these villages after so much struggle were starting to brim with life and prosperity, yet the name 'hold' for the mountain villages persisted in the folk culture.
Since lamps across all of its lenghts was always impossible, the dusklanders had painted art and symbols on the walls of the deeper, darker bits of the road in the luminescent wax of the local magical bees, it did not provide light but did mark the walls and avoid total darkness. With time, however, these started to be taken over by alchemist-made magma-crystal infused clay and glass, the "everglow" as it was often called, made for more aesthetically pleasing low light environments, with the clay having a softer glow often in pastel colours while the glass was much like illuminated stained glass.
And yet, neither the improvement of the villages nor the tunnel project had been what had drawn the alchemists in droves to the area, the truth lay beneath the infamous quicksilver lake of the region, deep in the ravines of cinnabar rock. The production of synthetic cinnabar had been one of the first acts of the alchemists, pure like a red jade and made from mercury sulphides, and initially, this unique zone had been home to small research on the topic. Now it housed the single largest forge and metallurgic complex in the crucible.
This came about with the discovery of Cinnabar-Orichalk, or Nyartzurkortze. The process of the creation of the metal had always been complex, involving acid baths in a very specific area of Node 7, alchemists had first tried to make Orichalk straight from copper and gold, but after many failures, the focus became what elements in the acid seemed to make it work. That worked, and synthesis of the acid became possible, alchemists all over started to synthesise orichalk in their labs just to show they could, including one studying mercury in the caves. By complete accident, some of their mercury salts and whatnots were mixed with the process, and yet the result was not a useless slag.
Lighter yet as sturdy and reliable, Cinnabar-Orichalk was easily seen in its colour, the turquoise of orichalk remained, but instead of being matte it had a slight orange-red shine. It had greater flexibility to disperse blunt damage, and best of all, it was extremely easy to make compared to old orichalk, especially when both auri-chalkum and an entire supply of mercury were so easily available.
The only issue was the heat so deep down a mountain, but once again the alchemists found a way with the help of Xavior-made materials and the ever-so-useful Umbrium from the Maelite. Infusing Umbrium and a magma crystal and bathing it in the absurdly cold liquid nitrogen lakes of Node 9 had synthesised a new crystal, the alchemists called it Heat Killer, the public thought that was a bad name and called it Monica's Tear. Nevertheless, what was important was that the gemstone was a bottomless pit, it consumed energy and heat from its surroundings, and with a barrier of these, the alchemists were free to operate in the volcanic heat of their new forge.
The goddess had seen potential but took the chance to create something far beyond just a factory of one type of metal. The Deep Forge, The Magma Flow, The Cinnabar Workshop, it gained many names, and most people thought it was merely a rumour. Yet it was not, deep in the mountain of Node 3, a massive facility was crafted, along with a whole village to support it. Cauldrons of absurd sizes, vats of molten metals and alloys, bubbling pits of all types of acids, natural and synthetic, gigantic presses and hammers and coils that harnessed the telluric energy from the depths of the earth and fed it to all of the machines. Furnaces powered by magma, electricity and magnetism, most of which even the alchemists did not understand.
Yet the results spoke for themselves, outside of Cinnabar-Orichalk, the forge had been the discovery site of new metals with key applications, like titanium and palladium, they experimented with alchemy and plant and other types of organic matter and discovered how to isolate its carbon and condense it, creating new materials, graphite, the gemstone jet, and the quite miraculous "coal" a rock that could be burned to generate a flame, and which would become very popular among rich people all over the crucible as an alternative to the magical, magmatic and electric furnaces of the commoners.
Aiming to emulate the Eclipse blade of Umbrium, the alchemists tried everything they could to produce its metallic form, and got one success, with infusions of osmium and platinum. Nothing in the forge was able to produce a blade as sharp and as impossibly thin and the life-sapping nature of Umbrium remained in the metal, yet holding a dagger of Umbrium Alloy felt like holding a two-handed sword, only a few small blades of it were made before the project was put to rest.
Coping with that failure, the alchemist-forgers made sure their improved steel using the newly discovered and isolated carbonite materials was of a dark colour and having no sense of shame, they named it Maelite Steel. It did help to create a certain mythic feel to it, as Maelite Steel became the default material of new dusklander weaponry, as most other materials, including orichalk, still lagged behind well-made steel when it came to having a reliable edge in weaponry.
"And that is the gist of what we have going in the Cinnabar Forge, my dear." Nyoriko said, with her usual smirk. "Looking at that, looking at this city. It almost makes me feel like we could make it without any gods around."
Kiri Tzur was on the verge of being finished, most of the city was already there, but the fortress while mostly erected still needed its defensive systems, while the shipyard and dry docks were still shaping up. From a look, the dusklander stained glass and metallic frames did not lie about who held the city, on the other, despite being entirely magistrate planned, a core of Tellum'Velik's style was also present in much of the materials and practical design.
"Feels like Tsorovah's younger, more desirable city. And what a message it sends! A reminder that all are welcome to become 'dusklanders', and also that if you don't here is a massive warship factory to remind you we own the place." Nyoriko snickered. "Anyway, my goddess, how did the battle go."
"You know the answer, even if you didn't, you would be able to guess it anyway." Dzallitsunya said in a distant tone, not even reacting to all of the master engineer's teasing.
"Mean. But I guess also valid. Sorry for that. But yes. We all know how it went." she stretched. "Sooooo. What now?"
"I will take the time I have to do other things. Kiri Tzur should help to take off the urgency from our defence. So I plan to attend the rest of the realm."
"I imagine this has to do with Monica? What a situation, and it was Eleanna as well..."
"We don't know about that, it could have been..."
"My sweet, beloved goddess. It's not anyone else. Our scouts saw the carriages entering Maelite. As for the winter god, we have not a single thermometers registering unusual coldness. Now now..."
"Yes. I get it." she bit her lips in frustration.
"Ah. What a thing you gods are. So emotional too. Tsunya, you can understand how frustrating it can be for us mortals to see gods acting in such an irrational and emotional way?"
The dusk goddess stared at the engineer and then sighed. "I can. I am sorry. I did not put a whole system in place just to ignore it if the results are not of my liking. About why I need to leave the province, well, it has to do with Monica in a way, there is a matter I must attend to in a far-off land. Yet, it is also because I am tired. I have been tired for a while. I... want to visit my family, and forget godhood for a while. I hope this concept does not offend you, Nyoriko. I know you are growing to be frustrated at the gods and how chaotic we are."
"If it was a serious concern I would have not told you, silly bird. And no offence taken, it's normal to want to be around those you care about, not the fields of death and intrigue. I would be more worried about my husband going after you, after you gave me the tools to mess around with ultra-projects all over the dusklands." the engineer looked to the side, observing a fish that swam in the canals of the ocean facility they were in. "Isn't it, hmm, Kroll who said, that we would do all we can so you don't have to worry yourself over mortal matters? I think that spirit holds true to all dusklanders to this day."
"And, of course, there are things only you can do, Tsunya. You keep the foreign gods at bay. You will be an eternal ageless ruler that will outlive every little power player like me, by millennia. You control the nodes. And... despite the devices of the Deep Forge, and the upcoming Celestial Forge, I don't think I will ever be equal to what you can do. Ex Nihilo. To create from nothing. What a power it is."
Tsunya laughed. "I like your giant hammer machine though, more stylish than willing metal into existence. Now. Speaking of that. How does our magic studies fare?"
The mortal shrugged. "Fora finally reported progress. Thanks our dark goddess for that. On our side, well, alchemy is evolving, slowly, we have been trying to replace the mechanisms of ambrosia. Palladium-Mercury tattoos seem like viable conductors, but are complicated to use. Of course... there are also our researches into uhh... what is the euphemism for it? Life dust? Soul glass is promising, but supply is low..."
"I cannot help with that. It's not like I can start ordering more assassinations just so we use the silicification poison more. I already gave you the right to execution using the method too. What else is there to give."
The scientist's colourful glasses gained a reluctant shine. "Now. I have been thinking. Death is a tragedy, also a tragedy is to just allow our bodies to rot on the earth, as we have been doing. Now... if our funeral rites were to change? Becoming a pretty little crystal of glass is a better fate than letting your body become a worm's feast. We'd put those crystals in a table, and inscribe their names too! That will generate a small tickle of dusk which can then be... you know. Used."
The goddess looked at Nyoriko with wide eyes. "It is disgusting that you suggested that, and disgusting... that I cannot quite disagree. I will think about it, but it's hard to do such a thing without feeling guilty."
"Why! The solution to that is simple. The same way you are fine having us fight in a war because you too are willing to fight and die for us, well, if you are to request materials for magic from the people, you could make it fair by offering some materials from you too~" she smirked, playfully but with a clear deviant joy at it. "A bit of blood. For a start. Would, oh be so helpful. And once you are free, maybe a little visit to Badja Kiri, so we can study you a bit more and see how that can help. You-know-who will be excited, but I am no sadist, there is potential in this. I guarantee"
Tsunya forced Nyoriko back a few steps. "Come on now, this is improper interest in my body, I am married and so are you Nyoriko." Tsunya sighed. "But you do have a point, if you think you can make use of my blood, sure, do you want a leeching or would a small wound suffice?"
"Why, haven't you been away for a while? Dear love! Leeches? No no, we have syringes now."
The battle for node 35 took a long time, the chaos guardian of the final node was no joke, a true beast of immense power, but after hours, one well-placed shot from Dzallitsunya's Daman Style wrist ballista fell the beast. A tired Dzallitsunya looked at it one last time, with white fur and floppy ears, she did not know how the hell a little horned rabbit could have been so powerful.
The rush of power from the node was as addicting as ever, Node 35 had a particularly enticing aftertaste, it was, on the list of the nodes, the last. There was a sense of divine comedy in the first node being Benea and the last being her, the light and the dark.
Once again, she had found ways to stop the sunrise, this time with a new technique, the dawn would start giving the night sky its lighter tones of cyan and pink, yet, just before the sunrise proper, it would stop changing, stay like that, until it was time for the sunset, with the fading gold and darkness of night taking over.
The land in which this long twilight existed was a desert, with sand dunes and rocky hills, a subtropical coast on the north made by humidity held by mountains, a good harbour point once Kiri Tzur was finished and Dusklander ships spread all over the world. Large rainbow-coloured crystals grew among the sand, especially around the centre, life was tame, with little foxes scurrying by and gentle manta rays floating in the sky. Low humidity was made on purpose, as she desired a good observation place for her inquiries onto the stars and the moon.
Dzalli had been so tired, that she found herself falling on the sand and staying there,she gave up completely on trying to catch up with Xavior and Benea, if they were still in the region, the invite had taken a while to reach her, she did not want intrigues or revelations, she just wanted to look up and see the clear starry sky. How could such beauty exist in such a horrible world? It was cruel, Peninal was cruel as well, the fool desired a world of peace, yet had created a crucible that was crumbling quickly, three gods had fallen, when it was the ones she did not know or care about it was fine, but Monica? The more she stood still, the more she could feel the weight of it all, and in this sunless land, she could not just point her sword to the sky and yell away her anguish.
This story takes place a bit after an upcoming battle post.
Node 3 continues to be colonized, with dusklanders going full dorf over it.
A massive metallurgical complex is created deep in the mountain of Node 3, making use of the magma beneath and the lake of mercury above, it's called the Cinnabar Forge or the Deep Forge. It produces better orichalk in more quantity, cutting-edge metals and metal alloys, it straight up brings carbon minerals like jet, graphite and coal, into the setting, and creates weird materials like Umbrium-Alloy, an ultra-heavy ultra-sharp metal, and can create something called "soul glass" from the dustified remains of people the dusklanders killed with petrification (or silicification, as they said it) poison, which is a good conductor for magic. The dusklanders also invent a bottomless version of the magma gemstone by infusing it with umbrium, it eats the heat away from a room and they use it to survive in this absurd forge.
The story resumes when Dzalli is talking with Nyoriko about plans in the almost ready port metropolis of Kiri Tzur. Nyoriko muses about how gods are somewhat becoming unnecessary, but she likes Dzalli so its okay. The conversation derails somewhat, ultimately, she asks the goddess for some blood.
Finally, after I just assume Xavior would tell Tsunya that she can now use the portal, Tsunya uses the portal and makes node 35 into a desert after killing a killer rabbit. She then collapses into the ground and is just having a bad time, again. She doesn't even try to catch up with Benea and Xav, she just wants to see the sky and then go home to her family.
Initial: 5 Bonus: + 3 + 1
4 might: The Cinnabar Forge A massive semi-automated forge of unmatched quality and productivity, able to store many metals and chemicals and help with the alchemical process for the creation of unusual alloys and the work of exotic metals. It also comes with the Heat Killer gemstones that stop the heat from the forge from being fatal to humans, as much of what it does makes use of extreme conditions.
5 might: (Tier six)Raise a civilization to the steam age or middle fantasy industrial age (clockwork and steam engines, guns and fixed bayonets)
“So, uh, I don't want to sound ungrateful your maj but, well, when we signed up to this expedition we were kinda expecting a whole island and not, well, a ring of shrubs around fiery death and flanked by cold and hot infertile lands”
That was the message delivered to the god when he returned to Shelly after settling the business of node 33. As the Shepherd of shadows began stalking around the perimeter of the ring of volcanos it turned out others had already done so. Namly a tribe of plant people, who had raced around it on soul powered chariots and scouted out the land far quicker than any could have done via horse, foot, wing or flying fish.
Having brought back the news, their leader, a man with long palm fronds for hair that he’d tied into a ponytail, also ended up as the one reporting the settler’s feedback to the god.
Xavier pursed his lips and glanced behind the man and his assembled entourage at the steadily growing colony settlement, that sat equidistant between the ring of volcanos and maelite. Both were already being harvested for fuel, while stone structures were raised and crops were seeded for future growth. Until those started to bloom, they would have to rely mostly on their stores held with Shelly, the titanic turtle presently sat on the shoreline and sticking her neck into Mealite and gouging on the flammable ubrium within.
It would be sustainable, Xavier thought, but it wouldn't be able to grow into another Eunomia with the meger farmland the habitable ring around the prison provided. The lack of any major rivers ment there hadn’t been much space to ‘lake’ life into the ocean that sat outside the purview of the gods either, so while the ocean would provide, it would take some time to begin to do so.
He saw this, and where the mortals where coming from, but it was still a bit frustrating to him to be told this by a man modified and mutated by Monica’s murdurer. He found himself clenching a fist at that thought and forced himself to loosen that grip, remeinding himself that these people had fled the wars over slavery in their homeland, and had come first to the 12th realm and now across the sea seeking prosperity, freedom and safety. They were no pawns of his foe, a woman who as he understood it had very little to do with the running of the realm’s who’s node’s she had claimed, but poteitnal fiends, allies and clients.
“I understand your concerns and frustrations, the necessity of the prison and my sister's creation of… less than idealistic realms has left you with something of a poorer deal than what was promised, and I will do what I can to make up for that. However, presently I can only modify the 33rd realm, and its current state is important as a source of fuel. Simply wiping that away would be just as problematic”
“Well it might be nice as firewood, but we can’t exactly eat Umbrium,” the plantman pointed out
“Nor can we trade it with the mainland for much profit seeing as they have their own source” A merchant added “this land is rich in resources, yes, but it is nothing unique. All we have is a gamble on what the bees produce as being profitable, which is hardly a good place to be in”
“Can’t you, I don’t know, bury the umbrium under fertile soil? It’d be a pain to get too, but it’d solve the issue” the plant man asked
“No, no it would freeze the ground, kill the roots of any crops… hmmm” the god’s mind suddenly wandered to reports he had read about the relationship between the temperature of various parts of the sea and the amount of fish there in. Colder was apparently better in some ways. Putting his mind to it, adding knowledge gained about how hot and cold air worked, he could see how it would flow and churn more than a warm sea, becoming less stagnant in the process and drawing ntruants in to let life flourish despite the lack of warmth.
Add to that the god’s interest in the ocean as a potential place of archive of knowledge and artifacts of past crucibles, and the island’s present lack of sea life around the regular coast and he had a plan. He went over it with the mortals, and then, after a bit of back and forth, Southern Maelite sank beneath the waves.
Over the following days life took hold of the dead land. Pockets of glowing algae finally escaped from their disparate and tucked away nooks and crannies, able to blossom across the entire region, turning the pitch black umbrium beaded sea into a glowing one, light shimmering up from the shallow depths and through the drifting ice sheets.
These, the native diamond plants, and seeded unstable crystals became the basis for new life consistently mainly of a whole slew of penguins, from minnow sized to gorilla sized, as well as curstations, and crystal lizards Xavior fetched from the caves beneath the 12th realm and warped into a slew of marine reptiles (from Plesiosaurs and Ichthyosaur to simple snakes and turtles) all filled out the life in the waters.
All this fresh life provided a bountiful harvest for hunters and fishers, both in the realm itself and around, as Xavior made sure to make some creatures and plants not adapted to the Umbrium laced environment around the edges of the realm, which could spread out around the island and leave its waters rich with life too.
The crystal infused reptiles were of particular note, their mix of flesh and energy filled rock, now found in far greater variation than presenting various intriguing possibilities for alchemists and magmatic engineers both. It was not without its challenges of course, the main one being that the umbrium fuel was now at the bottom of the ocean. Still, Xavior was sure the people would rise to the occasion, and produce some tech that would be useful for when he eventually found the time to scour the ocean’s floors for anything of note.
“Bit chilly” the plant man complained, holding his arms and shivering as he and a few of the others took their first steps out onto an ice sheet clinging to the edge of the realm.
“If you think this is cold, you should have tried walking through Maelite before I sank it” Xavior retorted, but with levity in his tone “besides, catch a few penguins or lizards and you’ll have suitable clothing in no time I’m sure” he added. Some people were already setting about doing both that and more it seemed, as a squad of winged demons and Tonnikala riders swooped overhead, stone thrower rifles at the ready as they swooped about, seaking easy prey and the thrill of the hunt.
Happier even than them was Shelly, the massive snapping turtle trunding down the soar and then slipping into the water, smashing ice aside with ease as she settled into her temporary home. Xavior would have more use for her later, but for now he had other more pressing matters to attend to, the god looking to the sky and grinning as he saw his bodyguard and confidant Annie returning from the first hun, hauling a struggling Ichthyosaur in her grasp.
He had served the islander’s food, now all that remained was to find out how good it tasted.
After talking with a plant man who has scouted the island and found out its habitable/farmable zone is quite small, Xavior sinks node 33 beneath the waves, creating a shallow frozen sea filled with glowing algae, unstable crystals, various sized penguins and crystal infused aquatic lizards as a source of arctic seafood for the island.
3 mp to sink node 33’s umbrium landscape beneath the waves 1 mp used to make bigger and more various crystal infused lizards, their chaos energy infused flesh being both alchemically useful and quite tasty. 1 mp to make various penguins, plants and other more mundane sealife to fill up the new ecosystem 0/5 mp remaining
Node 32 wasn’t all that alien to Olipha as she stood on top of it. She could feel the heated pulses underneath her shoes, one of the many hints that sent Garravar spiraling on his way. She knew the black pillars went downwards forever, and she knew the world was round, but what she also knew was that they never touched — not physically. She crooked a slant in her cheek and took a seat on the edge of the node. Another crucible, her third.
Olipha shook her head, it was hard to believe she had been alive for so long and yet some things just didn’t seem to change. She once again was at node 32, the node of Galina. This is where her sister died and this is where she took control over the entire known world. This was the exact spot she rose above all other gods and made herself supreme.
Now, as she looked outward from the site of her past victory, all she saw was a quaint replica of Galina’s home. White beaches, warm forests, gentle hills and lapping blue waves — forced to stretch over the shallow sands. Gulls called above and darted between floating clouds, and sparrows hopped from brush to brush. It was hard to imagine that a battle had been fought here — a battle that tore the ground asunder and split the sky.
Her paladins of old were fresh behind her eyes as she looked outward, as was the dying gaze of her Galina. Deep in Olipha’s heart, she prayed to the fates that this one might end on a lighter note than the previous two. She was but a god, a god with only a sprinkle of hope left.
Benea captures node 32, the site of her previous victory. She thinks about the past and hopes for peace.
One last natural barrier stopped the legion from being able to pour into Node 13 uncontested, it seemed meek as it was merely a crossing where a river became shallow, but a barrier had been raised.
A wall of soldiers stood on the other side, mostly dusklanders, from the elite clad in orichalk plate, carrying heavy halberds or a cleave-and-shield combo, to the majority of the dusklander forces, with lighter armor, wielding shields and crossbows, and others with spike, with an uneven distribution of bronze, steel and orichalk among the rank. Notable in this majority of the army was the standardization of equipment, despite the material issue and the rush to action the legion had demanded, all soldiers, from the elite to the levied troops, wore the same uniform in the same style. Brimmed kettle hats, flowing tunics in white and turquoise with a layer of opaque black cotton textile beneath, shields decorated with stars, comets or moons in brass or silver, with many raised banners of gradient tsillo following the same image patterns, with gradients colors going from orange to dark purple, dark blue to teal, and similar night and twilight themed colorations.
Flowing flags of flowers, a group of paladins was not too far from the core of the dusklander elite, this time without the worry of getting overrun, but still far from secure in the incoming battle after the loss of coldshank. To the sides, along with Dzalli’s skirmishers, there was a force of locals, rallied by Theodoro, these soldiers either wore white and yellow, a reminder of the pre-legion forces in the 13, or black and orange, to symbolize the ‘crescent sun’ as the eclipse, now a common occurrence in the node, became known. The same symbol also appeared in their flags and shields. These wore almost no armor, and were there to harass the troops with speed, sabers and their curved bows.
They along with a few veiled Magistrate archers were also the ones manning the siege weaponry, composed of three ballistas and a single silver cannon, all set to not fire unless a very specific target entered the battle.
Finally, also on the flanks, was a small force of Xaviorard mercenaries, in mismatched equipment but having the few riders on the Dusklander side, they were the only group who was close enough, and with equipment light enough (no cannons or the latest in magma weaponry) to make it to the battle, and even then they had barely made it.
The sudden and fast paced movement of Anak’Thas legion had truly negated the Dusklander side the advantages of preparing for battle, with her troops winded after a long march, the goddess decided it was best to not use the little time they had spare to build fortifications and instead use it to rest as much as they could for the upcoming battle.
Among the generals the Xaviorard general and the leader of the Paladins both had been VERY worried about that decision, with an enemy who had become infamous for their ability to rush down troops the logical conclusion was to have barriers to bid time. They had also questioned the goddess on many other decisions, from sending 2 / 3 of her troops to re-train, to keeping her skirmishers and light footed troops holding the many other passages into the 13 instead of using them to harass and delay the legion. But, being a goddess, she had overruled them all, the presence of Theodoro helping to keep her confident in her decisions.
Dzallitsunya along with the other commanders stood in a nearby hill overlooking the battlefield, her tension was clear, so was the one in the eyes of everyone but the local warlord.
“You better keep it in mind, that if we lose here, there will be nothing stopping them from overrunning the entirety of this node.” said a Benean lord.
The goddess nodded. “Defeat is not an option, if it comes to it, I will dive down there myself and end this battle with my own blade.” she held a hand in the hilt of Eclipse, while jade butterflies danced around her just waiting for her command.
“They’re ready for us.” Esterrek, one of the Dawnblade captains said. The men had formed up and were marching into position before the battle. A fair few of them received their iron weapons already. Much more was coming in as well but couldn’t make it in time before the battle. A shame, Esterrek had thought, but a necessary one.
“It matters not. Me and my knights will break through them.” Josephine, one of the Knights of the legions said. “We did it at Coldshanks. We’ll do it here again.”
“Careful with such hubris.” Maenari, leader of the Dawnblade Arcanii said. Her golden staff showed off her status in the theocratic hierarchy. “Your presence at the fortress was a surprise. They’ll be ready for you now in the water.”
“Ready or not, I will paint the river red with their blood.” Josephine did not lighten up. She stood before her Knight. The shadow of the construct loomed over her as a protective spirit. The last of the legion’s cohorts took their place along the formation. As always they were completely silent and moved as one. As if there orders were relayed directly and without confusion. Behind their lines things were clearly more chaotic. Knights were blaring their horns in anticipation. When the golden lines of the golem lit up and the huge engine of war rose up from its slumber all other constructs became even more agitated. They wanted this fight desperately.
And then, with a singular thought, the battle started. The first rows of legionnaires moved out and spread out in their approach. Their shields steeled with faith and hope for a free Telum’Velik.
In the dusklander line there was a great sense of anxiety, simulations of battle were far from the real thing, there was pain in those, but here, they would face death. The magistrates started shouting in a combat code “Three to A, One to B, High Wind, Comet in Five” was the main line being echoed. The pikes were lowered behind the elite in heavy plate, the latter starting to walk towards the incoming legion along with the paladins.
Like a machine the Legionnaires formed up again right before they’d clash with the Dusklander line. Each stepped into the right place and the right time to reform the shield wall. Like a great tidal wave the Dawnblades clashed against the frontlines.
Overhead the first falling star was lobbed from the arcanii in the backline. It was answered by the Xavorian ballistae opening fire and scarring the land before it with chaos. Rifts in the ground opened up, ice exploded everywhere. The legion continued it’s advance.
Knights skated over the ground with surprising speed for their size. At the front the legion’s formation opened up, just in time for the great constructs to batter they way through. The dusklander line held, for now but the Knights were wreaking havoc upon them. Archers and skirmishers opened fire. One knight held at bay with halberds, was turned into a hedgehog by the concentrated volleys. No-one saw it, not through the rain of arrows, but the killing blow came from a Magistrate that bid its time. “They’re better defended than Coldshanks.” Noted Maenari from atop the hill. Josephine was gone. She had taken her knight to lead the vanguard. Even now she was doing her best to break the Dusklander line. Maenari held her breath and hoped her love would be okay.
“We’ll break them. “Esterrek said. “Then we’ll reclaim Tellum’Velik” He could almost taste the vegetable stew he used to drink when he was younger. Even now he remembered where that little restaurant was back in the city. Though he feared, with the dusk-goddess’ influence, its perfect location had been usurped by chaos and greed. “We’ll have to break them.”
Maenari was not nearly as certain as Esterrek. Even if they’d win, the price would be steep. She never dared to doubt her Lord but as she watched men and women hurl themselves below at the cross she wondered why exactly he let them waste their lives like this.
The scar of old losses had been teared open as the goddess saw the battle, her troops held well enough, the wall of pikes had stood its ground, the barrage of crossbow shots was constant, and of her elites, the warrior with cleavers were putting the best of orichalk and steel to use. And yet, the cannon had only staggered the automatons when she expected it to be slayed, the lines of pikes could be re-established in the military sense, but the lives lost could not. Her halberdiers in particular were the ones suffering the most, broken by a well placed ice spike, they never got a chance to retain their formation.
She had already bitten all the nail she could, now her teeth were sinking in the flesh of her finger, her body clearly leaning forward, as if she was about to jump into the fray.
“My goddess, you must not.” Theodoro spoke. “The battle, despite issues, is favorable to us. If you join the fight, you will rob our men of the victory, their morale will be hurt in the long term.”
This was not the first time she had heard the reasoning, it was sound, but the solution still hurt her. She could not simply allow the slaughter to continue, to brute force a victory by sheer numerical advantage at the cost of her people.
“You are right, Theodoro, joining as a soldier will not help. But there is more than a soldier in an army.” and with that, she rose up the hood of the shadow petal over her head and vanished.
“Artillery.” the engineer, already tense, yelped when he found no one but the goddess herself by his side. “Forget the automatons, aim higher, harass those wicked mages in the backline”
“But it would be wasteful of the ammunition…”
The goddess immediately cut him off. “Ammunition can be crafted again, do as I command.” immediately, she jumped to the side of her skirmishers. “Eclipse will come, when it does, I want you to unleash the fire rings. For now, advance, try to flank them when the time comes.”
Next, she gave each and every single leading magistrate of the pike wall a simple but illogical order. “Advance.” they all were mesmerized and terrified, especially the ones whose advancing would mean being in the range of the rampaging automaton. “They expect us to hold back, to stand ground, let us not then. And about that machine, the power to take that down will be within your hand.”
In that case, the power in particular had been an iron chain spread out across many soldiers. “Many of you are levied hunters, no? Ever used a bola before?” with those words, the soldiers understood what they were to do, divided in two spread out groups holding the chain between them, they advanced towards the automaton aiming to tangle its legs.
To further rally her troops, the goddess, now back at the command, unsheathed the Eclipse and the effect upon the land was immediate, as the sun started to darken, seeping the light of the morning away and starting to bring back the night. As it did, the dusklander troops started to follow her newly formed plans, and while the xaviorard mercenaries seemed stunned and shocked from the sight and the foreigners in the command tent were annoyed as that changed their plan to inflict a costly battle upon the legion, the locals of the 13 who had converted to Dzallitsunya’s cause found themselves with renewed zeal, their leaders ordering a mad charge towards the legion, ready to face their own compatriots under the crescent shaped sun.
The legion answered with renewed zeal with a fire of their own. Every step of ground was bought with blood from the Dusklanders. Yet as the sun’s light faded and darkness fell, a gloom gripped the legions. Missiles whistled almost invisible through the dark now. The legions were ready. The arcanii were not. When the first ballistae hit and burned a group of the faithful mages, something shifted. The legions kept fighting, as did the nights. Until a series of blasts came from the Knights. They shifted and changed, and retreated as fast as they dashed into the fight.
Another circle of fire burned the arcanii, and a ripple went through the legions. They maintained their formation, but instead of holding ground they slowly moved backwards.
An hour later and the Legion had retreated from the battle. The field in front of the shallow waterway was littered with the corpses of the legions, the arcanii and even some knights. Some of the latter had their legs tied by bolas and their shell cracked open.
It was a victory for the Dusklanders.
Anak'Thas legions advance at a quick pace, aiming to reclaim node 13 from the darklander usurper. Dzallitsunya moves her troops to intercept them at the last natural barrier that kept the legions from spilling into the node and overwhelming her forces. With a few Xavior mercenaries and a squad of paladins, she blocks the river passage.
A battle ensue, Dusklanders have the advantage of numbers and ballistics, the legion has the advantage of magic and the unbreakable connected will of the army. At first, there is a stalemate, with the dusklanders backing away as the magic breaks their formation. Dzallitsunya calls forth the Eclipse and re-positions her troops, this turns the tide, and the legion retreats.
It was a costly battle for both sides, with even the dusklander victors feeling like they lost too much.
Off in the quaint countryside once happily referred to as “cannibal’s crest” was a small village tucked between two hills (or cannibal crests apparently). It was in that village that Renault and Fora found themselves, happy to be further south and away from the snow. The chills were still north enough that the desert hadn’t overtaken the temperature and as such, Renault decided to dress comfortably for once — leaving his armor at the camp in favor of some black trousers and a wide, blue shirt cut in the Benean fashion (with loose, short arms and a large, open collar). Even still, this relaxed look obviously hid many knives and blades and gadgets, all of which Fora had the pleasure of seeing him sneak on his person.
Fora herself stood slightly in front of the man but behind Francis, who was whistling happily as she led them through the hamlet. The magistrate had yet to regain her invisibility, instead rocking a look of cream white and pink, after a long struggle with wearing rags, she had regained her proper clothing of silk and fancy textiles with many silvery accessories, to top that, she had a massive umbrium-waxed parasol that fully kept her safe from the ever hellish sunshine that assaulted the world with greater intensity as they got closer to the desert. Though she wore a relaxed face, her mind skilfully traced the countryside for anything suspicious, especially anything signaling to whatever could get a place to be called Cannibal’s Crest.
“It’s not a bad place, eh Fora?” Renault could be heard behind her. “Almost reminds me of home.”
“I don’t doubt it does… I mean it is quaint for sure, just make sure you don’t lose anything in there. Specifically, a bite-worth of flesh.”
“Ah a little bite never hurt,” Renault missed her meaning completely. “You know, my home is sandwiched between two hills as well, just a bit softer slopes and a brook running down the middle. My house is on the west side of the brook with a well of white stones and an oak tree.”
“I lived with the rest of my clan in a spire not too far from Tsorovah, deep in the swamps, . Hills were on all sides, but I was so dead center in the foggy swamp I never could quite see them. Can you guess what my family’s profession was?”
“I suppose it wasn’t fishermen.” Renault answered with a playful sarcasm.
“It was actually. But my mother came in as a manyadjir from a jeweler family, aiming to help dive for pearls... It was like, very early in the settling of the land, back when spires were what we did not for fashion, but to avoid the constant flooding. I had a pet frog named Bubble, and he would eat any bug that got into my room. He was very fat given all the insectoid intruders I had to deal with, sleeping at the highest floor, with just sooooo many windows.”
“Maybe you can show me after all this.” A pause. “And maybe after that I could show you mine.”
“Uh. I no longer live in my parents’ attic? But I guess I could show you around Badja Kiri where I live now, I wonder… how much fancier it got since I left. It will be nice to show up with a tall and fit paladin though, all the magistrates would be talking about it, though I fear half of them would only be interested in your body.” she noticed what she said. “As in, experimenting with your body.” she noticed what she said, again. “As in, open you up with a knife.”
“Well you got my hopes up quite nicely before cutting them down,” Renault answered. “You know, Fora, I’m not just any old paladin, or did you already have a secret dossier on all of that?”
“Oh, the whole heir apparent thing?” she casually mentioned.
“The what?” Renault dashed to her side. “Did you just say heir apparent?”
“Oh?” she gulped, had she spoken more than she was supposed to know. “I said chair judgment. You are the one who tests all of Benea’s fancy chairs before she sits on them, yes? To make sure they are all comfy and warm?”
“That’s not what you said.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “You know something you shouldn’t, don’t you? C’mon, Fora, you can tell me — we’re partners!”
“Stop saying it like that all the time! Then when the hyena thinks we are just saying we are not a couple to mess with her, you don’t know why.” she puffed her cheeks. “How would I even know anything about your social position if I just met you for the first time in this wildland? I can’t access our massive archives of personal information on all politically relevant people in the north! Do you think I have a whole network of owl harpies quickly sending my messages back and forth to the dusklands? That would be silly. Tsk tsk.”
“Alright, fine.” Renault let go and crossed his arms. “We are sweeter than maple lovers on a Daman honeymoon, and this is our best friend Francis who happens to be a dingo-lady and not a hyena.”
“Damn right,” Francis muttered. “Now shut up; you two are embarrassing me.”
The trio was standing in front of a simple wattle and daub home now, stamped shut with a wooden door and fine iron knobs. The dingo-lady kicked the door open with a bang and shouted into the flickering darkness. “Now introducing Mr and Mrs Loudmouths.” She paused to look back at the pair. “Newly weds.”
Inside, an old man with large donkey ears and a smooshed nose blinked behind thick glasses of Xavior design. “Congratulations?” He was standing behind a workbench littered with fibers and metal parts. All that lit the workshop was a small table of candles, giving the entire area an orange glow.
Fora typically was able to be quite subtle when she wished, this time however, even Renault was catching the magistrate looking over and over the room, seeing the complete lack of anything that yelled ‘master soulcrafter’. “Uhm. Hello. Are you Mister Jole?”
“Master Jole, I am,” He corrected. “And what do I owe the happy couple?” He put down a screwdriver and wiped some dust from his hands with an old rag.
“The dude needs a new d-”
“That’s enough,” Renault interrupted Francis before stepping forward. “Master Jole.” The old man turned his attention to Renault and the paladin continued. “I’m Renault, third of the Paladin Order and in service of her Queenship Benea. I’ve come with word from both the Commander of the Pristine Palace and Benea herself that you are required in the Northern Queendom.”
“And I am Fora Dzikalla, grand magistrate of daman affairs, master scout and head of the biological department of Badja Kiri.” she said, always annoyed how these words meant nothing to most people, isolationism was such an issue. “I represent Dzallitsunya, and I too come to ask for your wisdom to be brought westward.”
“Well this is a surprise, indeed!” Jole gaped. “I had no idea I was so famous that two goddesses would take interest in one such as me.”
“That handsome face? Who could resist,” Francis snickered.
Renault smiled. “So you’ll come, then?”
“How about we discuss it on a walk?” Jole beamed.
“By all means!” Renault nodded eagerly.
“Fantastic!” Jole grabbed a hammer off his bench, but as he yanked the handle, the head didn’t come loose from the surface but instead cranked upwards with a mechanical whirr. The whole house started to rumble and wisps of blue magic pulsed down previously unseen veins that lined the entire cabin. The old man walked over to the window, where a dresser flipped to reveal a control board. All at once, the cabin was lifted into the air but giant mechanical legs and started to walk away from its spot in the valley.
Between thundering steps and the sound of Jole clattering away at the controls, the old master spoke. “So what exactly do your two goddess want with me?”
Fora was spooked enough by the sudden movement to grab at Renault for support. Forgetting to let go when it ended. "I was not particularly informed, but she does seem like the type who would want to know how to make massive walking houses."
Renault didn’t correct Fora and gave Francis a grin, who simply shook her head. The paladin piped up. “You’ll be paid for your services of course and hailed for bringing the technology to the Queendom. I hear you’ll even be given land in the 6th node.”
Jole perked up. “Well that sounds great!”
"Yes. Same thing for us too. The Dusklands can provide as much materials and workforce as you need for your designs. Our alchemists would also be glad to help if you need novel materials."
“I’m in.” Jole announced.
Renault let out a happy sigh. “Finally, something easy, eh Fora?”
Fora looked at Renault with nervous eyes. “Do not. Jinx this. You dense bastard.” she calmly whispered. The anxiety in her was easy to see, everything was going too smoothly, it almost seemed like a rock was about to drop, and the magistrate found herself overthinking.
Taking a deep breath, she looked back at Jole. “Right. So uhm. I guess we should get going soon then? Given the uhm, civil war situation currently happening. A…anything else to talk about? Or are we all set on conditions and plans?” she smiled, but her eyes didn’t hide true dread.
“A lot of people want me dead because of the whole civil war thing,” Jole said with a big smile. “But I feel like the Dusklands and the Queendom can handle that, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Hello, my name is Cole and I’ll be the narrator for this last bit. You see, after the gang ‘got the fuck out of there’ they headed west to the daman border where they slipped back into Dusklander territory. Once there, Francis made a pact to stick with Jole throughout his Western adventure and then Renault decided that it would make the most sense if Jole was to stop in the Dusklands before heading to the Queendom. He figured this due to geographical sense, and also because I’m pretty sure he wanted an excuse to hangout with Fora a little longer.
Regardless, this is the end of their Daman adventure, but certainly not the end of the rest of their adventures. Until next time, and remember kids — always recycle. What? Oh wait, there is more already…
Epilogue 1: Fora’s home
“Didn’t I say this place would be even weirder when I came back?” the magistrate confessed, the spires now seemingly threw lightning bolts at each other for some reason, she wanted to ask about it to Nyoriko, but she did not have the heart to show up to her with a tall paladin and pink hair, she would rather fall into the meat grinder and be served to the caged animals.
The pink magistrate smirked. “Sorry for telling you people didn’t wear clothes around here! So… have you been enjoying my home? It's a little dimly lit to your kind, but I do like the brass framed clear glass windows with views to the garden.” she puffed her chest with pride. “By the way, where is Jole and the ocelot woman? Didn’t I leave them eating flatbread and drinking fire tea before I left? They are notably not in my living room anymore?”
“You call this living?” Renault was still pouting. “Not even a half naked thing in here.”
"I can change that. I do still have my pearl diving suit." The corner of her mouth twisted in a smirk.
Renault clapped his hands together and started rubbing them schemishly. “Half naked swimming suit you sa-”
“Hey guys!” Francis barged into the room holding the loop of a broken mug. “I can’t find the other half of Jole’s tea.”
A pause.
“Or Jole.”
Renault fell to his knees. “No… no!”
Francis perked a brow. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting such a strong reaction to that.”
The sound of laughter of an old man and an old woman could be heard, as the familiar figure of Jole entered the room, along with him, the dreadful (To Fora) familiar figure of the engineer Nyoriko.
"Truly? An arched bridge with tendril muscles? You are something else old pal." The bespectacled scholar continued to laugh, before adjusting her pink glasses upon seeing Fora. "Dearheart, you are truly as pink as I had heard. And this must be the infamous Renault. It's not often we have a Paladin in here, I hope you don't mind having Fora's sister-in-arms stalking you, this is, you see, a research facility." She said, straight up poking the paladin in the chest.
"Huh? Miradja hasn't show up…" Fora started to say, but was cut, by the canine masked woman, typically Dzallitsunya's personal guard, making herself known and stepping just to the side of Renault.
"This has been by far the most dreadful job I have ever been assigned to. The only thing this man spied on were a few ladies in the boutique, otherwise, all they talked about is nonsense. Like Fora wanting him to show her, and I quote, pearl diving suit."
"Oh dear darkness, is that true?" Nyoriko laughed. "Are you sure he will understand the cultural context in showing up wearing only a tsillo backpack?"
Fora blushed pink "I was just… what are you even doing here you gods damned four eyed demon?"
"And miss the chance to speak with the famous master Jole? Never. Thanks for bringing him over, and oh! Thanks for lending your home to his project."
"My… my what? Huh!?" It was only then she would notice the old master installing more tendrils of ambrosia muscle right across her prized mushroom garden, a little shake ringing around her home as he tested it. "... I knew there would be a catch to it, it can never be this easy."
"Actually." Renault hooked an arm over Miradja's neck and pulled her close. He pulled a golden seal from his pocket and waved it in front of her. "I'm glad you showed up. You recognize this, yeah? The diplomatic seal between the Queendoms and the Dusklands. Well I have a request, there is a certain Marcus that I have an arrest warrant for filed by the Pristine Palace and authorized by your government. Could you bring him into custody?" He cracked a grin. "Right now?"
The assassin looked distant for a moment, before nodding. "I will have him dealt with. Excuse me" she easily slipped out of his hold and vanished into the hallways of Fora's home.
"And you." Renault poked his finger right back into Nyoriko's chest. A long pause. "I actually got nothin for ya"
"Good one…" Francis shook her head and then wandered off after Jole.
“Oh I see, you want some privacy. It's okay, I understand.” the engineer patted Renault’s head, having to really stretch to be able to do it. “I will leave you then, have some fun.”
The final stretch of Fora and Renault’s quest is at hand, the two make it to Cannibal’s Crest where the master ambrosian engineer Jole is, despite the name, the only surprise in the area is Jole’s walking house. Somehow, it all goes smoothly, and the master moves west to bring his craft to the dusklands and the queendom.
"Tell me the one where you tamed the untamable chaos wolf again then!" Begged Dzillikiri, having already seen that asking about the battle would never wield good results, the daughter of the goddess had moved her focus to the other stories from her mother's adventures.
"Oh? Does your memory fail you?" the goddess teased, pressing her finger in the bridge of her nose, the girl's eyes of a color black like obsidian looking silly as she tried to focus on it. "Why don't you instead tell me stories of your own adventures? I have keen information that you are quite the troublemaker."
"Oh but I know already about what I have done, I want to know more about your stories!" the girl pouted, before someone patted her on the head.
It was Llohar, who despite being twin to Dzillikiri, had already started to grow taller, and somehow his very aura seemed a bit more mature. "Hush now Dzi, can't you see mother is tired? She will tell you about the battles when she has the time." he said.
The goddess smiled. "It is no issue, I am happy to have some time to spend with you both."
"How long are you gonna stay?" Dzi asked, over-eager again, before adding a "I...if I may ask" in an attempt to be polite like her brother.
"For a long while, I think. There will come quests, but I will not allow myself to be as absent as before." the goddess said, eyes closed, before opening a single one, pouncing at her little girl with a tight hug. "So when you get up to trouble again, know that a god is watching~" the dusk goddess teased.
Llohar smiled, with a hint of perhaps envy at all the love his sister was getting, the hint, although subtle, was quickly caught by the goddess, who pulled him in as well, making the reserved boy gasp before he allowed himself to chuckle.
Tsoravah continued to grow, in size, in complexity, in quality. The goddess had feared that one day it would have fetid slums like a certain west-ward city, but the alchemists had worked on sanitation, the clan system had held and kept people protected from extreme poverty and the simple constant flow of new lands created, conquered or converted eased the excess of the cities. That is not to say, however, that it was as pristine as it was when it first rose from the swamps.
For a start, the smell of burning Umbrium now existed, with even a small forge being so noticeable, then there was the buzzing noise of flowing pure electricity. Eunomia had long managed to tame the flowing lava to power its nation, but for the Dusklnaders those methods seemed excessive, instead, they had sought energy in its purest, discovering the telluric currents deep in the earth and the celestial energy that charged the atmosphere, using similar techniques to Eunomia, but with the fine equipment given my alchemists, both started to be harvest, now, every hour was marked by the two of bells and the discharge of a new wave of power all throughout the region, going from the central celestial towers and telluric wells and spreading across many pylons to feed the needs of every city and public electric device.
It was a sight to see, even the goddess had been impressed when she first saw it. But the buzzing and the eventual lightning was problematic, and it kept all birds and animals away from the city centres, she wished there was a way to change that, but until then, it was merely the price paid for progress.
Seeing the changes in the city had made the goddess realise just how much had changed since she had left, and how long she had been away. She did visit her family from time to time, but the city proper had not been visited in so long... The Tsorovah she knew seemed to be gone in spirit too, no longer did the dusklanders come and rush to her to talk casually as if she was equal to them, the new generation had never travelled with her and the older one had grown distant as the battles and government mandates grew. Now the streets opened to her, as everyone froze and looked, bowing with respect, but depriving the goddess of a chance to see the lively city as it usually was.
The loneliness of her city stroll was only broken when she felt a small tug on her cape, a young girl with keen eyes looked up at the goddess and then offered her a flower bouquet, clearly nervous but also shining with courage. With a smile, Dzalli knelt and accepted the gift. Although this wasn't the ideal relationship she wanted with her people, it wasn't bad either, she could adapt.
The city of Veils and Sails
The birth of the true Kiti Tzur as the metropolis it was meant to be was marked by a first breath, as the pylons connected the city to the Dusklander power grind, and with all structures finished, the city could finally come to life.
A great fortress overlooked the walled city's eastern flank, shaped like a star and equipped with silver cannons, it stood on the eternal watch against the threats of Anak'Thas, with walls thick enough to defy a god. The western flank was not without threats either, with the craddle and node 18 being nearby, and on that side of the city stood a great tower, taller than all else, acting like both a lighthouse for the sea-vessels and a watch tower to scout upon the scorched lands and the repugnant god beyond them.
While many projects aimed at draining swamps to make way for cities, Kiri Tzur had been made to increase the one that already existed. Taking over all of the original delta of the Shepherd's River, the dusklander engineers had built canals and dams all around the city, turning once flat land and well-defined beaches into mangrove forests and swamp terrain. With the dusklanders being the masters of swamp-dwelling, this zone formed another layer of natural protection for the city, while also providing grounds for fish farmers and herbalists to settle.
This was all but the clamshell that protected the pearl, the city proper of Kiri Tzur. Built on a hill, the city's families were in their majority working on two fronts: One were the smiths who worked on fixing and preparing the weapons to feed the war, especially the crossbow bolts and cannons, though some work on the exotic dusklander steel and orichalk was also done, the large majority of the converted verdant landers, the eclipse cultists, had also taken to the city and living along the dusklander smiths in their majority. The other, more than obvious, was the maritime industry, from the carvers to the weavers to the sailors themselves. The weavers were also tasked with the monumental task of keeping the large dusklander population protected from the harmful sunlight both at the land of the 13th node (and beyond) as well as in the sea. It was them who would give the nickname most would know Kiri Tzur for, the city of veils and sails.
The port of Kiri-Tzur was unmatched, especially the area covered in the thick smoke of burning umbrium and coal, the dry-docks. In there, massive ships were made with industrial zeal, although wooden in the core, these ships were treated in an acidic cooper substance and bathed in tamed lightning, giving them an outer cooper platted shell. Combined with the black sails, the often oxidised green plates mimicked the turquoise and black of the dusklander uniform. The first ship had left the dry docks on the same day the city was truly 'born'. Many more would follow, swarming the inner sea, and expanding the dusklander reach over the verdant realms as soon any military port of the legion would find itself facing the bombardment of ship-mounted cannons.
The Crow's nest
The war in the south turned into a series of skirmishes that never went anywhere. Neither Anak'Thas' legions or the Dusklander's banners could break the other side, the material advantage of the dusklanders was rendered to nothing when facing the mages and numbers of the legion, yet those factors were put at great risk when trying to break past dusklander lines. This gave Dzallitsunya a long peace to enjoy with her family, enjoying her well-earned rest.
When a magistrate rushed into her home she expected the worst, a call to war, but the news she got was quite different.
"My lady. I think we may have had a breakthrough in our quest to explore the island in the central sea."
Dusklander ships had swarmed the sea and faced little opposition from chaos or the legion, what did cause trouble, however, had been the puzzling mist of the lost island belonging to a dead god. Dusklanders ships had been lost there, and not even the seismic sensors or alchemical lenses could peer past the mist and find a reliable path into the island.
"Have we found a way in? Have we landed on it? What has happened?" the goddess stood up, impressing her family with the first commanding tone she had ever used in months.
"Well. Hmm... Its a bit hard to explain but." the magistrate looked at the window, the massive glass block window of the goddess' palace, as a massive bird pecked on it, trying to open it up as if it was a simple shuttered design. "He calls himself the rok, and he comes to bargain." said the magistrate, the goddess raising an eyebrow in confusion.
"I NEED A GOD" the bird had said. "I LOST A FRIEND AND I NEED YOU TO SAVE IT. PEOPLE IN THE METAL SHIPS SAID YOU WERE THE MOST HELPFUL GODDESS SO I CAME." the panicked monstrous bird had begged. "PLEASE. YOU NEED TO SAVE THEM"
And so, the goddess had set forth on an adventure, her first time sailing the copper-plated ships into the ocean, and since she was already out, it was her plan to make a full journey to the desert lands she had created earlier. She had wondered, how bad things had to be on the island for a creature of this size to be this panicked, and how dear that friend must have been for it to be this worried, worried enough to break the vow to their god and lead foreigners right into the heart of the late god's realm.
As promised, the Roc guided them to the island, the ship was too large to make use of the small harbor the islanders had, so the dusklanders had to leave on canoes, all clad in the new orichalk, one with a natural red shine to it, with lances and crossbows in it, expecting the worst in the island of a dead god.
So when then landed, it was quite a surprise to find a calm village, it seemed to have once been made like a fort, but given the years of anarchy that had broken down, serving as a community centre for the villagers who lived mostly on reed cottages. Nobody seemed sick, nobody seemed to be starving and when seeing the dusklanders, they reacted with curiosity and hospitality, offering them to share their pig roast (which the dusklanders accepted) and boiled Rokling eggs (which they did not accept)
Thinking over the situation, the goddess made a decision. "The soldiers can take shelter in the ships, the scouts should overlook the island and the villages, keep yourself masked to not bring any sickness to these people." she looked at the giant bird. "I will go and help this friend of his."
Dzallitsunya would alone follow the Roc to the north of the island, where it nested, she wondered if it was not too late to save this friend of his, should they have perished already. From what she understood, as the bird spoke, the friend had been seriously wounded and needed surgery, something the locals clearly could not provide, given their technological progress. When further pressed, the bird started to tell the tale of how he met this friend, a lone girl who had come to him despite the villager's fear of the Roc. It reminded the goddess of her own loneliness and the lone girl who had approached her on that stroll through Tsorovah, and she understood why he was in such a panic.
Tension grew in her as she climbed up the sharp confusing cliffs of the bird's mountain home, this was no place for a child, no wonder she had been harmed, even the goddess found herself taking the wrong path at certain times. Nevertheless, she approached the nest, and the Roc rushed to bring the ill friend to her.
The sight left the goddess with a loss of words.
The girl... wasn't there. Instead, the Roc had offered her a half-ripped, clearly aged, weasel doll.
"Huh?"
"IT HAD STAYED WITH ME FOR A WHILE, I DO NOT REMEMBER HOW LONG. EDRA HAD NEVER ASKED IT OF ME FOR A LONG WHILE, BUT SHE SUDDENLY ASKED ME ABOUT IT. I WENT TO CHECK ON IBSIE AND FOUND HIM ALL TORN UP! AS IF IT WAS PECKED BY SOME HORRIBLE CREATURE! WHO COULD HAVE DONE IT."
The goddess blinked, then nodded and picked up the toy. With gentle hands, and a summoned needle, she started to reform it to a proper shape, having done it oh so many times with Dzilli's own dolls. A bit of godly magic later, and Ibsie the friendly weasel was as good as new.
Later, at the nearby village, Dzalli met the girl of the Roc's tales, though she was older than she was led to believe, a grown woman with a babe of her own in her arms. She looked with confusion at Dzalli's appearance but quickly giggled away any worries as the goddess told the full story, a nervous Roc hiding behind her.
"Oh, so that is why this bird was so nervous, I thought for a moment it had stopped being my friend." Edra said, looking at the toy and picking it up. "Hey Ibsie, has been a bit no? You are looking fine~ I wanted to introduce you to someone." she presented the toy to her baby, who clung to it immediately, starting to softly bite at the poor plush weasel."
"Ibsie is my clever little friend, and this big bird here, his name is Roc, and he is my best friend, though not the cleverest." she teased, nesting her head to the side of the bird. It seemed all had ended well there, though now that she was already here, Dzallitsunya had to decide the fate of the island as the first foreigner to make her path to it.
The first thing she did was capture to the node, taking over the vacuum left behind by the perished crow god. A path had been opened with the Roc's route to the lost island, but it was hazardous still nevertheless, ultimately, she decided the island could stay isolated, in fact, it would be best to keep it protected from harm, but it would still be under the protection of the dusklands, with magistrates and a proper base of operations being set up there with the intent of further exploring the island, recruiting citizens and delivering goods like medicine. This took the shape of a small lighthouse, which would act to also guide any incoming dusklander ship to the right location.
Node 19 is claimed by Dzallitsunya
-3 Create multiple buildings: The Port city of Kiri Tzur -1 Create a lighthouse in the port of Node 19
Benea stood facing the ocean calm. It’s black surface was already starting to break into fluttering blue as life spilled into it from the 32nd node. High above her, the dragon named Tagro flew in large loops which in turn pushed a steady wind over the seas. This wind was caught in the billowing sails of the paladin ships — their galleons dotting the horizon. An army was on its way and soon the node would be colonized and ready to be used to strike.
Anak’thas floated above his golden throne. He had taken the the chair more recently as a place to think in solitude. It was center sat in a large hollow room painted to every corner with vast murals. Most depicted the exodus from node 18 and his original faithful, while the rest showcased his victory against Benea at 14. But now he sat with a heavy brow. A messenger stood beside the throne with a meek composition as the god unraveled his words.
“So my sister has taken the 32nd node?”
“Yes, sire.”
“And you’re sure of this?”
“Word traveled fast, sire.”
“No doubt…” Anak’thas’ great eye peered upwards, already envisioning the possible reasons of Benea’s recent move. “She has her eyes on 17.”
“That’s what the generals are saying, sire.”
“And I’m busy in node 13, why wouldn’t she go after my tail end lke the backstabber she is.” Anak’thas groaned. “I need to finish this war.”
“How, sire?”
The great light that was his eye snapped to the messenger, blinding the man in the spotlight. “How!?” The frustrated god shook the walls. “By finishing it myself!”
Benea is stacking 32 with troops while Anak’thas is learning about her potential invasion of 17 while he is busy fighting dusky lady in 13. Anak’thas comes to the conclusion that he will need to personally go to 13 and end the war so he can then stop Benea’s trickery.
