Hey all, I was also someone who helped develop the setting and will be jumping into this as a co-GM. I'll probably have a character sheet out within the next few days. I'm excited to see what people come up with!
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We're All Mad Down Here
Abyssal Forge Chapter 1 - The Fissured District
Event: Abyssal Forge | Location: A Place Time Forgot | Including: Juulet @YummyYummy & Neki @Force and Fury
Those United in Common Cause
Location: Ersand'Enise
For a pretty penny, a girl like Arianna Capobianco could afford a modest room within the merchant quarters. The rooms were more spacious than that of commoners and one could imagine it a little smaller than a nobles room, although she would keep no scope of reference.
Despite being in the second year, few decorations or memorabilia stood out in her room. A Revidia flag hung near her bed and a figurine of a dragon sat on her desk from the first year of trials. She had mixed feelings about the dragon, it reminded her of an outstandingly fun time she had at the event but it also brought back memories of a boy she liked on the team, the feeling was not mutual.
She wore trousers and a button shirt similar to what an on-duty Revidian navy woman might wear. The shirt fit poorly and she favoured rolling up the sleeves instead of going to resize it. For a girl who had no background or family history in the military, this was quite the shift in fashion from her compliance to the typical Revidian dresses. The later night required a meeting and she was not to look weak for it.
She slid the upper abacus bead of the sixth row down ticking the calculation over to 50,000, adjusting the beads from the lower rows she came out to the new running count of 52,235 Veneficus in monthly profit for Ersand’Enise Zenobucks taking away material costs and a rough estimate for labour, there was still more to cover.
She didn’t know why she picked Zenobucks for her economics assignment, she didn’t even enjoy coffee. She drank it because she needed the boost but she could never really say she enjoyed it. She simply chose the business in the closest proximity and with the best ease of estimation. Then again, what could she pick for economics that she would be truly passionate about?
She tried to think that her days ticking away at an abacus and crunching numbers would only be something she would have to cover in school. Arianna liked to forget her father had an abacus as a permanent fixture in his office when time came to do the accounts. Perhaps her future really did lay in the endless calculation.
Some students were made to excel, go on spectacular missions, and carve their names into the future history books. Then there were students like her, only there to, well, study. Arianna never stood out from the crowd once. She took the classes that were expected of her, she did reasonably well but not exceptionally so, her teams had a mediocre performance in the trials, she had yet to know love or even have her first kiss, and she never sought a position of renown because that was not her place. She was not exceptional, she did not stand out, and her life was nothing but enslavement to a fucking abacus. Crunching numbers to crunch more numbers such that you can have more numbers to crunch in the hopes that you have more numbers to crunch than your competition and that's just good business. It was pathetic…
My fellow Revidians, take a look at what this school has become... You see what is happening in front of you. No doubt, you see the injustices happening before you; those held in custody, and those being silenced for speaking out against it. Maybe you are scared to act or try to defend it because that injustice calls itself one of us... But I know Revidia, I know the beauty of its rolling hills, I have tasted its wine, I have danced with its women and men alike. Through all my travels there is a reason I always come back there out of anywhere in the world... But I ask you now to look at the up toward the Forked Tower, where a girl was taken from her home in the early morning and held there without a word. The Perrench think that we condone this, that this is the work of the Central Alliance. I want you to tell me if that is the Revidia you know. I want you to tell me if that is a Revidia you can take pride in. I say no, that is not Revidia.
To those who call themselves Revidian, I ask you to fight. What Revidia would we hope to inherit if we turn a blind eye to the corruption before us? But I am not asking you to fight Revidia or turn against the Central Alliance; only that you fight to remove a coward who hides behind their colours. Take up arms here and let it be known where the true Revidia stands. Follow me, follow my spear, and fight for its honour!
She remembered that speech word for word. She stood frozen watching Ersand’Enise crumble to the unrest of Penelope Pellegrin’s detainment. She sat back watching the gathering armies of students who looked to storm the Violet Enclave. As she was prepared to do nothing because it was not her place, he rose and told her to act.
Leon Solaire spoke of acting against Revidia’s wishes and joining the revolution, yet she didn’t feel she was betraying it. Despite politics, despite commercial gain, it was in Revidia’s honour to storm the Violet Enclave and free the pauper princess. He was like a knight bathed in gilded light who pointed the way and she found a purpose to follow.
Magic had previously been a help for mundane tasks and an extra assurance of self-defence. The night of the revolution, she wielded it to kill two people.
Shifting the first five rows, Arianna updated her running count to 91,327 Ven to account for special Zenobucks orders such as the absurdly popular spratz toppings and household ingredients such as ‘sugar s’... Sugar s…
The first one had been an older Enthishman she killed in self-defence. When the Revidian students made their charge behind the leaders, the old man rushed through straight to her with his blade drawn. She panicked and only just managed to put enough electricity through him before he took her head off. Her heart beat fast, she drew unsteady breaths for a while afterwards, and then she vomited.
The second was done with intent. He was a younger man with pale skin who barely got the chance to speak before lightning shot through him. The mercenaries had made it clear they meant to kill, she felt no remorse in the moment to treat them in kind.
It was an accomplished feeling she had to stand above a battlefield victorious. Arianna had few victories to call her own. She was not a large girl, had not come from a largely successful family, and was not particularly blessed by the gift. It seemed she was afraid, weak, or inferior everywhere she went. She no longer felt that way among the fallen of those who opposed Revidia.
When a second sun bloomed above the Forked Tower, Arianna had an epiphany that she had been lost. She had lived her life with no direction. Her grandfather was a lumber merchant who sold lumber for profit such that her father could inherit that and sell lumber for profit as well. She was at Ersand’Enise so she could compete with her siblings for the grand title of lumber saleswoman who lived only for making more profit. Profit, profit, profit, but what for? For what purpose did she exist other than to do the exact same thing her father did? What point did they really have in the world? Arianna looked at the second sun calling a successful end to the revolution and saw direction where she had never seen it before. She would serve the vision of that man named Leon Solaire who had given her purpose and cause. She felt like something more than she was meant to be…
Ticking up profits for the Zenobuck’s snacks had started to wear on her patience and became quickly frustrating. Arianna looked out her window to see the sun dipping below the horizon, slowly retreating its glow from Ersand’Enise. She happily wrote down her current tally and left her assignment to gather dust on her desk. She grabbed her faux military coat and draped it over her shoulders before heading out.
Leon had departed for Palapar so a special meeting was to be held for the Figli di Revidia, the Revidian student group. Arianna was excited.
The floor of the Fino a Colazione became quite a different place during an Orredes night. It was the cleanest the floors were in the entire week; just preceding the Lepdes and Victendes mayhem. The smell of the faint sea breeze clashing with the herbs and spices of the kitchen was not overpowered by excessive booze and was a welcoming scent to any Revidian who called the coasts their home.
Figli di Revidia gathered at a reserved end of the tavern with roughly thirty students in attendance. It was a mix between a social gathering and a pantomime of a small council, the food was plentiful and the jugs of wine runneth over. Short, tall, rich, poor, they all gathered here under the banner of Revidia. There was even a small bunch of students who shied away from the political nature of the group and spent their time making food in the kitchens for everyone and catching up with friends.
The group’s soul had changed since the revolution and the approaching reality of war. Before, there was endless speculation about the markets and internal plans among peers to manoeuvre accordingly. This often meant that people stuck to small groups of 2 to 4 out of fear that too many people having details would spoil a golden goose. It also meant that nobles talked to nobles, merchants talked to merchants, and commoners made the food as many only wished to go into business if the investment was mutual.
Now, instead of solely discussing a means to make a profit, they spoke of what they could do with those funds. How could Revidia manoeuvre to favour their victory in the war? What contacts did people have to sway neutral nations into Central Alliance sympathy? How could Perrence be chased away from their growing encampments at the borders? Standing around two central food tables they filled their bellies with food and wine while idling away with the chatter of finance and military speculation afforded by said finances. But even subjects of sport, food, and music found themselves more than welcome.
Toward the back wall was a table for the leaders of Figli di Revidia. Three chairs sat facing the group’s festivities while awaiting the topic for the night. Arianna sat in the central seat picking at the pizza made by Fiorella Caruso, a younger commoner girl who had personally served her and awaited a review. It was good but not exceptionally so, although Arianna struggled to think of the missing ingredient. For as much as she loved the girl’s culinary passion, there was more on her mind.
To her left sat another leader, Vittorio Garibaldi, the first heir to Garibaldi’s Pawn in Ersand’Enise. He was a larger, older boy of 19 who was well on the road to adulthood compared to Arianna. He wore round spectacles, neatly trimmed black hair, and had a larger stature with some fat and a little more muscle than someone in finance typically kept.
Vittorio was conversing with Ettore Muti, a 15-year-old with far too discerning eyes for someone barely beginning puberty. They tried to keep their conversation discrete but not secretive as they discussed the prospect of investing in lumber before the war started. Arianna thought it was strange that they wouldn’t ask for her input in the matter but she didn’t get the impression they were excluding her from the conversation. She didn’t feel inclined to participate.
To Arianna’s right was an empty chair. It was supposed to be occupied by Flavio Velluci, but his refusal to arrive on time had held up the entire meeting. He was a truly rat-like man who was lanky for his height and had very little going for him other than being the heir of the Velluci luxury products business. He dressed up an unfortunate appearance with enough gold to feign the impression of dignity and gravitas. Unlike Vittorio, he did not fit the maturity of a 19-year-old. His seat of responsibility was often empty.
The night wore on for some time before Flavio finally arrived. He was likely only a half hour late, but it felt longer to Arianna and she didn’t care to check the time. With all three seated, she was now caught between the two other leaders. Both were taller, bigger, older, richer and had more claims in life than her. But it was past time for her to be intimidated by that. Vittorio had stayed back during the revolution to protect his father’s store and Flavio was absent without explanation.
Vittorio ended his conversation and dismissed the Muti heir, who returned to join the crowd. He then faced the other students and smacked his hand a couple of times to announce the beginning of the meeting. As was customary, the chatter would die down in a minute or so as everyone was given time to finish their conversations. In the interim, he turned to look past Arianna and directly at Flavio with an all-too-polite smile. “How nice of you to join us, Velluci.” It was a pointed, sarcastic remark that demanded an answer for the luxury heir’s tardiness.
Flavio gave an exaggerated sigh and a half-hearted smile attempting to look nonchalant about the inquiry, but his acting was poor. “I was held up by family matters, Vittorio. If I could do something about it, I would.” The relaxed delivery had an undertone of annoyance. Arianna didn’t buy it for a second and barely stopped a scoff. His lateness was likely nothing other than the result of his own actions and she doubted Vittorio thought any differently.
Quiet began to take hold over the hall as the other students wrapped up their talks amicably and awaited the leaders to speak. Eyes were mainly turned to Vittorio who had called the special meeting. Very few people were unaware of the subject matter but they stuck out like sore thumbs while everyone else grew stern. Vittorio, however, smiled politely.
“Welcome to the meeting all,” he began with a formal presentation, “I hope you have found the food agreeable. I don’t wish to waste time or hang on moments that are better spent on drinks among family, so I will make this quick. I would like to discuss the matter of Leon Solaire and his pending membership in this group.”
“Although anyone who has tried my glasses would disagree, I am not blind. I have seen the impact the performer has had on this group since the revolution. This was originally a group for Revidian students to network and help find their future place within this country. There seems to be far too little of that now in favour of talk that is… idealistic, to say the least.”
“It is good to have ambitions and Leon can be an inspirational figure, no doubt many support his membership.” Vittorio looked down at the speech he had written down on a piece of parchment. “But I would like to temper that ambition with practicality. Leon Solaire is a dreamer who has yet to display any real grasp on finance or politics in our meetings, he barely shows up to half of them, and one could even question if he is a Revidian by birth, although I wouldn’t hold the last point against him.” He paused and looked up. “While I am not overly invested in the vote’s result, I would like to vote on the refusal of Leon Solaire’s membership on these grounds.”
Silence.
“You can’t be serious.” One of the wine-avid students at the back called. Arianna couldn’t see who it was.
Enzo Gallo, an unassuming 17-year-old commoner, spoke up at the front. “Leon took down the White Thresher in Mezegol alone while the other students there watched, you should know. That whole city loves him now. You can’t say he doesn’t belong here.” Arianna moved her hand up at her mouth to hide a tight smile. That statement wasn’t true. But she wasn’t going to correct the record and the other students had neither the knowledge nor desire to either.
“My cousin’s friend is gonna marry the Marquis’ son there because of him.” Suddenly called Arianna’s friend Fiorella Caruso, a food-making member of the group. “She’s a navy woman marrying a noble because of him.”
Vittorio frowned in annoyance and waved the chatter and emerging protests down to move the meeting along. “As I said, I am not concerned with the outcome of this vote. I simply wish to give voice to some of the less… vocal members of the group and let everyone have their say.”
“All those in favour of dismissing Leon Solaire, raise your hand.”
Vittorio, Flavio, Ettore, and four others raised their hands. The group’s policy of public voting backfired as one student even lowered his hand after the poor turnout. 6 out of 30, 20 percent gave a clear message that Leon’s place within the group was solidified. Those who voted against his membership calmly lowered their hands.
“That decides it then. Leon Solaire shall be an official member of Figli di Revidia when he returns from his trip.” There were cheers among the group that even Vittorio couldn’t help but admit a smile at in humble defeat. Arianna noticed that Flavio and Ettore were not so gracious, Ettore because of young age and Flavio… had no excuse. “Please continue with the food, the wine.” He waved them away formally. “And try not to hold the results of the vote against anyone, we are familia remember. Family can have their disagreemen...”
“Before that!” Arianna finally spoke up. “I would like to hold a second vote.” Vittorio gave her a raised eyebrow and Flavio scoffed with impatience. A few students groaned at being wrenched away again from the fragrant food while most turned to provide the youngest leader with her due respect.
“I would like to hold a vote on making Leon Solaire a leader of Figli di Revidia.”
Vittorio’s face dropped and Flavio piped up in a snarky tone. “You can’t. This group only has room for three.”
Arianna smiled at Flavio and turned to the student group captivated by the unfolding drama. “...replacing Flavio.”
Vittorio spoke quietly to Arianna but could still be heard by Flavio and the front row. “Arianna, with all due respect, don’t you think this is a poor time for this?” He looked past her and apologetically toward Flavio, who was about to have his reputation put on the block for public execution.
Arianna gestured gently to the crowd. “This is a democracy, is it not? I think we should let the people decide.”
The other two leaders shot each other worried looks and Arianna felt even more confident. There was a time not too long ago when such a prospect wouldn’t have even phased them and the vote could be dismissed. This was before Arianna had informed the group of Flavio’s habit of skipping academic classes in favour of burning his father’s fortune at dingy brothels. His reputation was even lower than normal after that. There wasn’t anything to speak of for Vittorio, but someone thought they had seen him buying Blue Ice in Mudville and that was enough.
Even if the rumours hadn’t gotten back to them yet, they could feel the undercurrent of their slipping influence. That wasn’t even mentioning Leon himself, the Sun King had a hold on the group that both could recognise.
Vittorio bowed his head briefly in resignation. He could already guess the outcome. “Very well, all those in favour of removing Flavio from his leadership position and replacing him with Leon Solaire.”
18 students immediately raised their hands making an instant majority to call the vote. Within a few seconds, that number had risen to 24. Then, after 10 seconds had passed, only Vittorio, Flavio, and Ettore had chosen to keep their hands down. The answer was clear.
Flavio’s face had grown red from anger and humiliation. He almost jumped out of his seat and spared no time in storming out of Fino a Colazione. Arianna watched him leave with a smile, if she had to guess, she doubted he would remain a member now that his precious leadership role had been stripped from him. Good riddance.
All eyes were now turned to Vittorio, who had removed his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose in clear frustration. Flavio had been a problem he had left for too long and now his co-leader had used him as a means of pushing that fraud performer into a position of greater influence. He waited for a while longer after Flavio’s exit to respond.
“Flavio, I can understand.” He spoke with thinly concealed irritation, barely managing to look up from the table. “He had long neglected his responsibilities to this group and I had planned to deal with that matter privately. But Leon Solaire? Do you all really think he will be any better? Are they not cut from the very same cloth?”
“I know he isn’t in attendance tonight, but would Ciro Volta not be a better fit? Or even the Synesti heir?”
His questions fell on deaf ears.
“I have sat back and watched this group crumble since the revolution. I had thought it was something that would pass or that the sudden grand ambitions would find a realistic way forward. But I can’t entertain this any longer. Tell me,” he tried to look every single student in the eye at once, “if this is the group of Revidia’s future, are we really going to hand it over to that fraud musician and his love-sick fan girl?”
Silence met him. His words found no purchase because Leon Solaire was no fraud and they all knew it. He had proven himself time and again regardless of Vittorio's ignorance. A few looked on in sympathy, but many more in judgment.
Arianna stared daggers into the side of his head. She hated the way he described her and how simple it made her feel. Her vision was so much more than that… He was a man who had never found a purpose greater than the path provided to him, so he was blind. At the very least she knew his true opinions now.
“Very well. I resign and leave you all to your group of sycophants.”
Vittorio calmly rose to the erupting sounds of protest. Those who took exception to his labels thrown in contempt were throwing their own unfavourable words back. Arianna watched him stand and saw the heartbreak in his eyes. He truly had considered this group like family and took the shattering of that family as hard as anyone would. But he hid it well to the unattentive eye in favour of the decorum and dignity that fit his inheritance. He walked out of Fino a Colazione calmy. Behind him followed Ettore Muti and Mila Pioli, the daughter of a fish merchant whose father’s finances were even less remarkable than Arianna’s.
There was silence at first when the trio had exited the door. Many students stood shocked at what had just transpired. Some couldn’t believe the gall of Vittorio to say such things. Some glanced at Arianna, concerned that she could do such things.
Then a timely joke from Enzo Gallo got a modest three laughs and the atmosphere slowly returned.
Arianna sat back alone at the leadership table for a moment and watched the closed entrance of the tavern. Despite the planning, she still couldn’t believe she had pulled it off. It didn’t feel real. She half expected the leavers to come right back and join the group again like nothing ever happened. But something did happen, something big that could never be remedied.
She felt powerful.
She felt right.
She felt good.
The Death of Cawuio-Zast
Cawuio-Zast had spent his previous payday of 100 Magus the night after he had gotten it, some payments he remembered, some he didn't. His life from then scrapping by until the next score and this was one for the history books. The treasure of Don Cojones was surely an ill-gotten marvel for the ages and would be remembered for years to come. Zast had decided to take this treasure for his own and disappear of the earth, leaving the riches a vague memory in the minds of others. How long would this hoard last him? Two, three days? He needed it.
Waist-high waters meant Cazenax-high waters and even worse for a particularly short Cazenax like Zast. There was simply not getting around it, he couldn't touch the ground and keep his head above water. So instead, he was swimming around the deliciously swampy and rancid water in a bright yellow inflatable pool ring with a rubber ducky head. The under side of it was blackened in the filthy water.
With purpose, Zast made his way to the site of rotted plant matter where the smell would dissuade lesser men. The place had a good feeling about it and the cowards must not have looked in this area yet.
A foul mass of decomposed organic matter accumulated like a large pile of very juicy garbage in the middle of a Virangish Dorrad. If it weren't for Zast's unique characteristics as a walking little piece of trash himself, he would have to fight off the odours and instinct to avoid such wretched air.
Interestingly, there were multitudes of openings in this nine-foot-tall structure. A hole on its surface, so inviting and dank. And if Zast reached out with the gift, he could sense a distinct opening in its underside too. Where they led was hard to say due to the excessive plant life muddying (literally) any sort of precise sensory.
He did pick up one thing among the magic static: Something round. Something powerful.
Zast's famed fortitude and constitution were all he needed to face the challenge of the rotted spire. Few people could follow in his wake and therefore few would have preceded him. And oh what a treasure there was, he could just about sniff it, the money, the power, it had to be his. But he did not want any hidden onlookers to know he had caught the scent so he avoided the obvious entrance in favour of diving under and swimming up through the submerged opening. Regrettably, the rubber ducky inflatable was left behind.
Under it was. Murky waters and alien plantlife did not dissuade the true. Zast found himself in a tunnel within the accumulation of decomposed matter. At this point, the reeking had gotten so bad that a normal nose would simply be deprived of the sense. It was dark, barring any light source from the Cazenax himself. Except, of course, the beacon that was the mild glint in his senses that promised a treasure like none other.
He was so close. Almost there. Its shape so round. Its green-ness palpable. No less than five days of satiation for the legend himself.
With a small conjured light to illuminate his way, Zast finally looked upon the treasure of the wretched structure. The Greedstone. He didn't know its name, but he knew what to call it by instinct. He reached his hand out to quickly snatch it.
Within his grasp, just dangling there among the detritus. Now just inches away from his palm in the mist of the most putrid of places. He could even see it. All his. Only his.
"He, he, he, they make it too easy for me."
Cawiuo Zast’s green palms cupped the perfectly spherical orb. It was warm. It was welcoming. It did not satiate anything. He wanted even more. He tugged upon it, that shining bauble that attracted another tainted soul - a wide eyed fish to the angler fish’s trap. A light snapping sound was heard to the right. And then to the left. And then all over.
Eyes. Red, mucus-covered eyes all served as audience to the cazenax’s victory. And it all writhed.
The high pitched scream of a voice they would barely recognize. As more eyes laid upon the imminently gruesome sight, they would discover it belonged to none other than Cawuio Zast. Dangling high in the hair with a thick and long vine-like appendage impaled through his abdomen. The thing stemmed from the pile he had been diving in, lured in by a stone, and now he in turn dangled as bait.
Tremendous pain was in his screams. Endless. But the auditory horror would very quickly come with a visual one: The pile of rot shifted and churned, until ripples in the water became waves that splashed onto all those within its area. Appearing first as a large, muddy lump that pushed out, they would soon see where all the organic matter had gone - where the bodies were taken.
The unholy monster of the Bog emerged with its many red eyes lined inside its multi-layered maw. A single swing of its tree-sized right arm, its only arm of such a size, prompted a second tremor that awoke its dormant appendages. It stood at the same height as its appendages, although its width was prodigious to say the least. Most of its features remained veiled by the vegetation and mud, but more and more limbs could be seen protruding from the monstrosity.
Zast flailed around helplessly, barely hanging on to life. If it hadn't been for mender, he might have died only a few seconds after the initial blow. Now his blood type only served to prolong an inevitable fate. A steady and unnaturally plentiful stream of coins rained down from his coat as he was flung every which way in the air. Every coin that dropped coated in the wretched blood of the Cazenax.
But Zast was a gambler. He had been in worse situations before and come out fine. He had a plan.
Reaching for his flintlock, he unlatched it from his belt, tried to take aim, and missed his shot.
"Help me! First one to kill this thing will be rich beyond their wildest dreeeaaaaa..." His final word was cut off as the creature flailed him once more.
Before Edyta lay Cawuio-Zast, begging for help and mercy; begging, effectively, for Edyta Laska to risk her own death in order to save him. While that was not something she feared, she also honoured life, and it had been this vile little goblin's own greed that had gotten him into such a situation. Choice comes from Mother Dami, she reminded herself, just as judgements come from Father Dami.
She was just above him, hovering in the air on a gravity loop. This was an alarming place and she had no wish to touch down. Consequences are Mother Eshiran's to hand out, though.
Sister Laska looked upon him not-unsympathetically. "And what, pray tell," she asked with a soft coldness, "shall you give to Mother Eshiran for not taking you up in her embrace?"
On account of being thrashed around by a gigantic swamp monster, Zast's keen ability to focus was a little inhibited. Sure, he had been in similar situations before, at least five times, but none with a nun lecturing at him calmly from about.
"What the hells are ya talking about lady? I'm not dead yeeeeee..." A big swing robbed him from finishing the words. "Cut this damn vine already." The Cazenax was beginning to cough up blood. With a mustering of his meagre remaining strength, he weakly tossed some blood-soaked coins at Laska. It would undoubtedly stain her robes if they weren't already the perfect colour.
The coins scattered as they flew, a handful rebounding off the Rezaindian's robes of the same colour. "Hmm," she murmured, "so you do bleed red." Edyta Laska looked up and, with unsettlingly fast reflexes, snatched one of the sailing coins out of the air.
This, she flipped nimbly across her fingers, examining its bloody golden surface as the cazenax thrashed and moaned. All at once, she brought it to her lips and slid it through. Her eyes narrowed for a shadow of a second as she pulled it out. She spat, then, very much like a peasant, and made a face of distaste. "And you couldn't even pay me real gold." She shook her head. "You've placed your faith in the VOID, Cawuio-Zast. Let it save you." She turned away.
As Caiwuo-Zast’s eyes met Edyta Laska’s, he knew. She did not have to condemn him with her words, her mere aura as not Ahn-Eshira but as an envoy of the Judge sufficed. His eyes veered slightly, offering a novel experience of elevated height. A final spectacle of horror all for him. He watched as the many eyes opened behind him.
"Tommy, did I ever tell ya about my time in the Ensollian? I was under the command of a Belzaggic pirate captain, can't remember his name for the life of me but he always wore a red shirt. Funny reason for it too, but that's for another time. We made a name for ourselves raiding Revidian ships on the strait between Bozan and Medrilan. Got a lot of Magus doing that and caught ourselves a reputation in the process. In a short time, not a single Revidian could go that way without fearing a blade to their throat."
"It made for easy work Tommy. They would see our sails and give up without a fight. No merchant values gold over their own blood, ex-naval officers maybe, merchants no. It was easy work, but they started to catch on and the Revidian's slowly favoured other routes. With the work drying up, we coulda gone to those other routes but the captain had other ideas. With the Belzagg traders being plentiful in the straight, why not just steal from them? So we did. It was a slaughter Tommy, a profitable profitable slaughter."
"But the Belzaggs didn't like that one bit. They mobilized far quicker than the Revidians and they were on our tail before long. A ship weighed by endless spoils doesn't travel very fast and we knew that a battle would come by morning. That's when the captain let me know the most important words I had ever heard in this life. 'Listen boy, as long as blood spills on these waters and Magus is taken over bodies, I will never die. Merchants in this straight will always be scared of me and fear the blade I hold.' I thought he was an idiot Tommy, to this day I can't even remember his name. But he was right."
"Come morning I saw him staggering on the deck holding three blades in the torso and his right arm blown off. He smiled as he dropped to the deck and finally passed. That's when I realised that he had never died because I was him and he was me. It's hard to explain, Tommy, but you'll understand it too one day."
Magnificent Green saw them all fight for something other than themselves - for someone else. Some sacrificed a lot, others nearly died. But most got to keep the most precious thing in the world …
The red, monstrous eyes drew closer. Irregular and loud breathing sent ripples through the water.
The vine twisted and tangled deeper into the Cazenax's ribcage as he saw Laska, his final hope, reject him. The monster's appendage slowly drew him back toward its maw. Blood began pooling in Zast's throat and trickling over his body. His energy gave out, the trickle of coins tapered to a stop and he fell back with his arms slacked behind. The coat he wore slowly slipped from his shoulders and off his arms and it gently glided toward the ground. He had no weapons, he had no coat, just brown slacks and a red shirt once white.
He wondered if he regretted how he had lived, or if anything he regretted his reckless action here.
The massive external maw riddled with writhing life within opened wide, letting out a foul gust of air.
No, not really. It was never not worth it. There was no more begging. Nothing was coming for this greedy little man. A man of many riches, but with nobody who ever truly cared about him.
Cawuio-Zast began to smile a truly sickening, vile smile. He would die here randomly, absent from the eyes of judgement, absent from the eyes of those he had wronged. Anthal, along with a long line of others, would never see justice for what he had done. He danced with Lady Eshiran, he had escaped Dami's hands, now the ride had come to an end and he would die without note on the world. What a wild ride it was. In that moment, with no other motor functions, Zast began to laugh. He laughed and laughed, a gurgle of blood from his mouth. He smiled at Laska with reddened teeth as the jaws of the beast began to close around him.
A sound.
The faint tolling of a bell rang in Zast's ears. He knew that the sound had come from no earthly phenomenon. It was a simple, understated noise that told the Cazenax one thing. Something was watching, someone had judged his actions from beyond, and, wherever he was going, they would be waiting for him. The gods sat waiting to cast their sentence down upon him. The laughing stopped and his smile faded. But before he could process anything else, the jaws collapsed on him and ended his life.
CRUNCH
Cawuio-Zast's coat billowed gently to the swampy surface and floated on the water. The cazenax's epitaph would read: 'Here lies Cawuio-Zast. The man who ran from the eyes of justice so much that he forgot to build anything to be remembered by.' If only there was anyone to write it. Who would be there to shed a tear? Who would know where to go to piss on his grave? Did he ever really exist?
An unmarked tomb of filth and muck was the perfect resting place for a man such as Cawuio-Zast. His coat floating on the water was the only evidence he was ever really there.
Upon A Pillar Of The Earth
Location: Xochi
An Important Lesson
Location: A Remote Village, Oiyac
“Ersand’Enise then. I’m loath to say it beats the academies we keep in Oiyac, I went there for my first few years.” He looked toward his younger sister, youthful and just about to enter the world of magical study properly. He held no envy for the tough decision in front of her. “Ersand’Enise is a place like no other in this world. It is great for your academic development but you must not make the mistake of thinking it is normal. Graduates see the world differently from there and forget the struggles we must keep as nobility.”
Malon’Juuras’Osmax poured himself a glass of wine while he enjoyed the gentle outdoor breeze. He sat laid back with one leg crossed over a knee as he took a sip. However, the full plate armour he had donned was less than comfortable in the heat, he refrained from pulling at his collar to maintain appearances. He and his sister sat at a nice, small table of two as they looked upon a devastated town. The screams and fear of the peasantry cried out as they were rounded into the town square by soldiers. Malon took another sip, the people he looked at now were lower than peasants.
Solet’Osmax sat across from Malon reading her book on the basics of magnetic magics from a famed Oiyan author. No, she wasn’t simply reading the book, Solet was retreating to it. She was a naturally meek girl and the horrors taking place around her were only encouragement to avoid the gaze of passing captives. The girl was only thirteen and had barely left their family’s estate, let alone seeing anything like this. It was only her brother’s sudden speech that caused her to put the book down.
She did her best to look ladylike despite the circumstances. The youngest of a noble line left much to prove, especially when other families in the same position had been put to the block in recent history. Her stomach turned on itself but she sat with the expected poise and dignity. She took the small glass of wine poured for her and took a sip. It felt like the first glass she had ever had and it wasn’t far off.
“You see, I came back to Oiyac because I started asking foolish questions about the world. Questions that you will be brought to ponder while in sterile academia, but are all too easily answered when you reach the real world.” He savoured the flavour of another sip before resting the glass on the table and facing his Solet directly. “You could be a great mage, dear sister, dare I say you could be greater than I. I don’t wish to make you feel restricted in your choice of education. You may choose wherever you want and you will get in.” He smiled warmly at his sister in assurance.
Solet considered his words for a moment. “I wish to go to Ersand’Enise still. As you said, it is the best place of study in the world, no?” She replied with a small, polite smile. Solet knew of her brother’s pride in Oiyan academies.
Malon looked impressed at her sister. “Despite my pushing, you remain steadfast. This is good, Solet, a leader must be decisive among all other things.” As he turned back toward the town ahead, his smile faded. “But your education does not start at school, I wish to teach you about the reality of our nation.”
A group of two soldiers were forcefully escorting a middle-aged Yasoi woman to the centre who was in a particularly bad state. She was carried limply but occasionally broke into brief, violent, and erratic outbursts that required the soldier’s full strength to subdue. When she returned to her placid state, her head sunk low. Malon clicked his fingers at the two men with a furrowed brow. “You two, bring that one to me.” He took another sip as they approached, he showed no signs of caution.
The woman sprung into another outburst, flailing against the soldier’s grasp right in front of Malon. He raised a hand, and the woman froze. He tilted his hand down, and the woman hit the ground like a sack of potatoes; her knees almost buckled the wrong way. Malon reached out a hand, grabbed the woman by the chin, and brought her closer so that he and his sister could get a closer look.
The woman’s eyes were vacant and lacked focus on any one particular object. Her mouth chewed the air absent-mindedly, there were scars of bite marks on her lip too. She was more beast than woman like this and Malon’s face twisted in muted disgust. He forced her face side to side and inspected every angle of her face. “This is aberration madness, dear sister. And it seems this little piggy has had her fill enough.”
Solet had only ever heard of aberration addicts through passing word. To be confronted with it directly made her want to be sick. As a noblelady, she was expected to be in perfect control of both appearance and etiquette. To see a woman who didn’t even have agency of her own faculties was immensely saddening. “Please Malon, I’ve seen enough.”
Malon threw the woman back before gesturing to the soldiers. “Take this one back and put her with the rest of them.” He dismissed them before using a mixture of binding and chemical magic to clean his gloves from the contact.
He picked up the wine and faced his sister again. “The peasants of this town conducted an uprising sometime in the last month or two. We are unsure of the exact time, frankly, the only reason we found out was because they were late on their taxes.” He swirled the drink and chuckled with amusement. “They removed all of our local forces in complete silence without a word getting out. Quite the rebellion, wouldn’t you say?”
“However!” He raised a finger to his sister as if to correct the girl who had yet to speak. “When I gathered a real force and marched in, there was no resistance. There were barricades, sure, but only a couple of people to man them. We marched in with ease to find a town wrecked and destroyed and a collection of yasoi, our countrymen, squabbling around in shit. Their mighty rebellion had crumbled before we had even arrived.” He gestured to pose a question. “What do you think caused that?”
Solet didn't have to ponder the answer very long. She had come face to face with it only moments earlier.
Seeing that all the remaining villagers had been gathered and forced into attention, Malon put both hands on his knees and rose. He picked up his ornate sword in one hand but kept it sheathed. “Please, don’t avert your gaze, dear sister, this will be an important lesson.”
Malon strode forth in a manner that fit his noble standing. His posture had an air of grim ceremony as he approached. He looked around to a place that was once a nice little town for farming fruit trees. The windows of some houses were smashed and broken, others had their doors busted down, and fruit and food supplies were tipped over and mixed with the mud. Is this the future their rebellion was fighting for? The display of incompetence disgusted him.
All eyes were on him as he arrived at the centre of the square. Soldiers regarded him with respect, the peasants regarded him with fear. “I have come to liberate you from the insurgent forces that have ruined this land!” He announced. “While the punishment is usually severe for rebellion, it is by the grace of your Baron and the Exarch himself that mercies will be bestowed.” He raised his hands invitingly. “Those who have shown signs of aberration madness will be kindly escorted toward rehabilitation and those innocent in the affair can go back to their lives. You may begin rebuilding your home with our assistance and security.”
“But you are not all innocent.” Malon looked down toward the sword, drew it, and tossed the sheathe in the mud. “I have a duty to see justice done. Will the leader of this rebellion please rise?” He waited and waited some more. Nothing happened. The peasants stayed huddled, forced on their knees, and staring blankly at him like they had no clue. They were dishonest rats who looked at him like children accused of stealing sweets. Discipline was needed.
He drew.
The effects of Malon’s draw were seen immediately. Children and adults of small stature began to keel over in sudden fatigue. “It would be unwise for loyal citizens of the Exarch to shelter rebellious factors. I would advise against such actions.” He continued to draw, some victims of it succumbed to slumber and the strong ones began to crumble.
But one peasant alone sat tall and Malon fixed his sight on him. It was a younger man only a few years older than himself, he sat up proud but cast his eyes downward and became blind to how sorely he stood out. With common raggedy clothes and coarse hands, this was a man of ignoble birth. No doubt the man’s prowess came from aberrations which gave him more RAS to resist the draw. The only thing that made him exceptional, perhaps, was a lucky streak at avoiding aberration madness as he engorged himself without care.
Malon knew one thing to be true above all others, power bestowed leadership, not the other way around. He knew that this stronger man was that leader because, even in a rebellious group with aspirations of equality, this fact remained true. He looked the ruffian straight in the eyes and repeated: “Will the leader of this rebellion please rise?”
A moment passed.
The man before Malon rose reluctantly with his eyes still cast to the ground. He trembled in fearful anticipation of what was to come. Malon gestured to a soldier on either side who closed in to grab each arm. The ruffian seemed to consider putting up resistance but gave up on the idea. He knew the harm he would cause the people around him if he fought at this juncture.
The man was walked to the centre of the town square and was now face-to-face with his executioner. Malon inspected his flawless ornate blade before looking up and pointing it forward. “Kneel.” The man did not. Malon clenched the fist of his free hand and the man shook before dropping to his knees in a sickening crunch. A few bones were broken from the noble’s use of kinetic and the man cried in pain.
Malon walked around to the side of the man and readied his sword. “Do you have any final words?”
He spoke in laboured breaths. “The people will be free. It may not be here, it may not be today, but we will see freedom.”
Malon paused.
Then laughed.
The noble kicked the bowed man in the stomach with a kinetically enhanced strike causing him to vomit and crumple.
“Did you hear that!? The people will be free…” Malon called out as if demanding answers from the crowd. He got only gasps, tears, and nervous fear. “You had the chance. You took your lives into your own hands. And what did you make of yourselves?”
“Around me I see addicts riling around in their filth!” He spoke mockingly. “You took your freedom only to enshackle yourselves to a far crueller and unforgiving master… But your suffering shall be at an end now.”
A flourish of his hand brought the rebellion leader back to his knees. Malon took a good final look at him. It was no wonder why people were drawn to aberrations. Power was the unquestioned ruling force in the world and a commoner without it will seek a means to go above their station. One taste of it and it would be no wonder that someone could get addicted.
But there was an end to it, despite this man’s desperate consumption of aberrations, despite his luck, there was no more he could do. A person was only born to inherit so much power and this man had capped out far below significance. He was not worthy to lead.
Malon raised his sword, then brought it down. The man’s head fell to the ground and mixed with the mud.
Solet looked upon the scene which burned into her mind. Her brother stood in the centre with a bloody sword and some splatter which speckled his golden plate armour. The people of the village lat, sat, slumped down around him and cowering in fear. She sat above it all from atop a hill, she had a glass of wine in her hand that she could no longer stomach.
Is this the price of wine? Is this the price of her luxury? She knew enough about Oiyan law to know her brother was being merciful, so why didn’t it feel like a mercy? Ersand’Enise couldn’t come early enough.
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