Five hundred professional soldiers. Four hundred household guards from various nobles. A hundred acolytes from the House of Perfection. A hundred warriors from the House of Order. One thousand warriors from neighbouring villages. Two thousand hastily raised and trained volunteer militia. Several dozen mages provided by the House of Magic, and a handful of druids from the House of Druids.
This was the host Brundt had been able to assemble. It was an impressive army, larger than any Ketrefa had ever fielded before. According to his scouts, Carnelian’s army had barely half that. And Brundt had the advantage of fortifications. By all accounts, there were no doubts as to who would win a war. In theory, at least.
In practice, things were considerably more complicated. He still remembered the slaughter before winter, when a couple dozen men slew hundreds, and left the survivors so broken many of them deserted, or swore never to fight Carnelian again. Carnelian’s men had been outnumbered by more than twenty to one, and yet they had secured a decisive victory. So if they were outnumbered two to one, and somehow did the same thing…
Well, it was unlikely that all of Carnelian’s men were that deadly. But if even a fraction of them were… if they truly did have divine aid, and if Cadien’s aid was not enough to counter it… then forcing open battle with them would be suicide.
So, Brundt had stayed behind Ketrefa’s walls, and instead sent out parties to harry and harass Carnelian’s men. Destroy their supplies, take out their patrols and sentries. Slow their approach and diminish their morale. It seemed to be working, surprisingly enough, with many of these men returning triumphant.
He began to wonder if that first victory was a fluke.
But still, he held his men back, reluctant to give battle. If he could secure a victory, he would reduce their numbers and bolster the morale of his own men, but that was far from guaranteed, and a defeat would only make things worse. Especially when half his force hadn’t even seen battle before.
Many nobles had seen this supposed inaction as cowardice, and a vocal few were already calling for his removal as Lord-Captain, but not as many as one would expect. This, he knew, was due to the influence of Mira and her cult. He had honoured his end of the deal, of course, and already they were exploiting their new stronghold to the best of their ability.
The other Divine Houses fought tooth and nail to resist their influence, of course, and seemed to be mostly successful. The cult had been allowed their space of worship, and the deal called for nothing more.
But now, it was time for matters of faith and politics to be set aside. Carnelian was coming. No matter what his detractors or supporters thought of him, the greatest threat Ketrefa had ever faced was nearing its gates. They would stand united, or die.
“Are you nervous, my lord?”
Brundt looked up in surprise. The one who had spoken was Gelos. Gelos, his personal guard, who had been with him since he was first found by Milos all those years ago. Unflinchingly loyal to House Karras. The guard had been nothing if not kind to him; he had taught him how to play dice, and had given him sparring advice. But he had never once spoken out of turn, and now, he had done exactly that.
“Apologies, my lord,” Gelos bowed his head, understanding that despite their years of familiarity, he had still overstepped.
“No,” Brundt interrupted. “It’s quite alright.” He looked the bodyguard in the eye. “Yes, I suppose I am. But I can’t say that to anyone else, can I?”
“Leadership is always a burden,” Gelos nodded grimly. “I saw it in your father, when he took command of his first warband. And his father before him.” It was then that Brundt became acutely aware of just how old the guard was; he had aged well, but he had to be more than forty. Gelos continued speaking. “It’s a cruel thing, to be forced into this situation. No one had any right to think you were ready. But… you’ve done a good job, I think.”
He had heard plenty of compliments and praise from his supporters. Those who genuinely believed he was chosen, and others who were simply sycophants hoping to benefit from his favour. Both had more or less been meaningless, as none of their praise had been earned, and therefore seemed dishonest. But to receive a compliment from a lowly guardsman, one who had known him for years but never issued such a compliment before? That was genuine.
Brundt nodded, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face. He could do this.
His thoughts once more drifted to Gelos’s advantaged age. The guard had served his family long enough. Perhaps, after all this was over, if Brundt did defend the city, and he did become King, he could arrange to have Gelos granted some sort of reward. A modest estate, perhaps, where Gelos could retire. Perhaps start a family, and his own noble house. Hopefully the humble guardsman would enjoy that. If not, he could find him something else. Perhaps…
His thoughts were interrupted when a courier arrived with more business for him to take care of.
Both Varsilis and Milos would stop by his office later that day, at different times, to offer their own words of reassurance. Milos had been his father, and Varsilis had been his mentor. Brundt loved them both for that, but he knew that right now they valued him more for his status than for whatever personal bond they had. It was a depressing thought. But Gelos’s words hung in the back of his mind. So he put on the mask of the dutiful champion and the undaunted leader.
Perhaps one day there would come a time when such masks were not necessary. When he could converse with friends and family alike without worrying about danger or responsibility. Yes, he was still fighting for Cadien, for House Karras, for Ketrefa, and the innocent people who lived within. But most of all, he was fighting for that. The end of duty. The end of struggle. Freedom.
The next day, at some point in the afternoon, a horn sounded. Brundt knew his ultimate duty had arrived.
Carnelian’s army was within sight.
A description of Brundt’s forces - more than 4,000 men. A bonding scene between Brundt and Gelos. Then, an internal monologue where Brundt longs for a time when he no longer has to fight. Finally, Carn’s army arrives.
Brundt Beginning: 18 +3 for 5,000+ characters Ending: 21
Cadien stood in Antiquity, standing before the portal. “Is this the right one?” He asked aloud, to nobody in particular; he was the only one currently outside of his realm. Then, he shrugged. Only one way to find out. So, without further ado he stepped through.
It was a realm of mists and fog and cloud, of some kind of energy reeking of death. In the far distance the faint outlines of towers could be barely seen through the roiling chaos of the mists. Little else was to be seen, the ground was of a bland stone it would seem, in general however, there was a different quality to the place to his divine senses. Although the exact nature of the place was difficult to ascertain, it was clear the rules of it were not the same as one might find on Galbar or another such realm. It was fully the realm of a god who carefully controlled its reality.
Cadien stood alone in the dim light of the place, surrounded by mists stretching over stone fields to the distant towers on the horizon.
Ignored the scent which assailed his divine senses, he took a quick look around, and then spoke. “Is this the realm of the God of Death that I stand in?”
There was no immediate reply in voice to his question, however in quick order the ground began to shift around him, carrying him away from the portal. Rather than move himself the ground and realm that he was in shifted instead. Soon a dim shape in the fog came clearer from above as Cadien grew close to a tower. A great and large eye held aloft in the mist, a voice soon followed.
"That it is. You are Cadien, instigator of many mortal peoples."
“A strange way to describe my work,” the God of Perfection remarked. “Anyhow, I have some questions, if you can spare the time.”
"I have time enough, you may ask your questions Cadien."
“You are the God of Death. Does that include what comes after death?”
A brief pause occurred before Thaa ended up answering, resigned, "You like so many misunderstand the situation, a not unexpected occurrence. I am the Supreme lord of Death, the Afterlife, Souls and the Undead. I have no particular power over dying, that remains as it first was the domain of the deities of Life."
Cadien frowned briefly. “Anyhow,” he said, perhaps putting a bit too much emphasis on the word, “That brings us to my main question, then. What happens to the souls of mortals after they die?”
"They remain here, in Aquibeophates for the vast majority. Destined to remain in blissful rest with their loved ones until a more permanent arrangement can be made." Thaa paused before switching tone from half-interested answering to a sharper question. "Of what concern do you make it your own to ask this question so principally Cadien?"
“I have many mortal creations and followers,” Cadien said. “Naturally, I have an interest in what becomes of them. Now, what is this permanent arrangement that you spoke of?”
"Undecided, I have to focus my efforts in other fields for the time being so such a decision will come when many other current issues have been resolved. It will be better, moral in all sense."
“Oh? What sort of issues?”
The reply came as a sharp retort. "They are many and I have neither the time nor the desire to enumerate them to you. You have sought me and my realm with purpose Cadien, speak it now so that we may act most quickly upon it. I have little time for niceties at the current state of affairs."
Cadien’s eyes narrowed. “Briefly, then. I would request access to the souls of my followers. That they be sent to my realm instead of here.”
"An interesting request, although with many issues of its own. What makes a mortal soul a follower of yours? Do you intend to override any desires of their own in this? Or perhaps by what guarantee do I hold that you simply not perform immoral action upon such souls that you intend to take, or that their safety be guarentee'd from others? Most importantly, why should I humor such a request, what do you propose to offer Cadien?"
“Your first two questions have the same answer. If they adhere to my values, and wish to join the afterlife I have in mind for them, then they shall. If not, they won’t. As to your next question, rest assured that those who reside in my realm have always been well cared for, and I’ve never been one to break my word. And finally, your last question…” the frown deepened. “You express concern for their safety, yet you consider what I offer you in return to be more important. I did not come here expecting to receive something for nothing, but that is some cause for concern on my part.”
"Let me try to ease your concern with an explanation. I offer bliss and rest to those souls under my care because I believe it best for them, to give them to another for whatever reason in of itself proposes harm even if just the lessened state of joy.
"I have no means to securely know if you should even attempt to keep your word even if I do not doubt your honesty. Under these conditions I must already be prepared that harm may come to the souls you seek to take as I cannot ensure the protection of them.
"Therefore with this accepted, the matter of the most important becomes that which I may gain so as to better ensure that for the vast majority of souls improvement is reached. I am prepared that harm may come to ten to save a thousand from greater harm."
“What is it you want, then?” Cadien asked him.
"Little favors here and there is all, few mortals speak the name of Thaa, but many raise joyous calls to Cadien. You have influence that I do not among the peoples of Galbar, I would merely request that you leverage such influence to assist when asked for such little things as may come up. I will be sending onto to souls that you wish for this time and so I should think such a continuing boon be matched in kind."
“Hm.” Cadien considered the god’s words for a few moments. “That seems reasonable enough, I suppose, so long as the requests themselves remain reasonable.”
"And it seems fair to me as long as the requests are honored as intended, you shall get your souls Cadien, should you fully agree to this pact?"
The God of Perfection nodded. “Indeed. I accept.”
"Then the pact is signed and we are agreed. Should you allow a connection between our realms I'll simply funnel the souls through to there. As well as knowing your values as you intend them, I shall ask if any particular case is troublesome to decide."
“Very well. If you are not pressed for time, I may explain them right now.”
"By all means, proceed."
“I value those who strive to improve both themselves and others,” Cadien told him. “Those who are both perceptive enough to recognize their faults, and willful enough to seek corrections to them. I also value those who show courage or selflessness in the face of adversity, particularly on the field of battle. Then there are the champions in my employ - I would have them too, if they are willing. Lastly, there are also those mortals who currently reside in my realm: some wish to return to Galbar. Since I cannot guarantee their safety, the only alternative is to have their souls returned to my realm so I may remake them if they perish. And I will, of course, inform you if anything about my criteria changes.”
“These are acceptable conditions to so define those that would go onto you.”
“Wonderful... I suppose we have a deal.”
Cadien enters Thaa’s realm, and despite an initially tense introduction he eventually works out a deal with the God of Death. Thaa will provide Cadien the souls of those who embody his values, and in return Cadien will provide him the occasional small favour. This arrangement will continue until either of them are no longer satisfied. With that, they part ways.
Evette trudged through the snow with confidence, despite the moon hanging low in the sky. Her companions followed behind her, dragging sleds packed with supplies. Others huddled together and did everything they could to preserve their body-heat.
It had become the Night-Templar’s custom to travel at night, partly due to their natural night vision, and also due to the fact that was when their prey was most active. Travelling during the winter was far from ideal, of course, but she didn’t have the luxury of waiting for spring. Time was of the essence, if she was to reach her destination, and she wasn’t far.
The Night Templars had grown in the years since their foundation. She had only a dozen personal companions, but she had also founded multiple other groups of vampire and troll hunters that now operated independently. There would always be a limit to how large each group would come - if they gained too many recruits it would become impossible to feed everyone, and rulers would view them as a threat. She hoped they remembered that, and she had also hoped they had not lost sight of their original goal.
Her companions were silent. Leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Well, not quite.
”And so, halfway through the game, this monkey just up and takes the card, jumps out my window and suffocates in space! Am I really that boring to listen to, that someone would kill themselves over it? Am I? Am I?!” There came some lunar glugs of presumably something alcoholic.
No, of course not, Evette replied, feeling a small trace of amusement. I haven’t tried anything like that just yet.
”Well, don’t, because monkeys make for bad playmates.” Another glug. ”Hooo boy, I’ll regret this in the evening… Sho...” There came a burp. ”Oop, shcuse me. Sho, so, you finally decided to go - venture, even - to that cursed place…”
Ha-Dûna? she asked. Well, yes. There’s a lot of war or suffering over there, or so I’ve heard, and those seem to be exactly the sort of conditions where vampires are likely to be found. She paused. Also, what’s a monkey?
”Wait, Ha-Dûna? I thought you was goin’ to Acadia! Well, in -that- case, you got nothing to worry about. You enjoy that.” Glug. ”Oh yeah, I remember vampires… I miss my batman…”
Batman? she asked, confused. My Lady… how much have you had to drink?
”That’s a personal queschun that I will -not- answer,” came a sour reply. ”Also, what do -you- know about drinking? All your people’ve got is smelly grain water! How do you even know about the effects of alcohol?”
Well… I just noticed that um, the more you drink, the louder and more… outspoken you seem to become.
”Persheptive… How’d you know I wassen just gettin’ more and more excited?”
Is excitement another effect of the drink? This… ‘alacool’ you mentioned?
”Can be.” There was a pause. ”Mostly, it just lets me take a break from things. Those big, mean thoughts, y’know.”
Hm. There’s a berry that has a similar effect - it’s quite common. Though, I never have time for such things. It’s always important to keep a clear mind when lives are at stake.
”Good girl. Berries make you fat.” Glug-glug. ”What do you do to stay calm, huh?”
I just… naturally am, I suppose. I am focused on my purpose and I have my companions to protect me. She smirked. The guidance of the gods, as well.
”Oof, yeah, do not trust the gods, girl. I mean, I’m okay - I’ve gotchu - but some of my colleagues are less than savoury folk. Gotta keep your eyes and hear sharp for their sneaky, sneaky manip… Manipuhlashun.”
She frowned at that. Which gods can’t be trusted? she asked. Aside from Neiya, I think. You already told me about her.
”Pfft, I’unno. Depends on the day, I guess. The gods are, wossname, fickle. Loyalty’s like make-up.” There came a hairy rub. ”I guess you could keep your eyes out for this, uh, what wassit, Thaa-dude. All bones and no heart, that guy. Gets very upset at living things, which, y’know, a lot of things are - alive that is. I’unno, don’t lissen to me.” Glug.
Evette had no honest clue who ‘the dude’ actually was, but somehow she got the idea that further questioning would be unproductive. Well… at least I can trust you and Cadien.
”You trust me? I wouldn’t trust me. I mean, Cadien’s loyal as a dog - for better or worse - but me? Pffft… I’m not worth it.” There came a sniff. ”I’m not worth anything…” It became a sob, followed by a series of sobs, then a weak howl.
Evette waited patiently for the waterworks to abate. You know that’s not true, she said, and not for the first time. It still felt odd, to have to console a goddess instead of the other way around. You’re the goddess of the moon and the patron of druids. That’s worth quite a bit. And you’re pleasant company too. Which was true. Emotional outbursts aside, Evette did find herself enjoying these talks.
”I’m nozz the Patran of anythiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing! Iss a group effort and I’m juss lettin the ozzers do the wooooooooooooooork!” There came another howl. ”I’m juss a useless moon-moon!” The crackle of snacks cracked in the background.
Oh no. You gave me that stone, Evette pointed out. And these conversations have been very informative. Both of those are useful.
Sniff. ”R-really? You actually use it?”
Of course I do, Evette nodded. It helps with sleeping shifts when we make camp. Sentries are never tired, so they never fall asleep, and we never get attacked. Not without warning, anyway. For all I know I could have died without it.
”Uh… Uh-huh? You mean it?”
I do, Evette nodded. And she did. She might have been overplaying it a bit, but to be able to sleep for short periods of time and not wake up tired was an immense boon, and one she would have trouble living without.
Sniff-sniff. ”Oh-... Okay. Hey, you’re real nice, y’know?”
I have been told that quite a few times, she nodded.
”Wow, okay, someone’s cheeky.” There came a snorting giggle. ”I’m juss kiddn.” A raspberry.
For a moment there I almost thought you were flirting, Evette smirked again.
”A mortal couldn’t handle me. No god nor goddess nor anything else can handle me.” She giggled in embarrassment. ”I am a wreeeeeeeeck.”
You and me both, Evette remarked, suddenly pondering her own circumstance. It was nothing like Gibbou’s, of course, but upon self-reflection Evette’s own life was hardly the most stable or secure. She wandered from village to village hunting abominations. Coming across dead ends more often than not, often relying on either charity or mercenary work for food, and never settling down. It was these thoughts that occasionally kept her up at night.
”Damn, you, too, huh? Yeah, I can imagine - your quest being what it is and all. Life ain’t easy for nightfolk, is it? Sorry about that. If I coulda made it nicer, I would.”
What’s stopping you?
There came a gritty glug. ”Me.”
What do you mean?
”Pfft, I’unno. Juss tryin’ to be poedic or somethin’...” There came a sniff. ”No matter what I do to make the night better, it always, always, always seems to make it worse for everyone. I can’t do anything right.” There came a low weep. ”... I can’t do anything right…”
Hey, we just talked about how that’s not true, Evette said, hoping to get the conversation back on track and simultaneously restore Gibbou’s spirits. Are you sure you can’t reach out to the other gods for help? Oraelia’s avatar and Cadien himself have both blessed my cause. Maybe things will be better if you work with them?
”HEY! Hey, hey, hey, no. There are -some- lines we don’t cross.” Evette recoiled in shock - for all her casual awkwardness, Gibbou was still a goddess, and if there was one thing the stories emphasized it was that a god’s ire should never be drawn. There came a deep, frustrated breath through the nose. ”I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. It’s just… The night is -my- element; -my- home. I will not get help to fix my own element - especially not from those two.”
Especially? She raised an eyebrow. Do you have something against them?
”N-no… So what if I do? It’s nothing against them personally. Or maybe it is, in some cases, but mostly not. Why should I tell you?”
Gibbou, would you be willing to take some advice from a mortal?
There came a scoff. ”Look, the last thing I want is a lecture. If you wanna preach, go find a flock or something. I am outta here. P’chooo.” The voice then disappeared.
The sudden change in the goddess’s tone had once again caught Evette off-guard. One would have thought she would have grown used to the goddess’s mood-swings by now, or the dismissive attitude toward advice and criticism. But Evette thought she was actually close to an opening there, only to be shot down and dismissed in the blink of an eye.
Once more she began to wonder how a being with such great responsibilities could act that way. Too much power? Too little oversight? In truth Evette knew very little of the gods and her ways, despite her encounters with the divine, but if Gibbou was to be believed then the only thing holding the Night Goddess back was her pride.
Troubling. Very troubling.
The sun had just risen when Ha-Dûna finally came within sight. Great palisades were being erected around the larger city as though its people were preparing for an attack any day, and sleds and pulks pulled by man, elk and reindeer all flowed in and out the gates like an eternal river of flesh and hide. Small war parties patrolled the vicinity, armed with copper or stone spears, clad in thick fur clothes with their woolen family plaids proudly wrapped around their torsos. The many housesteads - ´tún in the local tongue - sported thick columns of gray smoke through holes in the roofs. Inside the city, barely visible from their position, a scattered number of tall buildings were in the middle of construction.
Evette’s wings were not visible beneath the heavy furs she wore for warmth, but it was only a matter of time before they noticed the golden halo or the glowing sword at her belt. She continued her approach. Thankfully, the roads this close to the village weren’t packed with snow, which made things considerably easier on her weary companions.
As the peasants caught sight of her, a small war party approached, led by a tall, broad woman with her torso wrapped in a blue and red tartan plaid. As opposed to the others, she wore a leather-upholstered bronze helmet and had a long dagger at her hip, also likely fashioned from bronze. Her beltbuckle, too, barely visible under her plaid, had that familiar sheen: She was very likely an officer of high rank. Her nutty hair danced in the snowy wind, and her war party behind her flanked out to flex its numbers and strength. When they reached the Templars, she held up a hand to halt them. ”Brehmse, Reiarling,” she spoke sternly. ”What dorran you seo?”
Evette grimaced. She had tried to pick up what she could of the local language during her travels. Unsurprisingly, she had yet to master it in so short a time, and her companions had not fared much better. She had hoped to find a travelling merchant who could serve as an interpreter, but very few travellers frequented the roads this time of year. Communication would be difficult, to say the least.
But an attempt had to be made. “I… Evette,” she said slowly, in the unfamiliar tongue. “Daughter of Cadien. Hero of Reiya. Listen of Gibbou.”
The officer cocked her head to the side and put her hands on her hips. The other soldiers looked at one another. ”Lytja anois, outsider.” A word Evette had heard many times in these parts. “We ”ònskan ik galningi om láan.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Go back to bórgan soemrest of your kin live.”
Evette looked back over her shoulder in brief confusion, before turning back. “Walk long way. Need home. Can’t walk back.” She knew she was making a butchery of it, but she doubted this guard spoke any language she had a better understanding of.
The guards looked at one another. Some giggled mockingly. The officer drew a curt sigh and held her hand out. Ya, yah… Gitte your klingan aug we jakr gitta you turasbo.” She pointed fervently at her sword, while the others gestured for their weapons.
It took a moment for Evette to realize what was being asked. In truth, it was a reasonable request. But she knew that if she gave away an object so priceless as her sunlit sword, she might not get it back. And she didn’t trust the snickers and chuckles of the guards. They had to have noticed her glowing halo by now, and the fact that they didn’t even comment on it suggested the sword itself would do nothing more to convince them that she had a connection to at least one of their gods.
She shook her head. “Sacred sword,” she answered. “No.”
The officer raised her brow. “Sacred? Pà what heada”?
Evette took some time to think of all the possible questions the woman could be asking. “Reiya make,” she said at last.
The guards looked at each other. “To druïthanas?” they asked one another. They nodded amongst each other, but the officer quieted them down. She eyed the templars one by one, stopping on Evette. Then she pointed at her companions. “They overgittan their klingan. You - gengangen ochm, betta.”
Evette frowned in puzzlement. “No hear.”
The officer groaned something about foreigners to her companions and tried to gesture - she pointed at the Templars, then patted her dagger, and thumbed at her warriors, who all gestured impatiently as though waiting to be given something. She then pointed at Evette, made two fingers walk down her palm, and then thumbed her chest.
Evette eyed her guardedly. “No give sword?”
“You burdan ik. They burdan.” She shook her head at Evette, then nodded at her companions. She then pointed at Evette and said slowly, “Yooooouuu… Waaaaalk… Leeeeeee... Us!”
Evette’s expression hardened into a glare, and the next thing she spoke was in Ketrefan. “The winter is almost preferable to your company,” she said, earning a snicker from one of her own men. She then gestured for them to give up their weapons, and they grudgingly complied. The Dûnans eyed the weapons hungrily, for almost all were made out of bronze. The officer smirked.
“[abbr=”Bronze weaponry, huh? For almost everyone at that! Not bad, not bad. Wouldn’t expect less from a damn Ketty.”]Balklingi, yah? Fòr all seom aon? Ei slóft, jakr seia. Slik an stygja Ketlai.” She shook her head slowly and gestured for them to follow, her war party bring the weapons ahead of them into the city. “In han is ketlamálsnakkling. We jakr finna hén fór you, beag outsider.”
Evette grit her teeth and followed. There was no doubt in her mind now that whatever the guard had said was either mocking or insulting. Probably both. But this was not her first experience in such things; sometimes her wings and halo inspired fear or suspicion instead of awe. Nonetheless, her pride was wounded somewhat, but she could say nothing.
They all walked together through the bustling streets in a long row, Dûnan guards flanking the Templars and Evette at a short distance on each side. The officer walked at the front, hammering her chest and waving at the people they passed, all of whom bowed back in fearful respect. The roads were hardly straight, and the trip took them through dim alleys and flourishing winter markets where root vegetables, dry meat and stockfish were being sold in droves. The ooze of borderline rotting food was offensive. Eventually, they passed by a tall, triangular building, which roof seemed to start at the ground and spear upwards to the heavens. Surrounding it outside were both men and women dressed in very simple clothing and no plaids, doing chores like shoveling snow and chopping firewood. A little beyond that again, another of its kind appeared not too far off the main road they were walking. However, the group had set its course on a rammed earth wall in construction at the end of the road, which was open and bustling with people like a human beehive. Inside, there were more tall buildings, as well as a great stone structure, reminiscent of a temple. Megaliths lined the roadway, upon which were painted stories accompanied by strange scriptures. When they reached the centre of the walled district, a white-robed woman approached them and bowed to the officer.
“”Helgingshelsnar, théin Hilda. Kven an?””
“”Helgingshelsnar, Kaer Cwenn. An kun ustalamlingan soem sòkan óichebo. An dritans Ketlai, kanan Ihr trû? Hatan ring om hóvuda an hóvding. Próvi faa hén seia kvifor an seo.”
Kaer Cwenn blinked and sighed. “”... Yavel.”. Uhm, pardon?”
“Do you speak Ketrefan?” Evette asked, rather abruptly.
Kaer Cwenn approached and nodded. Meanwhile, the officer and the soldiers took the weapons into one of the larger houses. The druid offered a polite smile. “I do. It’s still expected of druids to know the tongue by heart, seeing as we encounter quite a few of your kind on our travels. What brings you here?”
“I’m not Ketrefan myself,” Evette corrected. “My village was on the edge of Ketrefa’s shadow, but I have never actually been to the city. Anyway, my name is Evette, leader of the Night Templars. I was sent here to hunt vampires, trolls, iskrill, and other abominations. And also to learn more about this war, too.”
“Oh, my, a, what’s the word, monster hunter, is that it?” She immediately began suppressing a mocking smirk. “Well, I fear you’ve travelled quite astray from the right path, in that case, for there are no monsters in these lands - save for barbarians and brigands. There was talk of a vampire somewhere to the south near Kirin’s Rest, but apart from that one, we’ve heard nothing. Troll and iskrill, on the other hand, well… Try north or south. You’re free to stay here as long as you need to rest up, though.” She paused briefly. “Oh, yes, and the war is over, my child. These lands have once again been brought to peace, and we wait out the winter so these lands may once again be sown. Would you like to know anything else?”
Evette frowned. “The war is over? The things I saw and heard on my way here had me convinced otherwise.”
“Oh, but it is. Whatever you saw on the way, it was surely just the villagers shoring up their defences in response to the heightened pressure from roaming hoodlums. Highway crime has, after all, risen through the roof since the chaos of the Sigerans began. Oh, sorry - that might not have made sense to a foreigner. If you’d like, we could share the whole story with you over a hot bowl of grautan and some sour milk.”
“I’d like to hear it,” Evette said, wondering just why Cadien had pointed her in this direction if everything was resolved.
“Oh! Fantastic. We’ll get to that eventually, then. First, though…” She eyed her up and down. “Would it be rude of me to ask what a dwarf Reiyar is doing in these parts, leading a band of humans? And what’s that thing above your head? Legends say the helgen Lucia had one, as well.”
“A dwarf Reiyar?” she furrowed her brow in puzzlement. “What in Cadien’s name is that?”
Kaer Cwenn cocked her head to the side, genuinely confused. “Wait, so you are not Reiyar? A warrior of Reiya, a person blessed to serve at her side as a soldier of the sun for all their good deeds?”
Her puzzlement only deepened. “Well, you could say I am a warrior of Reiya,” she said. “I’m also a warrior of Cadien. And Gibbou. But I know nothing about serving at a god’s side - Reiya, or anyone else. And why did you call me a dwarf? I’m taller than you.”
The druid’s tone went from somewhat patronising to giddily curious. “Oh, how fascinating! A Reiyar with amnesia - with loyalties to others than the sun!” She circled around Evette with scanning eyes. “Hmm… Yes, yes… Perhaps you are midway through a sort of… A sort of transformation stage. You are taller than me, but still much shorter than a proper Reiyar - it could be that the circle over your head is some sort of marker or sign that your body is still in development. Oh, what a serendipitous specimen to encounter!”
Her confusion twisted into a scowl. “Don’t be absurd,” she scoffed. “You know nothing about me, and I’m not some research sample for you to study.”
Kaer Cwenn quickly ended up in front of her again and put on a guilty smile. “Sorry, please do forgive me. There is so much to uncover about the other servants of the gods! You wouldn’t mind an interview after dinner, would you? Just a bit more about the nature of your relationship with Gibbou, Caden and Reiya?”
She frowned, but nodded. “So long as you tell me what happened here, and provide food and shelter for me and my companions.”
“Oh, aaabsoolutely! Our home is your home! Just so you know, I will be asking a slough of questions regarding that little sword on your hip, too - looks very well forged; one could almost say it is of divine make.” She gave her a wink and then led them on to a nearby longhouse.
Evette followed reluctantly. The druidess was irritating, to say the least, but so far she was the only one here she could actually speak to, and for now that gave her little choice but to cooperate.
The druid led them into an inn of sorts - surrounding two large central hearths hissing hotly at enormous clay pots filled with soup and porridge placed in their coals were a number of benches, tables and rugs of wool, hide, fur and fiber. Baskets with oat cakes, flatbread and raw roots lined one half of the wall at the far end of the longhouse at which side was the entrance; situated opposite of the door from the baskets were clay pots large and small, some filled with sour milk and others filled with water. Next to the baskets were bowls covered with fiber towels, a bulb under the towel having left grease spots on them. Kaer Cwenn took one of the bowls and grabbed a basket with a varied assortment of baked goods. Evette and her companions, in the meanwhile, suffered everything from curious looks to hard scowls from the other patrons. Kaer Cwenn turned towards her and smiled. “Help yourselves to whatever you may want! Take a bowl from that stack over there,” she pointed to a stack of wooden bowls next to the pots of water and milk, “and take as much porridge as you want. I’ve got bread here and some cheese. If you’d like drinking horns, I’ll see if I can find some of those, too, but we usually just use our bowls. Alright? I’ll be sitting over there when you’re done.” She moved over to a table by a second hearth further inside.
Conscious of all the eyes on her, Evette did indeed help herself - within reason. It struck her as somewhat odd that a city which had just come out of a war and was now undergoing winter was so free with their food. When she was done, she took her bowl over to where Kaer Cwenn was sitting, while her companions found their own seats and began to talk amongst themselves.
The druid began to tell the story of the war. Some years ago, now, there had been an unjust attack upon their people by an enemy tribe. Appropriately, therefore, they had demanded justice be served, but an evil presence amongst them had cursed them all with the madness of the dark god Sigeran. It had thrown them into a vile rage, decimating their neighbours throughout the land. Their minds had been twisted into thinking this was a good presence, too, so they had arranged for the god’s worship and everything. Only when the time was almost too late had the mighty Fírinn given them clear sight at least, and Seeros had descended from the heavens, himself, to save the true sons and daughters of Ha-Dûna from Sigeran’s evil. They had all escaped the city, saved again by the grace of Gibbou, and for the next few years, they had journeyed throughout the land to reunite the scattered tribes under the traditional Dûnan values of peace, piety and co-prosperity.
“... And that brought us here. This city was recaptured from the evil Sigerans just earlier this winter, and by the grace of the Sun, we were not left to starve even though the city had been stripped of all supplies one could think of.” She offered Evette a broad smile and dipped her flat bread into her bowl of porridge with an anticipating grin.
Evette listened to the story with some skepticism. She had the impression that the druidess was laying it on a bit too thick, and she doubted that resolving the war had been as simple as was claimed. At the same time, however, she wasn’t entirely familiar with the situation here. “What was it you mentioned about a vampire earlier?”
“Hmm? Vhe vam-… Scooh-me…” She finished chewing and swallowed. “The vampire? Oh, well… A little over two weeks ago, some traders from the south said some Stone Mauls had banished a vampire in… Trrrrrolbane, I believe… It’s to the south, as well. Mainly ruins still, I think, but the Stone Mauls are settling in there.” She leaned in. “Stone Mauls aren’t too popular around here, actually. Pretty warmongering people, those. Best not to get too close to ‘em.” She then straightened back up and had a scoop of porridge.
She frowned. “What do you mean by ‘banished’?”
“Well… Killed, of course. Whatever else could I mean?”
That was a relief. “Normally ‘banish’ means ‘exile.’ If it had been let go… I wouldn’t look forward to having to chase such a creature in the midst of winter. Especially not with a two week head start. Now, are you certain there are no other vampires in the area?”
Cwenn shook her head. “Haven’t heard anything, at least - and these sorts of news travel pretty quickly on account of all the chaos and such.” She shrugged lightly. “As I said earlier, the only monsters around here these days are robbers and raiders. I’m sure the sanndatr would be very appreciative if you and your most capable-looking companions were to arrest some of those, though.”
It was Evette’s turn to shake her head. “I’m no stranger to fighting raiders, but I tend to avoid conflict between fellow humans when it’s not necessary. I will need to take a closer look around this city, just in case. I was sent here for a reason.”
Cwenn shrugged. “That’s your right, friend. I mean, I’m sure Hilda will have a guard or two on your tail as long as you carry that sword around with you, but don’t take it personally. People are still jumpy after the war, y’know.”
“Who is this Hilda?”
“Oh, she didn’t introduce herself? Wow, that’s… I mean, she has no love of foreigners, pardon the term, but this is a new low even for her. One ought to have the most basic decency, at the very least…” She huffed hot air. “She was the théin who brought you in - the officer. She is very, very powerful - if she’s got her eye on you, she’ll use any excuse she can get to oust you for something, no matter how insignificant.” She lowered her voice and looked around, leaning in. “Whatever you do, do -not- do anything that could get you in trouble, okay?”
“I’ve faced down worse things than a guard with an inflated sense of self-importance,” Evette said dismissively.
Kaer Cwenn frowned worriedly and leaned in a little closer. “She’s much, much more than a guard, friend, and she has a lot of influence around here - a lot. Just… Don’t get on anyone’s bad side while you’re here, okay? Please?”
“I’m the daughter of a god,” Evette countered. “I have no intention of antagonizing anybody, but I won’t be intimidated.”
Cwenn pulled away and looked down into her bowl. “Well… Let’s just hope the two of you won’t see each other anymore, then.” She then took another bite of bread.
“Now I believe you have some questions for me?”
Immediately, her mood shifted to excitement and she put down her bowl and bread. She turned so her whole body faced Evette and grinned from ear to ear. “Oh, do I! Okay, okay… First, I need to get it straight… You… Say you're -not- a Reiyar, yes? Not even a little bit?”
She shook her head. “I never even heard that term until today. I may have wings and a halo, but I am still human.”
“Veeeery interesting… So you’re not in some in-between stage between human and Reiyar? Oh, i can’t wait to present this to my colleagues! We’ll be rewriting volumes of biological literature, depending on your answers, just so you know. Well, not volumes, maybe, but at least one whole scroll. Now, how did you get that halo and those wings, if you are not some sort of inbetween stage of transformation?”
Evette sighed. “When I was a child, my village was attacked by raiders. Everyone in it was killed, and I was forced to flee. I was captured by a vampire, who broke my legs and held me captive, intending to feed on me until I died. I would have died too, if Reiya’s avatar - Solus - hadn’t rescued me. He blessed me with a halo and wings, gave me this sword, and tasked me with hunting down all the vampires I could find.”
“Wait, Solus? But he leads the Reiyar over in the castle… So you -are- a sort of inbetween stage! Or at the very least a hybrid! Oh, this is so much to consider. What are the implications of all this?!” She nearly tipped her porridge bowl onto the floor. Others were staring at her excitement with light amusement.
Evette’s eyes widened. “Solus is here?”
“Should be! Well, not here-here, but in a castle to the… Southeast! Very hard to miss, especially in the winter - not even the thickest snows can lay themselves upon that sunstone keep.”
“I will need to travel there when I have the chance…” Evette said, barely able to believe it. After a few seconds she regained her composure. “Did you have other questions?”
“Oh, a bunch!” The druid then started asking her all sorts of questions about everything from her sword to her diet to her past adventures and connections to all the gods.
Evette is trudging through some snow in the winter of 29 AA. Drunk Gibbou is rattling on about a monkey or something. They talk about a few things: the other gods, alcohol, why can’t Gibbou just fix the night, and whether or not Gibbou is useless. Eventually Gibs cuts off her end of the conversation.
Evette arrives in Ha-Duna and is immediately confronted by a language barrier. It doesn’t help that the first person she meets is a total b-word. After some unproductive back-and-forth, eventually she agrees to turn in her weapons (except the glowing sunlight sword) and is taken to see a druidess who can actually speak Ketrefan.
This druid is immediately fascinated by her, much to Evette’s annoyance, but eventually they sit down and the situation is explained to her. Evette is told that the war is over, which she doubts (based on what she saw on her journey there), but she doesn’t know enough about the local politics to press that argument with any confidence. Evette also tries to learn if there are any vampires in the area, but finds nothing aside from rumours of one that was killed weeks before her arrival. Anyway, the druidess then gives her a warning to avoid pissing off Hilde, and also asks Evette a bunch of questions about herself.
32k characters: Circle of the Long Stride 2 + 5 = 7
Evette Beginning: 12 +5 for 10k+ characters. -2 for part of a major cultural shift: bands of Night Templars can now be found throughout the Highlands, west of the Neiyar River. The tactics, habits, and traditions employed by these bands will vary, though Cadien may punish those who stray too far from their path. Ending: 15
The Night Templars Beginning: 1 +5 for 10k+ characters. -6 for part of a major cultural shift: bands of Night Templars can now be found throughout the Highlands, west of the Neiyar River. The tactics, habits, and traditions employed by these bands will vary, though Cadien may punish those who stray too far from their path. Ending: Bankrupt.
@Stonehammer There is. Apologies for the delay in responding. Zee provided a discord link in his response to Valor that should still be active. You can talk more about your ideas there. If it doesn't work, let us know.
His spirits had lifted in the past few days, ever since he had that moment with Aurielle, and he had begun to revert back to his old self.
As the army had neared Ketrefa, they had begun to face more and more resistance. Some of the villages actually liked being under Ketrefan rule, it turned out, because the close proximity to the city boosted their trade and entitled them to some protection. Others had heard of Aurielle’s raid, and feared the same thing happened to them.
As a result, Carn had to deal with brigands harassing his scouts, sentries, and patrols. And whenever they turned up at a village requesting supplies, they were more often than not refused. In the end, Carn finally had to resort to having his men take what they needed by force. Many would go hungry as a result of this decision, but he couldn’t see any other options.
This wasn’t what troubled him, however. A weary expression crossed his features as he and Aurielle sat at the table in his tent. His gaze was fixated on the glowing sapphire ring he still wore; the one that was intended to bolster his reflexes.
The sorceress had no such reservations about taking what they needed. In fact, she had been the strongest proponent of the measure. When Carn finally gave his leave she was the first to have her assigned warband ready to pillage the nearby villages. And they did so with almost experienced scrutiny. But she didn’t get to raid for supplies every day sadly. Today she was content to sit in Carn’s tent, copying over a rune from one of the few remaining runic tablets Esiré had stolen from the Ketrefian noble. She had her notes on the essence of magic written on the clay beside the rune, but it was written in her native Acadian.
Carn looked up from his hand, and watched her for a few moments as she went about her work. “My ring,” he said, interrupting whatever thoughts she might have had. “I feel it… pulling toward the city, somehow.”
Auriëlle looked up with a frown on her face. Not because she was interrupted. She had time in abundance these days and her followers were only just learning the basics of magic. The notes were as much to learn from as it was to teach others. It was what Carn said that just confused her. “You’ve had that ring for years.” she noted as she turned to look at him. “Did it draw towards the city before?”
“No,” he shook his head. “But, ever since I found the ring, I’ve never been as close to the city as I am now.” He sighed. “How long have the gods been pushing me down this path? Since we met? Since my home was destroyed? Since I was born?”
“There’s no way of knowing.” Auriëlle noted, dryly. From her own limited interactions with the gods, it would seem that some just don’t care. Others look on like it’s amusing. Others are just simply incompetent and useless. In all honesty, Auriëlle wasn’t so sure why people were talking so reverent of the gods still. Even now with Carn she felt like he might be giving the gods too much credit. Not that she would share those views in Carn’s own tent. She wasn’t about to upset some priest or zealot. The lot of them were a plague in this camp. “But I think the ring pulling you to the city is a good sign that you’re doing according to Cadien. Cause it’s certainly not magical.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” he said gloomily, his gaze once more falling down to his hand on his table. After a few more moments he looked back up at her. “What are you going to do when all this is over?”
“Travel south.” She said. “I’ve heard of a land where the ground itself is colorful. Another that’s grand forests as far as the eye can see. Places where wheat grows great and golden every year, again and again. I’ll go south of the Anchor mountains probably.” For a second she let silence fall in the tent, as she pondered for a second on what Carn would do. “And you?” She finally asked, not finding a clear answer herself. The only thing she felt clear about was that he wanted to lead. Maybe reign over?
He thought about that, but only for a moment. “Perhaps I’ll go south too.”
For a second Auriëlle raised her eyebrow for a second. “Do you think Cadien will let you?”
The vaguely hopeful look in his eyes was crushed. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and his palms against his forehead. “I hope so,” he whispered, though the doubt was plain. “What more can he want?”
“I don’t know.” The sorceress admitted. These were the hard truths. Both of them were pawns in the hands of the gods. Though it seemed they were much harder on Carn than on her now. “You’ve come too far not to be branded for greatness though. Neither of us will get peaceful lives.” Not that she personally wanted such a dull life. But even though Carn had become the man she once knew again, she knew deep down that he still just wanted his brother.
“I’m going with you,” Carn decided suddenly, his voice filled with resolve. “No matter what happens. If I have to lead any more cities or rule any more armies, I’ll probably throw myself into a river or something. Assuming Cadien doesn’t just bring me back to life somehow.”
For a second Auriëlle was stunned by his decisiveness. Especially in regards to something that could go up against the god he’s championing. But then a smile, a genuine one, formed on her lips. “I’ll pry you from Cadien’s grip if I have to get you free. I promise you that.”
He chuckled. “Like an old story, but the roles are reversed.” He reached across the table to place his hands on hers. “Thank you,” he said, seriously, and then began to lean forward-
“Carnelian!” The flap of his tent was pushed aside, and Lothar barged in.
Carn leaned back in his chair. “It’s just Carn,” he growled in frustration. “What is it?”
“We need to talk,” Lothar insisted. He looked toward Aurielle, and his expression darkened. “In private.”
“What did the portents show you this time Lothar? Should I be dead yet? Did Cadien ask you to kill me?” Auriëlle said as both a jest and taunt towards the priest. “It’s not like we’re on the opposite team. Spit what you want to say.”
Lothar gave her a flint-hard stare, before turning back to Carn. “The raids need to end.”
Carn sighed. “I don’t like them any more than you do, but we have little other choice.”
“Have some faith!” Lothar hissed. “In stealing what we need, we’re no better than those we fight against. You were chosen to stop these practices.”
“I can’t do that if half my army deserts me because they don’t have food, can I?” Carn demanded.
“Have faith,” Lothar insisted. “The gods can provide.”
“Didn’t you once say that the gods expect us to be independent?” Carn asked. “Besides, I can’t base my decisions around what the gods might do. If they intended to provide us anything, why didn’t they do so before now? Perhaps Titania could have given us some food, instead of armour that barely fit half of us.”
“Perhaps she could have,” Lothar said, “if you hadn’t driven her away.”
“I didn’t drive her away,” Carn countered. “She just couldn’t accept that a god her creator didn’t like had also pledged her support! All her talk of helping people and casting emotions aside amounted to nothing once it was she who had to put in the work. Even the armour was only gifted to us out of spite, and it got four good men killed.”
“Listen to me,” Lothar insisted. “If you carry on like this, you risk drawing the ire of more gods. And the ire of a god is far worse than mortal troubles like hunger or thirst! And you may think it’s necessary now, but in your later years these decisions will haunt you.”
“And what do you know of making decisions?” Carn asked bitterly. “Seems like you let the gods decide everything. Or what you think the gods want. A rather convenient way to absolve yourself of responsibility, isn’t it?”
That took Lothar aback. For a moment, his features were tinged with regret. Then, he became outraged. “You insolent boy!” he all-but-shouted. “You know nothing of the decisions I have made, the regrets I carry, or the burdens I bear. I am giving you this advice because it is in your best-interest. Because of the debt I owe to you, and to Cadien.”
That gave Carn pause. “What debt?” he asked, confused. Lothar fell silent. “Go on, tell me.”
“The-the debt I owe to Cadien, for he is the creator of man-”
“No,” Carn interrupted. “You said you owed a debt to me. What is it?”
“You saved New Thyma…”
“No, you asked me to save that village. You gave me the sword to do it, and you helped me in the fight. It was a joint effort so I hardly see how you owe me a debt for that. So, tell me the truth. Why are you doing this?”
Again, for a few moments, Lothar was silent. “I…” he finally said. “I was at Thyma.”
“Yes, I know,” Carn said irritably. “Have you lost your-”
“The first Thyma,” Lothar interjected.
Carn’s eyebrows rose. “What?”
“I was part of the force that destroyed Thyma all those years ago…” Lothar spoke quietly. “I was arrogant and misguided. I thought I knew the will of the gods, but it wasn’t. It was my greatest regret. Helping you was to be my redemption.”
Images flashed through Carn’s mind. His village burning. His mother falling with an arrow in her neck. His father being struck down in a duel. A robed mage standing next to the killer...
He leapt to his feet. ”You!” With three quick strides he crossed the tent, seizing the mage-priest by the throat and hauling him outside.
The sorceress just rolled her eyes at the talk about faith and the gods. If faith was enough, the gods would’ve made a just world. Where there was no such thing as hunger. Where there was no pain. Instead they made this. She let the two men bicker though, knowing her own opinions were already well known. After all, she was the one who fought against an emissary of a god and survived to live the tale. It was a shame the branch didn’t leave scars. It would’ve made for a great story.
Then the conversation took a strange turn. Debt? She wasn’t aware of what had happened exactly at Thyma and New Thyma. Though she knew Carn’s version of the tale. Then the little slip up occurred and her entire face lit up. The thorn in her side for weeks now was amongst the people that killed and kidnapped Carn’s family!? Heavens she couldn’t imagine better news for herself. She followed the conqueror as he dragged the priest out, keeping a respectful distance. This was going to be Carn’s show and she knew it.
As Carn shoved Lothar out in the center of the camp, many heads turned in confusion at the sudden outburst of violence. The priest was thrown to the ground, and a second later Carn had already drawn his sword and pointed the blade at his throat. “You murdering bastard!” he uttered, loud enough for all watching to hear.
Lothar did not move.
“You’ve been at my side all this time,” Carn hissed. “Knowing what you did to me! To my family! To my people! Even before that, you were hiding out in the reconstruction of the place that you destroyed!” He pressed the tip of the blade into Lothar’s neck, opening up a small trickle of blood. “Tell me. How did you think this was going to end!?”
“In death, or attonement…” Lothar whispered as he closed his eyes, resigned to his fate. “It is your choice.”
And in that moment, an arrow slammed into Carn’s shoulder.
He staggered, stepping away from Lothar’s prone form. Instinctively his free hand came up to clutch the shaft. He turned to see who had attacked him. A lone bowmen, whose neighbours promptly drew their weapons, but before they could attack him, he suddenly burst into flames. As he fell to the ground screaming, Carn looked to Aurielle into confusion, but this was not her doing. Of all the mages present, none had uttered a single word or made a single gesture, so it couldn’t be them either.
“You should have heeded Evandra’s warning, brother…” Lothar whispered sadly.
This drew Carn’s attention back to the priest, and the anger resurfaces. He gripped the arrow hard and yanked it out of his shoulder, grunting and bringing out a spray of blood as he did so, but already the wound was beginning to heal itself. “Enough of this,” he growled. “Lothar, you are guilty of the destruction of Thyma, the murder of one of Cadien’s champions, and the attempted murder of his children. I sentence you to death.”
And with those words, Carn tossed his sword up into the air, caught it in a reverse grip with both hands, and plunged it downward into the priest’s chest. Lothar let out one final cry of pain, and then the life faded from his eyes.
Carn pulled the sword free and stood up, his breathing heavy. “The mages… need a new commander…” he whispered, somewhat numbly. He turned to Aurielle, his sword still dripping with blood, while the burning archer still screamed. “I’m taking your warband away and promoting you to Lothar’s position. Do you object?”
“I don’t.” she said, grinning from ear to ear, mostly at the corpse of the former priest. In her own dreams, it was she who burned him to cinders but she could give Carn that honor. But she did get control over the mages. Who looked at her with worried eyes. Rightfully so. Most of them were stuffy and boring. Luckily the latest progress of her own followers meant that about seven of them were in charge of protecting the mages now that they were learning magic themselves. Still, the stuffy priests and druids that accompanied them were going to be an issue for sure.
“Enough gawking!” Carn shouted. “Get back to your business. And someone, clean these up!” he said, referring to both Lothar and the archer, who had finally expired but was still burning. He looked back to Aurielle. “We have much to discuss. Come with me.” And with those words he marched back into his tent.
Auriëlle waited for a few seconds, looking at the still burning archer and the body of Lothar with a faint smile on her lips still. “You heard the man.” She then said when Carn was already inside. “Clear out and start cleaning this mess up!” With that she followed Carn into the tent. Even though he commanded her. Under normal circumstances she would’ve stepped away. Show him she wasn’t just some puppet he could have blindly execute orders. But right now there was something different about Carn. He was so much more forceful. She liked it. No she loved what he was becoming! “So what needs to be discussed?”
Carn turned to face her. There was anger in his eyes, and deep down the pain of betrayal. Religious ramblings aside, Lothar had meant more to him than he had let on, but the deed was already done. Justice, or vengeance, had been dispensed. No use dwelling on it now.
“Nothing at all,” he said as he stepped toward her and pulled her against him.
The post opens with Carn and Aurielle hanging out in a tent.
Food supplies in the army have finally fallen low enough for his armies to have to resort to raiding. He’s also starting to come across villages who are actually loyal to Ketrefa, and now faces guerilla resistance.
Carn is a bit depressed, because his ring has started to make him feel this weird pulling sensation toward Ketrefa, which leads him to conclude it was always meant to guide him there (it’s actually just responding to the ring that Grandmaster Varsilis has, but Carn doesn’t know that.) He and Aurielle talk a bit about what they’re going to do after the siege is over. There’s a surprisingly sweet moment where they agree to stay with each other, and are willing to defy Cadien’s plans if necessary.
The moment is ruined when Lothar comes in, objecting to the supply raids against the innocent villages. He and Carn argue back and forth for a bit, before eventually Lothar lets slip about a debt he owes to Carn. Carn is confused and presses him further, until he finally reveals that he was part of the group that destroyed Carn’s village and killed Konrad. This whole thing with him helping and advising Carn was meant to be a form of attonement.
Carn is pissed off. Just as he is about to execute Lothar, one of his own men (who is implied to have also been part of Lothar’s group) shoots him with an arrow. That man promptly bursts into flames, a result of the curse Evandra placed on Lothar’s men so long ago.
Aurielle is thrilled at all these developments, while Carn is both angry and upset. Carn then takes her back into his tent and tries to forget about everything that just happened.
Carn Beginning: 52 +5 for 10,000+ characters Ending: 57
Aurielle Beginning: 40 +5 for 10,000+ characters Ending: 45
First, they had discovered a group of slain scouts at the site of an abandoned wagon. That on its own would not have been so shocking - he knew that eventually they would encounter villages and people who were not supportive of his conquest. He also knew his men were not infallible, and some would inevitably being taking supplies by force. That was something he would need to start directly ordering himself, especially with the way his food was running low.
However, there were a number of oddities related to the deaths. The scouts were the only bodies at the site, implying that either they had all been taken by surprise, or whoever killed them was proficient enough to defeat them all without casualties. Additionally, they all looked to have been killed in the same method - a single precise knife wound. Lastly, there were only two pairs of footsteps leading away from the slaughter.
Carn had ruminated on the matter for a time, and then decided it wasn’t worth troubling himself with. Not yet, anyway. If it happened again he would need to reassess. But for now, it could just be an isolated incident. So he had increased the size of the scouting parties and the number of sentries meant to guard the camp, gave them an additional warning to be vigilant, and had left it at that.
Then they stopped for the day, and it was time to initiate something that had been on his mind for a few days. The organization of his army.
The composition of his army would be a simple one. His warriors, archers, and mages were to be developed in individual formations, which would continue to be called warbands for both simplicity and familiarity. Each warband had one hundred people, and as a result he had twenty-four warbands in total.
Four of these warbands were his best-equipped warriors; those whose armour fit the best. They were given bronze weapons that had been taken from the Ketrefans in Carn’s ‘skirmish’ with them all those months ago. Three of these warbands consisted of bowmen, and four were slingers. One, the smallest warband with only fifty people, was comprised solely of druids and mages. The remaining twelve warbands were the rest of his infantry, wielding assorted weapons of copper, bronze, or even stone, and wore mismatched pieces of armour - whatever pieces of Titania’s gift could fit them, really, as well as a mixture of hide and fur.
Then came the process of assigning command. Naturally he had taken command of the elite for himself. Ingrid was given the archers, Yarwick the rest of the infantry, and Lothar the mages. The process of handing out commands for the individual warbands had been more difficult, however. Simply put, he did have as many chieftains, lords, and commanders as he did warbands. Which meant some had to be relegated to second-in-commands, or given other less prestigious duties. Naturally, many had complained, and some had even threatened to take their men and leave.
But Carn had simply smiled, and said that if the men wished to leave, they were free to do so. But if not, the disgruntled commanders would have to find their way home alone. He had said this within earshot of the men in question, and unsurprisingly it had boosted his esteem in their eyes, to the point where almost none decided to follow their commanders after all.
And with that, they had pitched camp, ready for yet another day of marching.
Carn reorganizes his army by putting archers and mages into the same units together and establishing a clearer chain of command.
More than two decades had passed since Cadien had brought the Sirens to live within his realm. Since then they had spent many hours filling Meliorem’s halls with music, raising Cadien’s spirits when they were at their lowest. Neiya had disapproved at first, when she first stumbled across them so long ago, but since then seemed to have come to a grudging tolerance.
The God of Perfection had ensured they kept their distance from his palace when Neiya was visiting, and those who chose to defy that rule quickly learned the error of their ways. When Neiya was not visiting, however, Cadien ensured that he did not neglect his realm’s inhabitants; spending days at a time touring their village, and making modifications to increase the comfort of its inhabitants.
It was not all songs, dance, and cheer, however. Cadien’s continued faithfulness to Neiya had led many female Sirens to envy or even despise the Horned Goddess. Although they had plenty of male companionship, for some that was not enough, and they still yearned for the God of Perfection whose castle was just a short walk from their home. From where they stood, it seemed as if Neiya was the only thing keeping them from that.
The male sirens were not oblivious to this, which in turn led them to resent Cadien himself. It was a hard thing, to know one’s lover would rather be with someone else, and being powerless to do anything about it.
Meanwhile, the Lady-in-Waiting was gone. She had departed to search for her ‘Lady’ who had vanished within the God of Ink’s realm. Cadien had been deeply saddened by her departure, and afterward had forbidden any more Sirens from leaving Meliorem. Many had been unhappy with this decision as well, for they had been hoping to meet some of the other deities Cadien spoke of, but most had not been particularly bothered. After all, the only gods they had met were Cadien and Neiya. They knew they had a god of their own, of course, but he or she had abandoned them. With these experiences in mind, Cadien stood alone as a positive example.
And so for now the dissenters remained a minority, keeping their thoughts to themselves. Cadien was still a god, and this was still his realm. He had saved them and given them a home. And the men had been created directly by his own hand, so they owed him additional gratitude for that. Besides, Cadien had done his best to ensure their happiness despite their misgivings. It was for these reasons that the dissenters had not acted.
Not yet, anyway.
There were six of them, all seated at a table, with cards in their hand. At the head was Cadien himself. The rest were Sirens; two men, and three women. Three more stood in a corner, playing a song with vocals, a flute, and a lute.
One of the Sirens, a man with a greenish tint to his skin, smiled confidently and placed a card upon the table.
“You have to draw four more cards.”
Cadien’s expression darkened. But the rules were rules. He reached for the pile and pulled out four more cards, which he added to his hand. The game was not looking good. He took some solace in the fact that this was mostly a game of chance, and thus there was less shame in suffering a defeat at the hands of a mortal. Besides, the game was not over yet, and perhaps it could still be salvaged.
And so they continued to play. Cadien found that his luck was beginning to turn around. Unfortunately, it was not enough. However, it was not the smug-looking man who won, but a female Siren instead, whose skin had a rather bluish looking hue. She smirked confidently as she announced her victory. “Well, this has been a pleasure,” she declared, as her gaze settled on Cadien. “What do I win?”
Cadien raised an eyebrow. “I don’t recall announcing any sort of prize.”
She pouted. “Oh but it’s not every day that one bests a god. Or knocks down the ego of Cleon here.” She inclined her head toward the rather sullen looking male song, who forced a smile and waved it off. “Surely I deserve some sort of prize for these achievements?”
“Tell me, then,” Cadien said. “What is it you desire most?”
“Perhaps a leading role in the next performance?”
“Julara won’t be happy about that,” another Song - this one red - interjected.
“Julara has played a leading part in over a thousand plays,” the blue Song countered, before looking back to Cadien. “Surely you would appreciate something different?”
Cadien considered that for a few moments. “Hm… why not? A bit of healthy competition won’t hurt anyone.” The Song smiled brightly at his words. “Now then, onto other matters.”
“Can you tell us what’s happening on Galbar, my lord?” a yellow Song requested. “More tales of the Acadians? Or of Carnelian’s adventures?”
“You’re very interested in Galbar, aren’t you?” Cadien queried. “Are my presence and Meliorem’s comforts not enough for you?”
“Oh no, they’re alright. I-I mean great! No, perfect,” the Song stammered nervously. “I just… I’m curious about what’s outside. Your stories are our only source of information for new songs.”
Cadien stroked his chin. “Hm. That’s true, isn’t it.”
“You know, I don’t see why we can’t just visit Galbar ourselves,” Cleon interjected.
“You know why,” the red Song said. “The other gods are too dangerous.”
“But there are no gods on Galbar, are there?” the blue Song intervened.
“There aren’t?” the yellow song’s eyes widened, before her gaze swivelled back to Cadien. “Is this true?”
“It is true, yes,” Cadien nodded grudgingly. “But just because there aren’t any gods doesn’t mean it’s safe. The gods still hold influence over the land, and they have created many dangers. Some by design, and others… by mistake. Even if you avoid those dangers it will still be a hard life. You’ll need to eat, sleep, and drink. In my realm you can do these things whenever you want, in infinite supply. On Galbar you’ll need to seek them out, or work for them. You will come to know age, fatigue, and hunger; three things you never have to worry about here.” He leaned forward, reaching across the table to place a hand on hers. “It’s safer for you to stay.”
Seeming dejected, the yellow song cast her gaze down at the table. But the blue song took up the next sally. “Is there nothing you can do to keep us safe while we’re down there, then? Or bring us back when we are in danger?”
Cadien leaned back. “I could, but it’s no simple task, and may require quite a lot of strain and effort on my part.”
“But think of the benefits, my lord. We’ll be down on Galbar, singing your praises and spreading your name to all mortals! You once said you had trouble getting them to listen to you, didn’t you? Why not let us help? It’s the least you can do, after all you have done for us.”
That gave Cadien pause. Images passed through his mind. Of Sirens marching with armies, playing music to inspire the troops, or impressing nobles in aristocratic gatherings. He imagined his Songs travelling the realm, passing his name on to those who had forgotten him, or had never been aware of his existence in the first place. “When you phrase it that way, the idea does have some merit,” he conceded. “But, I will need to think on this. As I said, it is no simple task.”
Both the yellow and blue songs smiled gratefully, with excitement behind their eyes.
So we get a recap of how the Songs have been doing ever since Cadien invited them in. Neiya doesn’t like them, and they don’t like her. Anyway Cadien has somehow managed to get Neiya to tolerate them (at least at a distance), and has done his best to keep all parties happy (though some of the girls want Neiya dead, and a few of the guys want Cadien gone, if you can believe that.)
We then cut to Cadien playing a card game with some Songs who have his favour on that particular day. Cadien loses and is somewhat salty, but quickly gets over it. Then the conversation turns toward Galbar, with two of the Songs attempting to convince Cadien to let them head down there. Cadien is unconvinced, but eventually comes around when they appeal to his ego.
Also I’m claiming the Morale portfolio.
Beginning MP: 5 Beginning DP: 5 -3MP to claim the Morale portfolio. Ending MP: 2 Ending DP: 5
Meliorem’s throne room was different, for the God of Perfection had taken up a new hobby.
A series of paintings hung on the walls. Of landscapes, of cities, of people. There was one of Carn, Evette, Alys, and Brundt standing together; Carn and Alys were smiling, while Brundt and Evette seemed dour and sullen. There was another of the warrior Dakari, standing in the heat of battle and stained with blood. A third painting was of an archer taking aim at a hydra, with a magnificent bow in his hands. There were more: a red-haired sorceress standing triumphant over fallen iskrill, a white-haired blacksmith duelling a veteran warrior while a hooded mage watched from the background, and an outnumbered warband standing against a Ketrefan army.
Now, Cadien stood in the middle of the room, a canvas before him. He had almost finished his seventh painting, and he believed it was perhaps his finest one yet.
But focusing would be difficult. In the midst of painting, the door to Neiya's realm rattled with ominous intent before swinging open. After a long break in visits, it seemed the Love Goddess had decided the dry spell of visits was over. The curvaceous silhouette of her most recent form appeared in the archway, and she soundlessly hovered into the halls of Meliorem, door slamming shut behind her. Gold eyes fell around the hall briefly, though her gaze quickly centered itself on Cadien.
The God of Perfection smiled at her. “Looking as beautiful as ever, love. What brings you here?”
Neiya narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, gaze shifting between the God and his easel. "Can't I simply wish to see my beloved?" she lamented, a dramatic and humoured frown on her features. Having entertained herself, she hovered closer to Cadien, a few moments of curiosity awarded to his hobby. "Perhaps I wanted your advice on a matter as well. You are the King of Mortals after all."
“Oh rest assured, your company is never unwelcome,” Cadien assured her, raising an eyebrow. “What sort of advice do you seek?”
Neiya pulled her hands behind her back, wings lifting in gentle flutter as she glanced about the hall in a manner most uncharacteristic. "Ah, it's on the matter of mortals. You follow their lives a lot and I was wondering how often they eat, how warm they need to be. Just general tips. Oh, is this a Neiyari?" the goddess offered, changing topic midway as she caught sight of the painting of Dakari. Her body lifted further from the ground as she carried herself in its direction.
“It is,” Cadien nodded. “One of your children who I have decided to bestow my favour upon. Do you like the painting?”
She cast a sideways glance towards Cadien, before looking back at the painting. Long fingers reached out to gently touch at it. "I do. It's very scenic. There are a few others that seem familiar enough to me. You truly paint a vivid picture, my love."
“Why thank you,” Cadien grinned. “Why don’t you come over here and see my most recent work?”
"Hm?" Neiya began with a tone that implied mellow interest at best, but still she was already halfway through the air when she uttered it, apparently fascinated enough to jump at the offer. "Is it something I've seen before?
“You could say that,” Cadien said, as he turned the easel toward her.
It was a painting of her. Not in her current form, but in her first one, hovering over an ocean with a coastline and a river in the far distance, clearly intended to resemble the time they first met.
Neiya slid her hands over Cadien's shoulder and clasped on to him as she watched the painting, allowing him due time to move the easel back as she hovered beside and behind him, anchored with a gentle grip. Her first real reaction was a simple breath, the goddess stirred to silence as her now golden gaze flitted frantically over the picture. "That seems like so long ago. Oh, Cadien." she sighed with a wistful breath.
“Such a simpler time, wasn’t it? Just the two of us. No concerns about other gods or the goings-on of mortals,” Cadien said, with a wistful tone of his own. “You taught me an important lesson that day.” Then he seemed almost remorseful. “One of my greatest regrets is that I never made it to your sanctum before the Separation. I would have liked to see it.”
Neiya offered a sorrowful stare at the painting, briefly lost in memory. "It wasn't anything special; a lake I made my own. It was peaceful though, despite the visitors. I was so primitive, then. Ruled by my emotions."
Cadien arched an eyebrow. “Primitive? Hardly. If anything, I found you to be beautiful, elegant, and calm.” He turned toward her and placed a hand on her cheek.
"Tsch. You charmer." Neiya offered, turning her own gaze on him in turn. "Do you prefer me like that, then? Lost in thought and sorrow?" The goddess began to shift under his hand, her face turning softer and paler, her eyes losing their golden color as her shape turned towards that of her base form.
“I simply don’t wish to see you dismiss who you used to be,” Cadien told her. “That is the woman I first fell in love with, after all.”
Neiya raised a shifting hand to clasp around his, moving it down from her cheek. "Treat me well, my love, and I shall be whomever you desire. I'm still in here. I'm trying to be more than a shrinking flower, wilting in the shadows."
“You are more than that. You always were,” he assured her, before leaning in for a kiss. Neiya pushed her own lips to his, her form rippling gently as her skin turned pale and her form changed entirely to the forlorn, horned goddess of the past.
She broke the kiss soon after, raising a languid finger to gesture at the painting. "Do I look like you remember?"
The God nodded, bringing a hand up to brush at a strand of her hair.
"Then keep painting. You have your model for as long as you need it." she continued, and drew a finger gently under his chin.
And with those words, Cadien raised his brush and went back to his task. “Perhaps you should try your hand at this?” he asked as he began putting the finishing touches on it.
Neiya released a quiet scoff, solemnly dismissive of the idea - even though she had watched Cadien's technique with intent. "I have never been much good with the creative. I only ever recreate, I feel. And even then... she sighed softly, and patted his shoulder.
“You judge yourself far too harshly, my dear. What of our Merelli? We created those together, and they are beautiful, are they not?”
A hint of a shadow of a smile played on her features, and she was forced to agree with an elegant nod. "You had a great hand in that, I think. I only change what is already there. The Neiyari, for example. Though I do enjoy how they developed…"
“It occurs to me that we don’t work together nearly as often as we should,” Cadien went on. “The Merelli are the only thing we’ve done together. That ought to change, I think.”
That seemed to catch the goddess' attention enough for her to reaffirm her vigil of Cadien, tilting her head slowly. "I agree, beloved, though I took the liberty of aiding your ah, cute offspring."
“Oh yes, I have been meaning to mention that,” he nodded. “Thank you for giving them your aid. That cloak seems to be serving Carn well, even if it did create a rift between him and Gibbou’s avatar - though I suppose that’s her fault for being so uncompromising. And your followers did agree to aid Brundt, so you have my gratitude for that as well.”
"Oh, they did? That's marvelous," Neiya intoned softly, bobbing her head briefly in a simple nod. "Mortals can be so fickle, I was worried I wouldn't be able to please you after our… talk about the city. Actually, on the matter of mortals. How often do they need to eat?"
“Well, that depends on the mortal,” Cadien said. “Why?”
Neiya ran a hand up to stroke a finger along her lowest horn, humming softly. "Ah, nothing special. A few mortals wandered into my realm and I want to make certain they do not suffer at random."
“Hm. Well, humans and merelli should typically eat two or three times a day. Some can survive on one meal, but in time that will take its toll. I still don’t know which mortals you’re dealing with, though. Perhaps we should go there after I finish, and you can show me?”
"That's a wonderful idea, my love. I don't think they're human. But you can see for yourself later." Neiya nodded quickly and lifted her hand to wave away the matter now that it had been resolved. "Did you have any particular ideas of what you wanted to do together?"
“No particular idea right now,” Cadien admitted. “Perhaps an order of warriors, that vanquishes evil in our names? Or maybe we could have our avatars work together to either teach or gift the mortals something? Or... perhaps we could just destroy some iskrill together? Hm. Do you have any ideas?”
"Iskrill… where are those again?" Neiya asked with a ponderous expression.
Cadien frowned at that. “Yamat’s abominations. I told you about them, long ago. Do you not remember? They’ve been slaughtering human and merelli alike.”
Neiya touched at her own cheek. "Oh, those. In the Highlands, no? Aveira is around that area. I could send her to cut a swathe through those abominations without much issue. We could make it our shared activity, if you want to put some of your mortals in or some such."
The God thought for a moment. “My own avatar is in the area. Perhaps they might work together? Mayhaps they’ll get along as well as we do,” he smirked.
"Perish the thought," the Love Goddess retorted with dry wit of her own, lips pursed ever so slightly. "I don't think Aveira was doing anything important anyway. But, ah, more importantly; how do you get this blue here?" Neiya drew her hand forward to point at the mixture of blue hues in the painting before her, overcome with a fickle thought after all.
Cadien smiled. “Well, one benefit of being a god is that I can simply conjure whatever colour or shade I wish into existence. But, if I were a lowly mortal…” he waved a hand and conjured forth a table with jars of paint on it, “...I would have to do this…”
Cadien is painting. He has painted a ton of cool pics of his favorite mortals, and he's working on finishing a new masterful project when the old ball and chain (though they're not actually married) Neiya enters with the same fanfare as usual. She wants advice on mortal care, but gets distracted by one of Cadien's paintings; the Dakari the Neiyari, Collector's Edition. They get to talking about cute couple stuff like musing about the old days and planning activities together. #CoupleGoals
Neiya gets to ask about mortals and reveals she has some newly acquired models in her realm, but no manual. Cadien, being a good boyfriend, promises to look at the practical stuff and help her out. Then he teaches her how to paint without divine aid.
The new armour was unlike any metal Carn had ever seen before. It was a dull grey, but not nearly as light as the sword he carried, or Titania herself.
The commotion had stirred the entire camp. Some men had heard the initial screams and thought they were being attacked, which had led to dozens of men running about in panic, and in some cases almost clashing with each other in the darkness. Then they had noticed the true source of it all, and had clustered in the center of the camp.
Carn had ordered them all back to their beds and their posts. Those encamped closest to the pile were ordered to move elsewhere, in preparation for when the pile inevitably fell. To his surprise, they had agreed without hesitation, leaving only the dozen or so guards that had been assigned to guard Titania in the first place. Then, he himself had gone back to bed. The armour would need to be sorted and distributed, but not in the dark. That would have to wait until morning.
“Lord Carnelian!”
Carn stirred, sitting up on the lumpy straw mattress. He had thought the events of the previous day might have been a dream, but the cloak which he was now using as a makeshift blanket proved otherwise. He rose to his feet, put the cloak on properly, and stepped outside.
Yarwick was there, along with a small group of warriors. “What is it?” Carn asked them.
“Armour fell over,” Yarwick replied. “Crushed tents and shelters. “Half the camp is already roused.”
“Gather everyone,” Carn ordered. “We need to see those suits distributed.”
Yarwick nodded. “I’ll see it done.”
The crowd that had formed had quickly become a mob, with some already pulling at the pile. They quickly got into fights, as men went for the same pieces, or got in each other’s way. Carn had Titania’s tent pulled down, but she remained on the table so she could witness everything. She needed to see rather than hear just how chaotic this army truly was.
For several long moments, Carn allowed the chaos to go on, even as Lothar, Yarwick, Ingrid, and a few others all shouted to restore order. Then, the moment one fight went too far, and a blade was drawn, he shouted. “Enough!”
The fighting stopped, and heads turned. “Everyone, back away!” he commanded. “Form four orderly lines, one on each side of the pile. Take a full set of armour, then go somewhere else to put it on. I’ll take off the hand of anyone who grabs more than they need!”
The warriors paused, exchanged glances with one another, and then grudgingly began to back away. The crowd shifted into four lines, as Carn had commanded, each going in a different direction. Chieftains and leaders hung off to the side, keeping a watchful eye to ensure nobody strayed. One by one, a man came forward from each line to grab a set of armour, before hurrying away from the collapsed pile.
The process moved quickly, though later on Carn began to see that some men with armour were seeking each other out, because the pieces they had chosen didn’t fit quite right. It was only then that they discovered that the armour was the same size, forcing most to wear armour that was ill-fitting. For an unfortunate few, the armour did not fit at all. Carn watched them with a sour expression.
”What? Dissatisfied?” came a metallic mutter.
“The armour doesn’t fit,” Carn replied.
”’The armour doesn’t fit’. What, did you expect me to know the exact sizes of your every soldier? You wanted armour; I gave you armour. I based my design on knowledge about the average size of a ‘human’ as accumulated over the millennia. If your warriors don’t fit the armour, they could do with losing or gaining some weight.”
“And how do you propose they do that before we reach Ketrefa? Do you expect them to become taller, or shorter, too?”
”Not my problem now, is it? After all, this is all -your- campaign. If your troops are outfitted wrongly, then it’s your responsibility as a commander to fix that, isn’t it?” There came a metallic hmph!
Carn glared at the armour. Meanwhile, men were beginning to recover items from the tents that had been crushed under the pile. Then, one shouted in alarm and began tugging on something. Carn observed from a distance, and then realized it was an arm. “By the gods…” he whispered, as others came to help the man pull the body free.
”Why, what’s happening?” mumbled the armour, only halfway interested.
Carn ignored her. “Is he alive?” he called out to Yarwick, who had approached the scene. Yarwick and two others then began to move the armour aside, allowing the body to be pulled free. The Chieftain of Thyma took one look at it, then back at Carn, and shook his head grimly.
Carn fell silent. “The pile fell on someone,” he said after several long moments, his voice devoid of emotion. “He’s dead.”
The armour was silent. ”What a shame. Death can strike anyone at any moment. It is the fate of all living beings. All we can do is make certain it won’t happen again.”
“...you don’t care, do you?” Carn asked quietly.
”Crying over the death of a soldier will leave you weeping for eternity. Soldiers die to protect the innocents; they fight for what is dear to them. Regardless of how they die, death is their fate. There are worse ways for a warrior to die than being crushed armour.”
“Armour conjured forth by a being they thought was going to help them,” Carn countered. “That man deserved better than that, I think.”
”I have helped you - I have given you the strongest armour in the land - full suits for almost everybody. Is your integrity really so faint that you would focus on one man’s death over the now-much more likely survival of thousands? Have you not the honour to be thankful?”
Carn gave a bitter chuckle at that. “I choose to spare Aurielle, because she might still be useful to us, and you go on about justice. I choose to keep this cloak, because it might be useful to us, but you want it burned simply because you don’t trust it. But when you get one of my men killed, now you go on about the greater good?” He shook his head. “Do you even know what honour is?”
”Auriëlle, a criminal, walking free is -not- for the ‘greater good’. She is a wildcard at best and a demoness at the worst. Your weakness in handling her shows your misunderstanding of righteousness; the cloak is a product of Neiya, the queen of demons, and destroying it -is- for the ‘greater good’. The failure to do so shows your broken sense of right; and to weep over the loss of one man when your whole army has been harnessed with the greatest plate in the land? You show nothing but childishness and lack of resolve! Honestly, why did I even choose you?”
“An easy thing, to judge people, isn’t it? To second-guess them when you’ve never seen life through their eyes?” Carn ignored her question. “You’ve never been hungry, have you? Your life has never been at risk, has it? Do you have family? If you do, have you seen them cut down before your very eyes? Have you ever been at someone else’s mercy? ” He shook his head. “I don’t think you have. The question is, why did I choose you? I didn’t have to pick you up. I could have left you with that merchant, or thrown you in a ditch somewhere. I’m not your slave, Titania. I’ve never been. I thought you’d understand that, considering it’s what we’re fighting to stop.”
The armour scoffed. ”Of all the stuck-up--! I have never once treated you like a slave! I have made demands, yes, but never with the expectation that these would not be compensated for! I even offered you a new cape to replace the one you would, oh so slavishly, have to toss away, because, I don’t know, it’s made by the incarnation of evil?!” She heaved some furious breaths. ”You know what? I was wrong about you - so wrong. I see it now. You’re not doing this to free the innocents of Ketrefa - this is an ambition of yours: your project, isn’t it?” She paused. ”Yes… Yes, no wonder Neiya would reach out to you.”
“And now you turn your paranoia on me,” Carn sighed. “Think what you want. I don’t care. Leading this army wasn’t even my idea. But if you won’t support me, then I might as well leave you behind.”
”Fine! I’ll find a better wearer - one whose heart outshines yours like the sun outshines a torch. They will become an invincible paladin of justice - something you could never be.”
“I pity whoever you find, then,” Carn said as he turned away. “Everyone! Pack up! It’s time to move!”
The suit of armour falls over in the night, waking everyone up. Carn then gets up and decides to start distributing it. Things are a bit chaotic at first but his cloak helps him get the situation under control. Unfortunately, all the armour sets are the same size, which means not all of them fit Carn’s army. It then turns out that when the armour fell it crushed one of Carn’s men, which Titania is surprisingly indifferent to.
This then escalates into an argument, where they call each other out for their flaws, cast aspersions on each other’s motives, and then finally go their separate ways. Titania vows to find a better wearer while Carn figures he might be better off without her.
Carn Beginning: 41 +4 for 7500+ characters Ending: 45
These past two decades had been nothing if not good for him. He had gathered allies, and led his people to victory. Elsewhere, he had heard that other Neiyari were having difficulty, but not him. He had carved out a section of the Luminant for himself, and one day, he hoped, the entire region would be his. He had kept faith in both Cadiri and Neiyara, as was owed, and that faith had been rewarded.
“I give praise to you, Cadiri and Neiyara,” Dakari had whispered during his morning prayer. “I have led my people to victory, destroyed my foes in battle, and held true to both my promises and my threats. All in your name. I will continue to do so, until the Luminant is mine.”
“No,” spoke a familiar voice, “you won’t.”
Dakari’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Grim news, I’m afraid,” Cadiri spoke apologetically. “Oraeliara has placed a curse upon you and your people. Never again shall your women bear children.”
The news struck him like an arrow. “She… did… what?” he whispered, slowly and quietly.
“You’ve all been made infertile. Without some other way to perpetuate your race, your extinction is all but assured.” The God spoke in a disapproving tone, clearly thinking Oraeliara had gone too far.
And she had. “That… that bitch…” Dakari cursed, as the severity of what had been done to his people began to sink in. “This… this cannot stand. You must reverse it!”
“Easier said than done,” Cadiri replied. “This happens to be her specialty. And I would thank you not to make demands of me.”
“I… forgive me, but my people have been sentenced to extinction!”
”A pity,” the God agreed. “Rather unsporting, too. You were doing so well for yourself, and to lose it all without a single battle fought…”
“No!” Dakari shouted, before lowering his voice. “I will not go quietly without a fight. If they have taken my people’s future, then I shall take theirs! I will sweep across the Luminant. I will burn their homes, slaughter their wives and children, make them all suffer. I will not stop until-”
“Enough,” Cadiri cut him off. “Think of the long-term. Even if you succeed, you will gain nothing from such a move.”
“Oraeliara removed the need to think in the long-term the moment she put that curse on my people!” Dakari argued. “We will die, and we will leave nothing behind. We can either die fighting, or we can die old and helpless.”
“And what if you didn’t die at all?” Cadiri asked.
The Neiyari Warleader blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I cannot restore your fertility, but I can take you and your people to a place where you will never age, and never want for anything. In exchange, all I ask is for you to pledge yourself to me further. I have a need for a flexible group of warriors, made for battle, who will go where I tell them to go and fight when I tell them to fight,” the God offered. “A fair deal, is it not?”
“What of Neiyara?” Dakari asked.
“You’ll still give worship to her, of course,” Cadiri said. “And I’m sure she will be pleased to know that her creations are being preserved."
Dakari considered the offer. It seemed cowardly, to leave the Luminant - his home - and his enemies behind, when there was still such a great wrong which needed to be righted. At the same time, however, Cadiri had been good for him, and had just offered his people eternal life. He also suspected that rejecting the god’s offer now would earn his ire, which was the last thing he needed right now. Dakari knew enough about power that an ‘offer’ or a ‘suggestion’ from someone of sufficient authority was as good as a command.
Besides, if they no longer needed to worry about death, that gave them all the time in the world to plan their revenge against Oraeliara.
“Very well,” he said. “I accept.”
“Good. Gather all those who wish to follow you, and tell me when you are ready to depart.”
In the end, only a little more than three hundred Neiyari of fighting age were willing to follow, along with their children. Many had refused, with some even going so far as to call him a coward, or to challenge his leadership, claiming they should be avenging this insult against them instead of running away. Those people were dealt with swiftly and mercilessly, for Dakari would brook no challenges, threats, or insults even now.
Others had simply quietly walked off, and Dakari had let them go. He would take only those who were truly loyal.
“Lord Cadiri,” he prayed, “we are ready.”
There was a long silence, and for a moment Dakari wondered if his prayer had even reached the god. Then there was a sharp crack!, as reality itself was torn open, and a glowing purple portal materialized before them.
Steeling himself, Dakari stepped through.
He emerged on a vast, flat, grassy island. In the distance across a sea, two other islands could be seen; one with a black imposing imposing fortress, and the other with a colourful village.
A tall white-haired figure stood before him, clad in golden armour, and when Dakari realized who it was, he quickly knelt. Those of his people who followed in behind him quickly did the same.
Cadiri simply waited patiently, as the Neiyari entered his realm. When all were in, the portal finally closed. “That’s all of you?” he asked. “Very good,” he said, without waiting for anyone to answer. “Hm. You’ll require lodgings, I suppose.” He waved his hand, and an entire town materialized behind them, with uniform but marvelous marble buildings. “Now then, why I brought you here. You are to be my warriors. When I require it, I will send you to Galbar to fight in my name and see my interests fulfilled. Between battles, you will spend your days here, alternating between luxuries and training. A generous offer, yes?”
Many of the Neiyari nodded. Cadien smiled. “Good! Now then, to business. You’ve proven yourselves capable warriors, but you need more discipline. More cohesion. You all favour different weapons and have varying amounts of armour. No more.”
The God of Perfection waved his hand, and a black arch sprouted from the ground in front of them. He pointed to one of the Neiyari. “You. Girl. Step through it.”
The Neiyari rose to her feet, and with a stoic demeanor she stepped through the portal. At once her clothing fading away, replaced by a full suit of midnight-black armour, complete with a helmet, and holes in the back for her wings. She stared at her new equipment in awe. “The rest of you,” Cadien ordered. “Go through it.”
And so they did, each one receiving their own custom suit of black armour. And they each alternated between looking reverently at their new armour and at Cadien himself.
“Very good,” the God smiled, once the last one had been equipped. “However, I suppose all that armour might make it harder for you to fly, won’t it? You’ll need a new way to move swiftly, I think.”
Another snap of his fingers, and hundreds of beasts materialized in the open field before them. They were a dark grey with black manes on the back of their neck, standing on four hooves, and each had a sharp golden horn jutting from their forehead. These creatures were made to be ridden, with leather saddles and stirrups that were part of their very body. Unlike most natural creatures, they did not look upon the Neiyari with any sort of fear.
“You will tame these beasts and learn to ride them,” the God instructed. “They will serve as your mounts. Only then will you be ready to go into battle.” His smile returned. “Now, then. Get to it.”
So we get to see how Dakari has been doing ever since Cadien blessed him. Turns out, pretty good. He’s managed to expand his territory, acquire allies, and keep the Oraeliari out.
Then Cadien contacts him and lets him know about Oraelia’s curse. Dakari is understandably pissed off by this development, and wants to genocide every single Oraeliari, which is uh… a bit less understandable. Anyway Cadien talks him out of it and convinces Dakari to come join him in Meliorem instead.
Some of Dakari’s people refuse to come, so he either kills them or lets them go.
Anyway they reach Meliorem, and Cadien is like: “Okay so it’s time to turn you lot into actual soldiers.” He builds houses for them, gives them some cool armour, creates a new species of special mounts, and gives them a number of other powers. Thus, the Black Hussars are born.
Cadien Beginning MP: 5 Beginning DP: 5 -1MP to teleport a bunch of Neiyari to Meliorem. -2MP and 2DP to create a monument: the Armourer of Meliorem. This Monument will outfit an individual with a perfectly-fitting set of black steel armour. The armour consists of chaimail, cuirass, gauntlets, greaves, pauldrons, an open-faced helmet, and a purple cape. -2MP to create an extraordinary beast: Shadowsteeds. These are basically dark grey unicorns. They are quite fast, have a lot of stamina, and feel no fear. -1DP to create the title Painless I: Members of this Holy Order are more numb to pain, feeling just enough to let them know when they are injured but never enough to seriously affect their ability to fight. -1DP to create the title Fearless I: Members of this Holy Order are more resistant to fear and terror. -1DP to create the title Disciplined Mounts I: Members of this Holy Order will maintain perfect formation in a cavalry charge.
Dakari Beginning: 5 +4 for 7500+ characters Ending: 9
The Black Hussars Beginning: 0 +4 for 7500+ characters Ending: 4
Member
Lord Zee
Frettzo
Eviledd1984
King of Rats
Vec
Noctis