No word from Cadien. No news of what had happened from Galbar. Three days of enduring the hospitality of the songs.
It was far from unpleasant. In truth, some part of him was actually beginning to enjoy it. All he had done was set a condition that he didn’t want to hear any songs about himself or the war he had fought. The food was good, as was the music - even if he was reluctant to admit it. The other types of performance were endearing too, in their own ways. The plays sought to emulate reality despite being nothing like it, yet that carried its own sort of charm.
And yet, he could not fully enjoy himself. Despite the comforting words of Shae, his failures and those he had left behind still hung in the back of his mind.
He sat on a cliff overlooking the sea, practicing motions with his sword: elegant yet efficient strokes he often used in combat. From time to time he would take a break and gaze out at the horizon. Now, one of those breaks had just come to an end.
Carn rose to his feet and drew his sword once more. He fell into a stance and resumed the familiar patterns of strokes. Shae had joined him a few times, watching his movements with interest and commenting on how he ‘didn’t flow’ quite right, whatever that meant. She had risen, taking the sword from him and staring at it - looking completely out of place in her delicate hands - and imitated his movements. It was odd at first, she did not know quite how to hold it and so Carn had shown her, and when she danced with it again it looked both beautiful and deadly - like a cobra snake dancing to the flute of one of those wandering southerners he had seen once, or a leoness gyrating on air before turning suddenly and plummeting towards its hapless prey.
She was not here now, though. She was practising for a play and had wanted him in it - as himself. She had been subtle, but it had ended in a bout of squabbling and now he was here. Strangely enough, he felt some regret for turning her down. But there was no way he could imagine himself standing on a stage and reliving his own actions, following a script divorced from reality for the entertainment of people who had never been there.
He pushed the thoughts on his mind and focused on his training. Swinging, lunging, parrying, and blocking against imaginary foes. If only he had a partner. Even if he would have to hold himself back, as he had whenever he sparred with someone on Galbar. It was then that a dark thought crossed his mind. Was his skill in swordsmanship truly due to his own skill, training, and experience? Or was it yet another of the many gifts Cadien had bestowed upon him?
The thought angered him, and he felt his movements come sharper and his brows furrow. But after a few moments Cadien’s words came to him - “Did you not resent what little sway over your life I already held?” It gave him pause. He had not really thought about the exchange since, now that he had calmed and the anger of the moment was gone. Was it true? Was this anger evidence of that? Even now he wished to be free of his father’s shadow - and yet he blamed him for not being there when he had been free. His brows knotted and he started moving again. What did he want?
He thought of all the things he had ever wanted. Wealth? It was nice, but ultimately just a means to acquire other things. Power? No, he had chafed under the burden of leading an entire army. His desires had never been material. Fame? That had its perks, but it also led people to expect things of him. Then he finally placed it: the most prominent motivator throughout his life. The one he had strived his hardest to achieve, and had nearly ruined himself when he couldn’t have it.
Acceptance. Love. Family. Companionship.
He had wanted to please Aurielle. When she rejoined him, his march against Ketrefa had been as much to impress her and keep her with him as it had been to rescue his brother. His desire to rescue his brother had been genuine too, until he found out Brundt was already in service to the enemy. But before that, he had been hoping for a genuine reunion.
After he had been parted from his family, but before he met Aurielle, he had been alone. A wandering vagrant who dirtied his hair so he wouldn’t be recognized. A boy who pickpocketed, begged, and stole to get by. Then as he grew older, he fought and killed. He became good at it, and even enjoyed it, but he hated the life it forced him to live. Living in filth or on the road. Never staying in one place, and never having any friends or loved ones he could trust.
Aurielle and the Redspears were the first people he had spent more than a month with. No wonder he became so fixated on her. No wonder that, to this day, turning his back on the mercenary band they had built was still one of his deepest regrets.
Was that it, then? Was that all his motivation boiled down to? A lovesick fool who wandered the world desperately seeking out what few souls were willing to put up with his blunders and crimes? He lowered his sword, suddenly losing his energy for the practice. The hilt slipped from his fingers, and the blade sank onto the grass. He stepped forward, and looked down at the sea below.
What would happen if he jumped? Would Cadien save him again? If not, would the songs miss him? He clearly didn’t fit in with their little world. All he brought with him were troubles Cadien clearly didn’t wish for them to be exposed to. They’d move on.
Then, the question rang in his mind again: what did he want?
He had failed to find his place on Galbar, and he was failing to find his place here. Did that mean a place didn’t exist for him?
No. It did not mean that. Because he had only ever looked in one place. He had only ever done the one thing he had been good at. He had never tried to see if he was good at anything else. What sort of fool behaved the exact same way over and over again, and then became surprised when the world refused to accommodate him? As he looked down at the water, he knew he did not wish to die. If he died now, he would die a failure; a flawed, broken, and blind man. That was not what he wanted. That was not what anybody who cared about him would want.
What he really wanted was a second chance.
But such a thing would not simply fall into his lap. It was something he needed to earn. Resentful as he was about his circumstances, bitterly lamenting about them would not change a thing.
He turned away from the water, and walked back toward the town, leaving the sword in the grass.
The next few weeks were spent getting adjusted, both to life in Meliorem and the company of the Songs.
The clothes were strange, the foods were strange, the people were strange. But they were strange in a good way; so much better than anything Carn had encountered on Galbar. Then there were the performances; so much more refined, complex, and eloquent than anything he had seen on Galbar. He had heard that nobles from the cities enjoyed such things, but he had never seen anything like that in person.
In time, the plays and the poems and the music eventually began to grow on him. He found himself liking them, though he still refused to listen or speak about his own ‘adventures’, even if they could be called that.
It was nice, not having to worry about always looking over his shoulder or fearing that he would be stabbed or robbed in his sleep. Not having the pressures of command on him, as everyone looked to him for leadership. He was safer and more comfortable than he had been in years.
But as comfortable as he was, he could not pretend everything was alright. He missed Aurielle. He missed Yarwick. He missed Ingrid. He needed answers.
So, he marched up to Cadien’s palace to demand them.
“Ah!” Cadien exclaimed as Carn stepped into the throne room. “You have returned!” One look in Cadien’s eyes told Carn that was exactly what the god had expected to happen. “Tell me, how are you enjoying your stay?”
“Well enough,” Carn replied warily. “Aurielle. Yarwick. Ingrid. The rest of my men. What happened to them?”
The god’s smile faded, but he did not frown. “Yarwick and Ingrid are alive. Aurielle, I don’t know where she is. She vanished from the field of battle. I suspect her maker’s involvement.”
“Who made her? Where did he take her?” Carn asked at once.
“The God of Magic,” Cadien replied. “And no, I don’t know where he took her.”
“Can you find out?”
“Perhaps. If Qael chooses to tell me. I could ask, of course, but last I spoke to him on the matter of his daughters he was a bit… nevermind.” Cadien leaned forward on his chair. “But trust me. You are better off without her.”
Carn’s hand curled into a fist. “And what gives you the right to decide that?”
“I am the master of this realm,” Cadien replied. “No, I am this realm. I have a right to decide who comes or goes. She would not be well-suited to this place. She is volatile, and destructive. Perhaps if she had not changed so drastically since when you first met her, I might have tried to bring her here alongside you. But alas…”
“She hasn’t changed that much,” Carn protested, though he knew that was a lie. Yes, the woman he had come to love was still there on the surface, but she had become more callous, cynical, and bloodthirsty than ever before. He had known it even on Galbar, but he had blinded himself to it.
“You know that isn’t true,” Cadien chided. “I tried to convince her father to steer her onto a better path, you know. I don’t think he listened. I suspect other gods have ties to her as well, and their influence has not been for the better. To court her is to court destruction, if not to yourself, then to others. Is that truly what you want?”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. I can…”
“You can change her?” Cadien asked. “I’ve been observing mortals for millennia. They always think they can change their friends or their loved ones. Sometimes, they succeed, but on most occasions? They don’t. In the worst cases, all they do is create a rift. Do you think this Aurielle is one who will listen to reason, or be moved by emotion? She tried to destroy a suit of armour, simply because said suit of armour had a female voice and had been in your vicinity.” His mouth curled into a frown. “You owe that suit of armour an apology, by the way.”[/color]
Carn glared at the god, but said nothing. Cadien stared back. Eventually, Carn broke the gaze and looked down at the floor. “You’re right…” he whispered, as a sudden sense of grief and heartbreak overcame him. The things she had done. The things he had overlooked. The way things could have been instead, had she not changed the way she had. The knowledge that there was nothing he could do, because beings of far greater power were invested in his and her fates.
It all came back to the gods. The all-seeing, all-powerful beings who held sway over creation and destruction. The beings who had denied him a simple life. Who had separated him from his family.
He couldn’t even bring himself to feel angry at this point. Too much had been taken from him. Not just him, but all mortals.
Then, Carn heard footsteps, and looked up to see that the God of Perfection had risen from the throne to approach him.
“I did not wish for life on Galbar to be so horrendous,” Cadien admitted. “There needs to be challenge, yes, but not so much suffering. Ketrefa was a source of great suffering, and your war against them was meant to put an end of that. Either you would make an example of them, take control and change things yourself, or your own brother would pick up the pieces and fix things from within. But it was… foolish of me to use you in such a manner.”
Carn looked Cadien in the eye. “How do I know this isn’t another trick? That you’re not just saying what you think I want to hear?”
The God of Perfection frowned, and then gripped Carn’s wrist. Suddenly, Carn’s surroundings faded away, while new images and feelings overwhelmed his senses.
He found himself standing before a crowd of primitive humans, clad in furs or nothing at all. Next he was flying through the stars, on the back of a great winged beast, looking down at Galbar below. The shape of the world was round, like a sphere. How could it be round? Then he found himself embracing what appeared to be a pale merelli, except they were both hovering over the open ocean. Next he saw the creation of the merelli, with that same woman from before present. Following that was a feeling of boredom and isolation, as he languished on a throne.
No. He wasn’t himself. He was Cadien. These events were through the God of Perfection’s eyes.
And finally he came to the present. Carn, as Cadien, was looking at himself through Cadien’s eyes, and speaking with Cadien’s lips. And he, from Cadien’s perspective, knew it to be true.
Then the vision faded, as Cadien released his wrist and Carn was back in the throne room. He nearly lost his balance, but Cadien’s hand came up to his shoulder to steady him.
“If you speak the truth…” Carn whispered, “then make it right.”
“I shall try,” Cadien said. “I cannot account for the influence of the other gods, but I do not intend to give up on my work simply because of a few miscalculations. You no longer need to worry about Ketrefa. Brundt will see to it, and I will guide him with more transparency than I did you.”
“And what of the men who followed me?”
“I will encourage the Ketrefans to show mercy to those who survived. As to those who didn’t… I have a plan. It will be a long time before I see it enacted, but I intend to turn this place into a refuge for the souls of fallen warriors. Their sacrifices will not be unawarded or unacknowledged.”
Carn wiped a tear from his eye. “And what of me?”
“Your work is done. Your fight is over. You may rest here, if you wish. And when the time for the rest of your siblings has come, they may rest here too.”
The post opens with Carn practicing swordsmanship all alone. He got into an argument with Shae so he has no one to talk to. He engages in some more self-reflection, once again coming to the conclusion that he is a useless failure. He stops practicing and walks toward the edge, contemplating jumping.
But eventually he talks himself out of it. He thinks about what he wanted, and realizes it was never about money, battle, or fame. All he wanted was love and acceptance. It sounds cliche but there it is. It is why he was so easily influenced by Aurielle, why he wanted so badly to reunite with his siblings, and why he didn’t want to disappoint his men by backing out of the siege.
He realizes that although he did stupid things for stupid reasons, dying won’t change that. He can’t just blame the gods either, because they never forced him to do anything. The only thing he can do is hope for a second chance.
So, he begins settling into life in Meliorem. Then, after a few weeks, he decides to speak to Cadien directly. It’s a bit of a rehash of the themes of their first conversation, but Carn is much calmer and more open-minded.
Cadien explains his reasoning for doing what he did, why Carn’s relationship with Aurielle was a trainwreck. He once again acknowledges that he himself made mistakes, but this time he shows Carn his own thoughts and memories to confirm that he was in fact telling the truth.
Cadien also reveals that Yarwick and Ingrid are fine. He will ensure that the remnants of Carn’s army are treated with mercy, and the fallen will be granted a place in the afterlife he intends to turn Meliorem into (remember that this is still a year or two in the past.) He says that Carn is welcome to live in Meliorem, and eventually his siblings will be granted the same honour.
Cadien Beginning MP: 5 Beginning DP: 5 -1MP to grant Carn limited access to Cadien’s thoughts and memories, showing him a bit of the past and also what he was feeling during their conversation. Carn didn’t get to see all of Cadien’s memories, and there are no real permanent effects, but on rare occasions he might dream of things that Cadien didn’t actually show him. Ending MP: 4 Ending DP: 5
Carn Beginning: 65 +5 for 10k+ characters Ending: 70
Another routine walk of Antiquity. Cadien first began by scanning the surroundings, to see if anybody was present. No. Then he approached the noticeboard, to see if it had been updated. No.
He sighed. This was an ideal public space. It really ought to see more use…
Suddenly two sets of footsteps echoed through the mostly empty Antiquity, growing louder and louder as if they were headed straight for Cadien. As soon as it became obvious that someone was walking towards him, he turned around slowly and deliberately(??), immediately catching the gaze of the two… Twins? That had come up to him.
The twins, pale as ghosts, wearing all black and a chainmail shirt as well as heavy boots took in Cadien’s appearance slowly and then cocked their hips. For a second, Cadien wondered if he was actually looking at two people or at just one that was being reflected by some kind of invisible mirror.
”Hey,” ”Hiya,”
They said at the same time.
”What’s up with your armor? Kinda flashy don’t you think?” One of them asked, letting her eyes rest his chestplate.
”Yeah! Yllis and I were worried you might blind someone just by walking around. But listen, I saw the noticeboard earlier and well,” The other sighed, something the first one mimicked before taking over the sentence.
”I was surprised you know, seeing a brat’s drawing posted there. It’s a public area you know? Do you know whose kid it was?” She finished, the two crossing their arms at the same time and looking at Cadien’s face with a raised eyebrow, their tails brushing against the floor absent-mindedly.
“I believe I know who posted it,” Cadien nodded. “She has neither been seen nor heard from in decades, though. I never did find out the full story, but I assume it must be rather tragic.” He sighed. “But let’s put such topics aside, for now. I’m Cadien, the God of War and Perfection. Who would you be?”
The girls pursed their lips for a moment, then shrugged, their chainmails tinkling with the movement.
”Yllis.” ”Yllis.”
”What do you do as the God of Perfection? Do you paint portraits of me all day long?” One asked, then her eyebrows twitched and the other one elbowed her in the side, both of them slamming their tails onto the ground, perfectly synchronized. ”Ow!”
”That was super lame, Yllis!”
The first one then cleared her throat, a light tinge of red painting her cheeks. ”So uh, do you uh… Like girls who use tons of eyeliner?” She asked and immediately buried her face in her palms. The other one groaned and slapped her own forehead so hard she almost knocked herself out.
The God of Perfection stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Hm. I suppose that depends. There are people who already look good naturally, then there are those who are able to improve themselves through artificial means. Natural beauty would be the ideal, but make-up can have its own appeal as well.” He smirked. “Why do you ask?”
Again they crossed their arms, ”A-Anyways! Do you know who else lives around these parts? I’m new here, only escaped the clutches of the perverted semi-sentient slime a little while ago and I’m trying to get a lay of the land. I met this really weird guy called Illyd already...” She trailed off.
”Weird doesn’t even cut it!” The other one continued, ”He made me blow his kazoo and then he put the air that came out the other side into a jar. Who does that? Only a pervert does! At least you’re not telling me to blow on anything...”
”I guess that’s to be expected, you do look very uh… Well groomed? So you probably are only a pervert to guys.”
Cadien furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, but as a God of Perfection and Beauty, I must be able to appreciate the physical form of all genders. You, for example, chose your form rather well. It is good to know that so many other deities share my preference in hair. I believe I have started something of a trend.”
The girls seemed to perk up a little and came a few steps closer to Cadien, their tails rubbing against each other’s and intertwining. ”Really? Hm... They hummed as they slid closer and closer to Cadien, up to the point they were pressing their shoulders together and just a foot away from the God. The two had red spreading all over their cheeks as they tilted their head up to look at Cadien, with one of them still having the red mark on her forehead from when she slapped herself.
”We could use a tour,” ”We could use a ride,”
They said, their faces offering no actual expression beyond their blush. Not to mention the intense ‘wrestling’ their tails were engaged in.
“Well, I would be happy to show you around,” Cadien nodded. “Though I’m afraid I must limit such a tour to Antiquity, and my own realm. It would be rather rude if the three of us simply barged into the other gods’ homes. I can also answer any questions you have afterward.” The girls smiled a little and nodded, then turned towards each other, pressing up together.
”We get to see a trend-setter’s home, Yllis?”
”Yeah, Yllis.”
”That’s like, so cool. What do you think we’ll see?”
”Dunno. Maybe more armour, maybe a box full of toys? PERFECT toys, mind you.” She snickered, then the two of them turned their head to face Cadien again as they firmly wrapped their arms around each other, their cheeks touching as they looked up at the God with wide, sparkly eyes.
”Bet you would like to dress us up, you fence-hopping knight.” ”Bet you would like to undress us first though, you flute-playing perv.”
Before Cadien could deny either of those assertions, they pulled apart and stepped back.
”Not really feeling it, Yllis...”
”Yeah… The memories of slime time are still fresh. Maybe later.”
”We do have time, Yllis. Maybe later.”
After a moment of staring at each other, they chuckled and turned to Cadien, stopping their tails from playing with each other.
”So? Let’s begin with the tour.”
Cadien blinked. He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of this two. One was a god, and the other was an avatar - he could tell as much by their auras. Their manner of speech was strange, as was their bickering with one another. He wasn’t sure when they intended to deliver a compliment, an insult, or both. His offer for a tour had been genuine, but they seemed to have different ideas.
Luckily, the conversation had been immediately steered away, sparing Cadien the trouble of having to correct them.
“The space we are in now is known as Antiquity,” Cadien explained, waving a hand to indicate their surroundings. “It serves as a central hub between the divine realms, but it rarely sees any use these days. The other gods mostly prefer to keep to themselves, and some are rather eccentric. Speaking of which, what type of god are you? What is it you hold power over?”
”Uh, the good type?” Yllis cocked her hips again.
”But to answer your question butter boy, don’t we all hold power over practically everything? Though honestly I feel like helping awaken civilizations might be more of my thing. It might come easier and more natural...” The one trailed off, scanning Cadien’s extremely golden and shiny armour again. ”Like style, because clearly I have enough sense not to wear all gold. What would you do if some Divine Thief steals all your sets of golden armour, huh?”
“I could just… make more. After punishing the thief, of course.” Cadien furrowed his brow. “That’s assuming they could even steal from me at all. And it’s rather rich to be criticized for wearing gold by someone who wears all black. Now then. Shall we continue?”
[b]”H-hey, black is stylish, it goes with everything. Specially black. Right, Yllis?”[b]
”Very true, Yllis. Besides he already said he likes eyeliner, and that’s black… So there we go. Anyway, let’s get going. Show us the good stuff, snowhair.”
“Hm. This way, then,” Cadien said as he turned and made his way toward his realm’s portal.
And so, Cadien showed them his realm. He showed them his fortress, with its statues, throne room, and paintings. He showed them the Song Village, with its various features and the inhabitants. He showed them the Hussars, who were training in their black armour. He even showed them a few of the other islands, meant to house the souls of fallen warriors.
When all that was done, he returned to the main island. “And that’s about it,” Cadien said. “There are many more islands, of course, but I’m afraid we do not have the time to see them all.”
The two women, having grown slightly unresponsive over the course of the tour, twirled small locks of their hair with their fingers and raised an eyebrow slightly at Cadien. ”We don’t? Are we keeping you from something important? Your artsy song girlfriends waiting awake for you to come back home and have dinner with them? Last I checked, we have all the time in the world.” One said with a light huff which was imitated by the other, tails flicking erratically behind them.
”There’s some cool things here, like the armoured people, but I do wonder...” The other began.
”It being the realm of a Patriarch of Perfection and all...” The first hummed aloud.
”... Where’s all the fun? The thrills? You have soldiers here but nothing for them to die to. You have the souls of your little broken galbarian toys around, but they do nothing of importance all day long. Don’t you think they’ll grow bored after a year or two of doing the same things every day…?”
”I agree with Yllis. They looked well, a little bit dead. What’s the point of an afterlife if you’ll be forced to do the same things for an eternity? Might as well be reincarnated into Galbar...”
”At least then they’d have the chance to experience new things without being forced to be ‘happy’ or ‘fulfilled’, you know? Life is all about the hardships and the bumps in the road! There’s no point anymore to continuing if you know it’s all going to be fun and games forever.”
“I believe you’ve made a few too many assumptions,” Cadien frowned. “The Black Hussars are here as a reserve force to be deployed anywhere on Galbar when they are needed. The souls who dwell in this realm as an afterlife do so by their own choice, and I am currently working on giving them more things to do. They aren’t being forced to feel anything.”
”Ah!” One of them gasped, covering her mouth and looking at Cadien with a mock expression of surprise.
”So snowhair, you’re telling me you do not trust the little people down in Galbar can protect themselves just fine, and that they should not be subject to the consequences of their choices, both good and bad? I see that you’re a fan of armour and weapons so I’ll give you a neat little example...”
Cadien gave them a hard stare. “Again, you make too many assumptions. I never said that I did not trust them, nor that they should be immune to consequences. Don’t be absurd.”
Yllis’ eyebrows twitched and their tails froze for a moment. ”If you have them ,that means you don’t trust our little people. The one being absurd here is you, snowhair. Would you look at that, the God of Perfection being so hurt by me telling the truth that he interrupts me before giving my example!” Yllis said, with the other one smirking slightly as they crossed their arms.
“Again with the assumptions. Their presence here has nothing to do with trust. Their species was created by someone I care about. Said species was given a curse that would have inevitably resulted in their extinction. I brought a portion up here so that some members of their race would be preserved, for the sake of the one I love. I send them to Galbar to serve as soldiers specifically so they have something to do, because they are a warlike species, and I do not deploy them in just any battle.”
Yllis pursed her lips, then shrugged. ”Whatever. It’s super lame that you house bums in your realm just because some buff guy seduced you to, in any case.”
“Guy?” Cadien frowned. “She’s not a man, oh Goddess of Baseless Assumptions.”
”And you’re the God of Assuming others are assuming things, aren’t you? I’ve seen your face you know, there is no way you keep that relaxed, serene expression without at least having three guys to tend to you at night. Trust me. Also your nails are too well taken care of. Everyone knows a perfect male form has some ruggedness. AND,” Yllis took a breath.
”SHE, if she is even real, made a species of warlike people, got them cursed, and you swooped in to keep them alive as soldier slaves? I am super sure that that can’t be ethical. Where’s the God of Divine Human Resources, I need to report a breach of the code of conduct. Specifically clause 6, you shall not be a loser who interferes in Galbarian matters out of sexual attraction to an omnisexual being.”
“She was not the one who cursed them, and I did not take them by force - they chose to be here. And it’s rather rich to say I can’t interfere when I was only responding to another god’s interference. Now, shall there be anything else?”
”It’s not that you can’t interfere, it’s just that bringing them here takes all of their agency away. No point to living if you know you’ll be perfectly safe. I wonder how long until they all kill themselves out of boredom.”
”But hey, at least they’ll be safe. Right, Yllis?” The other one asked, sticking her tongue out slightly at Cadien. After a moment, the two turned away and began to walk the way they came, just to bump face first into the unyielding abs of one of the Hussars.
Immediately one of the two pulled away and looked up at the chiseled jawline of the man they’d bumped into. Their long tails started wagging enthusiastically as this Yllis placed her hands on the man’s abdomen and glared up at him, her cheeks and nose practically burning red. ”Loser. You’re a loser! Should’ve faced your des...” She trailed off as soon as she heard sniffing coming from beside her, ”ti...” She turned to see her other half with her face still pressed against the man’s plate armour and sniffing with her eyes closed. ”... For fuck’s sake!” Yllis practically growled as she pulled her other half by the ear.
”Owowow! What’s the deal, Yllis?!” The other one whimpered, receiving no response as the first one dragged her around the Hussar and back the way they came, their voices gradually growing fainter.
”You are so damn disgusting, Yllis-”
”I could almost catch a whiff though! I swear he had just finished working out and I wanted to-”
“A pity,” Cadien said as they departed. “We might have been friends, were it not for your blind self-assertion.”
And that was the last that was seen of them before they disappeared through the portal. At which point the Hussar sighed and knelt before Cadien, head low.
“My Apologies for showing myself before you while so disheveled, my lord,” There was a short moment. An almost inaudible tremble came into the Hussar’s voice as he spoke his next words. “I must however report that Yunari has crashed into the Captain’s hut while training and somehow destroyed it and lit it on fire…”
Cadien is in Antiquity doing nothing important. Then two Yllises show up and start acting weird. They try to flirt with Cadien before backing out for some inexplicable reason. Cadien himself is a bit befuddled.
Anyway he explains to them what Antiquity is and then shows them his realm. Yllis then starts lecturing him on how keeping mortals in his realm is dumb, or something. She disapproves of afterlives and thinks Cadien intends to use the Black Hussars as a police force. Cadien is like: “Whoa whoa wtf are these baseless assumptions?” Anyway then she leaves, but not before sniffing the abs of one of Cadien’s guards, for some reason.
No MP or DP was harmed in the making of this post.
It was an unremarkable day in Meliorem. Cadien sat upon his throne, an unusual level of boredom having set in. He simply wasn’t in a mood to spend time with the Songs. Although he had prayers to listen to, few of them were particularly important or interesting. He sighed in disappointment as he heard another noble praying for strength and beauty despite doing nothing to earn it.
Boredom would not last however. A rumble rocked the long untouched door leading to Neiya's realm. It shook and vibrated with relentless effort, its divine construction not enough to stave off the tide of change on the other side, and it threatened to rattle off of its hinges. Finally, the pressure became too much for the poor portal between realms, and it furiously swung open as far as it could. With it came iridescent mists of different colors and a pressing heat, a drastic shift from the chill winds of yore. The tumble of hurried feet caught Cadien's ears, though he could not yet sense the presence of another deity. Out of the mists came a horned silhouette, a slender woman in rich garments; silks and jewelry. It took a moment to confirm - this was not Neiya, despite the likeness to her tailed and horned supple form that she had previously worn. Her skin was a warm red hue and her eyes shone with the color of blood. Another two women stepped out into Meliorem, pale blue and grey respectively. They too resembled Neiya in vague senses, though each had their own shape of horn and tail. They glanced at each other before staring up to Cadien and giving the red one - who had promptly started staring about the throne room in awe - a shove with an elbow. She collected herself quickly and cleared her throat.
"O', for the journey was long, bequeathed upon us now must be a lovelorn fury extinguished," she called with as theatrical a voice as she could muster. "So to whence the Queen has come, once more shall the halls rejoice with Her splendor." Content with her performance, she bowed deeply before Cadien, quickly joined by the other two.
“Where is she?” Cadien asked, quickly leaping from his throne, his expression anxious and concerned.
"Behold and be calmed, great purveyor of pride. The Queen comes, dignified and distinguished." The woman continued and stepped aside to gesture towards the mists. As promised, a fourth shape approached from the depths of Neiyas realm. This time, it quickly became clear that it was the love goddess herself, holding the same form as when they had first met. She hovered into Meliorem with purposeful grace, content to play the part of returning royalty.
Cadien stepped forward and embraced her. “Neiya,” he whispered in relief. “I could not access your realm. I had feared the worst…”
The goddess leaned into the embrace, gingerly touching her head to his shoulder. "I am sorry for worrying you, my love. I was a prisoner of my own emotions." she conceded with a sorrowful tone.
“What happened?” he asked in concern, stroking her hair.
Spoken just loud enough for the assembled women to hear, the red-skinned one took it upon herself to answer as melodramatically possible. "'tis a tale of hardship and woe. A realm torn asunder by passion and drive brought low," she professed with wistful yet captivated oration. Neiya raised a hand to silence her, but her rhetorically skilled entourage was so caught in her own words that her eyes were closed. "The Queen has suffered and endured the throes of war, blessed creation with innovation beyond imagining, and taken up the mantle of love once more. Indeed, nary a tale can match--"
She turned to swift silence with a quiet grunt as her paler comrade jabbed her in the side with yet another elbow, and she opened her glowing red eyes to sheepishly behold the crowd. After a few moments of awkward silence, Neiya took it upon herself to reply. "I… I had a fight with Gibbou. That's where it began.
Cadien had not expected that. “I’m here for you,” he said, after a few moments of silence. “Tell me what happened.”
Neiya sighed softly and broke away from his embrace, gaze cast to the side as she lifted into the air. She took the opportunity to glide further into Meliorem's center, languidly extending a hand to touch a pillar as she answered. "She… accosted me in Antiquity. I was-... upset, the Life Goddess cursed my Neiyari." she turned in the air to regard Cadien, and extended her hand towards him instead. "I lashed out, and she wished nothing but harm upon me. It was unavoidable."
He took her hand. Instead of replying, he floated upward and wrapped his arms around her once more.
The horned goddess wrapped her arms around him in turn, and slowly let her head touch against his. In doing so, she decided against words, deciding for the first time since their meeting to impart memories instead. This time there was no torrent of unruled emotions - only Neiya's own experiences. Flashes of emotion and anger turned to reflect the vicious brawl in Antiquity in short but palpable snippets, together with the seething frustration she had felt. Her sorrowful eyes closed, and the visions instead took to her realm tearing asunder in response to her wounded pride. Shame, hurt and guilt with no true context. Unbridled anger and wounded pride. Mountains broke and the sky warped to something malicious and seething.
In response to all this, Cadien gripped her tighter. Whether this was to comfort her, or himself, or simply a result of the anger she was now making him feel, was impossible for either to say. The shared experience lingered yet, as Cadien got to experience eyes in the dark, and Neiya's own realization that she has created things in her fury. Her surrender to the torrent, and submerging into the negative emotions of Galbar.
Then, a ray of light. The sun goddess appeared, and though no words were shared, Neiya shared with him an implicit guilt that also had little context for the God of Perfection. A shame that helped steer her from further violence, and a blinding light with overpowering sadness. The memory turned to giving the horned women - Furies - sentience, and after Oraelia's departure, clothing and teaching them the ways of the world. The memories subsided, and Neiya lowered her hand. Then, after a few moments, she cautiously spoke a simple question. "Do you think there is such a thing as change?"
Cadien’s eyebrows rose. “Change?” he asked. “Of course. We’ve all changed. You changed me, when we first met. The Separation changed us all. And… I’ve watched you change, over the years.”
Neiya settled deep blue eyes on him, a forlorn expression imprinted on her features. "Tell me."
“Your appearance. Your demeanour. You conducted yourself with more happiness, more charm. You were more eager to enjoy yourself. At first I was happy for you…” his voice trailed off, as he thought of his next words. “But then I realized the change was more than just appearance and demeanour. You seemed more distant. At times, you felt like a stranger… I began to miss who you had once been.”
The goddess watched him with a quiet fascination. As he explained, her lips pressed together into a thin frown. "You don't like who I am." she concluded with a quick, sighed comment. "No wonder you painted those days."
“Don’t say that,” Cadien objected. He moved back and took her hands in his. “I love you, Neiya. I just wish… I wish we would support each other more. I wish you would tell me more of your troubles, and allow me to help you. I wish you would stand by my side as we build beautiful things together, like we did with the Merelli all that time ago. I want us to protect each other’s creations against those who would destroy them. Because you can create - I know it.” He leaned forward to kiss her cheek, then whispered into her ear. “I want to be there for you when you need me, and for you to do the same.”
He leaned back again, and brought a hand to her cheek. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. What do you want, my love?”
Neiya exhaled sharply and averted her gaze, shooting a hurt look deeper into the throne room. "I'm-... I don't know. There's always so many things, pulling in every direction." she breathed eventually. "I'm… trying something new. To be better."
“Then let’s try together,” Cadien said.
She breathed another deep breath and lifted a hand to lay against his chest. "I'd like that." she murmured quietly, gaze sliding across the halls. "Your hall is quiet today."
“I wanted some time to myself,” Cadien admitted. “I know you don’t like them, but the Songs are still out there. I brought some of your Neiyari here too, after I found out they were cursed - I thought it would be the best way to ensure your creations were preserved, in case the curse was never broken.”
Neiya perked up briefly on mention of her Neiyari, but fought to maintain her graceful composure. "You honour them." she began, and hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Oraelia came to me, and the curse is lifted. A first step, perhaps. Old wounds closing. I'm hesitant to hope for lasting peace."
“It did seem a bit too far, to put that curse on them in the first place,” Cadien nodded. “But from what I’ve heard of Oraelia… war isn’t her way. I suspect that’s why she only made them infertile, instead of something more drastic. Anyhow, I’m sure the Neiyari here will be pleased to hear they can have children again, and their kinsmen on Galbar will not die out. Do you wish to tell them yourself?”
Neiya stood silent for a time, pondering the question. In the background one of the horned women murmured something, only to be shushed by her comrades. "Do you think they would like me? I've never spoken to a true Neiyari after their creation." the goddess eventually managed.
“There is only one way to find out,” Cadien said.
Leaving the trio of Furies behind, the God and the Goddess floated across the open sea, toward the island Cadien had created for the Neiyari. It was during this journey that Neiya would notice several other islands as well, all of them empty. “I intend to bring more inhabitants into my realm,” Cadien said. “Those who embody my values, or give their lives in my name. They deserve a fitting reward upon death. Your Neiyari, on the other hand, are quite alive.”
They reached the island with its white stone village, and its vast green field. The field was already beginning to fill up as the Neiyari rode out of the settlement on their impressive steed. As Cadien set foot on the ground and led Neiya toward them, the winged cavalrymen formed a line. Their expressions were stoic and disciplined, but as Neiya came closer they shifted toward a mix of surprise and reverence.
Dakari rode out in front of them, and drew a sabre of solid sunlight. “Salute the War Mother!” he ordered, and despite the unexpected sight of their goddess, the Black Hussars complied immediately, drawing their weapons and flourishing them into a salute with uniform precision.
Dakari, meanwhile, dismounted and knelt as they approached. “My lady,” he said, his eyes downcast. “You have graced us with your presence at last.”
Neiya swept forward with elegance, exhaling with a renewed tranquility. Her eyes examined each and every one of them, before settling on Dakari. She drifted over to hover before him, and extended a hand towards his face. Gentle fingers moved to touch at his chin and tilt his face upwards. "You have waited for a long time, have you not?"
Dakari, usually self-assured and confident, hesitated. And then nodded.
The horned goddess leaned forward in the air, exhaling a long and sensuous sigh that seemed to whip away on the wind to carry throughout Meliorem and beyond - all the way down to Galbar to reach the ear of each Neiyari. "You were never forgotten, my child. I have watched and warred for your fate in the realms. A destitute and childless fate awaited, but my love has seen the hex lifted. Rise now, with neither curse nor hesitation. For your War Mother." she crooned with motherly affection, before listing forwards to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead.
Dakari rose. Many Neiyari sent envious stares at his back. Others seemed relieved, finally breaking discipline to slouch in their saddles, as if a great burden had been lifted from them… but then they remembered where they were, and who stood before them. They straightened up again.
“You have my infinite gratitude, War Mother…” Dakari said, bowing his head. “But… what of Oraeliara, and her spawn? They were the ones who did this to us. What will be their punishment?”
Neiya's lips pursed slowly and her expression returned to a taut and impassive face. "For their crimes I sang a song that crippled their very will to live. Worry not about the affairs of gods, young one, but of your duty. I see devotion in you. I see why my beloved invited you."
Dakari fought hard not to smile, but ended up beaming with pride regardless. “You honour me,” he said.
Neiya twisted a momentary smile, non-committal and barely perceptible. "Honour me in turn, my child, and nothing will ever stop you."
Cadien stepped up beside her. “You are all dismissed,” he declared. And with those words the Neiyari reluctantly peeled away, some lingering briefly to continue looking at their Goddess, only to eventually move on. Dakari himself mounted his horse and proceeded back toward the village.
“You handled them well,” Cadien said, once they had dispersed.
Neiya watched the mortals slip away with a distant smile, thin and forlorn, a quiet fascination not unlike that of a mother watching their children set out into the world. After a time, she exhaled slowly and brushed aside hair from her face. "Mortals wear their thoughts on their sleeves - but thank you. I hope they cherish this meeting."
Again the goddess sighed, closing her eyes briefly to ponder the moment in peace, before turning to Cadien with new purpose, and lifted her chin as she drifted towards him. Her arm moved to slide around his, and she clutched him close elegantly. "Do you want to watch the ocean?
Cadien smiled. “Of course. Let’s go.”
The goddess nodded in turn and tugged gently on his arm as she drifted in a direction directly back towards the ocean they had traveled over. Watching the ocean turned out to mean flying out over it, with Neiya not content to stop until the islands were mere features on the horizon, and the two lovers were alone with the slow ripple of the open water. Coming to a stop out there in the middle of nowhere, Neiya repeated an ancient tendency and leaned her head on his shoulder, putting her weight on Cadien as her blue eyes fell on the equally blue ocean. Cadien wrapped an arm around her waist, and the two remained there in silence.
It’s a boring day in Meliorem - Cadien doesn’t feel like doing anything cool, all his games and friends are kinda bumming him out.
Boom, enter three furies, who make a middling melodramatic entrance and reintroduce Neiya, who has been unavailable for a good long time at this point. The couple reunites and exchange pleasantries, before Neiya brings up her recent doubts about changing (for the better). Cadien is all like “yeah babe ur totally different lol” and they skirt around their relationship issues and talk about change. Neiya doesn’t actually lose her temper for once. Neiya gives Cadien a cool af flashback of her recent memories because she cba to explain with words. Cadien agrees to work on their relationship together. On the subject of lifting the curse on the Neiyari, Cadien suggests they legit tell the Neiyari, and brings her to meet the Hussars led by Dakari.
Dakari is trying to be all cool and collected, but Neiya pows him with a motherly kiss and sends a radio message to all Neiyari letting them know they’re being helped by Mommy Neiya still, with no real thought to what effects this will have in the Luminant.
After this extremely successful venture, Cadien and Neiya decide to have some peaceful alonetime like the good old days, and fly out over Meliorem’s ocean to hug and stuff.
Neiya: 3/3 1 MP - give Cadien flashbacks into Neiya’s recent past. 1 MP - sent a motherly message to all of the Neiyari. This won’t have consequences at all. No, not at all. Noooo. End: 1/3
Dakari Beginning: 9 +5 for 10k+ characters Ending: 14
The Night Templars had commandeered their own house, serving as a sort of de-facto headquarters for their organization.
Evette had begun searching for vampires, as she said she would, but unsurprisingly such a search went nowhere. It was already absurdly unlikely that one would be able to locate such a creature simply by looking around and asking questions, especially in one where she had already been told there were no clues to be had, but Cadien had sent her here for a reason. If not vampires, what then?
At least the locals were cooperative. Instead of the hostile gate guards she had met, now they all seemed to be far more friendly. Though this ‘friendliness’ came off as patronizing and condescending, which was infuriating in its own right. The language barrier didn’t help either.
Cadien… she prayed. Give me some sort of sign.
Eh… alright.
She blinked in surprise. What?
There are no vampires in the city. Not yet, anyway. The nearest troll and iskrill are both miles away. If you spread out into the countryside, and explore some neighbouring towns and villages, you might have more luck, but that’s not why you’re here.
Then why?
Because despite what the locals think, war is coming, he told her, rather bluntly. Their neighbours gather strength, intending to exploit their weakness, or understandably worried that Ha-Duna will try to conquer them once again. Conflict isn’t inevitable, but knowing what I know, I don’t see how Ha-Duna gets out of this unscathed without fighting somebody.
[i]I don’t involve myself in the feuds of other humans,[i] Evette protested at once.
[color=violet]There will be abominations to kill, I’m sure,[/color=violet] Cadien said, as if placating a petulant child. But your duty goes beyond that. If Ha-Duna falls, another bastion of mankind fails. Desperation will ensue, and malignant gods will take notice, if they haven’t already. That must be prevented.
He wasn’t wrong. Vampires were typically more likely to appear under desperate circumstances. That was what she had said when she first arrived here. Though she had nothing but disdain for the idea of involving herself in local politics, if it could her usual prey from appearing in the future…
Very well, she sighed. What do you want me to do?
Warn them. Tell them: war is coming. Offer your aid, in my name.
I can’t speak their language. It’ll be hard to convince them of that if I have to go through my usual interpreter.
True enough. Languages are a troublesome thing, aren’t they? Really, who insisted on creating such arbitrary divides? Anyhow, I have a solution for that. Suddenly, a golden amulet materialized around her neck, with an amulet set in the center. There. That should suffice. Languages shall no longer serve as a barrier.
The Night Templar headquarters, which in itself was a small guest house provided to them by one of the more affluent théins in the locality, provided through connections kept by their trusty druid guide Kaer Cwenn, was located a little outside of the city centre, on the slopes leading down to the river and the sea. Wooden fences hinted that there were patches for crops hidden underneath the snow, and Highland sheep were grazing about on what little they could find in their pastures. Outside the guest house, there were two women and one man - one of the women looked to be in the late stages of pregnancy, while the other looked to carry post-pregnancy weight, and quite a lot of it, too. The man looked small in comparison to them, being only as muscular and fit as work on a farm on a subsistence diet could make you. The fat woman was stoking a fire, over which hung three small ceramic pots, suspended from woolen thread that valiantly stood against the heat of the licking flames beneath - if only barely.
Evette stepped out of the house with two guards at her back. She looked at the trio outside their house, and approached them. “Where is the one called Boudicca?” She asked them, the amulet around her neck glowing and translating her words as she spoke.
All three of them appeared shocked and didn’t quite seem to believe their ears. The small man carefully lifted his hand, but the fat woman was quicker. “You, you’ve been able to speak Dûnan all this time?”
Evette shook her head. “I have received a blessing from Caden,” she answered, as though that explained everything. “Where is the one called Boudicca?”
The three shifted between her and each other. “Come again?” said the pregnant lady. The man looked to be rubbing his hands nervously.
She sighed. “Where can I find Boudicca?” she repeated the question.
“No, what do you mean ‘blessing from Caden’?” the pregnant woman specified.
“You got one just like that?” the skimpy man whimpered in awe.
“These foreigners…” mumbled the fat one.
Evette glared at the last one who spoke. “Where can I find her?” she asked, impatience rising in her voice. “Caden himself told me to seek her out. If you do not know, just say so.”
“By the gods, Aifric said nothing about her being helgen!” the pregnant woman said with a gasp.
“A helgen?!” shouted the small man in surprise.
With one final glare, Evette walked past her and carried on down the road.
Her hopeless hosts, guests of the host or whatever they had been had set her back a few minutes; luckily, however, a passing pair of trells had been quick to explain to her where Boudicca could usually be found, though they, too, had been very surprised by Evette’s sudden grasp of Dûnan. She passed by a few more farmsteads and mealhouses, then past a glassworks and pottery shop, until she finally reached the palisaded city core, wherein the open market was buzzing as always, like a busy hive. Past the market, she eventually found her way to a large hut as described by the trells, situated beside a circle of megalith stone carvings in which centre was a tall, rectangular mirror. It gave off an eerie presence, as though Evette’s mind grew foggy in its proximity.
Taking a few moments to stare at the peculiar object, Evette diverted her attention away from it and approached the hut to knock at the door frame. Steps approached the skin curtain door, which was pulled aside to reveal a recently shaven man. The ooze of pipeweed rolled out of the doorway like a flood and the man looked her up and down with somewhat groggy, yet quite curious, eyes. “Yes?”
“I’m looking for Boudicca,” Evette said at once.
He blinked. “Oh, yeah, you must be Evette, then. Figured you’d come over one of these days. Come in, come in. She’ll be back here any minute - she’s just over in the Circle offering her morning prayer.”
Somewhat surprised by his lack of her reaction to her newfound grasp of the Dûnan language, Evette followed him in. The inside of the wooden hut was much roomier than even the farmstead she had stayed at: The longhouse measured about five by twenty metres, and was illuminated entirely by a large hearth in the centre, its smoke oozing upwards into a hole in the ceiling. This did not, however, stop smoke from gathering inside like a fog, only helped by the inescapable presence of pipe smokers. The walls were draped from corner to corner with animal skins, foreign and local carpets, and tapestries with sigils and symbols. The hay floor also had its fair share of carpets, particularly surrounding the hearth, where there also were benches and stools. As soon as Evette entered, she noticed many more faces turn to regard her, bushes of beards and hairless faces alike. Brows were everything from flattened in skepticism to raised in surprise, and some of the younger ones reached out to touch her wings.
Evette stepped away from and frowned at that latter group. Then her eyes scanned the hall. Had she intruded on some sort of meeting or gathering? It was to say - the group showed the sort of silent faces one usually does when someone quite clearly has interrupted a conversation. Chewing jaws and inhales and exhales of smoke made up all the sound in the room, save for cooing children and fire crackling.
“Looks like the foreigner’s back,” said one in a mocking tone suddenly, grinning to his comrades, none of whom grinned back. A hard fist hit him in the shoulder and spun around. “Hey, what was that for?!” A stern whisper made him immediately change his attitude, his expression looking at Evette suddenly with knowing discomfort. He cleared his throat and returned to his bowl of oatmeal quietly.
“Sorry about him,” went the man who had greeted her at the door. “He’s not the sharpest axe on the rack, that one.” The man offered a sharp huff. “Anyway, have a seat. Would you like a drink or something to eat while you wait?”
Evette shook her head, pointedly ignoring the man who had mocked her, then found a seat. She was no stranger to unusual treatment, and even before Cadien had gifted her the amulet she already had to endure the patronizing or arrogant tones of men and women she couldn’t understand. So long as nobody insulted her directly, she could let the slights side for now. There were more important things at stake. The silence endured for a little longer, before the door frame sounded the knock of heavy boots and the bear skin door curtain was shoved aside to reveal the shadow of a giant. Boudicca stepped inside, snow in her hair and all over the wolfskin on her shoulders and the plaid over her hide-clothed chest. Her kilt had been pulled down low over her exposed kneecaps, and her woolen socks had been pulled as high as could get. Still, she looked frozen to the bone.
“Throw another ten logs on the fire! It’s freezing in here!” Instantly, the mood of the room shifted, jolly chuckles and giggles rumbling through the gathered folk like waves.
“Here we go again,” came the musings of a fat, bearded man, who stood up and stomped over to the firewood rack, trailed by two younger lads. The giant of a woman stomped in her own way, parting the crowds around the fire as she took a seat on a bench, pulling off her cold torso clothing to invite in the warmth of the flames.
“Ugh, that’s better…”
“How’d the gods sound today, chief?” went a black-bearded man with a pipe in his mouth.
“About the same as yesterday, I suppose, those who answered. I hope Caden appreciated the plans for our tournament as much as Selesta did. Gibbou didn’t sound too keen, but she’s been full of sorrow of late, from what I can tell.”
“Only the gods know what terror must have befallen her to bring even a goddess like her into the deepest of melancholy,” mumbled Kaer Aethel, and all around the fire, people placed hands over their hearts and looked up to the ceiling in one-minded prayer. “Oh, by the way, my love,” Aethel continued right after, “you have a guest.”
“It better not be those damned clennon fen separatists again…”
“No, this one’s different.” Aethel pointed to Evette, who was so remarkably visible that Boudicca nearly jumped in surprise.
“Wah! How did I not see you?! You’re that Southerner, aren’t you? Evette, right?”
“I am,” she nodded, before rising to her feet and addressing the entire room. “I just spoke with Caden, who gave me the gift to speak any language. He told me that war is inevitable. Your city is at risk, and he sent me here to offer my aid.”
Boudicca frowned, as did those around the fire. “War is inevitable, you say?” The warrioress shifted in her seat and looked up past her brow. “What makes him say that?”
“Wouldn’t he have warned you, sanndatr?” came a question. Boudicca shrugged.
“Your neighbours fear you or despise you,” Evette said. “Even on the journey here, I saw villages preparing for war. Enemies are all around you, and chances are slim that you will be able to make peace with all of them.”
“Oh, just what we needed - another test to our resolve,” spat one woman.
“Peace -is- the only way to repent! If we take up the axe again, we will lose the support of Macsal, maybe even Reiya! So it has been said!”
“No, she is saying what I have been saying all along - this peaceful approach is most naive and always has been! The Scawicks will not forgive and forget, and neither will the Rest!”
“Shut up, Pan, you always resort to the same arguments over and over! The Rest is only afraid of us because we went to war in the first place and--”
“We were starving! Any hunter must seek new grounds if the old goes barren!”
The arguments escalated, and Boudicca sat hunkered over on the bench, groaning gutturally. She stood up and walked over to Evette, hooking her neck in her arm and gently pulling her further into the longhouse. “Now you’ve got them yapping… C’mon, let’s talk over here…”
With a frown, Evette followed. While debates and insults raged in the background, Boudicca pulled over two small stools for them and set herself down in the dark corner of the house. She pulled her plaid over her torso again and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Ugh… I hate the cold… Alright, excuse the riot and all that. Ever since we lost Ha-Gaard to the Rest, people have been growing less and less keen on the idea of peace. I understand them to a degree - really, I do - but I was at least hoping this way was the right way… Now you are telling me that even great Caden predicts otherwise. What has he told you, exactly?”
“He didn’t tell me much. Just that the neighbouring kingdoms are preparing for war. Some are afraid you’ll return to conquest, and others just want revenge for past offenses. He also said that some of the more malevolent gods might notice, and attempt to make the situation worse… if they haven’t already.” She added, recalling Cadien’s exact words.
Boudicca bit her lip. “So, what… He’s saying to mobilise again? To strengthen control over our lands in preparation for the coming storm?”
Evette hesitated. “All he instructed was to offer my aid.”
Boudicca raised a skeptical brow at her. “Well, forgive my candor, but you’re one woman. Wings, you might have, but you cannot protect our borders alone. No…” She sighed. “... Hopefully the Songs and Sun can understand our need to protect ourselves.” She stood up and rolled her shoulders. “How many have you brought with you?”
“Only a dozen,” Evette answered. “I was brought here under the assumption that I would be hunting vampires, not waging a war.”
“Well, knowing wars, a vampire’s sure to show up somewhere. If not, there’ll be plenty of monsters on the fields to slay. The bards’ll love you, I’m sure - the Angel of Caden. Now, thank you for your warning. I have an afternoon to ruin.” With that, she skirted past Evette back to the furious debate. Many had grabbed each other by the neck of their shirts, and one pair had even started exchanging blows. Boudicca planted one boot, still soggy from the snowmelt, upon the bench and shouted, “HEY! Calm yourselves down before I knock your teeth down your throats!”
“This wildman wants nothing but war, can’t you see, my love?!” Aethel yelled back and tried to wrest himself free from the blackhaired man’s tight grasp.
“Oh, I’m a wildman, am I? Am I wild for just wanting to protect my home? My family?”
Most creatures, wild and civilized alike, do feel inclined to protect their territory or their offspring, a deep ethereal voice commented, one that Evette and Boudica would immediately recognize. The difference is how they go about it.
The people cowered and squealed briefly. There then was silence, Boudicca and Evette seeming largely unphased. The warrioress drew her sword, carefully stabbed the tip to the ground and took a knee. “Great Caden, your presence is a blessing to us all. What is your counsel in these troubling times?”
My champion spoke true. War is coming, and I have sent her here to aid you. However, that does not mean you can simply wage another war of aggression. My council is this: make peace and allies wherever you can find them. Swallow your pride and apologize for your past offenses, if you must. Then, prepare to defend yourselves against those who cannot see reason. The other gods can hardly begrudge you that.
Boudicca nodded slowly. “Who have we yet to apologise to? Every village we have destroyed that still had its share of survivors, we have reimbursed to the point where our larders may only just carry us through the winter. By the grace of the Sun, the Forests, the Seas and the Stones, we will not want for nourishment, and we have made sure those whom we called our enemies in years part, will not either - as far as it has been possible. Our peace-making has been going steadily, but there are those who test our sovereignty - the Rest to the south inches ever northwards; the border villages rise up in rebellion; the Scawicks threaten to burn our countryside. Are these not valid reasons to retaliate?”
The issue lies in how you retaliate, Cadien said. In regards to Kirin’s Rest: You cannot let them seize your territory unimpeded. You cannot let a war with them drag on for too long. Nor can you utterly destroy them, because either they will invoke divine patrons of their own, or the tribes you have already made peace with will once more became wary of you. He paused, to let that sink in. You must halt their advance, and bring them to a peace table.
As for Scawick, they are not wrong to despise you, nor are you wrong to defend yourselves against them. But they have rejected my warnings and my commands to stand down. They cannot see reason, and insist on causing more chaos, so their destruction may be necessary.
“Then, should they attack, will you sanction our right to stand up for ourselves? Even if other gods cannot see that we have no other choice?”
Within reason. I’ll not tolerate the wanton slaughter of innocents, or any refusals to honour the terms of truces and surrenders. I expect you to conduct yourselves honourably. The people of Kirin’s Rest are my children too, just as much as you all are, no matter how much both of you refuse to believe it.
The others looked on as Boudicca bowed her head. “You have my word - I swear this oath to you as I have given my word to Selesta - that we shall slaughter no innocents and honour the terms of surrender at all times. Any of us who fail to comply with these conditions will themselves be punished in accordance with their crime. This, I swear.” She looked over her shoulder and motioned for everyone else to kneel. “This, we swear.”
“This, we swear,” echoed the rest with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
Then there was bright flash outside.
Despite the clear skies, over a dozen lightning bolts had struck the battlements, each landing upon a different spot. They did no damage; not even leaving a scorch mark. What they did leave were weapons; large ballistae, mounted in place, with bundles of ammunition placed beside them. The guards on the walls panicked, and people below looked up and praised the gods for yet another gift to their beautiful city. Boudicca and the others stormed outside, gazing at the distant defense turrets in awe. The sanndatr looked up at the heavens and cupped a hand over her heart. “How blessed are we to have such merciful masters.” She then turned to her court. “I see now that I have been wrong to assume all would just return to a state of peace after our change of mind - I genuinely believed it could be this way, but with the loss of Ha-Gaard in the south and the growing tensions in the east, we must now reassume control of our borders. Bring me the Dlíbók!” Aethel hurried back into the longhouse and, after a brief pause, came back out with the wooden tome - a collection of thin planks kept together by rings of bronze. He opened it, got two of other courtiers to bring him a small table to use for a desk, and took a small bronze knife with a long shaft and a tiny blade from his hip satchel.
“What should I add?” he asked calmly.
“Make it known to all arbitrators of the Law - to all who seek to kick Ha-Dûna while it is still recovering - that we will not simply stand back and watch as the lands we bled to take and settle, are stolen away from us by craven opportunists. Let it be known to all of the Dûnlands that to make an attempt on our lands is to go to war against us; however, let everyone also know that we will offer all who seek to join the Dûnan family, a rightful place amongst us. All peoples on our lands shall from this day be granted the right to speak at legal gatherings, henceforth to be referred to as the tingmoot. Every théin shall ensure that these voices reach this very house in Ha-Dûna, so that all may be heard in our new multicultural hegemony. Any who obstruct these peoples from expressing their voices, shall themselves be put under the service of the Truth and Stars, so that they may be guided back to the truthful way.”
“Including the Scawicks?” came a snide remark. Boudicca raised her brow at the speaker and nodded with determination.
“Yes, even the Scawicks will be given amnesty despite their recent actions. As the gospel goes: ‘Children may scream and hit their mother in rage, but the mother loves them all the same. This is to be virtuous.’ We cannot win against our foes with blood, just as we cannot win if we shun it entirely. We can only win if our virtue and moral is just and correct.”
“As the gospel goes: ‘The Truth is only true if its believers are of moral quality,’” Pan added to the sound of agreeing hums.
“What about Shaeylila’s warning? Won’t this shift in direction invoke Macsal’s fury?” Aethel questioned. The hums grew silent again. Boudicca drew a slow breath.
“We may only pray that he will understand - if he doesn’t…” Her words trailed off. “Let us pray the other gods may vouch for us should it come to that.” She then turned to regard Evette. “You said you had come to help us, correct?”
Evette nodded. “That is what I said.”
“Good to have you. In light of these changes, I have an assignment for you - I’ve heard you are a specialist in hunting monsters. It is a quest pertaining to slaying a certain monster - one that was spotted soaring through the clouds in the east not two days ago. Interested?”
She raised an eyebrow. “What sort of monster are you talking about?”
“The shepherds who spotted it said they’d never seen anything like it. It was absolutely enormous, they said, with great wings black as night and scales like a salamander,” explained Aethel. “It landed by an old Mink burial ground and remained there briefly before flying off again. The locals were terrified.”
“East, you said?” she frowned. “I don’t know if I will be able to catch it, but I can try.”
“We’ll be counting on you,” Boudicca grunted respectfully. “We cannot have a monster like that roaming the skies above us if we are to strengthen the realm. Take whatever supplies you may need from the resthouses - tell whoever is in charge there that you have my blessing, in case they get uppity.”
With a final nod, Evette turned away.
Evette has been poking around for vampires, but found none. She prays to Cadien for guidance, only for him to reveal that there are no vampires in Ha-Duna. The real reason he sent her there was to aid Ha-Duna in its coming conflicts. He tells her to go look for Boudicca. He also gives her an amulet that allows her to speak any language.
Anyway Evette finds Boudicca and tells her that war is coming and they need to prepare. Everyone’s unhappy to hear this. Then Cadien interjects and tell them that while war is unavoidable, they don’t need to go on the offensive - and that doing so may only make their position worse. So he ends up telling them to fight a defensive war to beat their enemies off and sue for peace.
He then places a bunch of ballistae on the walls of Ha-Duna. Meanwhile, Evette is sent to go hunt down a dragon.
Cadien Beginning MP: 5 Beginning DP: 5 -1MP to create the title “Translator I” - This amulet allows the wearer to ignore language barriers. They may speak and understand any other language. -1DP (enhanced by archery portfolio) to grant Ha-Duna wall-mounted ballistae. -1DP (enhanced by archery portfolio) to grant Ha-Duna steel bolts for the ballistae. -1DP (enhanced by archery portfolio) to bless Ha-Duna’s ballistae so they can’t miss. Ending MP: 4 Ending DP: 3
Boudicca 17 + 5 = 22
5 prestige - Make an amendment to the ideology known as Dûnan Hegemonism: Peace at all costs is no longer the goal; rather, the goal is to ensure stability in the realm so that all groups who live on it may thrive together in a great, multicultural civilisation.
Circle of the Long Stride 22 + 5 = 27
Evette Beginning: 15 +5 for 10k+ characters. Ending: 20
“In a sense, yes,” the towering figure replied, “but not the one you know.”
It took Carn a moment to process those words, and once he did, the implication struck him like a hammer to the chest. “C-Cadien?”
The god nodded.
“Am I dead?”
The god shook his head.
Carn stared at ‘Cadien’ in shock, until finally he once more found it in himself to speak. “Why?”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific than that,” Cadien said sadly.
Carn felt a sudden surge of frustration. “Why did you save me?”
“Because you were going to die. Because it would be wrong for me to stand by and let you. Because despite all that you have done, you may still do some good,” the god answered.
“All that I have done?” Carn asked, aghast. “All I have done is what you told me to!”
“Did I?” Cadien asked, raising his eyebrows. “I did not tell you to abandon Gibbou’s avatar. I did not tell you to go cavorting with Qael’s girl. I did not tell you to kill Lothar. I did not tell you to charge Ketrefa’s walls without a plan. I gave you instructions. How you chose to carry them out, and your failure to do so, rests on your shoulders.”
“You set me against my own brother! Those gifts that he had - you gave them to him, didn’t you!?”
“I did,” Cadien nodded.
“Why!?”
“Because Ketrefa had to change. If not by your hand, then by Brundt’s. It could have even been both. You did not need to fight each other. You both chose to do that, because you saw no other way.”
“You didn’t tell me there was another way!”
“Did I need to? Did you not resent what little sway over your life I already held? Did you not chafe knowing you were being watched? I could have been with you, whispering in your ear after every step and attempting to dictate your every action, but I did not. I trusted you to use your own judgement. You were of my blood, born by my avatar, raised by good parents, and already experienced in command. You were given gifts by three different gods. You had everything you needed to succeed. And yet you sit here blaming me for not providing more help than I already had - help that you yourself already resented!”
Carn rose to his feet. “You told me to attack Ketrefa. Attack! How else was I supposed to interpret that?”
“War is not just blindly charging into battle,” Cadien reprimanded him. “You understood this. You still do. And yet, you did it anyway. Why?” Carn said nothing. “You wanted to lose. You wanted to die.”
Carn’s fist lashed out against Cadien’s cheek. He felt his knuckles crack against the god’s cheek, but Cadien did not move so much as an inch. Carn lashed out again, but this time Cadien caught his arm in an unbreakable grip.
“It’s the truth,” the god said. Carn began to tear up. “You are my creation and my champion. You are standing in my realm, directly in front of me. Your connection to me is as strong as it can possibly be - you can hide nothing. You sought no alternative, because you wished to die.”
“I wanted to be free of you!” Carn shouted.
“You had freedom. What did you do with it? You roamed the Highlands breaking skulls for greedy fops. I tried to give you a purpose. You rejected it, to run off with that red-haired witch. You became a leader - that was admirable. But you became obsessed with her, and when she left you turned your back on what you had built. If I had not contacted you, to bring you back onto your path, you would have wasted away into nothing. Then you met her again. She was no longer the woman you once knew, but you were too blind to see it.”
“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!”
The God’s voice became soft. “I would have given you your freedom back, in the end. Had you made the right choices, you would have reunited with your brother and made yourself a hero to the people. Hearing of your victory, your other siblings would have joined you. You would not have liked what one of them had become, but in time she might have changed. From there you would have been free to do what you see fit - rule the city, or seek a life elsewhere. Perhaps even with that Aurielle girl, if she had not chosen such a dark path.”
The god released his arm, and Carn dropped to his knees. “You’re… you’re cruel…” he whispered, tears running down his face. “None of this… none of this had to happen. You knew things I didn’t. You could have done things I couldn’t. You could have dealt with Ketrefa yourself! There didn’t need to be a war. Armies didn’t need to die. Thyma didn’t need to burn, and I didn’t need to lose my FAMILY!”
“You have my condolences, for your village,” Cadien whispered. “That was not my doing. I would have stopped it, had I known, but not even a god’s attention can be everywhere, and by the time I took notice it was too late.” Carn grit his teeth as he felt the anger return. “But… yes, you did not need to suffer as much as you did. There was more that I could have, and should have, done.”
The god crouched down, so that they were almost at eye level. “For that, you have my apologies.” He rose to his feet. “Think on what I have said, my son. I will speak with you again. Until then, you have free roam of my realm.”
And with those words the god of Perfection turned away, the hall silent save for the clinking of his armour and his footsteps on the thick carpet. A door opened, and closed.
Then Carn was alone.
He had knelt there for what felt like hours, unable to think of anything but what had been left behind. The hundreds of men, killed under Ketrefa’s walls. Aurielle… her laugh, her hair, her smile. His brother… his visible reluctance to fight, which had turned to sheer rage after Carn killed a soldier who must have been particularly close to him. He thought of Ingrid and Yarwick - what had become of them? He thought of Titania… abandoned because she was too stubborn, or perhaps simply too good, to accompany him on his quest. He thought of Lothar, the treacherous bastard who…
No. Lothar was not a traitor. He was a monster. A monster that sought redemption, but still a monster. And yet… wasn’t Carn one as well? How many men, how many women, how many children had he killed over his life? Directly or indirectly? Countless. How many excuses had he thrown together? How many times had he thought: ‘better him than me’ or ‘they deserve it’ or ‘it’s for a higher cause?’
He thought of Cadien’s words. Some part of him had wanted to die. That much was true. But it was Cadien who put him in that situation, who could have stopped the very same decisions which supposedly led to his downfall. Knowing what he knew now he would have done things differently, but how could a god fault him for not having perfect knowledge and judgement. It was an unjust world.
He wrestled back and forth with his thoughts, an internal debate waging within his mind. Hypotheticals were raised, pondered, and dismissed. He levelled accusations against himself and others, testing the weight of such claims, and wondering what they might say in response. Were these the desperate mental gymnastics of a man who was too stubborn to admit he was wrong? Or were they the thoughts of a victim who had seen so much torment, he no longer knew who to blame for what?
Or was he simply mad?
A burning in his throat told him he was thirsty. He rose to his feet on unsteady legs. He needed to find water…
He emerged blinking into the courtyard, and at once was greeted by the sight of Meliorem’s dual fountains. He rushed over to one and dunked his head in, sucking greedily, as the cool water felt refreshing against his skin. He stopped only to come up for air, before drinking again.
Once he had his fill, he rose to his feet and took a few moments to examine his surroundings. Next he needed to find food.
So he walked through the portcullis, and as he began to descend the steps he saw an island in the distance, with lush trees and a colourful village. At first he hesitated. Then his stomach began to rumble, and he decided to carry on.
He crossed the bridge unchallenged and unacknowledged. He could hear singing off in the distance, unlike any which he had heard before. Was some sort of celebration occurring? That could wait. He veered off the main road and carried on toward a tree located off to the side, several oddly-coloured fruits scattered at its base. He picked up one and bit into it, pleasantly surprised by its taste. Then he finished it, tossing away the core, and moved onto the second.
He was about to eat his third when he was finally interrupted. A single tendril snaked from the tree and wrapped about the odd fruit, plucking it right out of his hand. “You took one without asking, and I turned a blind eye. You took two, and that was getting rude. Three is too much. You could at least have the common decency to acknowledge me. Men!” Came the petulant melody. “And who goes plucking fruits and eating them right away anyway? And you really need a bath, just so you know.” The owner of the voice emerged from the thick branches above and landed in a soft flurry of red inky hair on the ground near Carn before biting into the piece of fruit she had taken. She eyed him with eyes of roiling turquoise, a pout on her lips and a swirl in her flowing brows. “Well, you’re odd. Not a Songman, and certainly not our Lord...” her frown deepened and her eyes narrowed, “you’re not some conniving casanova who snuck in here now are you? Because if you are you’re in for it.”
Carn sighed, staring at the fruit that had been taken from him. “It’s not like I chose to be here. I was brought here by your… lord. And you’d be hungry too, if you just fought and lost a war.”
The song raised her eyebrows and her lips curled in amusement as she took another bite from the fruit. “War? My, that’s a tad melodramatic - are things so bad between you and your lady? At least you had the good sense to lose, no point drawing these kinds of things out.”
He shook his head. “No. I meant an actual war. I was storming the city of Ketrefa, and I lost. Struck down my own brother. The lady I love was supposed to be right behind me, but I didn’t see her…” He suddenly felt worried. “I have no idea what happened to her.”
The song cocked her head and glanced thoughtfully to the side, then her eyes returned to his face and seemed to take his features in anew. “Ketrefa… ah. So you lost in the end! My goodness, this is going to make for great material! I’m Shae by the way, come!” And with that, she dropped the fruit and took him by the hand before hurrying off. “So you must be Carn right? Our lord told us so much about you! Goodness, you did some pretty bad things - foremost being that woman!” She laughed at her own joke. “But don’t mind me. Now look, the first thing you need is a good long soak. By the time you’re done with that you’re going to be hungry, so we’ll have cooked something up for you.”
She came to a stop before the bathhouse, releasing a sonorous chant to let everyone know that they had a guest. “You go in, relax, enjoy yourself and get all those years of exhaustion out of your body. And while you’re at it, just let your mind roam down memory lane so you can regale us with everything.” Her turquoise eyes had shifted to a passionate orange that seemed to harbour a liquid flame, and even her hair seemed to curl up and rustle as if alight. She leaned in slightly, her eyes on his. “You know… I always wanted to go down there. I guess you’ve come up here instead.” She chortled slightly, joy sloughing from her and pervading the very air around them both. “See you in a bit!” And with that she turned and leapt gracefully away, her hair streaming behind her.
Carn was left alone, feeling a sense of profound disappointment. Even up here everybody already knew about him. And the flippant way she had talked about his life… it was not the first time a singer had wished to make a song about him, but he always found the experience to be grating. What would they sing about him now, that he was a failure? And even if he were to leave this world and go back to Galbar… would he ever escape his reputation?
A few other songs were soon by his side, one hooking her arm in his. “We’ve never had a guest before,” she whispered, eyes wide. “Oh my lord, I’m going to burst from excitement.” And with that the beauteous sirens led the weary warrior into the bathhouse, their melodious voices whispering sweet nothings about how dashing one exploit or another of his had been. “I always wanted to play the role of Aurielle, but Shae always gets it.” The one on his arm complained euphoniously. It did not really matter what they were saying exactly, Carn found that their voices - their very presence - seemed to relax him and knead the tiredness and years of travel from his form.
“She does have the hair for it,” Carn said with a trace of old wit, before trying to shake the feeling off. Is this your plan, Cadien? Throw me into your realm with some beautiful women in the hopes that will cheer me up, and make me forget her? The thought made him feel bitter. It would have been an effective tactic against most men, but Carn liked to think he had more sense than that.
The bath that followed was quite unlike anything he had ever experienced before - it seemed like that blissful state between sleep and wakefulness, sinking in beautiful faces and beautiful voices, steaming water and perfumes grinding the dirt and blood and wounds away, the vibrant walls seeming to erupting into life all around him. Perhaps this was paradise.
“That was…” Carn said afterward, at a loss for words. For him a ‘bath’ had always been taking a dunk in a stream or a lake. Now, he felt cleaner and more rested than he ever had in his life. He was clad in a loose but comfortable robe, of a material he couldn’t quite determine. “I don’t know how to describe it…”
“I could give you some words,” Shae laughed, clearly amused by his reaction to their guest-cleaning ritual, “but perhaps some things are best felt rather than described.” She breathed him in. “And you smell human now - maybe even slightly divine. Keep this up and you’d be a man after my own heart.” She took his hand and led him away from the bathhouse, and once they were out of earshot she shot him a purse-lipped glare. “You didn’t get up to any funny business in there now, did you?”
“Of course not,” he almost scoffed. “If you know as much about Aurielle as you seem to imply, you know why that would be a bad idea.”
“Well, to be completely honest, I only know tidbits. Like, I know she’s destroyed a few cities in her time, really going in on the slaughter. I know she’s mastered the whole magic business - and I know she’s got the hots for you. Beyond that, it’s all quite spotty. Our lord can only tell us so much. But now I have you, so I guess you’ll be able to tell me a little more.” She paused. “And I’m glad you didn’t get up to anything, even if fear of your partner isn’t exactly the most noble of reasons.”
“You could say I’m more concerned about what she’d do to you than what she’d do to me,” Carn said, an ambiguous-yet-truthful answer to the statement; although he doubted there was any real chance that Aurielle would ever be up here, given how much Cadien seemed to disdain her.
“Oh, don’t worry yourself on my behalf - we songs are under the protection of Lord Cadien himself.” She assured him.
“She once got jealous of a suit of armour I had worn, and tried to destroy it.” Carn continued, causing Shae to cock her head and give him a quizzical smile.
“And you didn’t think that was a tad weird? I mean, a suit of armour?” She shrugged and chortled melodiously. “But the context always helps explain things like this, would love to hear the details.” She paused before a great doorway and looked inside. “I’ve brought him. We’ve gotten rid of those god-awful clothes he was wearing. We’re here for the good stuff, Saluna.” Shae walked into the small clothier’s workshop, gesturing for Carn to follow. It was an open, relatively high-ceilinged room with all kinds of fabrics strewn across a number of tables, with doors leading to storage rooms where even more fabrics were piled high. Seeing him staring, Shae smiled. “Silks, mohairs, cashmeres, cottons, wools, and linens woven into damasks, brocades, satins, velvets, muslins, moleskins, taffetas, lawns, sheer fabrics, broadcloths, chintz, gauzes, himroos, and lamés. The soul’s desire and the eye’s delight, or so they say.”
Most of it was more luxurious than anything Carn had ever seen in his entire life.
The clothier, Saluna, stepped forth and surveyed Carn, then turned her eyes on Shae. “You look like you’ve been climbing trees again,” the inkwoman sighed, her melody coming oddly sharp. She reached out and inspected the hem of Shae’s flowing dress. “You’ve ruined the brocades, idiot.”
“I did ask for something more sturdy.” The impenitent Shae responded.
“You’re beyond help! I’ve no idea where you went so wrong.” Releasing the hem she brought Carn to her, inky strings marking the breadth of his shoulders, the girth of his neck, chest, and hips, the length of his arms and legs, as well as his general height. Fabrics rose up behind her on threads of ink, and Saluna plucked them from the air as they came and placed them against Carn as she whispered to herself with furrowed flowing brows. “Right, you sit tight and I’ll be right back.” She intoned, before half-floating and half-walking into one of the storage rooms. Shae wandered about, flicking through some of the fabrics and picking up some of the dresses. “Keep your dirty little hands to yourself, Shaeylila!” Came Saluna’s voice from inside, and Shae exhaled loudly and dropped the fabrics.
“Fiine,” she muttered, turning to Carn with rolling eyes and pursed lips. “This is boring as all hell, and she’s as salty as salted fish, but at least you’ll look somewhat presentable when she’s done with you.”
Soon enough Saluna was back, carrying a pile of neatly placed clothing on her arm. She handed Carn a set of loose beige trousers and some silken undergarments, ordering him to put them on. She placed the other items on a nearby table and leaned back against it, watching Carn.
Well, it was better than the robe he currently wore. He looked at the undergarments with brief confusion, but it didn’t require much intuition to realize what they were for. He put them on underneath the robe, then the trousers as well, before finally taking the robe off. He gave her an awkward nod. She eyed the trouser for a few seconds, then smiled.
“Good, perfect fit. Naturally.” She said it with unveiled pride. “And now for… this.” She handed him a fine long tunic of gilded silk and cotton, helping him get it over his head and wriggle his arms through. It was a tailor fit, and she busied herself with buttoning the cuffs before turning to the half placket and doing the same. She gently pulled the long tunic down around his broad chest and bent down slightly to ensure it hung just under the knees, before stepping back and regarding him. Seeming pleased, she turned to the next item, an extensively embroidered pair of slip-on leather shoes of a refined golden hue - Carn was pretty certain that they may have had actual gold in them, though how that was escaped him. Saluna bent low before him and tapped his right foot. “Up,” she said, and then slipped on the first, before turning to his other foot and doing the same. “Go on, have a walk-about, see how it feels.”
So, he did, doing a quick circle around the room. He wasn’t used to clothing or footwear so comfortable. “I’ve never worn anything like this before,” he said, looking down at himself.
“Of course, there’s probably no one on all of Galbar who could make you something like this.” Then, with a more hushed melody, “why, I don’t know if even the gods could clothe you as well as I. But don’t tell them I said that!” She laughed slightly, then turned to the last item, a great golden long, thick and metallic, boasting golden beads and ornate depictions of arches and golden flowers and carefully detailed geometric patterns. Saluna stepped to his side and ordered him to stick his hand out, and when he did she slipped on the first sleeve, and came up behind him so he could get his other arm through. She turned him towards her and ensured it was on right. Unlike the tunic underneath the long jacket, the placket was covered by a flap and Saluna set to carefully buttoning and straightening it until it hugged his frame completely. She passed an ink hand through his hair, the strands seeming to stick to it and yield completely to her touches. When that was done, she placed her hands on his shoulders and smiled. “And how do you feel now?” She spoke low, as though she already knew the answer. “Because I can tell you that, now, you look like a man.”
“Yes yes yes, clothes make the man and all that. Are we done already?” Shae asked, pulling her away from him with a small scowl. Saluna righted herself and glared at the other song.
“Yes, we’re done. I was thinking an earring might be quite stylish, but we’ll leave that for another time. Can’t give everything all at once after all.” Shae nodded distractedly and hooked her arm in his, dragging him out of the workshop. She glanced behind her as they walked away, and once they were once more out of earshot she glowered at him.
“Well, you seemed to enjoy that.” She spoke accusingly.
Carn furrowed his brow. “You were the one who brought me there.” Then he paused. “Is there some sort of issue between the two of you?”
“No,” Shae spoke simply, looking away from him as they walked into the theatre. A number of songs were already gathered, reclined on cushions with a great spread of fruits, sweetmeats, and drinks before them, instruments on their laps or at their sides. A gentle song was emanating from them all as Shae and Carn walked into the great space and joined them on the cushions. Shae picked up a sweetmeat and placed it into Carn’s hand. “Try this, I don’t think you have its like down on Galbar.” The gathered songs, men and women, slowly paused their conversations and looked to Carn.
“The great Carn himself!” One of the songmen declared, strumming a few strings. “Looking as regal as a god. It’s quite different to have the real thing among us.” Shae glanced at Carn with a satisfied smile, leaning in and whispering into his ear.
“See, I set you up rather nicely. Imagine if you’d come in here like I found you!”
“Ah, I see Shae’s already whispering and scheming into your ear. You better watch out from that one - there’s a reason she’s not found herself a songman yet.” The same man replied.
“Yes, and that’s because you’re all poor sods who could never handle the likes of me. True art is fated to never be understood. Oh!” Shae responded melodramatically, falling into Carn’s lap and settling there reclined with her head on his thigh. “Can’t you sing us something Haerid, you’ve been doing too much of this chattering recently. I worry you’ve forgotten how to sing.” The songman in question harrumphed at the accusation and began strumming his lute more fervently, nodding to the others to join him. Drums slowly sounded, their beat growing louder and more insistent, flutes hummed and cymbals were struck ever so gently. The voices of songs joined the flowering sound - some deep, others high - and once the prelude had built up to a small climax Haerid’s voice cut across warm and steady.
“The breezes of Melioriem Come soft and calm today They bring with them a hero who Never fled from the fray The battle god smiles on victors Or at least so they say But tomes are writ that praise and laud The victor’s noble prey!
Oh sing along oh sing along Here’s one who bravely fell The fright of war never scared him Nor raging battle’s knell He leapt in there, a wild lover, Whose heart with battle swells And now with him gone from the fray War pines for him and yells!
O sing along, oh sing along A heated battlesong!”
Shae glanced up at Carn as the song continued, plopping sweet fruits and bits of fruit now into her mouth and now into his. But Carn raised a hand up to stop her.
Memories of the battle he had fought and lost only a few hours ago flashed before his eyes. He suddenly found it difficult to breathe. As the music continued, it eventually became too much to bear. He soon found himself almost unconsciously rising to his feet and make his way toward the exit.
“Way to go Haerid,” Shae’s voice sounded, and she was soon by his side. “Come, let’s go get some air away from these dunderheads.” She motioned for him to follow her as she cut between the buildings and was soon outside the perimeter of the town. She headed up a steep hill and came to a stop at a humble cliff overlooking the endless ocean. She sat herself there, her legs dangling over the edge, and looked back at him. “Come, sit with me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” he said, not meeting her gaze or moving to sit with her. Everything about this place was just… too happy. Too peaceful. “Has anyone here ever seen a battle? When was the last time you were in danger?” She leaned back until she was completely on her back staring at the heavens.
“The last time we were in danger… well; have you ever felt the world end all around you? Everything just falling apart completely - the sky hurtling down, the earth surging up, waves of world-stuff crashing all around you. The full force of a god trying to obliterate you. That was the last time I was in danger.” She paused for a few seconds. “But that was some time back. Now we’re safe here thanks to Lord Cadien - and so are you. So, go, try me. What are these deep, harrowing thoughts that I wouldn’t understand?”
“I may be here,” he said. “But the men and women who followed me… they aren’t. Where is their paradise? Their song? I’m not some hero. I went there to save my brother, and it turned out he didn’t need saving. Everyone else who followed me paid the price.” He sighed bitterly. “I should have died.” Shae turned over and placed her chin on her hands, looking at him with slightly pursed lips.
“You don’t have to be a hero - or think you’re one - for others to consider you as such. If you thought you were a hero, I’d have seconds thoughts about whether you are.” She paused for a few seconds. “Heroship is just thrust on you, you don’t get to choose - you’ll just find it creeping up on you whatever you do. You went off selling your services for money - you didn’t think you were a hero, didn’t want to be a hero. But before you knew it you had people around you and a cause that went beyond you or them. It was a cause they believed in so strongly that they were willing to die for it. They knew what was at stake when they followed you, they knew victory wasn’t guaranteed, they knew they could die. And they followed you anyway - because you were their hero, and because they were willing to die. You can’t go blaming yourself because what they knew could happen did happen. I don’t know what happens to the dead - Lord Cadien probably knows, you could ask him - but here’s the thing: you’re not dead. And there is no point wishing you were. I’m pretty sure any one of your dead companions would just about slap you or punch you for saying something like that.” She rolled on her back again and sighed. “But that’s just me, what would I know, right?”
Carn slowly lowered himself into a sitting position in the grass. She had a point, that much he had to concede, but it still felt wrong to just casually move past something so recent. “How am I supposed to just go on after everything that happened?” There were a few moments of silence, and then Shae rolled to her knees and came over to him and looked him in the eye.
“You’re going to go on one second at a time, one minute at a time, one hour and day at a time. And you’re not going to think about how much it hurts, or how long this hurting will go on for. You need to live in the moment and find yourself again. That’s what you need right now, Carn. You can’t be thinking and worrying about others when you need to worry about you for a change. Right now the only person you can help, and the only person you should help, is you.” Her eyes had faded to a dim blue, her hair likewise had settled in a roiling purple and her face had grown pale. She looked to the side, a knot in her brows and lips slightly pursed. “Gee, now I’m all upset too.” She said, shaking herself from it. “You should cheer me up,” she flicked his forehead lightly, clearly trying to lighten his mood.
Carn found himself smirking despite all that still weighed on his mind. “Oh?” he asked. “How would you suggest I do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you could carry me back to those sweetmeats, I hadn’t had my fill. Or we can go tree-climbing and give Saluna a heart-attack when she sees your clothes.” She smiled mischievously. “That’ll show her.” She fell on her back again and lay there, listening to the waves crashing against the cliffs far below. “W-wait.” She shot back up into a seated position. “Do you know how to swim?”
“I do,” he nodded reluctantly. “Not particularly well, though. Why?” Her eyes brightened at his response.
“Oh my oh my oh my! Alright, let’s go! You need to teach me.” And without waiting for any protests or agreement, she shot to her feet, grabbed him by the hand, and leapt off - dragging him along near-airbound. “There’s this really nice alcove I found - no one will disturb us there!” And they disappeared over the hill to the sound of her euphonious chattering and laughter.
This post takes 1 year before all current Song storylines, including the disappearance of Shae. Carn arrives in Melioriem and is quite surprised to find himself alive. Some bitter words are exchanged with Cadien and some truths are dropped. It’s tense and somewhat hostile. He is then left to his demons, and they plague him for sometime, until he eventually finds the will to move. He ends up in the Song town, where he gets to raiding a tree. From the tree descends an angry song who lambasts his thievery and state of uncleanliness. It is none other than our favourite song Shae. When she finds out who he is (having been told of him by Cadien) she takes him to town, has him bathed, fixes him up with some good clothes, and takes him down to the theatre where a band of songs is relaxing. It’s all good until one of them starts singing and the song doesn’t go down well with Carn who leaves. Shae goes with him and takes him over to a small cliff, and they chat for a while. The end result is that they haven’t solved his problems, but he’ll be teaching her to swim. Take yer victories where you find them.
Carn Beginning: 60 +5 for 10k+ characters Ending: 65
The Court of Meliorem was a tradition established shortly after the Lady-in-Waiting had departed from Cadien’s realm. Without the Lady-in-Waiting available to direct them, Cadien himself had to take a more personal hand in things. And so, pillars of the Song community as well as those who Cadien favoured would assemble in Meliorem’s hall at least once a month to bring issues to the God’s attention, and aid in the planning of events.
The structure itself was rather simple. There was a herald, who announced those who attended when they answered. There was a scribe, who recorded all that was said and decided. There was a lawkeeper, who did not judge but was meant to keep track of all existing laws and recall past violations of said laws. A small band, that would provide non-vocalized background music as the proceedings carried on. There was also a committee consisting of seven elected representatives from the Song community. Then there here were the guests; those who were meant to sit in and observe, though that did not stop them from murmuring amongst themselves or letting out suitably dramatic gasps whenever anything happened.
All this, in theory, sounded very structured and organized, but due to the nature of the Songs and the absence of their leader, it rarely went swimmingly. Some of these roles were even mostly ceremonial, as Cadien was fully capable of memorizing details himself, but he felt it necessary to encourage the Songs to take a more active role in managing their community.
The latest addition to the court was Dakari and a group of Black Hussars, who served as a palace guard to make the entire proceedings appear more secure, organized, and dignified. They too were unnecessary, but nonetheless they stood at complete attention, only occasionally breaking discipline to admire the beauty of the Songs seated throughout the room.
Meliorem’s main hall was altered for the proceedings. The Herald stood to the right of Cadien’s throne, and Dakari stood to the left. The lawkeeper, scribe, and the committee members were seated at a table in the center, and the guests sat on comfortable benches at the edges of the room. Hussars were stationed at the entrance and next to the benches.
It had all the makings of a typical court session, but in truth it was anything but. For a new attendant had graced the court on this day, and one who had been absent for far too long: the Lady-in-Waiting.
Through the great double doors of Cadien’s resplendent throne room she came, adorned in a silk dress of flowing satin brocade, woven throughout with golden thread and cut low, as the Lord of Perfection liked, while remaining high enough to preserve elegance and dignity. The sand-coloured lustrous fabric seemed alive with light, shifting and glistening with each of the Lady-in-Waiting’s graceful steps. About her delicate neck hung a collar necklace of gold and jade embossed with pearls and precious gems. Draped around her waist and about her arms was a cream-coloured scarf of lotus flower silk interwoven with mulberry silk of deepest crimson. There was a mask in her hand, and as she walked she shyly brought it up so that it partially covered her lower face.
Coming the last few steps before the god, she glanced up, seemed to lose focus when her eyes met his, and tripped over her own feet and fell flat on her face. There was a collective gasp from all the songs present and a number rushed to the lady’s side and helped her back up, patting her dress down and tidying up her ruffled inky hair. “Th- thank you.” The lady managed, her face different shades of scarlet ink at the embarrassment. Keeping her eyes downcast, she bowed low to the god. “My lord,” came her euphonious melody, and all the songs in the great hall let loose a gentle wave of dulcet sighs. “I cannot convey my heart’s gladness at being once again in your presence. You must forgive me my long absence; I have neglected my duty to you. Our Lady remains sickly and all my attention has gone to seeing to her every need - she is sick at heart and my words have failed time and again to draw her from her slumber.” She paused and looked around at the songs, and then at the guards. “I hope that the songs have not caused you any trouble, my lord? I…” she glanced once more at some of the Neiyari guards with a slight knot in her brow, “I hope their mischief has not forced you to bring in armed guards!”
“Oh it’s not that dire,” Cadien said, waving off her concern. “These men and women are simply my realm’s latest inhabitants, and it only seemed fitting to incorporate them into the proceedings and give them some form of employment. Now then, what has brought about your return after all this time?”
At his question, she loosed a small sigh and made her way to an empty seat to the side. “A number of songs came to me not long ago, searching for missing songs, my lord. The songs of the town are naturally anxious and even now some want to organise an expedition to go search for those who are missing. But before any such thing, I wished to ask you about it - perhaps they are here in the palace and not missing at all?”
“Missing?” Cadien asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. “How long?”
The lady looked at some of the gathered song representatives. “Shae went missing a few weeks back, Wilarda last week, then Meralusa after that.”
The God’s grip tightened on his throne. “Why am I only hearing of this now?”
“W- we thought nothing of it at first, my lord. They could have been wandering anywhere - in the palace, perhaps exploring your beautiful realm, perhaps visiting Our Lady… but now we realise that was not so and we are full of worry.” One of the representatives spoke with a sad note.
“Shae had been talking of seeing the world outside Meliorem for some time before, my lord,” one of the male songs spoke up. “I fear that she may have ventured out without telling us - who knows what she may have found or… what may have found her.”
The God closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “It is true,” he said, after a few moments had passed. “I cannot sense their presence. They are gone.” He leaned forward again. “They must have left while I was visiting other realms, when I wouldn’t be able to sense their departure. Although… not all of their supposed departures align with the times when I was not here to sense them. This is troubling… I will need to go look for them.”
There were worried murmurs and notes of agreements at the god’s words. “Yes, my lord. They must be found before something terrible happens to them!” One song cried. “Who knows which of the thousand fiends and savages lying in wait just beyond the gates of Meliorem may have them!” The chant of anxiety rose, but then the Lady-in-Waiting looked towards the god and it died down slightly.
“My lord… I have been thinking. I know you have promised to take care of us and protect us - and there is no one here who can but sing your praises as far as that goes, you have not fallen short in any way. And yet I find myself thinking that perhaps… perhaps the best protection you can grant us is the ability to protect ourselves. These songs have lost one of their own - they failed their sisters. Should they not be made to take responsibility and carry the burden for finding them? Surely they will learn something of value from this.” The gathered songs were hushed, for once, and then began to whisper melodiously - if nervously - to one another.
“B- but we are delicate beings, not made for the rigours that such a task requires!” One male cried out.
“Pah! Of course you would say that Sabunta - but you have always been a coward.” Came a harsh intonation that caused Sabunta to flinch.
“There’s no need for that now, dearest,” the male said weakly to the siren who had spoken, but she crossed her arms and looked away from him with a huff. The Lady-in-Waiting set her gaze on the god.
“What do you think, my lord?”
The Lord of Meliorem frowned. “I would not object to you becoming better able to protect yourselves, but it is still a troubling suggestion. What shall happen if ten go out in search of three, and those ten go missing as well? Not all realms are inhospitable - many gods are actually quite friendly, if you are courteous enough - but there remain a few who are dangerous nonetheless.”
The Lady-in-Waiting tightened her fist, a certain naive determination there. “A- and should we not be brave, my lord? Are we not to aspire towards your perfection? I think we should be the most terrible of servants if we did not, during our time spent with you, learn some of that essential nobility that makes you as you are, my lord. If we do not learn courage and sacrifice from the one who carved a way through the inks of death for us, then we are unfitting and unworthy of you.” She stopped and took a small breath, “let us prove ourselves to you, my lord.”
The God pondered her words, resting a hand under his chin. “A fair argument,” he nodded, then leaned back again. “You may take only volunteers. They must understand the risks, and you shall lead them yourself. Dakari, can you spare some guards to accompany them?”
“I could,” Dakari said, though his tone implied he had no wish to. The Lady-in-Waiting glanced at the Neiyari, her face blank.
“Very good.” He looked back to the Lady-in-Waiting. “Bring your volunteers here as soon as you are able. Your departure will not be immediate; preparations must be made. Do you have any questions?”
“Of course. Not so much a question but… ahem. M- may we… speak in private, my lord?” The Lady-in-Waiting glanced at the god and then quickly looked away, her gaze passing over the gathered songs and neiyari guards.
“We may,” the God said. “But first, are there any other matters the court must addressed?” he asked the rest of the room.
“Y- yes! My lord!” One of the female songs stepped forth. “I have a complaint against your guards! That one there in particular - he has never ceased from ogling me m-most inappropriately!” She flushed and brought her hands to her cheeks. “I am a happily wed and loyal song my lord, and these lustful looks are just- ah! Inappropriate!”
Cadien cast a questioning glance toward the guard in question, who seemed quite surprised to have been called out. He dropped to one knee. “I am just keep an eye on them, my lord, as is my duty.”
“You stand accused of keeping an eye on one in particular,” Cadien commented drily. “Which would distract you from watching over the rest, would it not?”
“Not so, my lord, I am very perceptive,” the Neiyari said, lifting his gaze to look at the one who had accused him. “Tell me, my lady, would your husband happen to be in this room?”
“Hmph!” The song in question intoned, “if you were as perceptive as you say you would know. You couldn’t pull off an affair even if you tried, it seems.” There was now a small smirk on her face. A grumbling male siren stepped forward.
“My dearest, an affair! By our lord, sometimes you say the craziest things,” he shook his head and, placing a hand on her shoulder, looked towards the accused guard. “Here I am, in ink before you.”
“Would you care for a duel over her?” the Neiyari smirked.
The songman raised a flowing brow and looked at the siren, and an inky smile spread on his face. “Why, that is an ingenious proposition! What shall it be? A match to see who can produce the most beautiful sculpture of this bejewelled rose? Or perhaps a poetic match-up to see who can produce words that can come even close to capturing her beauteous symmetry and flowing grace? Perhaps a battle of dances, to see who can best let his form speak what her gaze does to the heart? I am ready and willing to prove myself to my dearest Saluna.” And so saying he bowed with a flourish and kissed the siren’s hand.
The Neiyari scoffed, and gestured toward his blade. “Battle,” he answered. “What else?”
“Ah, but that is so uncivilised and brutish! Love requires effort, careful creation. Anyone can pummel another into an inky puddle, but not anyone can produce lyrics to gladden a lovely maiden’s heart. Come, produce a verse of love, let that be our battle!” The songman grinned playfully. “Or… are you unable, perhaps? There is no dishonour if you wish to yield.”
“I suppose I’ll have to duel you for calling me a brute as well,” the Neiyari said. “Or are you unable to put yourself at risk for your love and reputation?” He shifted his gaze to the female wife. “A flowery song is all well and good, but it doesn’t mean much if he’s too afraid to risk himself to defend you.”
“Ah, but if it is a matter of defence, if my lady is in some sort of danger, then who am I - humble songman that I am - to pretend at protecting anyone? Who am I to claim for myself what our lord has taken on for himself - our lord protects us, and if my lady’s honour needs protection then it is to him alone we turn. But if this is a duel for her affection, then I am ready to produce all art.” The songman turned to Cadien. “My lord, are you not the stalwart defender of us songs? This here guardsman believes my beautiful siren is in need of protection, we have no aid but you.” And he bowed to the great god. Melodious giggles rose from the gathered songs, all both parts impressed and entertained by the battle of wits both men displayed.
Cadien seemed rather amused by these proceedings. Dakari, meanwhile, watched with clenched fists and was now sending murderous glares at both men, for different reasons. “And what are your thoughts on the matter?” Cadien asked the female Song for whom all this drama had started.
“Well, my lord,” she began, her eyes downcast and hands once more on her blushing cheeks, “this is all so very flattering and both these suitors have shown equal parts gallantry of their own - I would not expect a mighty warrior such as the noble guardsman to accept anything but a meeting of swords; and it would be most foolish for a songman, artist that he is, to accept anything but the clash of sculpting chisels and poetic verses. In this, both stand equal. Ah, I cannot choose based on this, my lord! I can only maintain my loyalty to the one I wed!”
“Perhaps,” the Lady-in-Waiting spoke up lightly, “they should be tested in matters neither is proficient at, my lord. Perhaps a puzzle, or a challenge to discover where a hidden item is with provided clues, or something else of that nature?”
“A sensible suggestion,” Cadien nodded. “Though the nature of the challenge must be decided at another time. Are there any other matters this court feels the need to address?”
Neiyari and songs brought forth various matters, and Cadien dealt with each no matter how trivial or small. And to his credit, he did not showcase any irritation or boredom - though the Lady-in-Waiting had no doubt that such trivialities were likely the least of a god’s problems or concerns. In time, however, court was adjourned and they were at last left alone. “Goodness,” she breathed, “all these complaints and concerns - it is one of the signs of your diligent vigilance that you see to it all personally. Have you never considered to delegate the more trivial matters, my lord?”
“I have considered it, yes,” Cadien nodded. “But in truth it costs very little vigilance on my part. As a god, my attention can be both here and elsewhere at the same time. Besides, your people are quite adept at wordplay, more so than most mortals who pray to me, and listening to their verbal sparring can be quite entertaining provided they don’t get out of hand. Besides, from time to time they do bring up very serious matters, and it’s best that I address such things personally.” The siren nodded, stealing furtive glances at the sculpted god before returning her gaze back to her variegated hands.
“And how are you my lord. You seems so busy with so much - and yet, you seem to have no time for you.” There seemed a sadness to her melodious voice, and releasing a sigh she looked towards the god and did not look away this time. “Or does a god have no needs as we created things do?”
“I need not eat or sleep, if that is what you are referring to,” Cadien said. “But that’s not what you meant, was it? Yes, even gods can become lonely or fatigued, but it takes a great deal. I can always find new activities to keep myself occupied.” He waved a hand to indicate the paintings on the walls, the ones made by his own hands.
She glanced at them and smiled. “Yes, it is much changed since I first visited. It is beautiful.” She paused for a few moments. “But you are right. I may be wrong, my lord, but I do sense… a greater melancholy to you than before I departed. Call it a woman’s hunch, maybe. And that is why I ask,” she paused again, seeming to find it difficult to speak. “It is of course not my place but… if there were something disturbing your peace of mind, I would be happy to serve you in some way - even if only as a listening ear. But forgive me if I have misread my lord, I may be overthinking it.”
Cadien’s gaze briefly shifted to a door off to the side - the one which led to Neiya’s realm. “There are a few things that trouble me, yes,” he conceded. “But you need not concern yourself with them.” The lady sighed and nodded, a small sad frown on her face.
“If that is your wish, my lord, though it pains me that there is nothing I can do to even slightly repay the debt of gratitude I owe you - you eased our troubles, and it is painful to think I can do nothing for you.” She reached into the great folds of her sleeves and emerged with a single sculpted rose - its stem of emerald, the hint of thorns shorn, small peduncles extended at the end of which were leaves of jade and tsavorite. Its sepal was a burst of demantoid that gave way to blossoming red diamond, swirling crimson garnet, flowing pyrope, and gyrating ruby. “I did not forget you, my lord, and in those moments I found myself working on this small thing for you. I-it is not worthy of you, but I thought perhaps your beloved would like it.” She rose from her place and ascended the few steps the god’s throne, and descending to her knees extended the sculpted jewel rose to him. “When one looks into it, it seems to sing of the one most beloved to them. I am sure your lady will remember you fondly when she holds it and is far from you.”
Cadien reached down and accepted the rose, bringing it to eye level and looking into it with a curious expression. The lady backed away and descended the steps slowly. She did not speak, but watched as the god beheld the flower. After a few moments she opened eye mouth, but as though changing her mind closed it and allowed him all the time he needed, undisturbed. She quietly slipped back into her seat and, covering her mouth with the top of her mask shyly, watched the god.
Cadien listened. The rose sung. A song that only he could hear, and about exactly who he had expected. “It is a fine gift, and I thank you for it,” he said sincerely, “though may I ask how you came to acquire a divine artifact?”
She beamed to see that it had met with his approval, though his question brought a slight knot to her brow. “A divine artifact, my lord?”
“This artifact is divinely empowered,” Cadien said, with a raised eyebrow. “Either it was made by a god, or it was granted power by one shortly after its construction.”
“I do not know, my lord. It was crafted by me, none other, and no one has seen it but you and I.” The lady pursed her lips and there seemed a flicker of concern in her eyes. “I- I apologise if it displeases you my lord. I did not realise- I don’t understand how it can be.”
“Strange. Hm… no matter. It is still a beautiful gift. I was simply curious how this came to be.” Something to investigate further.
“I am glad that you find it beautiful my lord. It is but a small token of my gratitude.” She looked away with a sigh, her lips pursed in what seemed to be disappointment, but her mask veiled her lips for the most part. “I am not so sure if I will be able to accompany the expedition, my lord. My Lady is yet ill and needs my attention. Even being here at this time is a great risk. I must ask your forgiveness, I once more find myself a poor servant to you.”
Cadien raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? By your wording, I had thought you intended to accompany them.”
“Perhaps I was carried away by my own excitement, lord. But then the full weight of my duties returned when that excitement died down. I have no doubt that this journey shall do the songs good, even without me. The guardsmen who will accompany them appear in all ways capable.”
“Hm. Now we have a dilemma. On one hand, it would not do to abandon your lady for so long. On the other, the Songs who are to embark on this expedition might lose heart, if they find out the one who was to lead them will not come.” The lady looked at the ground in thought.
“That is very true my lord. Do you think there is anything we can do to avoid such a loss in morale?”
The god shrugged. “If a particularly eager, capable, and ambitious Song volunteers on their own initiative to lead the expedition in your stead, then I suppose there is little shame in transferring command. So long as the other Songs are still willing to follow them, of course.”
The Lady-in-Waiting nodded, reassured. “I am certain that it will be no issue, in that case. I will select a capable leader and encourage her to take up this duty.” She rose and curtsied. “I will not take up any more of your time my lord. I wish you well and can only hope that all your woes are soon lifted. Is there anything more you require of me?”
“Perhaps you might organize a performance, after the expedition is assembled?” Cadien suggested. “I’ve not heard you sing in a long time.”
“I will have it arranged, my lord. It may take a small while to prepare something remotely worthy of you, but I shan’t keep you waiting long.” She kept her eyes low and the mask at her lips. “Anything else, lord?”
“Nothing else,” Cadien shook his head. “You are free to take your leave, and thank you for your service today.”
Curtsying low for a few moments, she took three steps back before turning and moving with swift grace towards the great double doors. They opened before her and the sound of her heels could be heard fading away as the doors closed behind her.
The songs gather in Cadien’s court - and for the first time in a long time, the LiW has come. She enters dramatically and super beautifully, but then trips and falls the klutz. The songs then petition to be allowed to go find those of their number who are missig. Cadien is reluctant, but eventually agrees - stipulating that the LiW is to go with them. Things open up for other business, and the we get a look into some of the rivalries between Neiyari males and songmen over sirens. When court is adjourned Cadien and the LiW speak and she gives him a gift - ostensibly for Neiya. It’s a sculpted rose that allows one to hear songs about the person most beloved to them. The LiW then requests that she be excused from leading the expedition, and Cadien permits it so long as she finds a suitable replacement.
Lovesong I - The one who holds this item is able to hear it singing beautiful verses of the most beloved person to them. Only they are able to hear this song. (+1 to Sculpting)
The archers and most of the mages had been standing directly on top of the section that Aurielle had brought down. Most of them were now dead, their bodies buried under rubble in the breach. The others were hiding behind cover, terrified that the enemy still had another spell up their sleeve.
But the breach was not undefended. Grim-faced infantry were already climbing the rubble to take positions in the narrow gap. A few mages were among them, who for some reason or another had not been on the wall. As Carn and his army approached, they raised their hands, and shot a torrent of flame at the spearhead of Carn’s assault.
Memories of his burning home flashed before his eyes. Instinctively he stopped and turned away, fully expecting to be incinerated. The flames washed over the back of his cloak, but he felt no pain. Then he heard the screaming, and he realized his men had not been so lucky.
When the screaming stopped, the flames faded away, and Carn rose to his feet. He was unharmed, but the reddened and blackened corpses of his best men lay surrounded him. The assault had stalled, with most of his men having stopped in their tracks. Others had gone all the way forward, only to flatten them against the wall and out of the mages’ line of sight. Emboldened, the archers on the wall emerged from cover to begin loosing arrows, and more of Carn’s men began to fall.
Carn raised his sword to draw the attention of his warriors. When they saw that he was unharmed, a few even gasped in surprise. An arrow flew past his head, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he turned and pointed his blade at the breach. “Forward!” he shouted once again.
As Aurielle’s magic ravaged the defenders, Carn’s host surged forward. They arrived just at the foot of the breach itself, and began the climb, with Carn at the head. Then they neared the top, and the defenders began to strike downward with their spears and swords.
With one hand maintaining a precarious grip on the ruined stone, Carn parried a thrust from a spear before driving his blade into his foe’s groin. The man fell back screaming, and Carn hauled himself upward, lashing out in a wide arc with his blade to drive his enemies back as he rose to his feet. But they rallied quickly, and were soon upon him. Luckily his ring and his innate gift for swordsmanship were more than enough to defend himself, his hands and weapon a blur as he deftly blocked and parried each attack, occasionally delivering a riposte to wound a vulnerable opponent or cleave their weapon in two.
The distraction he posed allowed the men behind him to find their own footings, and with reinforcements on his flanks Carn could now go on the offensive. He began to advance forward, slashing throats and bellies; cutting through spears, shields, swords, and armour to do so. Once more, his blade and his hands were slick with blood.
If Carn wasn’t there, the fight would have been a bloody stalemate, grinding on for ages until one side finally broke. But he was there, and there wasn’t a single man or woman in this breach who could possibly stand against him. A figure in bronze armour lunged at him - probably the commander of this fiasco - and Carn effortlessly parried his strike before removing his head at the neck.
That was enough to break the defenders. They turned tail and fled. With a grin, Carn strode forward, sliding down the other end of the breach and into the city itself. The bodies of mages and archers who had been slain by the magical assault were sprawled around him, their skin charred by the blast and their limbs twisted by the fall. He would need to thank her for that later. But right now, they were in the city, and it was time to press forward to the castle.
Then his smile faltered. Where was his brother?
“They’ve got reinforcements!” Yarwick shouted, appearing beside him and pointing. A fresh host of militia appeared around a corner and came charging to meet them. At their head was a group of priests wearing armoured robes, one of whom had been with Brundt during the parley. Carn flourished his blade and called for his men to form up.
Brundt had never run faster in his life.
He had gathered as many men as were stationed at the garrison and set out, cursing quietly to himself. On the way he encountered individual groups of militia, and one unit of houseguards, who had formed up in response to the chaos, but were proceeding toward the wall with far less alacrity. Brundt’s shouts were enough to remedy that, and soon he had a small army in its own right at his back.
Then he came upon a group of soldiers who weren’t running toward the fighting, but away from it. Upon seeing him, they stopped in their tracks.
“They… they destroyed the walls!” one of the soldiers informed him. “They’ve taken the breach! We can’t kill them!”
“Nonsense,” Gelos interjected.
“Fall in,” Brundt ordered. “We’re taking it back.”
The soldier paled slightly, but nodded.
Carn twisted, sending a vicious cut across a militiaman’s face, who fell back to be replaced by the priest who led them. The armoured priest swung at him with a blade, and Carn brought his own weapon up to block, only to be surprised by the sheer amount of force behind the blow, which threatened to throw him off balance.
Then he saw it: a silver ring on the priest’s finger, with a glowing ruby. It was not unlike his own sapphire ring, and somehow he instinctively knew: this was what the source of the strange pull he had felt toward the city.
Carn brought his knee up into the priest’s groin, before lowering his blade and swinging it upward, severing the priest’s hand at the wrist. The priest was falling back now, into the arms of one of his acolytes who began dragging him away. Cries of alarm began to ring out among the militia, who began to break once they realized their leader had fallen.
This was almost too easy.
He cast his gaze down to the priest’s severed hand, and knelt to pluck the ring from the finger, before sliding it onto his own. A sensation of power surged through him, and he felt stronger.
There was not much time to dwell on it, however. They had beaten back the second wave of defenders, but more would soon follow. Carn ordered his men to advance a few paces, clearing up more space for the warriors behind him to enter the city, and allowing those who had already seen combat to catch their breath. Now that they were past the meatgrinder that was the breach, they were taking light losses.
He glanced back at the breach behind him. Where was Aurielle? He had expected her to have caught up by now. It wasn’t like her to hang back in a situation like this. For a moment, he wondered if he should feel concerned.
Then a battlecry could be heard as the third wave arrived, this one headed a tall, scarred, armoured figure with a shield in one hand and a hammer in the other.
His brother had arrived.
The two met each other’s eyes, and they both hesitated. Their men, however, did not, and the two armies surged forward to meet each other in a clash of bronze and copper. Carn did not know which one of them snapped out of it first, but soon they were both pushing past their men toward the frontline.
Brundt made it there first, likely due to his superior size and strength, and swung his hammer. The head practically disintegrated under the sheer power of the swing, spraying blood and bone across friend and foe alike. Another swing shattered a warrior’s shield, as well as the arm that carried it.
Brundt had never killed anybody before today. It gave him pause, but only for a moment. His thoughts drifted back to Thyma, on that fateful night all those years ago. He thought of the massacre that happened to his people, and then imagined that happening on a scale as large as Ketrefa. It could not be repeated. He would fight to prevent it. Another man charged at him, but Brundt lashed out with the edge of his shield and knocked the man’s head clean off.
Carn hesitated. He recalled Brundt’s unnatural strength, and realized that his younger brother had only become more powerful over the years. But Carn had gifts of his own, and was bolstered by artifacts he had collected or received from the gods. It would have to be enough. So, he pressed forward.
Then, the way before Brundt was clear - Carn’s men no longer being willing to challenge him - and the two brothers came face to face.
“You must surrender,” Brundt said, his voice barely audible over the roar of the battle.
“I could say the same to you,” came Carn’s retort.
Brundt rushed forward with hammer in hand. Carn sidestepped the charge and did a pirouette, swinging his sword across Brundt’s waist. The divine blade sheared through the metal, but surprisingly only seemed to score a glancing cut in the flesh itself.
Brundt turned and stepped toward him, swinging his hammer at the shorter man. Carn backstepped it easily enough, and as Brundt overextended himself, he stepped into Brundt’s range and smashed the crossguard of the sword into Brundt’s nose. Brundt barely even flinched. Casting his shield aside, he seized Carn by the throat, and lifted him off the ground.
But Carn was not unarmed. He drew back his sword and thrust it at Brundt’s chest, puncturing the bronze again, only to be blocked by one of Brundt’s ribs, which was somehow just as durable as the sword itself.
Then Brundt dropped him, before lowering his now free hand to the sword still embedded in his chest, and pulled it free. “Stand… down…” he demanded, now holding Carn’s weapon as well as his own.
For a moment, Carn almost wanted to accept. Perhaps Brundt would show mercy on him after all. Perhaps his army might be allowed to flee…
No.
He had fought many battles over the years, and not once had he surrendered. He had retreated, but he had never surrendered. His men had come all this way, leaving their homes and families behind, and if he simply gave up, all their efforts and sacrifices would be for nothing. That was something Titania and Lothar had been too weak to see, when they criticized his decisions and questioned his methods. He looked at his sword, and noted that Brundt was still holding it by the blade…
Slowly, he rose to his feet, his hands raised as if he was going to suggest the offer. Then with a sudden movement, he seized the edge of his cape and lashed out, the fabric striking Brundt in the face, while his other hand reached forward and grabbed the sword. Having taken the larger man by surprise, Carn was able to wrest the weapon back before Brundt’s grip could be reasserted.
It was then that one of Carn’s men had decided to offer his aid, diving forward and tackling Brundt. The two fell to the ground, but the unknown warrior was not on top of Brundt for long, and was pushed off relatively easily. That gave Carn enough time to raise his blade and swing it downward…
...only for Gelos to step between Carn and Brundt, his own weapon raised. Carn’s sword sliced through Gelos’s bronze blade with ease, before cutting deep between shoulder and neck. The bodyguard stared up at him, before the broken hilt slipped from his grip and he slumped to the ground.
“NO!” Brundt shouted, leaping to his feet and charging forward. His arms closed around Carn’s waist, and he picked the smaller man up, charging deep into the Ketrefan ranks (his soldiers narrowly stepping aside) before unceremoniously throwing Carn to the ground. Carn felt his spine break under the impact. For a split second, agony coursed throughout his body, then he felt nothing.
Carn’s men surged forward in an attempt to rescue him, but the Ketrefans closed ranks again, and they could not reach the two brothers, one of whom now stood victorious over the other.
Brundt rose to his feet, looked down upon his brother, and realized what he had done. His rage over Gelos’s death dulled. For a moment, and not for the first time, he wondered why. Why had it happened this way? Why was any of this necessary? If the gods believed one side or the other to be in the wrong, why send mortals to kill each other? Why not just tell one side to change, or find some other solution!?
But now was not the time for such philosophical queries. A battle raged around him, and for as long as it continued to rage, his men continued to die. “I’m sorry it came to this,” Brundt said, bringing his hammer down.
But just before it could impact Carn’s head, his body vanished, as did the sword embedded in Gelos’s chest
With both Carn and Brundt away from the main fight, the battle had become a war of attrition. One that the attackers were in no position to win, with more reinforcements arriving every minute. To make matters worse, Carn’s absence had been noted, and his men assumed he had been killed or captured.
Morale began to plummet. Yarwick attempted to rally them, only to fall as three militiamen came at him at once. Ingrid had just finished climbing the breach when she saw Yarwick go down, and in that moment she was struck by an arrow. Then Brundt himself returned to the fray, and finally, the attackers broke. They turned and fled, desperately attempting to climb the breach and flee the way they came, with some even going so far as to pull their own comrades down in order to get ahead.
Others were more sensible, and threw down their weapons. Brundt’s men surged past those who had done so, and began to butcher the ones who had fled with a savage fury.
As for Brundt himself, he watched this with an air of detached dispassion. He had won the day, but this didn’t feel like a victory. He glanced up at the sky with narrowed eyes, and wondered who was peering back.
Pain.
That was what Carn felt.
But at least it was feeling. He hadn’t felt anything a few moments ago.
Brundt wasn’t standing over him either. And the sky, inexplicably cloudy, was suddenly clear. But… was it always that blue?
He moved his arm, and felt his hands brush against sand. Sand… why was there sand? He was on a city street. He sat up, feeling a dull ache shoot throughout his body, but at the same time was relieved - he hadn’t been able to move at all previously. Then he realized he was no longer in Ketrefa.
A white haired figure stood over him. One who looked… a lot like him.
“Father?”
Carn attacks and captures the breach, stepping into the city itself. Meanwhile, Brundt starts rushing to intercept the attackers, rallying as many men as he can.
Varsilis gets there first with a small group of militia. After a short one-sided duel with Carn, Varsilis loses his hand and Carn steals the ring. Then Brundt’s army finally arrives. Brundt and Carn duel, with Brundt emerging victorious, but Carn vanishes before Brundt can strike the final duel. Yarwick and Ingrid fall. Carn’s army eventually breaks and flees, only to be pursued by the vengeful defenders.
Brundt has won, but is far from happy.
Carn wakes up in another realm with his wounds healed.
Cadien Beginning MP: 5 Beginning DP: 5 -1MP to teleport Carn and the Sword of Carn to Meliorem. -1MP to heal Carn’s injuries. Ending MP: 3 Ending DP: 5
Carn Beginning: 55 +5 for 10k+ characters. Ending: 60
Brundt Beginning: 26 +5 for 10k+ characters. Ending: 31
Upon his arrival at Ketrefa, Carn had wasted no time. He threw his camp up quickly, and sent a messenger to the city gates, demanding a parley with whoever was in charge. To his surprise, it had been accepted.
And now, the time had come. The Lord-Captain of Ketrefa and the Warleader of Cadien would finally meet face to face.
The gates swung open, and Brundt stepped out with his retinue - Grandmaster Varsilis, Lord Milos Karras, loyal Gelos, and half a dozen guards. Lord Carnelian, the man that Ketrefans had spent so many months fearing and despising, was already approaching from his own camp, with an escort of his own.
As they neared each other, Brundt was immediately struck by the enemy’s white leader and purple eyes. He had not seen such a thing since…
“My name is Carn,” the man introduced himself rather bluntly, and in that moment recognition struck. As Brundt stood in stunned silence, Carn narrowed his eyes and continued speaking. “Ketrefa’s reign of tyranny and bloodshed has gone on for far too long. I give you a choice. Surrender. Open your gates, lay down your weapons, and free your slaves. Do so, and your people will be spared. Resist, and every man, woman, or child who owns a slave will be put to the spear.”
“Carn…” Brundt said slowly, not quite believing it.
“Yes, that is my name,” Carn rolled his eyes in a vaguely familiar fashion. “Do you not have ears? Surrender or death - what will it be?”
“My name is Brundt.”
At first, Carn stared at Brundt as if the Lord-Captain had gone insane. But then, as he looked into Brundt’s eyes, recognition finally struck, and now it was his turn to be thrown off-balance. “No…” he whispered. “No.”
“It has been a long time, brother,” Brundt said. It was all he could say; he could not hug Ketrefa’s greatest enemy in front of his men. Nor could they see their Lord-Captain break down into tears. For the longest time he had believed his family was dead. “I… I didn’t know you were…”
“I thought you were a slave!” Carn snapped, suddenly angry. “But now you’re one of them?”
“I did not choose to be here,” Brundt protested. “It was Cadien’s will.”
“Cadien?” Carn asked in disbelief. Then realization dawned, and his anger only seemed to increase. “Damn him!” he cursed, his companions wincing as he uttered the words.
“Hold your tongue,” Grandmaster Varsilis interrupted, stepping forward. “You will not speak of our Creator in such a manner.”
“It was Cadien who sent me here, you fool,” Carn spat.
But Varsilis only glared at him. “Cadien chose Ketrefa. He chose Brundt. I heard his voice with my own ears. Whatever being you claim to have heard, that was not Cadien. Some malicious god masquerading as him, maybe, attempting to lure you to your doom. To fight your own brother. But it is not too late to change course. Stand down.”
Carn returned the glare with a venomous look in his eye. “I’ve been betrayed by the gods, so you would have me betray my own men?”
“Tell them to stand down too.”
Carn snorted derisively. “They won’t accept that. Nothing will get them to accept that,” he looked down at his cloak for a moment. One thing he had noticed was that the loyalty it projected only seemed to go up to a certain point. “They have been promised freedom and vengeance. And now, after they have come all this way, you would have me deny it?”
“You’re outnumbered two to one,” a new man - Milos - cut in. “You will find neither freedom nor vengeance here. Only death.”
“I have advantages that make up for my numbers,” Carn said, fixing his gaze on Brundt. “If I tell my men to stand down, they won’t listen. Nor should they. It is you who must yield to me. We need not fight. The people of this city - they can be spared. It is the leaders I have come for. The Lord-Captain.”
“I am the Lord-Captain,” Brundt said, his voice surprisingly even.
Carn blinked. “They made you their leader?”
Brundt nodded grimly. “And I cannot yield. I cannot betray the people who put their trust in me.”
“You would fight your own brother for this?” Carn seemed genuinely shocked. “For these slavers and tyrants?”
“I could say the same to you,” Brundt countered. “Your own conduct has hardly been honourable. If I open these gates to you, how can I guarantee your own men will honour your promise of mercy? You said it yourself, they came for vengeance, and they won’t listen to you if you deny them it.” He shook his head. “The city is flawed, it’s true. Decadent, tyrannical. But I was chosen to fix that. And I will.” Then his expression softened. “Please, brother. Stand down. Try.”
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Yarwick whispered, though Carn wasn’t sure if the man was referring to Brundt’s request, or the war itself.
“It’s a trick,” Ingrid said. “You can’t trust a Ketrefan. How do you know if this man really is your brother?”
“I know he is,” Carn said, looking into Brundt’s eyes. They were violet. As far as he knew, the children of Cadien were the only people in the Highlands who had such features.
“Even if he is, he’s one of them now.”
That… that was true. Brundt wore Ketrefan armour, stood under a Ketrefan banner, and had even adopted a trace of the Ketrefan nobility’s accent. But did that mean his brother was lost to him forever?
He thought about it. Brundt was… eight, when Thyma was attacked. That was nearly thirteen years ago. Brundt had spent more time in Ketrefa than he had with Carn, and his time in Ketrefa was far more recent. Looking at Brundt now, Carn saw very little of the small boy he had remembered, and he suspected that Brundt found him equally unfamiliar.
Once more, Carn looked his brother in the eye. “I refuse,” he said, and then turned away.
Carn felt numb as he returned to the camp. “Find the other commanders, and meet me outside my tent,” he said to Yarwick and Ingrid, his voice empty. As they nodded and went off to go search, Carn scanned his surroundings, and set his sights on Aurielle. He began walking toward her.
The sorceress stood cross armed. Watching the great city’s walls. Mages, druids and other magical folks were standing or sitting not too far from her. Preparing for the now inevitable attack. Esiré and several of the Cult had managed to learn enough magic so Auriëlle could force them under her command. Though the girl watched with solemn eyes as some of her brethren had been moved away to fight under different commanders. “Don’t die.” She told them all one last time before they had left. The rest of them were huddled around bowls of water. Ready to summon their demons should they be attacked up close. Others were carving some distinctly Ketrefian runes in wood.
“The walls will be too thick.” One mage was pleading. “We don’t have the magical force. We must devise something different. Perhaps a ritual to draw out the stone bit by bit.” He was old and his voice was hoarse. “Or perhaps we should probe their magical defenses first. Doubtlessly they have carved runes on the other side of their wall to protect it. I implore you, commander. Let’s not be overly quick about these things.”
Auriëlle hated the old man for being right. But she hated that wall more, that much was evident from her peering gaze. She hated what it represented: an obstacle she couldn’t break down. A monument towards her powerlessness. Not that she really was powerless. Still, it represented something she couldn’t do. At least not yet. And yet while the old man and several other mages had spoken truth, she didn’t really want to admit it. She wanted to step forth and try. After all she was Auriëlle. She razed Teperia. Had Bul-Gadin burned to the ground. She killed Olwar the Leon Rider. And now she wanted to sunder Ketrefa’s walls.
“Aurielle,” Carn nodded to her as he approached. It was clear that a lot weighed on him - more so than usual. He looked to her companions, then back to her. “May I speak with you alone?”
It wasn’t the words that pulled her from her own vainglorious thoughts. It was the way he said them. She turned to face him as a frown of worry appeared on her brow. Something was wrong. Not like the usual wrong. Something was gnawing at him. She quickly looked at the people around her and said: “Leave us.” Before turning back to face Carn. The rest of her retinue did as commanded, standing up and walking away. Leaving the two alone. “What is it?” She immediately asked.
“It seems Cadien has a sense of humour…” he said, though there was no levity in his voice. He looked around to make sure nobody else was in earshot. Even then, it still took a few more moments to get the words out. “The Lord-Captain of Ketrefa is my brother.”
The expression on her face shifted to disbelief, then anger and then no small measure of confusion. “This is cruel.” She whispered, making sure the others didn’t hear them. She cast them a quick side glance. Esiré and her people kept their eyes on the two of them. The others were still preparing their magic. Off in the distance most were preparing what they assumed would be their last meal. Rabbit stew. Venison. Boar. “You know you can’t stop this now, right?” It didn’t look like it, but momentum was too high. The raids, the counter attacks on their patrols, now sitting here within sight of the city. “They’re not going to stop even if you tell them to.”
He nodded grimly. “I know,” he whispered.
She then turned sideways to face the great walls again. Though she remained quiet for a long while. Trying to work through the news. “Will he die?” She asked him. He could give the command. ‘Spare any with white hair’. But that wasn’t what she was asking. What she was asking for was permission.
Auriëlle’s eyes looked up at the clear blue sky. It was a beautiful day. Yet inside she was consumed with anger. “You can stop bloodshed today.” She whispered, perhaps just loud enough for Carn to hear but she wasn’t the one she intended to hear. “It probably takes you just one sentence, maybe just a word and hundreds of people will live.” Yet she didn’t plead the words. Instead they were filled with malice and resentment.
Carn had no words for that. He looked at her blankly. “I’ve called for a meeting outside my tent. Come as quickly as you can.” And with those words he turned away.
Once all the warband commanders were gathered in a circle, Carn addressed them.
“I met with their leader,” Carn told them. “And he won’t surrender. Which means we’ll have to take this city the hard way. I want ditches dug around the camp, and barricades built. Double the sentries, too. It’ll be awfully embarrassing if they attack us before we attack them.” Despite the quip, his voice was still almost monotone. “We need to get through the wall.” His gaze shifted to Aurielle. “Do you have enough mages?”
“The wall will break.” There was no doubt in her voice as she stood in the circle with her arms crossed again. Her eyes passed those of Carn to look at the others. Daring them to speak up against her. She had heard it a thousand times before. ‘Nobody has ever broken those walls’. Indeed, nobody has. She would be the first.
“How long will that take?”
“A few hours at most.” That was hubris. Even she had to admit it. But right now she couldn’t let Carn down.
He nodded. “We start tomorrow, then. At dawn. As soon as the walls are down, we launch our assault. Any questions?”
There were none.
When dawn came, Carn roused himself. He donned his armour, a mix of bronze and iron, and brushed his hair into a presentable state. Just before he left the tent, however, he suddenly seemed to remember something, and he turned to Aurielle. “Hold out your hand,” he requested.
Auriëlle didn’t really know why. She had been preparing herself for battle just as Carn. Dressed in robes and leather straps to keep herself maneuverable, she had been busy putting silver pins she had looted from one of the farmsteads in her hair. Holding it up as an intricate weave of strands and braids. Back home girls would put up their hair like this when they would marry. Right now she was marching for war. Still, when Carn asked her to hold out her hand, she did.
Carn placed his hand over hers, and dropped something into her palm. When he pulled his hand away, she saw that she was now holding the ruby amulet he had given to her so long ago.
Auriëlle pressed her lips together when she saw the red gem. A blush came over her. For a second she was at a loss of words, but then she remembered her own words. With a teasing hint of a grin on her lips she looked up at Carn. She knew what it meant. “Thank you.” She whispered, as she clutched it in her hand and gave him a deep kiss. After which she put the amulet on. It wasn’t nearly as grand-looking as the thorns and heart shaped periapt given to her not that long ago. But as she let it dangle from the piece of string around her neck, she realized she loved it vastly more.
Again she looked up from her amulets to Carn, her gaze grew more playful now. “We shouldn’t let fate wait for us.” It was meant as a bad joke to spur on her love. Today Ketrefa would fall. That much was certain. But for the first time she realized that she could die here. The idea of her dying had never entered her mind since the last siege she and Carn were in. Yet now, it somehow felt like a very real possibility and yet that did not make her despair. No, it gave her new life. A second breath. “Let’s go!”
With one final nod to her, Carn stepped outside.
“We cannot do it!”
The old man was joined by many others. Almost all of her mages in fact. Only the handful of her followers were still trying. Yet every rune or spell they hurled towards the massive wall bounced off. Harmlessly. Neutralized. Auriëlle had worked tirelessly for the last two hours to unwind some of the protective enchantments carved into the wall. To little effect.
She lowered her arms, letting go of the next enchantment which she had barely cracked. “So is this it!?” She yelled over them. “We lost!? Because you cannot bring about the strength to rip through that wall!?” Why wouldn’t the stupid thing just break!?
“We have done everything. Everything!” The old man yelled back. Exhaustion was carved into his face. Many of the sorcerers were actually out of breath, while most of the wizards looked tired. Each had rune after rune carved in front of them in the dirt. “We must starve them out.” It would’ve been a valid tactic if the besiegers wouldn’t be starving much, much sooner than Ketrefa would. Besides, Auriëlle had never backed down from taking something with force.
“Fine!” She yelled back. Shooing everyone away. “Fine, I’ll do it myself.” Again she reached out with her hand. Forcing magic to do her bidding. And her bidding was to break the wall. Yet every assault she launched fluttered once it hit the stone. It was as if her power just blended into the wall itself. Again and again and again she launched her attack. Even as her breathing turned ragged she tried to tear through the wall. And she felt, for a split second, success. A tiny crack in the wall. Appearing after an hour of ceaseless demands of ruination. Yet as quickly as she had her fingertips into the invisible, magical barrier that protected the stone, she realized her own hubris.
The stone beyond was massive . They weren’t bricks. It was as solid as a mountain. She couldn’t break that! The second she felt it, she knew that. Defeated, she released her hold and dropped to her knees. The barrier restored itself immediately as a trickle of blood ran from her nose. “I’m not.. strong enough.” She muttered, looking down at her own still shaking fingers.
As she tried to admit her own defeat, the old man appeared from behind her again. Yet this time his rainbow colored eyes weren’t just tranquil. They were glowing. Slowly he approached her. “It’s okay my dear.” He whispered, but with the sound of a hundred voices.
Auriëlle looked up. The hair on the back of her neck rose up instantly. Yet she didn’t dare to turn around. Her entire body locked up as she felt his footsteps come closer. And finally, he put his hand on her shoulder.
In an instant, her half-formed demonic image exploded into her full shape. Great, majestic horns spilled from between her hair as the skin around her arms turned to scales instantly. A cloak of shadows poured from her shoulders as her eyes lit up red to all who could see it.
Her entire body coursed with a power she had never felt before. It was primal, elemental, fundamental. In her chest her heart raged. The illusion of the periapt exploded again. Wings of flowing, iridescent light burst from her back. The scales from her arms fell off and turned to dust. None of them hit the ground. Her eyes turned from red to bright shining purple. Her cloak of flowing shadows vanished in the bright light that shone from her and was instead replaced by a dress of coruscating crystals. Finally the horns protruding from between her hair crumbled away as well. In it stead appeared a crown of seemingly woven white gold with shimmering pearls inlaid. Around her, the only wilted and pale grass instantly collapsed under its own weight. Small waves of reddish energy pulsed from where Auriëlle stood. Each pulse flattened and then blackened more of the green around the sorceress.
As the transformation completed, Auriëlle was stripped of her fear. She only felt power. Pure, total power. It brought her pure joy, but then her attention turned towards the unyielding obstacle. Yet now, in her eyes, everything that fought her just a moment ago felt like withering candleflames. So easy to snuff out. While the stone itself felt like nothing but wet clay before her. Slowly she extended her arm, pointing her index and middle finger towards the stone. A thin beam of light shot from her fingers, seemingly harmlessly hitting the wall. Yet when it hit the wall it cracked the stone already. Violent blue winds erupted from the wall where the thin beam hit as the wall around it turned red hot. Then, from Auriëlle appeared a bead of light which flowered across the thin beam.
A blinding flash. A terrible roar. Dust exploded from where the beam hit the wall. Burning rock was hurled through the air as a shockwave raged across the field. With a satisfied smile, Auriëlle lowered her arm again. The wings of color vanished together with the dress and crown. Her illusionary form reverted back to demonic looking as the dust slowly began to settle and everyone could see the miracle she had performed. Ketrefa’s wall was breached.
Carn’s warriors, their attentions roused by the sudden display of magical prowess, stared in astonishment. It was Carn himself who snapped them out of it. “Form up!” he shouted.
Brundt had slept very little, during the previous night.
How could he?
He was going to fight his brother. His brother, who he had thought was dead, but was in fact alive. His brother, who had refused to see reason, and was now going to die - perhaps even by Brundt’s own hand. He wished it wouldn’t come to that.
He had considered giving some sort of order, to spare Carn’s life. But he knew that such an order was unlikely to be obeyed, and would only make him look weak. So all he could hope that his brother would not lead from the front, and would flee when the tide of battle inevitably turned against him. Assuming Carn didn’t have some sort of trick up his sleeve…
At least he could take some solace in the fact that the battle would not be for another few weeks, at least. There was little fear that Carn’s mages would break down the wall. Brundt’s mages outnumbered theirs, and actually had some form of standardized training. Whatever damage the enemy inflicted on the walls or gates, they would repair. Which meant Carn would have to take the city the natural way; with ladders and battering rams, which would take time to assemble.
When morning came, Brundt had partially mobilized his forces. The enemy mages seemed to be concentrating their efforts on a single point, so it was a simple enough matter to send Ketrefa’s own mages there to magically reinforce it, along with some archers to stand atop the wall and deter their foes from getting too close. And lastly, some soldiers who would be ready to hold the line should the wall by some miracle fall, though Brundt knew that wasn’t going to happen.
He had even toured the wall when the magical assault began, and saw with his own eyes how little progress the enemy was making. Satisfied, he had returned to his headquarters, where he began going through reports.
Then there was a massive crash, the sound of thunder and shattering stone, on an unimaginable scale. In that moment, Brundt realized he had underestimated his foes. Stepping around his desk he crossed the room and flung the door open, already shouting for a messenger.
The battle had begun.
Carn’s men wasted no time, assembling in the formation they had agreed upon with an impressive speed. His most elite soldiers were at the front, the fodder behind them, and the archers at the very rear. The mages were on the flanks.
“This is it!” He shouted. “All of our lives have led up to this moment! Everything we have marched for, trained for, and fought for has come to this! Today, we take our revenge. Every comrade slain and every family member stolen shall be avenged tenfold. Every chain shall be broken, and every slaver strangled by the shackles they would place upon us!” He drew his sword, the silvered blade shining in the morning sun. “Now, come with me! For freedom and glory! CHARGE!”
And with those words, he turned and began running toward the city. His men wasted no time in following.
The post opens up with a parley between Brundt and Carn. They recognize each other and both plead with each other to surrender. Brundt can’t betray the city he grew up in, while Carn doesn’t believe he can make his men stand down and he won’t betray them either. The negotiations go nowhere, with both men eventually realizing that it’s been over a decade since they last met, and at this point they’re basically strangers to each other. They realize they have to fight.
Carn tells Aurielle about this and she seems sympathetic but clearly thinks he should fight anyway. Carn then calls a meeting and announces his intention to attack.
The next morning Aurielle tries to use magic to destroy the wall but can’t. It’s too sturdy and the Ketrefan mages are using magic to either reinforce the stone or dispel the attempts to break it. Then Qael’Naath intervenes and empowers Aurielle so she can tear it down. After that, Carn orders the attack.
Qael’Naath Start: 5MP/3DP -2 MP >> Give Auriëlle temporary divine power to destroy the walls of Ketrefa Qael’Naath End: 3MP/3DP
Carn Beginning: 50 +5 for 10k+ characters. Ending: 55
Cadien observed the Black Hussars from afar, who seemed to be adapting to cavalry tactics surprisingly well. It helped that Shadowsteeds were exceptionally obedient, of course - the beasts were quite literally made to be rode - and he had imparted his own small blessing on the Neiyari cavalrymen to make them better at riding.
The Hussars had also made an innovation of their own. Using their natural ability to create sunlight weapons, they began creating curved sabres, which were ideal for quickly slashing a passing target. They had also conjured forth long spears - lances - which were meant to be thrust into foes and then discarded.
He could tell they were yearning for fight, and at some point he would give them one. But first…
If he was going to deploy them into battle, they would inevitably take casualties. His deal with Thaa ensured their souls would inevitably find their way back into his realm, but he couldn’t help but worry there was some risk that the arrival of the souls would be delayed, or his deal with the God of Death might somehow be undone. So, a precaution needed to be taken.
It was a simple one; a connection between the souls of the hussars and the realm of Meliorem. Upon their deaths, they would be drawn back here, and given a new body, so that he could send them out once more.
With that done, it was time for Cadien to turn his attention back to a rather more important matter: the souls that were due to arrive. They would need accommodation, and so he swiftly set himself to the task, raising vast quantities of islands within his realm. On these islands he created structures: collesseums, villages, taverns. Some islands were left empty, to be used for battlefields or athletic activities. They were connected by a series of ornate marble bridges, to allow easy passage.
The God of Perfection built and built, occasionally stopping to destroy a creation he was unsatisfied with so that he could remake it. He lost track of time, but when he was finished, Meliorem’s new islands extended far beyond the horizon.
Cadien buffs the Black Hussars so that upon death their souls automatically come to his realm and are given new bodies. He then starts remodelling his realm so that it can hold vast quantities of people.
Cadien Beginning MP: 5 Beginning DP: 5 -2MP to create the title “Deathless II.” Upon death, members of this Holy Order have their souls teleported back to Meliorem, where they are reformed into a new body. Sending them back to Galbar will still require additional MP. Ending MP: 3 Ending DP: 5
Member
Lord Zee
Frettzo
Eviledd1984
King of Rats
Vec
Noctis
