Nestled into a northern corner of Sunstrider territory, southeast of Brightshield, was the settlement of Moon Sleep.
It was a quiet farming village before it was raided by the Sigerians and the survivors were forced southward to the safety of the Rest.
Having secured the northmost border at Brightshield, there was a strong push to resettle and fortify the surrounding settlements.
However, while attempting to rebuild Moon Sleep, they encountered something alien.
Nil, a midnight watcher, was among those called upon by the queen to investigate the matter.
When he first arrived, he could see the town as it was, as he had remembered it from his childhood before the war. He was not sure if it was his power or something else, but it soon gave way to the ugly present.
He encountered the entity which stalked the town, described by others as an ethereal monster or a malicious miasma, he could see beyond that and see his brother, the brother who had died along with the town. He could see him calling out in pain. He also saw something out of the corner of his eye, a large black door. It was as though it was always there, but he finally shifted his head far enough to see it. He turned his focus to it, and every instinct that he screamed at him to run, that if he stared too long, it would take him. The other watchers saw it too, but it appeared to them in different forms, but each could feel the dreadful predatory aura.
After a few days, the teaching whisper, the collective name for the visions which taught them augury, told them about a new power which could defeat the menace, however it also spoke about how they were not ready to receive it. It seemed to display resistance to telling them what they needed to do, it was the first time any of the present watchers had experienced hesitancy from a vision.
Nil had meditated on the subject, each day feeling the suffering of his brother prolonged, and each day he grew more desperate to seek the answer to the power to end it.
In his frantic search for an answer, he examined the black door for far longer than any of his peers. The door refused to relinquish any of its secrets, except for one, he caught a glimpse of something extraordinarily powerful on the other side.
The sensation caused him to double over in pain, and nearly caused the vision to fade but he stubbornly clinged to it for any scrap of knowledge it could provide and as door began to become further and further away before his senses returned to normal, he caught one of whisper, an echo of his brother climbing out of the door.
Whatever rested on the side, it must surely have an answer to free his brother from his torment, though he did not think that it would grant it willingly. He did not expect to survive his foolhardy, but he could not do nothing, nor could he bring himself to endanger anyone else.
He told himself it was his cowardice that lead to his brother's death, and likely his current suffering. He could not let this stand, regardless of the imaginable risk.
As he prepared for what came next, he told himself that he would not die with regrets.
Kirin’s Rest is attempting to fortify its borders by reclaiming the cities that were at the fringes of the Sunstrider territory. One of these towns, Moon Sleep was haunted by a mysterious entity, a ghost, which drew the attention of the midnight watchers, including one who witnessed the Sigerian raid that caused the town to be abandoned.
Through his visions, he comes to realize that the entity is his brother, suffering some horrible fate. And that the star god has granted them some power to handle the situation, but it is incomplete and they are not receiving instruction on how to properly wield it.
He also sees a large black gate, which is something that he instinctively repulsed by, but his curiosity wins out and he realizes that not only did his brother pass through the gate, but that there is something very powerful on the other side.
Wrecked with grief, he promised himself he will do everything he can to save his brother.
Starting: 5MP/ 5DP Ending: 5MP/ 2DP
Grave Sense (1DP, discounted by Augury): Augurs are naturally attuned to the divine energies of Galbar, however they are particular keen to death energies of Aquibeophates. Most Augurs will be able to immediately sense the presence of nearby undead or understand whenever something within arm's reach is imbued with death energy. However, trained Augurs are able to do more, such as identity and track undead.
Ghostbane (2DP): Death can not be learned, only experienced. In order to have access to this power, a person must have an encounter with potent death energies or a near death experience before or during becoming an augur.
Augurs who meet the requirements, and hone this dreadful art have the ability to use their magics to manipulate death energy in a way that makes it effective against undead.
The most basic form allows an Augur to use their sorcerous fortune to allow their weapons to slice at the invisible bonds tying them to Galbar or allowing them to use thaumaturgy to quickly repel them whether or not they have form.
This can be used in conjunction with any form of magic that can be used in concert with augury. With the appropriate skills, a person can cast a spell to bind an undead within a circle or make a druidic plead to barrage them with rocks that can strike at their being.
Three young men gathered around behind a shed, each one carrying a semblance of the clubs wielding by the Stone Mauls. They each had at least a grandparent who belonged to the clan, but their blood was far more mixed than they would like to admit. Blood purity is not a large aspect of Stone Maul culture, but living in occupied lands, people cling to what they can.
They spoke in harsh whispers about the rumors of dissidents being taken from their homes in nearby cities to be slaves for the Dûnan priestly elites, and how the negotiations with the leader of the town had broken down and the Kirinians were leaving soon.
More conspiratorial thinking crept into the conversation, someone mentioning that they heard someone say that the Kirinians were leaving because the leader had already decided to join the greater Ha-Dûna hegemony. Another that he had heard a rumor from that the defeat of the Sigerans was merely a trick and that so-called thralls would be sacrificed to the dark god. And various other unfounded claims keep slipping into the conversation, while none were taken at face-value, they keep feeding the fear and anger towards the Dûnans.
A druid found the three boys whispering, telling them that they couldn’t discuss this here. They were angry at first, until they realized he was wearing Stonemaul druid garb and what he was actually saying. He led them to a gathering of people who support Kirin’s Rest.
They were rallied by a gaardskarl of all people, a seasoned warrior and pious man, known by the name Enki. Many of those gathered were hesitant by his presence, especially as he made no attempt to hide his heritage, but their apprehension faded as he spoke. His voice had a deep anger to it, but it spoke to their anger. He told stories his family would tell him about Ketrafa, drawing stark parallels to it and Ha-Dûna. He told his story about how he was rejected and pushed away from the Dûnan military after the battle of Grimholt as he did not trust Sigeran from the beginning. And he said that tomorrow there would be a new story that they will tell their children about why they would never have to suffer from Ha-Dûnan tyranny.
The next day, the assembled force claimed Ha-Gaard. There was hardly any fighting. The Kirin loyalists were about equal to Ha-Dûna loyalists, and both combined were outnumbered by those who were neutral, but the Kirin Loyalists were the one to attack first, they were armed and surrounded by allies. A few of the more brash Dûnan supporters attempted to fight back, but they were suppressed quickly.
Enki claimed the town and pronounced his fealty to the queen of Kirin’s Rest, and that henceforth, it would be renamed Bright-Shield.
A messenger was sent to inform the nearby Kirinian outposts that they no longer needed to leave, they were not surprised by this turn of events. They never started making preparations to leave. One female light-wing, whose butterfly pendant was painted with bright purple and greens seemed particularly pleased at her work, while Sid seemed a bit more apprehensive at how this was achieved though still relieved that it was.
The Dûnan loyalists were to either confess loyalty to the Kirin Queen in the name of the druidic gods or were forced to gather their possessions and were expelled to the north. While the fortification remained, the road between the city and Ha-Duna was reopened, however there was already talk of potential taxes placed upon Dûnan traders. Only three families and a few extra odd people left the city, and very little actually changed within it, though little was done to quell the tension between the two nations the city now bordered.
Using the Dûnan policy of taking political enemies prisoner, Kirin Lightwings stoke the fears of the town of Ha-Gaard, and spread the rumor that they are withdrawing with the potential that Ha-Dûna claiming the town.
This spurs the Kirin loyalists to actions, led by a gaardskarl named Enki, who was spurred by Ha-Dûna due to him never accepting Sigeran as a god. The group prepared for a fight, but there was little more than some shortly ended street brawls as most people recognized they could not defeat them in a fight as they were unprepared and surrounded.
Enki renames the city to Bright-Shield and declares his loyalty to the Kirin Queen. Very little changed during this transition though a small number of people left rather than be governed by the Rest.
The Quasar, a realm of harsh light and sheer darkness, began to shift. It was still defined by the contrast, but the zones of consisting of these extremes began to grow smaller and smaller, divided by a thin sliver of twilight. Forming into orbs of brightness and shadow which shifted around at variable speed and directions.
Nemea sat on one of the few perches within the realm, watching the occurrence with some interest, the space they resided in did not seem immediately impacted by the changes. However, what was happening was difficult to perceive without divine senses. One by one, the orbs began to manifest anomalies. One was hot as lava in one second, and let was cold as ice in the next. A piece of debris flew into another and was then wildly launched out. Sparks danced at the edge of another, and let never crossed the threshold. Each of the events were confined into their own spaces, except for one. It escaped its sphere and moved freely through the void.
Sirius was contemplating his conversation with patron of mana when he felt the freely moving force pass over him. It felt nice, he recognized it was of Galbar but he had never had a chance to experience it for himself. It awoke him from his stupor, and he noticed the chaos that his residence has been cast into.
The wind began to rage as Sirius self-reflected, the harsh lights and shadows of his plane vanished and were replaced by the expanding twilight. The god recognized that his realm needed to change. That he needed to change.
Ethereal pathways of tangible soft purple light formed starting from the door of his realm and expanded outwards in a labyrinthine manner across its entirety, zigzagging up and down forming many layers of walkways. Bolts of lightning would generate behind and beside the pathways and seemingly follow them to unknown destinations. The temperature of his realm would quickly shift at random, but if a creature was within it, it would always be tolerable for them so long as they remained in the good graces of its master. In fact, the entire realm became far more habitable for any potential visitors, as most beings would be able to see fine within the dim light that now subsumed it, though some absolute light and darkness remained as pillars extending vertically, no pathway passed through them. The lightning that traversed the realm would be harmlessly pass through anyone whom Sirius did not wish harm upon. Despite the size and complexity of the pathways, guests would never get lost wandering them and would have to try to jump off the platform they were standing on in order to fall down. If they did choose to fall a measure below the lowest platform, an unseen force would catch them and gently return them to the walkway. As for someone who was outside of Sirius' good graces, it is unwise to offend a god within their domain.
In addition, a gentle breeze would almost always be blowing, typically in the direction of Sirius when he was present. And when he was present, his door remained open in contrast to the few decades since it was first built. He created a new stone perch for Nemea so that was closer to the entrance so that she could watch over it.
Sirius appreciated his new found power. He was sure that he would make good use of it.
Starting: 5/5 Ending: 0/5
-5 MP: Obtained the Alacrity Domain: Through his other providences of stars and magic, Sirius has obtained mastery of a fundamental aspect of reality, motion.
This has granted him power of the physical laws of acceleration, temperature and electromagnetism, allowing him to manipulate gravity, freeze or burn objects, magnetize a metal, or create bolts of lightning. However, he does not any greater control of the elements broadly. He can create lightning bolts and change the direction and speed of the winds, but he can not spawn rain clouds. He can freeze water or change its current, but once he has frozen it, he can not then shape the ice.
This power also grants him power over the freedom of mortal, and to permit them to move as they wish. In addition to making them run faster and jump higher, he can destroy the bonds that restrict body or mind, physical or otherwise.
Finally, he can grant the ability to move in certain ways, and/or change a creatures form to be better suited to that motion. He can grant a creature the ability to swim, and cause them to have webbed feet, but he could not give them gills to breathe underwater or modify their eyes to better see underwater. He could give a human the ability to fly, and then grant them wings to better be able to maneuver in the air.
Sirius is contemplating his conversation with Qael, and his remain starts devolving into chaos. Wind starts blowing through the void, and breezes past Sirius, who thought it was nice but it also caused him to notice the madness happening around him. He decides that it is time to change his realm and himself, and obtains the alacrity domain and redecorates his realm. It is now 3d labyrinth of solid-light pathways cast in twilight, that has shifting temperatures, bolts of lightning flying around, pillars of absolute light and darkness and has a gentle breeze blowing through it. It is safe so long as you remain in Sirius' good graces, with even the lightning harmlessly passing through you, otherwise good luck.
He also decided to leave his door open while he was home, but leaves his giant leon a perch near it to better watch who enters.
The warriors of the Rest gathered in an encampment some distance away from the village of Ha-Gaard, an old Dûnan settlement that became independent during the civil war. A panicked Sid looked over the regional map carved into a wooden table, the colorful butterfly insignia affixed to his shoulder.
He heard a loud voice calling his name before turning around and seeing a large woman in her early thirties, still able to carry her war maul with ease. Sid was relieved, respectfully bowing, “Hail Lara. I thought you were handling an issue in the farmlands south of the capital?”
Lara smirked, walking up to the table and examining it closely, “I was making the journey home as you were off to go fight the kins-eater. There were a few trolls that my warband dispatched. Tell me, how has the expansion been faring?”
Sid nodded, “Tak is reconsolidating the former sunstrider territories. The queen and Rik have returned to the capital. Before I left, I had heard that Hera was attempting to make peace and recruit the true sons. The Constellars have been attempting to map the region and improve the roads.”
Lara raised an eyebrow at the mention of the true sons, “They are strange people, but I can’t not say that they aren’t skilled warriors. And I have been informed of Tak’s plan, and it seems reasonable enough. How have the negotiations with Ha-gaard been going?”
Sighing, Sid replied, “It has been my responsibility to have such talks, and they insist they must remain neutral. I have seen their settlement, and they follow the Dunans example far closer than our own, I fear that they will side with them if there were ever a war.”
Lara looked at the map again, “That is concerning. If the Dunans were to take Ha-Gaard, they would be in striking distance of Sungrace.” she paused and thought for a moment, “Right now, it is not a pressing matter to claim Ha-Gaard, but we can not allow the Dunans to have a foothold into our lands. We should reposition here.” she said, pointing to a spot on the map that was closer to the settlement, “And fortify it, and create another position here.” she pointed to a point off the map that was adjacent to the path between Ha-Dûna and Ha-Gaard.
Sid seemed a bit concerned, “Do you think that might just provoke the Dunans?”
Lara looked down at the map one last time, “It could, but if we were to provoke them, we must do it now. If we delay, we only give them a chance to regroup and prepare their assault against us. Send word to Tak and the queen that ”
Some time later, Lara looked out over the path.The encampment was built into the ground and soldiers were busy felling trees and sharpening them into spikes to be buried into the ground and point outwards to any would be attackers. They have been keeping lookout for any travelers and sending them back in the direction that they came. Lara thought about how the negotiations with Ha-Gaard have become more strained, and the pressure she had placed upon the city, but she also thought to herself how they were reclaiming lands that were already theirs and Kirin’s Rest have been compensating in food and essentials more so than what they lost in trade with the north. She could hardly be moved that they were cut off from their supply of pipe-smoke, the mind-rotting junk that it is.
Then, one day not too long after the erection of the camps, down the path between the crags leading north, there came a highland elk, topped with a white-cloaked individual. The rider was flanked on each side by ten warriors, all of whom wore their clan plaids thick to ward off the cold. Two carried spears from which tops banners danced in the wind - the green Hir, the emblem of Ha-Dûna.
A horn was sounded in response, the warriors stopping any construction they were doing to cautiously grab their weapons and stand near what fortifications have already been made.
Lara approached with two other guards, striding up to them and stating matter of factly, “The path is closed.”
The rider on the elk looked around and nodded slowly. “So it seems, so it seems. That will certainly be an issue for me and my men, that.” She pulled off her hood to reveal a wrinkly, smile missing several teeth, attached to a round head with graying hair. “I suppose we will have to talk to you to pass through, then?”
Looking annoyed, Lara grunted, “You would, and the answer is no. The path will be reopened whenever we come to a settlement with Ha-Gaard. Until then, you can leave.”
The old lady pursed her lips. “Oh, there are negotiations ongoing, is that it? Forgive us, forgive us.” She cleared her throat. “I am Kaer Oyen of the Sanndatr Boudicca’s new court of Ha-Dûna. A few days ago, we received a most distressing message from our dear friends in this here town about a most unfortunate event - it seemed that they had been surrounded by folk with quite malicious intent, indeed.” She raised a brow. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen them anywhere, would you?”
Lara looked at the druid directly, “I get enough riddles from the watchers, you can speak plainly or not at all.”
Kaer Oyen sighed quietly, barely audible in the winter breeze. “Now, now, we’re just having a friendly conversation now, aren’t we? We ask for nothing more than passage into the town so we may offer them gifts from the capital and make sure all is well. If, by chance, though, someone -were- to be blockading our vassal from the world, then, well…” She shrugged. “But that’s not what’s happening here, right?” she finished with a grin.
Still unfazed, Lara retorted, “If you want clarification, so be it. They are not your vassal. They are free to leave from the other path. And you are free to leave from this one.”
“If they didn’t consider us close, at least, then we would never have come at all. To take from them their freedom to connect with the capital - to which their culture is quite connected, indeed - is nothing short, dare I say, cruel.” She unpocketed a small leather pouch. “Let us at the very least bring them some pipeweed. They were quite adamant in their words that supplies lately had been rather… Dry.”
“Cruelty, are you sure the gods still permit you that word? If this delivery is truly that important, then you can make the longer journey can you not. We would not stop you from that.” she replied.
“Then so we will,” conceded the druid with a smile. “Just remember that these people are free to live just the way they want - such is the law of the Dlíbók, after all.” And with that, the elk and its escort turned back to begin the arduous journey to circumvent the blockade.
The trek cost them an extra afternoon, needing to journey around a number of impassable crags and highrises, but eventually, they reached the southern gate, where the druid spread her hands invitingly and announced, “People of Ha-Gaard - you need no longer fear! Ha-Dûna does not forget its friends so easily, and we have come with gifts of pipeweed, oat cakes, cheese and stockfish - the fruits of the north! Come, come help yourselves! Let none go unsatiated tonight!” The soldiers, many of whom had been pulling pulks and sleds with them, began unloading the cargo to share it with the approaching villagers. Kaer Oyen herself dismounted and went around offering encouraging blessings to the townsfolk.
“Worry not, my daughter,” she said to a pregnant woman. “You child will be born under the sun in a free world, safe and unmolested by foreign forces.”
She moved on to a group of young men. “Remember, you always have a friend willing to do anything for you to the north. Our people, we look out for each other.” She then patted one of them on the shoulder before moving to a colleague of hers, a local druid who eyes her with anxious neutrality. Kaer Oyen smiled her warmest smile and took his hand.
“Oh, my dear brother, fear not the future. The Eight will surely bring this war-torn land to a most harmonious peace in time.”
The druid looked away. “But is there a place for me in Ha-Dûna, sister? Druid, I may be, but my blood is southern, and my dialect would be foreign to the northerners. I…” Kaer Oyen stopped him by raising her palm. A crowd had gathered around her, though they kept their distance.
“What is your name, brother?”
“It’s Keon.”
“Remember your title, brother - wear it with honour.”
The druid seemed reluctant. “Forgive me… Some of the locals don’t always take too kindly to it. It’s too… Too…”
“Too Dûnan?” smiled the crone. The druid didn’t nod so much as vibrate his head up and down. Kaer Oyen chuckled softly and retrieved a small clay disk from her pouch. Upon it was an inscription, unintelligible to the druid and any of the onlookers. He turned the disk in his hand and raised a brow.
“What is this?”
The crone grabbed his hand and held it aloft, turning to the crowd. “This druid fears to use his title, one he has earned from a man’s age of study and devotion of the gods, all because of strife between our peoples! Let everyone know that no such discrimination will be cast over you in the north. To the north, you have family, friends.” She pointed to the disk in Keon’s hand. “This disk grants you free use of any Dûnan resthouse wherever you go. As always, we welcome our southern kin to join the fold once more. Together, the people of the Dûnlands are strong.” She let Keon’s hand go, and the druid stepped back to join the crowd. Kaer Oyen looked around invitingly. “Has anyone here not gotten their gift?”
“We want no gifts of yours, Dûnan!” came a sharp remark from the crowd, joined by some voices. Kaer Oyen kept her toothless grin and beckoned invitingly.
“And who are you, young man?”
“I am Pra, proud son of the Stonemauls, whose lineage has lived here for ages upon ages before your warmongering flock came and destroyed everything!” The crowd parted to reveal a group of eight youths aged anywhere between sixteen and their late twenties. The oldest, Pra, stood at the front, a club in his hand with a large stone tied to it at the end. “Now, you will be given to the count of ten to turn around and leave, or we’ll give you a reason to never return.”
The Dûnan soldiers who were no longer handing out goods quickly made their way over, but Kaer Oyen waved them away. She then turned back to Pra. “What is the source of your anger, my son?”
Pra recoiled somewhat. “Are you daft, old crone?! You and your people - you have taken my clan’s land and still now infringe upon our right to reclaim it!”
“What, -your- right to reclaim it?” came another voice. Pra quieted down and the crowd parted to show yet another group, led by a local shepherd, judging from his staff.
“Dreigen,” greeted Pra out of sheer politeness alone.
“Let the druid speak, you disrespectful troll! She has been kinder to us than your clan has of late!”
“You don’t get a say here, Dreigen,” Pra retorted. “There’s too much of them in you - be quiet for your own good.”
“Well, there’s obviously not enough of them in you now, is there?”
Pra stormed across the empty space in the centre of the crowd. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Ha-Gaard is a freehold, and right now, the Stonemauls are outside our northern gate, forcing our traders to trek the dangerous path around the hills just to journey north to sell their goods. Yet here you shun those who have come to us with gifts in this trying time - given back what little luxuries even the common folk can enjoy: pipeweed, oat cakes--”
Pra spat on the ground. “Your mind’s gone soft from all that smoking, man. Too soft to see what these luxuries have turned you into - a slave of the north!” The argument between the various groups in the crowd grew louder. Kaer Oyen stood waiting patiently, and then one of her guardsmen came over to her and bowed curtly, as was custom.
“All the gifts have been given away, mother.”
“Good, good. I will remain a little longer. Please, go around town and offer your aid to anyone who might need it. We might stay here for a night or so, if we can.”
“Yes, mother.”
As the Dûnans traversed the city, they found a small crowd of people gathering around Sid in traditional stone-maul dress, however he had the colorful butterfly insignia pinned into his shoulder. They could hear the trail-end of his story, “And so the Dunans paid for their hubris, and were permitted to return to their homes. They may reach out to you as brothers for the time being, but when have they done so in the past, and think carefully if they will do so in the future.”
The Dûnans exchanged looks, but it seemed as though they elected to ignore it. Instead, they each found themselves a plank or a large bone and began shovelling the roads free of snow, wordlessly. Others searched out labourers lifting heavy objects to ask to help them. It was clear that they showed disdain for the message, though, for they would cast glares at Sid every now and then between shovels and lifts.
Sid continued his stories, “And remember the most of profane of days, devoted to the most profane of gods. When Reya turned his vision from the city of Ha-Dûna, and Seros sent away his divine messenger from the cursed celebration to the more pious people of the Westfold.”
“Hey!” exclaimed one of the Dûnans. “That was the Sigerans and you bloody well know it!” She was immediately grabbed by the shoulder by her partner and pulled back into shoveling.
“Gione, you be quiet!” said her partner and cast Sid a glare that could melt iron.
Sid continued, “And where did the Sigerans come from? Did they come from the native peoples of the Westfold? Did they appear by divine providence? The privileged Dunans and their first sons were ravaging the land before they started worshipping the profane god. The land of the native peoples and the land of their younger siblings.”
The Dûnans whispered to one another and collectively decided to straighten themselves up and move to a different part of the town. Although “collective” was less of a unanimous decision and more of a forceful migration initiated by the most senior among them. One could tell the youngest were all but ready to draw axes.
In the end, after days of loudening arguments and occasional turns to blows, the Dûnans felt that the tide had begun to turn on them. The druid leading them decided to sound their retreat back to their capital before the brawls could turn into bloodbaths, and while many sympathisers came to bid them farewell at the backgate, larger still was the crowd cursing them and celebrating their exit. With great effort and discipline (and disciplinary action exercised on the youngest among them), the Dûnans hadn’t started a single conflict where words came to blows. In their defeat, as well, they decided to plant a final seed of hope for their cause for any willing to cultivate it.
“Should your new allies turn on you, you will always have friends to the north,” Kaer Oyen had announced as her final words to the Gaardans. Then they had journeyed into the snows once more.
The Kirin Army continued their expansion into abandoned or sympathetic territories. As was the initial plan, they expanded to Ha-Gaard, however they were resistant, and attempted to choose neutrality. Fearing that Ha-Dûna would take over the city, and give them a staging ground into their territories as they were reconsolidating, they moved around the city to establish a fortified position to blockade traffic from Ha-Gaard and Ha-Dûna.
Becoming aware of this news, Ha-Dûna sent their diplomatic mission to the area, and provide gifts to Gaardans. They were forced to go the long way around the city, but did and attempted to bring the people into their cultural sphere with weed and cookies.
While giving aid to people, they encountered Sid, who was telling stories about how they should side with Kirin’s Rest. One of the younger Dûnans went for their weapons, but their leader stopped him.
The situation is tense, with sympathizers on both sides though violence is mostly contained to street brawls if anything. The Dûnans left, but Kirin’s Rest still does not have more than tenionous control over the road.
16k characters Circle of the Long Stride 7 + 5 = 12
“Father, you should really reconsider. Flowers grow among the roots of the red-leaf tree that smelled of corpses, and the mad woman in front of the stall, I heard rumor that she had the ear of the queen now. You saw how her bindings came undue with her barely moving at all. It might not be a god, but I believe we have offended something we should have not.” he said, walking through the finely tended gardens of his families’ dwelling.
“Silence. Can’t you see I am working.” Fasthus said, taking a tap and jamming into a weak spot of the tree. The tree was harder than normal, and it took several jabs to lodge it to get at the valuable sap. When finally it dug into the tree, for a moment there was an eerie nothingness. Sound and color seemed to vanish, and when they returned, the crimson hue of the mystical tree was replaced by an eerie purple.
Vines sprouted from the ground, and grabbed around the slavers neck. He manifested a flame within his hand and used it to sever the vines from the ground as his son stood there paralysed. As he did, more vines began to grow around him and grab it which attempted to fend them off with his conjured flame when something shot out from the tap. By time he noticed, thorns covered in the sap impaled his chest. They didn’t hurt, but as he tried to wave the fire around to save himself, it vanished.
He seemed to attempt to recall it or do something, but could not. He grabbed the tap and tried to use it as a make-shift dagger to free himself. Fasthus called out to his son, “Help me get out of this. Help.”
He was still stunned, but he made one step towards his father until he heard a voice, a powerful, cold, deathly whisper, “Don’t.”
He ran.
He ran towards the city with all of his might. As he did, he noticed the area around him change and shift. Tree leaves became either blood red or oddly purple. Thorn bushes and vines sprouted at unnatural speeds, and strange face-like growths expanded outwards from wood. The strange, corpse-smelling flower began to dot the area. At times he would turn around and see more trees than he thought was there before as the forest appeared denser than was moments prior.
He didn’t need to run far, but his mind could try to suppress the thought of what it would be like when the ghastly changes were finished, or how much land was affected by the sudden metamorphosis.
As were, the student of the kindly one was teaching a mystic about augury. She felt something, and that feeling carried over and impacted on the mystic, who could only feel a dark, uncaring coldness from her fingertips that began to creep up her arm threatening to completely subsume them. When the mystic looked up to see the women’s reaction, it was a warm, genuine smile. “And so the defiler feeds the earth for his crime. I suggest avoiding the purple forest as it will be bad for your health.” There was a silence as the presence left, and the teacher continued as though nothing was the matter and continued her lesson.
Fasthus, a slaver who used the sap of a red-star maple as part of a poison for his trade is trying to get more sap while one of his sons tries to talk him out of it as weird things have happened and it seems like he has offended some higher power.
Fasthus ignores these warnings and attempts to draw more sap from the tree. Vines sprout from the ground and try to kill him. He uses magic to fend them off until thorns covered with the sap shot into him and he loses his magic. He calls for his son’s help as he used the tap to try to fend off the vines, but his son hears angry Sirius telling him don’t do that and he runs noticing how Sirius is turning the surrounding woods into a not-good area.
The augur devoted to Sirius in Angebad is teaching a mystic how to perform augury when Sirius tells her that Fasthus, the defiler, is dead. The mystic feels this, but perceives this as the cold of space trying to eat him. The augur is happy, warning the mystic that going into the woods would be bad for his health, before continuing with the lesson.
Starting: 5/5 Ending: 0/3 -2 MP: Small Ecosystem: Shifted part of the ecosystem around Angebad to be denser and creepier.
-3 MP/-2DP: Holy Site: The Magebane Forest Vengeful Woods 3: Plants and fungus in the area are unnatural shades of red and purple and grow in unnatural and unsettling shapes. Any attempt to harm plant or fungus life within the region will result in retaliation through any number of magic means, such as launching thorns, ensnaring vines, swing branches, etc. Retaliations are initially proportional to the damage inflicted, but they get harsher with each reprisal. If a person is compelled to harm the plants, then the plants will attempt to attack the person compelling to do so. If they are unable, they will instead attempt to pull the compelled person through it and to the other side of itself. In addition, they are more resilient to damage and regrow rapidly.
Manabane Poison 2: Certain plants within the region produce a particular poison that causes people to lose the ability to use mana magic but gives them greater resistance to it. It loses its potency after being harvested except by a skilled magician devote to Sirius. The more they exposed to it, they longer the effect lasts until it is virtually permenant. In the very heart of the cursed woods, there are flowers that can cured the ailment.
Hera walked the path leading the village of the True Sons. Her clan had frequently clashed with them, but they were one of the larger and more established clans within the immediate region and gaining their support could be a great boon to the people of the Rest.
She was accompanied by four guards carrying large stone mauls and had slings affixed to their belt, as a Stonemaul druid and a blindfolded watcher. The group walked towards the palisade walls, but stopped a respectable distance away though close enough to call to the three guards wearing quillat hide armor, “On behalf of Queen Kira of the Stonemaul and of Kirin’s Rest, as her sister I have came to discuss matters of peace.”
The three guards exchanged glances, before one of them - the leader - stepped forward. “You may follow me, then,” he said, “but you must leave your weapons here.”
Hera nodded to her men, and buried their clubs into ground and then laid their slings over them, and the group approached.
The leader of the guards shouted a command, and the pallisade gates swung open. Without further words he led them into the village known as Kadan’s Hold. The largest structure in the village was also the most visible; the chieftain’s longhouse, placed atop a hill. That was their destination.
As they walked, the inhabitants were going about their everyday lives, occasionally giving the visitors glances of suspicion or curiosity. They passed the village temple, where a priest within could be heard giving a sermon. Then, eventually, they reached the base of the hill and began ascending it up to the longhouse itself.
The doors swung open and they entered a vestibule area, blocked off from the rest of the longhouse by a long, thick curtain. “Wait here,” their guide instructed - the first words he had spoken to them since their arrival, and with that he stepped through the curtain, leaving them to wait for several long moments.
Eventually, the guard returned. “His lordship will see you now,” he said simply, holding the curtain open.
Hera walked past the curtain and into the longhouse’s main room. There was a central firepit, currently empty, and two tables on the other side. On the far end was a throne, and sitting upon it was the lord of the True Sons. He was a young man, perhaps mid-twenties, who wore furs and a crown of bone.
“I am Lord Ryker. I speak for the True Sons,” he said as she walked in. “What brings you here?”
Hera bowed respectfully, “I came to speak of peace and union. I understand in the past that the Stone Mauls and True Sons feuded, but the highlands are changing and we must adapt. As you must have heard, the Kirin’s Rest is expanding and we wish that you will join us as we march into this new world.”
Lord Ryker snorted. “And why would we do that? What would joining you even entail?”
She calmly replied, “The Dunans have stopped their aggression for the time, but do you believe that this will last? Or what of the next threat to our peoples, whether it be mundane invaders or terrible monstrosity. Divided we were weak, and that is how they managed to gain a foothold into these lands in order to terrorize us. We ask that you respect the authority of the queen, but we are willing to generously compensate for joining this union.”
“You would buy my loyalty?” he asked her. “Pay me to side with one band of heretics over another?” He shook his head. “We do not need your aid. The True Father of Humanity watches over us. We, who have remained loyal, and remembered our history. It is you who should respect our authority.”
“This alliance would be more valuable than what mere materials can afford.” she replied, “But I hold that you have not forgotten how strong we were before, and we have only grown strong since. I pray that we do not turn that against the people of the land again, but do not think I can be easily threatened.”
“I have made no threats. You, on the other hand…” he glared at her for a moment. “If you seek to subjugate us, we have fended you off before, and can do so again. The Ha-Dunans, too, for Kadan watches over us.”
Hera paused, “I did not come here to subjugate you. If we wish to do so, my sister would have brought the warbands to your gates instead. No, instead I offer myself to create a union between Stone Mauls and True Sons.”
Ryker raised an eyebrow in surprise. “And in return, you would have me kneel before your sister?”
“We ask that your respect the throne and its commandments, but you may do so on your feet as lord of this settlement.” she replied.
He leaned back in his chair, much of his hostility and wariness suddenly gone. He was quiet for a time, as he gave the offer serious thought. “If I were to accept such an agreement,” he began somewhat guardedly, “I would only do so if the one I was yielding to would acknowledge Kadan and Endra as mankind’s creators and patrons. And I would expect any woman I married to do the same.”
“We shall build the appropriate shrines to Kadan and Endra, and I shall make the proper commitments to the ceremony. But we can not make those acknowledgements as a kingdom, we would lose to many supporters close to us. It is the one price that we can not pay.”
Ryker frowned. “You fear the consequences of speaking the truth,” he stated simply, his previous arrogance returning. “Whatever fools turn against you for doing so are not worth keeping around. And whatever support you lose will be more than made up for with the support of mankind’s creator.”
Hera stood firm, “We fear the consequences of imposing your truth upon our diverse people, or the consequences of so quickly abandoning those who have built us up into the sky for a blind promise. Would you even think of joining us willingly if we were to force our faith upon you? Why should we expect the same of the others? We do believe this union will only strengthen both of us, but not at the cost of the people who allowed us to make it.”
“The difference is, my faith is true,” Ryker countered. “Tell me. How do your people believe mankind came to be?”
“I can not say, and many of our people can not either. But they still will not be pleased to be compelled to your faith, regardless of how much you proclaim it true. But there is also the matter of those who do have their stories, such as our sister tribe who believe us to be the grand-children of the sun. If you wish, I could sing you a thousand songs of the origin of man, and a thousand people hold them each true.” Hera stated.
“A thousand people would be wrong,” Ryker countered. “And there lies our problem. You may claim you wish to respect our faith. Your sister may even honour that promise within her lifetime. But what of her sons and daughters? What of their sons and daughters? They may break that pact, and turn on us, or attempt to lead us astray. In order for a people to stay united, they must have a common faith, and ours is the only true one.”
True as it may be, a deep, ethereal voice echoed in the minds of all those present. I do believe you have missed her point.
The watcher fell to the floor, with one of the guards quickly catching him and gently bringing him to the ground. Hera’s face paled, but looked to her men and at the watcher and went down on one knee, with her men quickly following.
Ryker seemed just as startled, the aura of insufferably smug confidence he had just been radiating having shattered completely. He placed a white-knuckled hand on the armrest of his throne, pushed himself to his feet, and this quickly fell to his knees. “Your Grace…” he whispered.
Ryker, was it? the voice asked. I believe your father once served as my avatar for a time, did he not? Ryker nodded quickly. Yes. I thought so. It is good to see that you remembered his teachings. Truly, your faith and loyalty are appreciated. But, you should be a bit more respectful to your guests.
Ryker stammered. “Your-Your Grace. I… I only…”
Enough. You cannot convince someone by shouting at them that they are wrong, no more than you can tame a wolf by commanding it to stop eating sheep. The voice fell silent. As for you. Hera, was it? I must say, it is quite disappointing to see how many of my creations have forgotten me. It probably isn’t within your memory, but do you have any idea on how that came to be for your people?
Hera was soundless mouthing a hymn, and did not recognize that she was until the divine voice spoke to her, “I do not. Only that our peoples have been shaped by the highlands, as the highlands have been shaped by us.”
Hm. How disappointing, the voice remarked. It is a rare thing for me to reach out to my more wayward creations, you must know. Anyhow. Ryker. The deal you were offered seems a fair one, and I myself will not be particularly slighted if you accept. If any treachery is planned, then I shall see it avenged tenfold. As for you, Hera, it is my hope that your people shall eventually come to embrace their true history as a result of this union. So know that it has my blessing.
Hera paused, she attempted to hide it but her breathing was heavy. She clasped her hands together, bowed her head, “To the glory of the gods.” as though she was ending a prayer. “And so, in light of your god’s revelation, what is your answer?”
Ryker rose to his feet, with his guards doing the same. He stared at her for several long moments, as if he was still weighing her offer, or perhaps trying to get over the fact that a god had spoken to him at all. “I accept,” he said at last.
Hera and her people also stood, one of the soldiers was needed to physically help the watcher up. “I will then need to return home in order to inform the queen of your decision and to gather my possessions and return with the proper company within a lunar cycle to make the arrangements and plans.”
“I shall accompany you,” Ryker decided. “I may as well meet your queen in person. Besides, it will give me time to get to know my future wife,” he offered her a smile. “You and your men are also free to dine with me and stay the night. And…” his smile weakened slightly, as he had to figuratively swallow his pride for what came next, “I apologize for my previous lack of hospitality.”
Hera’s eyes widened at the mention of meeting her sister, but she quickly blinked it away and attempted to return the smile, “Your apology is accepted, and I humbly accept your invitation of hospitality and company.”
Hera, sister to the queen of Kirin’s Rest, arrives at a village called Kadan’s Hold, owned by a tribe known as the True Sons - a diehard band of almost-fanatical Cadien worshipers who have had a rocky relationship with them in the past. Despite holding only a single village they’re quite powerful and influential for their size.
The True Sons are led by Lord Ryker, whose father is implied to have briefly been possessed by Mekellos (this was after Ryker was born, however.) Hera asks that they peacefully join the kingdom, and Ryker immediately refuses. She attempts to sweeten the deal by offering herself in a political marriage, but Ryker insists that both she and her sister publicly accept Cadien and Evandra as the true creators of humanity.
She refuses on the basis that it would be politically unwise (most of Kirin’s Rest worships their own brand of the Druidic Pantheon, and don’t have common ground on how humanity was created) and a bit of back-and-forth ensues, until Cadien himself intervenes and says it’s a good deal he should stop being such a dick. At the same time he also reinforces Ryker’s beliefs and encourages Hera to accept them. Then he’s out.
Ryker, humbled by this experience, accepts the offer and apologizes for his behaviour. He and Hera make plans to travel back to Kirin’s Rest.
Gamla surveyed the amassing flock of people stacking bags, pots and baskets on sleds and pulks, some tied to elks, some tied to cattle, and some pulled by people. The snow had laid itself thick on the ground, so the trek to Ha-Dûna would be long and arduous. He pulled his woolen socks higher up and his woolen kilt further down over his knees. His plaid was wrapped almost twice around his body in hopes that it would keep the cold out - it remained to be seen whether they would be so lucky.
“Well, Rik,” Gamla mumbled. “This is it, huh. Heading home after two years already…” He took a deep breath. “Admit it - you’ll miss us.”
“Doubt it,” muttered the Queensguard, his club seemingly held ready to beat down any sign of tumult. Next to him stood a blindfolded young watcher wordlessly. Gamla scoffed.
“Come oooon, Rik - we had such great times! Remember during the Helgensblot when we--”
“When you kept the whole town up until dawn and refused to go to bed when we demanded you to?”
“Well, yes, there was that, but we also made you that porridge you like so much!”
“Then your druid Vona said you weren’t to share with us because we were ‘lesser folk’, isn’t that right?”
Gamla rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, are you still hung up on -that-? We sent her away and everything! What more do you want?”
“Preferably that you all left, but you're in the middle of doing so, so today is quite a good day, indeed.”
Gamla frowned. “Wow, some friend you are, huh.”
“We were never friends, Gamla - at best, you have been very disrespectful guests and we, very patient hosts.” Gamla recoiled in offense. Out of his pocket, he fished forth a copper clump used for local currency. He flicked it over to Rik and flicked his tongue at him.
“Well, then, oughta compensate our host, no? Here, for your troubles.”
Rik caught the clump and tossed it back. “Don’t need it. Bring it home and show your people that there is such a thing as currency, and that it’s a hell of a lot better than that bartering mess you keep insisting on.”
Gamla had to dig the coin out of the snow and stomped off angrily. Rik groaned. “Finally, he decided to leave us alone. How are you feeling?” He eyed the watcher and lowered his club and head in respect.
The watcher muttered back, “The skies are deadly still. I am concerned about tomorrow.”
Rik looked up. “Will the weather turn?”
The watcher took a single step closer, and lowered his voice, “I can not tell, but it is not mundane weather which I find so concerning.”
Rik’s eyes settled on the Dûnans again, which were slowly making their way out of the stone gates. “Do the stars allude to whether or not they will make it home?”
Despite being blindfolded, he instinctively turned his head, “These times are uncertain. I only caught glimpses of outside the walls. I have seen bandits walk the road, but shadows dance just outside of my vision.”
The Queensguard made a short-lived frown. “Well, they’re not our problem anymore. Come, I reckon the queen would like to know they’ve finally gone.” Using his club as a walking stick, he started trudging through the snow.
As they left, Rik caught glimpses of the Light Wings, Kirin loyalists who were more charitable and accepting than most, helping the Dûnans prepare. Many of them were no less excited about their departure, but they were less inclined to directly state it. They were able to be told apart from the Dûnans by painted wooden butterfly emblems that they attached to their clothing. Hera, their de facto leader and the queen’s sister, was also nearby preparing to sing one of the zodiac songs in order to help them on their way.
Walking through the city, it was less busy than it was before, but still quiet alive with activity. The endless cycle of building and rebuilding had slowed. Not only had the Dûnans begun to leave, but there were other people who wished to remain loyal but no longer needed the immediate safety of the walls and could spread out into the surrounding region. However, instead of abandoning the multistory building, there was a greater focus on slowly building longer lasting and more sturdily built houses from the ground up.
The market was less crowded, but still quite busy. There were fewer stalls, but many of the stalls were larger, permanent ones run by two to three people. Trading was still considered the domain of the youngest son, but there were quiet, heated debates among families on who the stalls should be passed down too.
The part of town immediately surrounding the Nightward Tower was converted into a religious district. It lacked the megaliths or fancy temples of Ha-Dûna, instead there were simple buildings to house the faithful, supplied by the queen’s wealth. Smaller altars and shrines to the gods dotted the area.
The area surrounding the Queen’s Abode was converted into a military district, filled with barracks, training grounds and the like. It was agreed that a new building would be built for the purpose of serving as the religious district and the market, but it was still under construction.
The watcher walked up to the door, and nodded. The Queensguard was permitted to enter as he pleased. Rik nodded back and entered into the abode, approaching the Queen before taking a knee.
“Great queen - the last of the Dûnans are leaving for their home as we speak.”
The queen was turned to face a map carved into a wooden slab resting against supports on one of the side walls, she briefly turned around to acknowledge her guard stating, “You may raise.” before turning back to concern herself with her thoughts.
Rik did as commanded and approached the map. Running his eyes over it, he drew a breath. “What’s the plan now?”
The queen pointed to one of the symbols carved into the wood, “Trolbane, one of the older settlements. It has become occupied by a kin-feaster. We need to slay the unholy abomination and begin resettling our land.” The symbol, while not directly on the road to Ha-Dûna, was in the direction of it.
“A kin-feaster? Do we have the force to take on such a fiend?”
“We can not leave such a thing to fester and grow more powerful off of our blood, or to allow it to spread its evil any further. It must be handled promptly.” she said, glancing towards her maul beside her throne.
“Understood.” He surveyed the carvings around the Trolbane area. “Decent lands, those - the cows and sheep will enjoy the meadows between the cliffes. Are you certain you want to expand towards Ha-Dûna, though? I mean… We just got rid of them. Should we truly invite them back so soon?”
“The Dûnans may have forgotten, but that was the land of our sister tribe. If we ever wish to reclaim it, we need to do it now while they are still weak and disorganized.” The queen pointed to a further point in the map towards Ha-Dûna, “I have discussed the matter with Tak, I am favorable to his suggestion that we expand to here and form a buffer zone between us and them. They speak of peace, but people do not change so easily.”
“Agreed… First chance they get, they will no doubt slit our throats in our sleep, should we form bonds of friendship and complacency. We can have a war party of seventy ready to take down the kins-eater in two days. We’ll slay it for the sake of the heavens’ peace, and then begin fortifications against attacks from the north.”
The queen walked over to her maul and began carefully examining it, “Have the war party ready by the northern gates by that time. I will see to this matter personally.”
Rik frowned. “My queen, please keep in mind the terror we are facing here. A kins-eater is no small threat, and we need your leadership now more than ever.”
“Which is why I must fight. Our clan is the bedrock of this city, and I have the respect of the clan through this.” she said, lifting her maul.
Seeing there was no way to make her reconsider, Rik immediately conceded. “Very well,” he said and hefted his warclub. “But we will not let you out of our sight.”
The queen glared in response, but in two days time, the force gathered on the outskirts of Trolbane. The queen gathered her advisors around a wooden table with a rough map of the city inscribed into it. Among those in attendance was Rik, the midnight watcher that had accompanied him before, Tak, and Hera. A constellar and a stonemaul druid were invited, but they were busy making the necessary divine observance in dealing with such an unholy creature.
The queen invited Tak to speak first, “This was the city I was raised in, and I know it well as I know where the sun rises and sets. It will be an honor to reclaim for the rest. Reya sides with us, if we can drive the monster into the town center then it will have no place to hide from her judgment. If that is not enough, our slingers will pin and injure it until one of our druids can channel Reya’s light into one of our mauls and then we end its miserable existence.”
The queen’s face was unreadable, she merely turned and asked, “Rik, your thoughts?”
Rik wriggled his nose and eyed the light on the horizon hinting at the sun’s awakening. “It will not come out willingly, so we’ll have to force it to come out from wherever it’s hiding. I suggest we light its abode on fire and let the elements deal with it - if we can avoid confrontation at all, that would be safest.”
Tak bit his tongue until the queen’s still neutral face glanced at him expectedly, and he responded, “Surely you jest, we have every advantage. Why should we risk our past and future homes to the elements when we can crush this creature with our blessed might?”
The queen signalled Rik to continue.
“It would just be a single house - a kins-eater is nothing to scoff at, my queen. Without proper strategy, one can surely slay twenty of ours before we can slay it.”
The queen paused and took a deep breath, “The kin-feaster is a terrible blight upon the land, and one not to be trifled with. However, neither are the children of the gods. We will approach with all due caution, but fire is a power that we can not reliably control. Should we use it, we threaten the structure of the entire city, our city. Sister, prepare your singers for the blessings of divine harmony.” Hera nodded and left towards the main unit, though she wasn’t as good at hiding her concern as her sister. The queen turned back to the others, “Does anyone else have final insights before the assault?”
Rik sighed in defeat and shook his head.
“If there are no final insights, then meet him in the front to receive the blessings.” she said, grabbing her maul and heading that direction.
As the sun continued to rise over the highlands and the small army gathered in front of the city, Hera led her six other singers adorned with the butterfly insignias in performing the star hymns. The songs had few words, and those few where spoken in the old tongue that few on the battlefield remembered. As they continued, power emanated from the sound, opening the senses of those who heard it and granted them boundless vigor.
When the song was over, half of the singers readied themselves with slings while the others prepared themselves to make further use of their spirit-singing.
The queen signalled the warband, scouts surrounded the region with warhorns to signal if the vampire did somehow manage to escape, while the rest followed the blind-folded watcher into the city, his hidden senses reaching out in an attempt to detect the unholy being. Rik clutched his club and kept a close proximity to the queen.
The watcher led the group to a seemingly innocent building, before walking up and laying his hand on it. He made the agreed upon gesture for signalling that the vampire was here, but the building was trapped.
The queen nodded and signalled the group to surround the house. A group of soldiers, not including the queen or her guard readied themselves to storm the door several steps from it.
One of the lightwings sung and the door flung open, while Hera joined her voice into the song as rocks began to tumble down and roll down hill towards the group and they seemed to slow and roll around the group.
The frontline charged into the building, their mauls ready to bludgeon or guard, and were initially confused as the building appeared empty before one of the soldiers heard something above them, but by that point it was too late as the kins-eater had already dive down and taken a knife to his throat.
The monster lunged forward at the remaining soldiers, managing to deeply gash the leg of one of the soldiers but as the other knife pushed forward, it was caught by a war-club. Through sheer strength, it managed to push through the wood and make it one swing away from cracking in two.
A war club slammed into the back of the kin-feaster, but it seemed to barely have any effect. As it turned around to slash at his attacker, the visage of a spirit leon lunged at him from the side knocking him back. He burrowed his daggers into the spectral form, its paw still reaching towards him as the energy composing it grew dimmer and dimmer until it completely faded.
The queen voice was heard issuing the retreat to the safety of the sun. One of the soldiers stood his ground against the beast and was promptly eviscerated. Only one managed to stumble out into the light as the others were unable to make it the threshold.
The queen looked soberly on the would-be battlefield, her men being sent to die in an honorless battle, she issued her next order, “Clear the area. Burn the kin-eater’s dwelling.”
Rik, who carried a wounded warrior over his shoulder, he himself also bruised and bloody, shouted, “Well, you heard her! Burn it down!”
The warband began to move anything that might burn away from the building, including a nearby shed that was demolished and its rumble pushed away. The magically inclined joined in prayer to Reya, Clar and Bors, asking that the stone and water of the highlands would keep the fire at bay while the sun purifies it of a great evil.
The building was doused with the oils they used for cooking and making torches, and the building was lit. The spirit-singers joined together in a song to the fire, while the druids and soldiers readied themselves in case it spread.
As the fire began to quickly consume the roof and removed the barrier between the vampire and the sun, it screamed in animalistic fury. Looking through one of the windows, they saw one of the soldiers laid on the floor of the burning building, alive but unable to escape. As sunlight pierced the roof and smited the vampire, he smirked. As the roof continued to collapse and feel upon him, they could hear his muffled screams before they abruptly stopped.
Rik gently lowered the wounded soldier to the ground to be tended to by the druids. He then stormed over to the queen and pointed his club at the burning ruins, his face contorting in fury. “What did I say?!”
The queen glared at him, “This is not the time. Everyone, secure the area. I will give further instructions at sunrise tomorrow.”
After the town had been cleared and the remains of the fallen had been attended to, the queen gathered the remaining warband and addressed them, “The vampire has been slain. Queensguard Tak will fortify this location and start making plans to expand towards Ha-Gaard. Queensguard Rik will take the druids and the watcher to scout out the surrounding region to make sure it is safe for resettlement before regrouping with me and the spirit singers in the rest. You are dismissed.”
The Dûnan’s in Kirin’s Rest head home - their home is recaptured, and they haven’t been very good guests. The Kirinians are happy as all hell for this, and decide to take the opportunity while HD is recovering to expand their lands. To do so, they have to go through a vampire located in a town known as Trolbane. A warparty is gathered and they go there and kill it, but not without suffering casualties. They then send a third to scout another town called Ha-Gaard while another third remained to secure the area for settlers and the rest went home.
Sirius Starting: 5/5 Ending: 1/4
Nightward Tower: Impressive Construction 2: This holy site was pulled from the ground by the workings of divine power, it is impressively tall and durable for the region and era.
Celestial Protection 2: This holy site emits divine power covering the surrounding tower in an invisible sphere of protection. This can be manipulated by the chosen attendants of the tower, however they can make it so that segments of it are either permeable or impermeable. The barrier is as sturdy as stone walls, but can regenerate over time if damaged.
The archer, Bran, had read the words of the village chief. It was dire news, a hydra began to slowly stalk up the river and is drawing ever nearer to the village. It has already begun to cause troubles, pushing other dangerous animals towards the village and disrupting travel. There is no telling when it would decide to be a more pressing issue, and with how out of the way the settlement is, it may be before more help could arrive.
Inhale, exhale, release.
The village has two guardians, but one is as old as him and the other older, and it is doubtful that they could face a hydra in their prime. There was also a group of adventurers, however they had the opposite problem, they were still sproutlings fresh from the academy. The Wisteria Academy might say that they prepare their students for anything, but there are things which no school can teach. Beyond that, there were a handful of civilians who could wield hunting bows or slings, and various other means of defense but sadly there were no hydra slayers among them.
Inhale, exhale, release.
Shooting a bow was how Bran could relax himself, but now he was tormented by thoughts of the past and of the future. He muttered under his breath, “Illex, Nymphea, Cade, Lights Above, who has caused my luck to become rotten.”
No one has, a voice replied within his mind.
Bran felt his hands loosen on his bow as he started, but he managed to recompose himself and keep his grip. He took a second to blink and wave his hand in front of his eyes, before trying to reply, “Cade? Wait, that isn’t right?”
Mm, close enough, the voice answered. Let’s see. An archer who can’t hear, but receives visions, and wants to kill a monster. Do I have that right?
“Yes. That is about right.” he said hesitantly.
How well can you shoot?
“Well, perhaps better than I should,” he replied.
Show me.
Realigning his grip with his bow, and notching his arrow, he inhaled, exhaled, and released. The arrow launched from the bow, guided by the invisible winds of mana unseen by most mortals but clearly visible to the gods, his mundane aim was good enough to hit the center mass of the target but with augury, it hit dead-center.
That is not natural skill, the god remarked. But there’s no shame in that. You haven’t let it cloud your judgement, at least. Anyhow, do you have a plan for slaying this beast?
“We lack weapons or magic that critically pierce it hide, or poisons which can even give it a stomach ache. The only thing we can do is attempt to harass it with arrows from out of its reach and hope it bleeds it last drop before we do.” he solemnly answered, knowing such a plan would likely be the death of at least half of whoever is sent.
It is a hydra, yes?
“Yes, terrible things. The only alternative is to wait and hope elite adventurers can reach us before it reaches the town.” he replied.
Hm. It’s always better for people to be able to solve their own problems, I think. Tell me; how attached are you to that bow? Its value as a weapon aside.
“It was my father’s, but a bow is a bow is I guess.” he said, untruthful to his deeper emotions.
That’s true enough, I suppose. I don’t suppose you’d mind if I improve it, then? And without awaiting confirmation, power seemed to surge within Bran’s chest, before shooting down his arm and into the bow, which became coated in a purple light. When the light faded, he was looking at a completely different weapon; the wood was as white as ivory, and stronger, without a single flaw in its craftsmanship, while the string had been made far stronger. Now, shoot it again.
Bran was trembling and shaking, but his grip on the bow did not loosen. He could not begin to describe what he saw and felt within the purple light, as if an ant tried understanding the works of a great philosopher. Parts of the forest vanished and were replaced by walls of black stone, a village filled with color, and a great ocean. As he tried to focus on the target, it was replaced by a majestic throne and as soon his eyes started to decipher who was sitting on it, his sight returned to normal. He readied his bow, time seeming to slow around him and he tested the draw of the bow, an arrow manifested in it
Inhale, Exhale, Release
The arrow pierced the target, and punctured through the target as if the wood was old and rotten. Bran just stood in terrified awe of what he had just experienced, him releasing the arrow was a matter of pure instinct.
Well, there you have it. Now, gather your chosen men. You have a hydra to kill.
---
With his new found blessing, Bran rallied a small militia to fight the hydra. The two guards and two of the three adventurers stood in front of the archers with giant spears and shields, while everyone who could wield a bow was stationed in a half circle around the hydra ready to loose at Bran’s signal. They were to distract it by shooting at its body while he disabled the heads.
The beast laid on the banks of the river, if it had noticed them, they were far enough away to not draw its ire immediately.
Preparing his shot, he yelled, “For Cade, For Arboria.” Releasing his arrow straight through the skull of one its heads causing to go immediately limp. A volley of arrows followed shortly, disorienting the beast, allowing him to make another shot while its remaining heads flailed about, piercing through its mouth. It charged at one of the spearmen, one its heads dragging behind it, as another one of its heads lunged towards him, another arrow launched through its head. Its final head lurched forward biting the man in half as another arrow felled the last head. With that, the beast collapsed to the ground, its hide covered in the few mundane arrows that managed to lodge themselves just under its scales.
---
After returning the fallen soldier to the earth and giving him all of the proper rites and honors, the town spent the next few days preparing a feast to celebrate the heroes who slayed the hydra, a practice the local Arborians borrowed from human travelers.
The celebration was humbly decorated, but involved food, drink, song and dance. Adventurers who came after hearing rumors of the hydra helped with hunting meat for the event. Bran sat in one of the corner’s of the town square watching the celebration while nursing an alcoholic drink, the divinely blessed artifact sitting carefully on his lap.
So, the voice of Cade spoke within his mind again, this time without any sort of prayer. What shall you do now?
“I didn’t think this was real until after the hydra stopped moving, and didn’t expect to survive an encounter with a hydra.” he said, glancing down at his bow, “But I guess since I am alive, I guess my work isn’t quite done is it. This won’t be the last thing to creep at the edge of Arboria’s border.” he said.
Likely not. What do you intend to do about it?
“Shoot them until they stop moving. I am not good for much else.” he replied.
I wouldn’t say that. You did devise a rather sound plan just a few days ago. And these people now think you’re a hero. The champion of a god…
“The man who died can’t be a hero wherever he is at, I am just a hunter’s son.” he replied.
The man who died is dead, but far more alive because of his sacrifice, Cadien insisted. Now, if you truly wish to protect people, you have two options. You can go out alone, patrolling borders, doing your best to fight various creatures and evils, until eventually you die and your new bow passes to whoever slew you. Or, you can build something more permanent. A group of like-minded men and women, who can cover more ground, slay more foes, and carry on your cause long after you die.
Taking a large gulp of his drink, “It appears as though I don’t have much choice in the matter, Oh Great Caden. You seem to be more confident in my leadership than I am, but who I am to argue with the divine.”
Who indeed? Anyhow, you’ll find no better time to gather followers than now.
Bran stood, and began to walk towards the center of the square, shouting, “I have a few words.” After looking around and seeing everyone intently staring back at him, he announced, “Yesterday, we received a divine gift and with it, a beast was slain. Will be so greedy to presume that it will happen tomorrow, or so bold to presume that there will always be someone waiting to save us if we will not save ourselves. These woods hold many dangers, but at least for me, these woods are my home and I would like them to be safe and so I will make them so. Who is with me?” While he could not hear them, as he glanced around he saw several bows raised towards the sky.
And in that moment, a change passed over them. Their vision became sharper, and they could see more clearly than they ever could before. A second, subtly force woven itself further empowering them, only sensed by Cadien and Bran. Then, a voice spoke from within their minds. You know me as Cade, but my true name is Cadien, God of War and Perfection. Know that this man, and those who follow him, shall have my blessing. Now go forth and see his words made true, for I will be watching.
The Arborean Archer from a previous post, Bran, is practicing archery while contemplating the threat to the village he is near, a hydra. While contemplating it, he makes a comment to the gods and Cadien answers.
They have a conversation about what he needs to do, and he mentions how they may be able to fight it but at severe cost, and so Cadien blesses his bow.
Bran gathers a militia in a semi-circle around the hydra, with a spearman in front to protect the archers who were to distract it while he slays the heads. They manage to successfully kill the hydra, but not before one of the spearmen is killed.
After burying the spearman and a few days to prepare, they hold a feast to celebrate. During this, Cadien talks to Brann again asking what he will do and after a conversation about how to proceed, Brann calls everyone attention and makes a short speech about they need to be proactive in the defense of the edges of Arborea.
Cadien blesses Brann and those who follow him as a holy order, which Sirius further empowers, and then Cadien gives his own speech about how he blessed them and we be watching them.
Cadien Beginning MP: 4 Beginning DP: 2 -1DP (discounted to 0 via archery portfolio) to create the title “Infinite Ammunition I”. When the bowstring is drawn back, an arrow of purple energy materializes, already nocked in the bowstring. It is about as strong as a mundane arrow tipped in bronze. It vanishes a few seconds after striking a target. -1DP (discounted to 0 via archery portfolio) to create the title “Power Shot I.” This bow launches arrows with a force that far exceeds its draw weight. -1DP to create the title “Reflex Shot I.” When the bowstring is drawn back, time itself seems to slow down for the wielder, giving them time to readjust their aim. (1DP) -1DP to create the title “Flawless Vision I.” All members of his Holy Order have perfect eyesight. -1DP (discounted to 0 via archery portfolio) to create the title “Easy Draw I.” Members of this Holy Order can draw back even the strongest of bowstrings without difficulty. Ending MP: 4 Ending DP: 0
Sirius Beginning MP: 5 Beginning DP: 5
-1DP to create the title “Imbued Archery I”. The Ranger's Brotherhood practices a form of augury specially adapted to be used with bows. In particular, they have a trick which allows them to briefly see through objects. Most members can only see through foliage and light obscuration, but higher ranking members can very briefly see through thin walls. Further rankings improve the general skill with augury and allows them to access more unique skills.
-1MP to create title “Forester I”: Members of his order find themselves more at home in wooded regions, having greater survival skills in them and being able to move more freely and stealthy through without being impeded.
Her vision was adrift in the far reaches, as it had many times before. Life upon Galbar was difficult, but among the stars, she had found peace. Let today she had stumbled upon something new, no, was drawn to something new.
She saw a figure in strange, black armor that resembled several of the metallic chunks that flew about space. Even weirder, she turned to face her. The augur had seen a great many things, but it was the first time she was seen. Her form was as if it was made of flame contained only by her armor, and carried an exquisite spear. Her attention returned to what she was watching, the space dust whirling around, and slowly forming into a solid structure.
Within this state, words were meaningless, and intention carried across the nothingness. She was Allende, a divine vessel of the starry shepherd. It was by his will that she could see distant things, and it was by his will that she was aware of this nameless space. She was unnerved by the avatar's annoyance, which emitted from her form.
The vision began to fade, but before it ended, she knew the space's purpose and hers. She quietly whispered the name she gave it, "Paradiso."
An augur sees a vision of space, and some new developments there, and is assigned a purpose.
Starting: 5/5 Ending: 0/0
-3 MP, Creating Avatar Allende
-1MP/-1DP Created the Astrologer's Spear, the extricate spear wielded by Allende: Heaven's Key III: (One Free With Cosmic) By channeling cosmic energy, this spear can teleport itself and anything it touches between the Zodiac Stones and the Paradiso.
-1MP/-4DP Created Paradiso, a holy site in the far reaches: Celestial Construction 4: (Two Free with Cosmic) This holy site is not defined as a particular set or shape of materials, but as a region in space that draws in celestial materials and reshapes it to the needs of those recognized by the holder of the astrologer's spear. Astrological Locus II: Astrological magic is significantly stronger within Paradiso. Empower Will I: Those recognized by the holder of the astrologer's spear and are willing find themselves with a strong resolve while they are in Paradiso.
Drawing another arrow from his quiver, he notched it into the bow. He stared downfield, his vision narrowing, and could see that his previous arrow hit the target he had set up. It had been some time since he had shot a bow, but perhaps he retained the skill well. Though, pulling the draw-weight back was harder with age.
Inhale, exhale, release.
His eyes carefully followed it as flew, he couldn't fully explain but didn't move as an arrow should. He remembered his father teaching him and taking him to his first hunt. As he prepared his shot, he remembered when a druid told his father that the will of the gods carried arrows, his retort that faith feels souls, not bellies.
Inhale, exhale, release.
He tried not to linger on such thoughts; he moved from one side of Arboria to another for a reason. As he reached for another arrow, he felt an arm grab at his, and he turned around to see a young human lady staring angrily at him.
He watched her face, "Do your ears not work?"
Sighing, and gesturing her to continue, her lips continued, "You did not tell anyone one, you were an explorer or guardian. My father has called for all able-bodied fighters to meet with him. You might not be young anymore, but your bow-arm is decent."
He paused, "Listen. I am a hunter's son, and I am not so able-bodied anymore."
He couldn't help to wipe his face, but he didn't need to know what she said next to reply, "Because my ears don't work."
It took a few seconds for the lady to compose herself, "But you managed to dodge out of the way of Rosa when she ran up behind you. How did you do that if you can't hear."
When he didn't answer it immediately, she jumped on it, "It is bad form faking an injury."
He softly replied, "I am not faking, but I don't know how I react to certain things. My muscles twitch in a certain way, and I move. That is when it isn't more involved, and I do somehow hear a whispering voice teaching me breathing techniques."
Her expression softened, "Have you seen the druids about such things?"
Scoffing, "They didn't help any."
She replied, "I heard my uncle also reacted to things that he shouldn't and heard voices. He found a secretive group of druids that helped him, but my father said not to trust them. I will tell my father to leave you be."
A person is practicing archery in a city somewhere near Arboria. He is noticing something odd about his aim and is trying to avoid reminiscing about his past. He is interrupted by the daughter of a local leader. They have a harsh conversation until he reveals he has been suffering from strange sensations and hearing voices despite being deaf. She mentions how her uncle had similar problems and was helped by a secretive group of druids her father distrusted before taking her leave.
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