Nieszka — Roleplayer Guild

One Month, Two Weeks after Origin

Cerys Shadowborn, Voice of the Wanderer, Chief of the Shadowborne Tribe stood before her two sons. Or, she supposed, Blackwater’s sons. She had killed their father in a legal challenge and so took on all of his responsibilities to both kith and kin as well as his tribe and his possessions. The two men were of age, however, they did not legally need to be anyone’s responsibility.

The youngest, at 16, had already passed his coming of age ceremony. He was apprenticed to a blacksmith (much to the disappointment of his father, evidently). Despite receiving half of his father’s possessions, it seemed that the only change in his life would be the ability to continue in his chosen profession without the continual disapproval of his chief.

The elder, Rhys Blackwater, was a much more difficult problem. He was a tall, brooding, and attractive man, if in a rugged way. He was Cerys’s senior by five years and had the mien of a soldier used to command, his dark eyes giving away nothing of his thoughts.

“I don’t see why you both should not continue in your current positions,” Cerys was saying, her eyes on Rhys Blackwater’s face. If he felt surprise, he did not show it. “You both are of integral importance to the continued survival of the tribe.”

Eron, the younger brother, simply looked relieved. There was not much love lost between him and his father, and if he cared deeply enough about his chosen trade to endure Eranor Blackwater’s distaste, then he would surely be happy to be left to it. He merely nodded and went back to fiddling with the scrap of metal wire in his fingers.

Rhys Blackwater eyed the priestess searchingly before speaking. “You want me to remain Captain of the Guard, then.” He did not phrase it as a question.

“Your abilities as a warrior and a leader are well known throughout the tribe. It would be a shame to waste such a gifted soldier.” And I do not trust you not to betray me, so it is best to keep you close and invested in my rule.

“Then as your Captain of the Guard, it is my duty to advise you. Get some real armor. You can’t always be summoning magic to protect you, especially when you don’t expect an attack.”

He dipped his head with all the outward appearance of respect and strode from the room, his broad shoulders held proudly. Eron soon followed, leaving Cerys alone to wonder whether or not her captain’s warning was intended as a threat. She wasn’t left to ruminate long, however. Ilys soon rushed into the room that served as a study, office, and war room in the Chief’s home at the tribe’s center.

“Priestess,” she started, respectful if breathless. "Your scouts have spotted small parties coming from the East and West, and there are Longclaw Rocs in the sky.”

§		§		§

The Longclaw arrived first, of course. There was no other force in the mountains that could match the speed of a flying Roc.

Five of the great feathered beasts landed in the center of the Shadowborne Tribe, their strange, bone-crested faces fierce and glaring as they folded their wings and shuffled their great taloned feet. The Rocs’ passengers descended with ease, despite the ceaseless movement of their high-strung mounts. All were dressed in leathers and cloaks with longbows strung across their backs, but one tall, thin man stepped forward.

“Cerys Shadowborne, is it? Well, let’s get this over with, what’d you say?” He called jovially, in his legendarily cheerful manner. According to rumor, the slender man found everything in life amusing to some extent, including placing arrows in the eyes of his enemies. He motioned to a beautiful young woman to walk with him to where Cerys was standing, Captain Blackwater on one side, and Manon the Blind, head of her spiritual council, on the other.

The young wise woman got close enough to Cerys to make Rhys tense in preparation, but she only delicately lifted a strand of the Chief’s pale hair and examined the markings on her face before turning back to the tall, almost gangly man beside her.

“Cerys Shadowborne is indeed Chosen, Chief Longclaw,” the young woman said, looking up at her leader with more affection than was strictly permissible between a Chief and his spiritual council.

Manon cast the girl a severe look as if she saw more with her useless eyes than most people did with their good ones, but Chief Merion Longclaw only laughed and drew Cerys into the boniest hug she had ever received, much to her Guard Captain’s professional displeasure.

§		§		§

Chieftess Delyth Hammersong proved even more direct than Longclaw, if possible. She strode into the wide gathering space before the Chief’s home with long, mannish steps, her muscled arms swinging easily at her side and her blue eyes intent on Cerys’s face. More blacksmith than warrior, everything about the woman exuded strength, but few Arakkai hadn’t heard the tales of Delyth’s bloodthirsty ferocity when wielding the great darksteel battle ax she wore strapped to her back.

The big woman gestured impatiently for her wise woman, a priestess almost as tall as her chief and a little past her prime. The woman approached Cerys as brusquely as her Chief and lifted the smaller priestess’s chin in one hand to look into her face. Cerys held up a hand to stop her followers and held still, submitting to the Hammersong wise woman’s scrutiny. After a few silent moments, she let go and nodded.

“Well met, Cerys Shadowborne,” Delyth called, reaching out to grip her forearm. “Now, what is this nonsense I’ve heard about magic armor?”

Rhys Blackwater couldn’t quite hold back a snort of amusement.

§		§		§

Chief Garanhon “the Poisoner” Erwood was the last to arrive, slipping in almost unnoticed in the pandemonium of three large tribes coexisting, as more of the Hammersong and Longclaw peoples arrived every day. He let himself into the war room where Cerys, Rhys, Merion, and Delyth had their heads bent over a set of maps, arguing about routes and supply.

He cleared his throat loudly to announce his entrance, startling the group around the table so much that both Rhys and Delyth drew weapons before identifying the newcomer. He was as silent as reputation painted him, a wiry man with dark, hooded eyes.

“So here is the great Cerys Shadowborne,” he called mockingly. She was rather the least impressive looking of the group, a girl of twenty-two and slight. 

“Garanhon Erwood,” she replied, nodding. “Do you wish to test me?”

“Do you deserve to be tested, Chosen?”

“More wise women than you know have said as much and more.”

Merion dropped her battle ax onto the thick table with a tremendous thump, breaking the Poisoner’s stare. “Go on, Garahon. Bring in your council.”

Cerys breathed deep, reigning in her temper as Chief Erwood motioned to someone outside the room. The woman who obeyed him was a small, timid thing with the look of a beaten dog heeling to her master.

“Test the Chosen One, girl, and be quick about it.”

Cerys nodded reassuringly and Merion gave the girl an easy-going smile, his eyes following her as she approached. Carefully, she laid a hand on Cerys’s cheek and held her gaze for a few heartbeats. With a sigh, the girl turned and squared her feeble shoulders.

“Cerys Shadowborne is Chosen, Chief Erwood,” she claimed, her voice hardly cracking.

“Liar!” Came the answer, loud and vehement, then softer: “You lie, little traitor… You have all been fooled by a girl hardly out of her teen years, who has set herself up as a chief out of pride and ill-begotten magic. She is a heretic! And you risk the lives of all the Arakkai to follow her.”

Rhys gripped his sword tighter, while Cerys stood pale and thin-lipped with rage, but Merion only lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. “You know the stories as well as anyone, Erwood, and your wise woman confirms it, as ours did.”

“And you were a fool to believe them, a fool that will soon end up dead and play for demons in the service of a charlatan,” Erwood continued, spitting the last word, his face purpling with anger.

Delyth reached for her ax, but Cerys stopped her, calling, “No, let him go.”

Merion nodded. “It is punishment enough that he should fend off Saliszi sacrificers and Drathan slavers by himself when we have gone. Come, let us return to our plans. It is high time for the Arakkai to descend from the mountains.”

Garahon blanched as if he had not really expected them to side against him, but the other chiefs gave him their backs and Rhys left to escort him to the edge of the Shadowborne territory, his broadsword still bare.

Well here was my plan for through the next few posts. I mean I've got to keep some of it a surprise. Copy/pasted from Pages so sorry for the format.

Plot Line (in posts)

Origins ✓
Cerys is Chosen while making a traditional journey at the end of her training as a priestess
Can only see the Wanderer after the ritual, though his presence is obvious before
Hair color/marks become permanent
2 witnesses

Destruction and Humility ✓
The Swordsinger clan (the clan of Cerys’s birth) was destroyed while she was away
Helping the clan to shelter/safety
Bending the knee to Eranor Blackwater in exchange for the safety of her people
Shows that she is willing to do anything for the Arakkai and that she does not pursue this for herself, but fo them

The Summer Solstice ✓
The myth of the banishment of the Saliszi
Wise woman names Cerys as Chosen
Cerys lawfully becomes chief through a challenge, taking advantage of Eranor’s folly

Allies
Wise women, leaders, and guards arrive from the other three Arakkai clans
Two of the three (Hammersong, Longclaw) join her ranks, the third (name pending) refuses, and claims that they will all die in the service of a heretic
End with something like “It is time for the Arakkai to come down from these mountains)

Post with the hermit? (ask Ink Blood after Part IV)
As the Arakkai leave the mountains, they will come very close to the Labyrinth
At the end, have Roc scouts return with news of the leader’s departure from Zar Endal
Trepidation at the malicious expanse of desert

Taking Zar Endal (TALK TO LW AFTER PART IV)
DIFFICULT CROSSING
Things to ask Lone Wanderer (Provided that he doesn’t mind me taking his city)
What reinforcements were left
Are there walls/gates to get past?
What weapons will the city have to defend its self?

Liberation
After breaching the walls, secure the city and break the chains of all slaves
We are the Unbroken speech that’s quoted in my lore sheet

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A Nymph, or Nearly

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