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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 19:00:41 GMT -8
June 2011 Campout, Day 2 --- - We fought more Knights of Dagdemar and took care of the undead-thing that had been prowling around the night before.
- A mage from "Near Teriock" named Dorai gave a lecture on the nature of magic.
- We transported a piece of moonlight from a shrine of Artemis to its temple and got an awesome shield.
- Night mission part one: Fight off ships of undead from the Darkness Zone and keep them from landing.
- Night mission part two: Go to another shrine of Artemis and defend it against the remaining Knights of Dagdemar, and end up having a vision and the moon ends up dimming.
--- Enyari FenwëAnother day; another threat to Hostor’s safety; another fight to be had and barely won in the hopes that we survive long enough to meet the next one tomorrow. It’s how the wheel always seems to turn, nowadays; and, I suppose, that’s only to be expected. But I wonder how long the wheel will have to turn, and turn, and turn, and turn again, before it slows down and we won’t find ourselves ground into the mud on every revolution of day and night. I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to last, if it keeps up like this. Especially now, when the stakes are higher. One could, I suppose, claim that being visited by a brace of Knights of Dagdemar doesn’t necessarily mean an upping of the games being played; but I, for one, would disagree. Knowing their history, knowing where they hail from, and knowing what purpose they bring with them all make me wary of any such appearance. As such, they are a threat that must be eliminated - especially when they bring with them what seem to be strange crossbreeds of undead. It was equipped to our bootheels that Terisio and I went out to join the adventurers aspiring to take care of the Dagdemar Knights that hadn’t fallen the night before; if we were lucky, those were all that we’d have to fight. More likely, the undead crossbreed would have decided to chance the day and accompany them. And if we were very, very unlucky, the undead’s creator would throw in an appearance as well - and I certainly hoped it wouldn’t. I hate fighting necromancers. Luckily for us, it seemed not only unlucky but also unlikely that the creator would show; but best to be prepared nonetheless. The Knights and their forces had moved on from their location the previous night, towards one of the other Shrines of Artemis that they hadn’t yet destroyed. We intercepted them in a patch of woodlands; while most of our companions rushed to attack them head-on, Terisio and I crept around the side to take them from the back. It was successful in that all of the knights were concentrated towards the back, while their lesser forces were in the front; it was unsuccessful in that I quickly discovered that all of the abilities granted to me by my training and by my weaponry seemed to have no effect on the Knights. Evidently, the only way to take them down would be to essentially brute-force our way through the fight - difficult, given that they were wearing full-plate armor and using large shields to cover the weak spots in their armor. Unprepared to engage in that particular style of brute force as I was, I found myself taken down by the Knight I had tried to take on. I remember, as I sank to the ground, the Knight raising her sword above her head for a death strike. I know that Terisio, since he had gone ethereal, wouldn’t be able to reach me in time; and so, I assume, I died. Some time later - not too long, I believe - I was rebirthed. By then, the battle had scattered some. It was now largely out of the woods, and in addition to the Knights there were also wargs and skeletons wandering about. I died again, not long after - once again, taken down by a Dagdemar Knight. I was rebirthed, once more not too long afterwards. At that point, rather than be taken down once more, I moved to the ethereal realm in hopes of catching someone unawares from that place. I didn’t stay in for very long. There was nothing else there that I could see, which made it largely pointless to remain. It took the usual time to slip back into the material plane, but once there, I went after some wargs and skeletons that were making the battle more difficult. Those were more easily dealt with; and, of course, it wasn’t long before I found myself facing another Knight of Dagdemar. This time, however - since our allies were more spread out, and thus more available - it was more than simply me alone attempting to hack the single one down. The Knight couldn’t fend off all of our attacks at the same time, though he tried admirably; and, in the end, he fell - shortly followed by another of his fellows. Of all the ways to brute-force one’s way through a fight, sheer numbers works decently well. I imagine that’s why it’s such a common strategy even when the fight’s on the scale of outright war. The skirmish dragged on for some time. I could see some number of Knights still hanging in the back for the meantime, but it was impossible to get to them due to the wargs and skeletons between us and them. Every once in a while, another Knight would chance the battlefield, and always proved to be a difficult shell to break. It was going mostly sensibly, however, without too many more surprises. Then, out of seemingly nowhere, one of our allies rushed at one of our mages and started to hack at her. Terisio pounced on him before he could do much harm. A moment passed, and then Terisio shouted out, “He’s charmed!”. The man stood back up, charm now having been removed and him having been healed. He dove back into the fray; I made my way to Terisio. The Knights of Dagdemar, so far as we’d seen, couldn’t charm; but that undead creature that had been seen the night before likely could, and if someone had been charmed, that meant it was up and about. Sure enough, towards the back - where we had first attacked the Knights - there was a cloaked figure slowly meandering on the edge of the battlefield. Terisio and I started towards it. Though any person on the field is open to all to attempt to take care of, that doesn’t change that the cloaked figure was our business. More so given that, as we approached, it drew a morganti sword from under its cloak. As soon as I was in range, I rebirthed it. It crumpled immediately, but it seemed to be recovering from the shock. There wasn’t much that we could do while it respawned, but others could; the Knights of Dagdemar quickly hustled over and surrounded it. A nature mage managed to treeform the creature through the wall that the Knights created, which solved that part of the problem until we could deal with what was in front of us. The Knights stood there, guarding dutifully; we surrounded them and began to hack at them as best we could, hoping once more to overwhelm them with numbers. It was slow work, as they were better positioned to take the attack this time; I believe that at least one was still put out of commission, though I’m not sure. I slipped back into the ethereal realm and told Terisio to untreeform the creature, thinking that I might be able to take it on the ethereal realm if it were present there. He hesitated, but did so; the creature finished respawning and took off - walking, of course, though it had no trouble in its way given that it was brandishing morganti - as soon as it could. It was barely present in the ethereal plane; little more than a whisp of fog, or a smudge. That approach would obviously be hopeless; so, once more, I bided the time to materialize again and, that finished, pursued it across the field. I slipped my blade under its cloak and rebirthed it again; it crumpled once more. Most likely it would have started respawning again - but it did not. Just then, the man with the shield that stills the use of mana within its radius arrived, and it could not continue to rise again. We stood there, looking at it, when a third man came over and offered to exorcise it. After a moment of deliberation, the man with the shield walked back several paces, and the third man touched it and crumpled on the ground as the creature turned to dust. I swept down and grabbed the morganti sword from the dust. There was no chance that I would let it fall into the hands of one of the Knights of Dagdemar; they were irritating enough already, and none of us needed them to be any more than that. I...distinctly remember the feeling of holding a morganti sword; I had not done so before. I didn’t like it. It wasn’t deeply terrifying in the way that it is when one looks at someone else holding it; but through the thrummings of the hilt, I could feel - faint, at first, but it grew gradually stronger as I focused on the blade more - its insatiable hunger for the soul of another. Worse still, it was the new morganti; the kind that the Trade Order has been manufacturing. Though normally I balk at leaving the battlefield - for it is my duty to fight for Hostor and to heal the wounded - in this case I believe it was justified to leave and wait for the battle to end. The Knights of Dagdemar had no qualms about attempting to kill me before, and they would still have none if it meant that they could gain a morganti sword from doing so. As I left the field, I saw out of the corner of my eye one of the Knights swoop down to grab the cloak and take off with it. It’s a pity, that; it might have confirmed some of my suspicions, had I been able to look at it. But getting the morganti away was more important, so that was what I did. I set off straight out for the mage school - followed not long after by the rest of my companions that had come with us - and found someone that I trusted to destroy the morganti safely. This world needs less of it. On the way back, I thought of how the dynamics of the battle had played out. Several of the Knights had tried to duel us, and largely succeeded; there were a few of us that were able to avoid their duels in our own varied ways, but by and large they were able to use the duels to their advantage - cutting down weaker foes without having to deal with others breathing up their backs. It would have been useful to do the same; except that it seemed also that it was most useful to face them as a group. A standard duel, of course, by rule does not allow for that; a duel is for two people and two people alone. But nevertheless, that is the standard duel only; and to seek out an alternative form was something that I had pondered for a while. I decided that, perhaps during the afternoon, I would seek out someone that might be willing to teach me a different way. I did so, after dropping off the morganti sword at the mage school, and was successful in my mission. By then, the morning had passed; I realized that it wasn’t long until a lecture at the mage school that I had planned to attend with Terisio. A hurried few minutes later and I was inside the appropriate room and sitting in the appropriate seat. -Charlotte-It took time to find a reasonable seat; the room was hot and crowded, and buzzed with voices as everyone competed for the few remaining seats. I did manage to eventually snag a seat; it was on the very edge of the room, but I would take what I could get. The mage lecturing was going to speak on the topic of the nature of magic - and given that I’d been needing to start my classes, a lecture on the nature of magic seemed as good a place to start as any. The mage’s name was Dorai - hopefully I spelled it right, but you never know. I don’t know much about him; just that he seemed to know or be associated with Sen, and that - as the first thing he said upon introducing himself - he hadn’t spoken Common in quite some time. I guess that means he’s probably from out east somewhere. Maybe Near Teriock, where Sen is from. In any case - once he introduced himself and apologized for his rusty common, he began his lecture. He began with the beginning of life - for it would be easiest to understand the nature of magic if we understood a little history first. Life, he said, was created by the great Ur-Dragonna Wurlangdemedes. This is, by the way, part of why I worship dragons; Wurlangdemedes and his kin are the true creators and seeders of this world and that within it, and are in that way greater even than the gods. But to continue - Wurlangdemedes dreamed this whole, wide world into existence. With the dream, he created a single being or race of beings. This being or race was full of the ability to change and divide; and as time passed it divided itself again and again and again into many upon many more forms of other beings. This being is from where all life stems; and we are all, in that way, connected. But as this being or race divided and divided, its ability to change itself became spread thin, and was less and less present in all of these beings - until at last it weakened until it was dormant. Dormant does not mean gone, however; it just means sleeping. When it’s awakened, that’s what we call “magic” (and more specifically, “Elder Sorcery”) - the ability to change the world around us with this force. Elder Sorcery is, of course dangerous; he made sure to mention its various properties. Namely: one cannot lie in Elder Sorcery. Whatever one says must be the truth; and if it is not the truth, reality will warp itself in an attempt to make it the truth. This can, of course, cost a speaker their lives if they don’t have enough energy to supply that change. Enyari FenwëDorai explained that, because Elder Sorcery is so dangerous, it is your mind that matters the most. If you don’t have your mind - or the presence of it, anyway - then you have nothing. If your mind is damaged or infiltrated in some way, then the damage done with any changes thereafter can be immense. That’s why, apparently, the first spell that many Elder Sorcerers learn is one that protects your mind. And despite not being a mage or an Elder Sorcerer of any sort, I must say - I couldn’t agree more. -Charlotte-The first Elder Sorcerer in Roekron was named Stormwatcher. He went on t’ found the Stormwatcher mage school in Temnor, and rightly so, I think. And of course the elves, being so old an’ all, Dorai said have claimed to have been using Elder Sorcery long before Stormwatcher ever did. They can take that claim if they want, but the dragons have been using it for far longer than even the elves have - so much for arrogance! Magic is cast very differently nowadays, ‘course. Dorai lectured for a little while about how standardized magic came to be. It was Astengrad who did it; he created an “overlay” over the world. The overlay let magic become much easier to use, and let all those standard spells be cast so easily. That said, there’s still the meta out to the east, where magic doesn’t really work, well, at all - and some, Dorai said, theorize that that’s the end of the overlay. Astengrad went on to found a mage school as well; and rightly so again - but you’d think he’d have left some records or somethin’ about his overlay so that we’d know for sure! Even though I’m not of anywhere near the significance of Astengrad - or, well, really any significance at all -, as a historian I know the importance of recording what’s goin’ on. Being so smart and all, surely he would have known to do the same - wouldn’t he? But there are always things that shouldn’t be said, and shouldn’t be recorded. The smallest thing can come back to bite you, if it’s the wrong thing to say or write down. A rumor, for instance, can completely ruin your reputation and credibility - and where does that leave you? An’ information, leaked to unfriendly ears, can become your undoing. So maybe Astengrad knew what he was doing after all. Enyari FenwëIt’s interesting, the things that stay with you. Eventually, Dorai rambled onto the topic of deities. One thing that stood out, for me at least, was that he put forth that altruistic and giving deities will give and keep giving even when they have little left - that they will, in the end, sacrifice themselves for the betterment of their followers. It’s what happened to the Elder Goddess, I think; despite my mother’s reputation, I don’t believe she truly killed the Goddess. The Elder Goddess was dying anyway, and I think it was probably for similar reasons to what Dorai explained. I don’t quite recall where the connection was anymore, but from deities he proceeded onto the nature of magic. Though we use it daily, magic is still very much a mystery to us - and so, Dorai said, it should be. His reasoning for such an opinion was that some mysteries should not be solved because quite frankly, knowing the answers makes life even more complicated than it already is. Says I, gods know it’s already complicated enough as it is. And knowing the right knowledge will rarely ever simplify that; just show you more and more of the endless labyrinth that you’re trying to understand. -Charlotte-I thought it was interesting - Dorai’s sub-lecture on the rules of the universe. They’ll be good things to keep in mind during my studies. Rule Number One: The rule of three. The rule of three states that, for some unknown reason, there is power in the number three - ‘specially in magic. Three is the traditional number of guesses that one gets when answering riddles; three is a number that mages, when casting Elder Sorcery, know to rely on when looking for better results; even deities, when in groups, tend to come in groups of three. Why three? Who knows! Apparently that’s the way ’s always been, and I guess that’s the way most people who know about it think it’ll always be. And I suppose that it’s useful to know to depend on the rule of three, but it makes me wonder if, because it’s a rule, it can be broken. Rules usually can, if you try hard enough. Admittedly, the consequences might not be desired, but still... And Rule Number Two: The rule of innocence, or the rule of mystery - Dorai called it both. Summed-up, the world is full of metaphorical “doors” that open and close. Some doors have a “threshold of knowledge” - meaning they can sense your knowledge or something like that - and will only remain open to you if you are innocent of that knowledge and intents that might otherwise be seeded. And if one is told the knowledge, the door will be closed to you. That’s why deities and deity-like beings speak in a “certain way” - not that he explained what that way was, which was a little annoying. Anyway, they speak in this certain way so that they don’t reveal too much, and only people that already know what the deities are talking about can understand what in the name of Roekron they’re trying to say. Infuriating, if you ask me! And it’s also why they give oracles in the form of images that imply or suggest the meaning rather than just saying what it is that they mean - this whole “rule of innocence” thing. Rule Number Three: The rule of names. ‘Course, he didn’t stick around for particularly long, given that mentioning this one at all had to do with the fact that some idiot had mentioned some clown called “The Riddler”, which apparently had the potential t’ summon the actual being. Dorai seemed a bit scared of him, or her, or it, or whatever, and left pretty quickly after that. ‘S a bit of a shame, that; the lecture had been pretty interestin’, overall. Enyari FenweIf only I had known about these sooner! Or rather, if only my gods-curst mother had known about these sooner. Then perhaps the world would be in a different - and possibly better - state than it’s in right now. Knowing that the rules exist has certainly solved more than a few riddles for me, and likely they would have kept her from doing as many stupid things as she did. It would have been useful, most likely, if Dorai had continued about them. That said, I don’t blame him for leaving when the Riddler was mentioned. He’s a nasty one. Luckily, I’ve never had to deal with him; but several of my companions have, and they have various morganti scars and curses from the encounter. My mother got one of her fingers cut off by him. It does show what you get for tampering with the universe excessively, though - so it’s best to keep that in mind. -Charlotte-Welp, lecture was quite suddenly over, which meant that it was time to get movin’ again. Learning and whatnot is cool and all, but it’s more tolerable to be out and actually doing something rather than just listening to what other people have gleaned from doing things. Plus, ‘least as I find it, there’s at least as much to learn from the world as there is from the books written about it. That’s assuming that you can actually understand what’s in the world, which can admittedly be a bit of a problem. Take Sen for example - Sen A Demdil. I think I mentioned yesterday something ‘bout him not really speaking Common, which I can now confirm. I think he did speak a little bit of Teriock, given his occasional refrain of “Teriocki, Teriocki”, but it didn’t do most of us much good. We spent a few confused minutes going through the process of voting on which thing to pursue next, and when we departed didn’t have any better idea of where we were going than when we started. It had kind of seemed like Sen had pointed us towards another of the shrines of Artemis, and that was kinda what we’d wanted t’do anyway, so that’s where we ended up going. It was a bit of a trek, from Pinnacle to there - and we ran into some nasty thing on the way there. I’m not sure what the first group was at all; one of them threw a terrorball into my chest mere seconds after I saw it, so that wasn’t particularly helpful. When I woke up I found that I had been dragged a ways away from the battlefield by what I assumed was the life mage that was now standing over me. I was a little bit disappointed that it wasn’t Caydis; it woulda made a wonderful opportunity to tease him. Still, any healing is better than none, I guess. And by the time that we clambered down to the battlefield again, everything was lying in pools of blood and our own group was moving on. The next thing wasn’t so easy. Firs’ thing we saw were these vulture-things in the distance, and that wasn’t too worrying or anything. But once they were closer, we could see that they were a lot bigger, and they were funny-looking. Long, hooked beaks and great ungainly black wings and whatnot, of course, but they also had scabbly-skinned arms and other humanoid bits. Soon as they were in range, they started descending upon us; and from that, rather uncomfortably close distance, we saw that they were drooling some kind of gross green foam from their beaks. I tried to fend one off, but it snaked its neck around my staff and bit me on my shoulder. Immediately the bite started to feel cold, and within a few seconds I started to feel unpleasantly jittery. One could only at that point assume that the green foam was poison; and, thinking as such, I ran over to the nearest nature mage and asked him to treeform me, which he promptly did. The thought was that, since trees have such slow rhythms in their lives - much slower than ours - the poison would take longer to worm through me. And so it did; I’m not sure how much time passed between becoming a tree and being reverted, but it was a good chunk of it, I think. Y’know, it’s funny - how your perception changes. As a tree, you notice the water creeping through the soil, and the sun moving overhead - things more on your scale of time. Faster things - little animals or breezes or whatnot - don’t really register at all. ‘S a very different kind of perception, that of a tree. In any case - reverting. I remember Caydis reverting me and plopping flat on my behind in the middle of a grove of trees that hadn’t been there before - other poisoned people, I imagine. An unfamiliar man was standing there; he shoved what I assumed was an antidote into my hand and then pushed past me with Caydis to revert the next tree. I took the antidote quickly, and soon enough felt the poison-jitters dissipate. Once everyone had been taken care of, we pressed on. After that, it was straight to the shrine - nothing else trying to get in our way or anything. The shrine was... interesting, I though. It had three corners; in each corner there was a stone pedestal with a smooth hollow scooped out of the top. There wasn’t much room inside it, and I was squashed up against a side, so I didn’t see much else. One man - I think he was one of the Teriock travelers - pulled an orb from his person and set it inside one of the scoops. It fit nice and tight; and as he set it in, a few people in the middle of the shrine stumbled aside. The floor had shifted a little under their feet, and now there was some kind of gemstone sticking out of it. It was right about then that we heard deep voices coming from up the hill. I ducked out to take a look; there were a group of three or four hill giants descending upon us. For a few moments, we thought they were going to attack; but as it turned out, they weren’t aggressive, just curious. ‘Course, not knowing them or their motive and all, we didn’t exactly want them inside the temple. I spent a couple of minutes talking them out of it - saying that there was already not enough room and that there might be something in there that’s dangerous and it’s probably better for them to stay out, and all - and they took it well enough. That was when, once again, we heard more voices coming from uphill. This time, the voices weren’t so friendly; it was a couple of the remaining Knights of Dagdemar and their guards. Those of us not inside the shrine turned towards them and attacked, as did the hill giants. I think that daylight really does make a difference; last night, when we were last fighting them, everything was almost blurry, and it was horribly confusing to figure out what was going on and who was who. In the daylight, it was much clearer, and much easier to fight. I think I prefer it. Doesn’t mean that I don’t go getting my head smacked off, though; it wasn’t quite smacked off, of course, but one of the Knights of Dagdemar did give me a pretty solid blow and I went unconscious. When I woke up this time, it was Caydis standing over me. That was nice, I thought; of course, he didn’t stick around to say much more than “Hello, Charlotte”, before rushing off to heal others, and that’s all right. I watched him for a few moments before slipping back down to the shrine. Most likely, I’d be more use there than I would here, anyway. Those still left in the shrine had set up a circle of protection around the gem. They let me inside without too much thought an’ kept talking amongst themselves. It sounded like the thing was a “riddle-stone” of some kind, and that you had to put mana into it in order to make it work. They were touching it all over the place, but nobody as of yet had actually put a mana into it, so I figured I’d give it a try. One of my sisters and I used to play mind-games all the time when we were bored, so I’ve got a good head for that kind of thing. So I touched the riddle-stone, and I pushed a mana into it, and then there was this...weird sense of being off somewhere else not inside the shrine. Just briefly - just long enough to hear the riddle. It was this: “The light one breaks but never falls; his brother falls but never breaks.” I gave it some thought. It was the day, I decided; daybreak, and his “brother” is nightfall, so “day” made sense. I thought as much to the riddle-stone (I wasn’t sure how to do that part, but I guess it worked well enough), but it didn’t seem to take to that answer. Then I tried “the sun”, thinking that maybe it was just a bit of a different slant on the same idea; but that didn’t really work either. Before throwing out another random answer, I gave it a little more thought; eventually, I decided that maybe it was “day and night”, given that there had been two parts to the riddle - and that maybe the second part wasn’t a hint so much as a partial riddle in and of itself. I thought that answer to the riddle-stone, and sure enough, it worked. Good thing, too, since that had been my last guess! After answering it, I drew my hand away from the riddle-stone and stepped back; as I did so, the floor by the gem moved. It opened up into a little nook with a bright light shining from the sides. Immediately everyone tried putting their hands in, but they couldn’t really find anything inside. When I reached my own hands in, my hands felt something that seemed relatively corporeal, so I pulled it out. I... I think that what I pulled out was a piece of moonlight, if that makes sense. The light from the hole came with my hands, and it was cupped in my hands like this little pool. It felt so strange! Almost the way that ethereal things feel when they’re lurking around you, but not uncomfortable-like and cold; it was a softer feeling, and made my hands tingle a little bit. As they had in the nook in the floor, everyone started reaching out to touch it soon as I’d grasped it; I cupped my other hand over it so that they wouldn’t be able to. I don’t know if their touching it and feeling it would’ve done anything, but I didn’t really want to find out if it would, either. ‘Course, what with both of my hands being full, I couldn’t hold my staff too well; I had it tucked in the crooks of my elbows until one of the other women offered to hold it for me. We headed up the hill after that to find that the Dagdemar Knights had been quite nicely quelched; we explained to them what had happened, and decided to head towards the temple of Artemis that was connected to these old shrines. That’s what the last girl to have found the moonlight had done, and once she’d put it on the altar... well, you’ll see. Caydis came up behind me and suggested that we separate from the party and go around a different way; his reasoning was that two people wouldn’t make as much noise as twenty would, and that anything would be attracted to them and we wouldn’t have to deal with him. I protested a little, thinking that if anything did come our way, we’d be toast; but in the end, I went with it. I figured, well, maybe he’s done something like this before. I wouldn’t know. A few minutes later and we’ve got two Knights of Dagdemar on our tails and nobody else around. Hah, take that, Caydis! I was right! Not that I was thinkin’ that at the time, of course; at that point, all I was doing was running away and trying to stay far enough from their sword-arms to keep from getting pricked. We were fairly close to the temple at that point. About a hundred spans away from it, there was a stream; we jumped it, and that slowed the Knights down a little. Caydis yelled at me to run for it, claiming that he was going to hold them off; seeing as how he’s a pacifist, I wasn’t sure how exactly he was planning on doing that, but it wasn’t the time to ask. And it’s not like I really wanted to leave him, anyway, but there wasn’t much else I could do with the moonlight in my hands. So I ran; one of the Knights was still close behind. I saw him slip and fall when I glanced back; good thing, otherwise he’d almost certainly have gotten Caydis. By that time, we were close enough to the temple that the archers were able to cover us. All in all, we were safe - a little scratched up, but safe. I stepped up to the altar and, not sure of what else to do, let the moonlight trickle out from between my fingers and across the top. I watched, fascinated; as it touched the surface of the altar, it began to transform. A few moments later, rather than a pool of moonlight, sitting on top was a shield. I picked it up; later, when we got it identifed, it was - I mean, it was really cool. Passively warded, spellturning, and at night all the females associated with the person wearing it would be able to see in the dark and scout for things. But it turned out that it was still too high-powered for me to use - and the user had to be a follower of Artemis, which I am not - so I handed it off to the woman who had held my staff for me. She’d be able to make better use of it than I would, anyway. By that time, we were back in Pinnacle. “By that time” was quite a while off from when we had left; and by now, it was getting dark. Darkness meant dinner, and civilization meant a good dinner - or ‘leastways, better than hardtack, anyway - so a few of the other adventurers and I went off to one of the inns to grab something before heading back up to the meeting halls. --- Enyari FenwëEarlier in the day, Terisio had come to me and said that some of the people from Teriock had come to Embarcarious asking for advice about problems that they were having back home. Embarcarious had then promptly directed them to us. Terisio had worked out a plan with them that involved visiting for dinner - that way, it would be easier to simply take time to meet them and to have an appropriate discussion with them and without other interference. When they arrived, there were two of them. The first was an elf capped with a sailor’s hat; the second was a centaur. Both did, indeed, seem to be of Teriock origin, and when they spoke, had the accent of that region. It was a little disconcerting, at first; the last time I heard it was when my mother had spoken. That, I did my best to ignore; to dwell on that turn of events would get me nowhere. Once we let them in, they introduced themselves. The elf was Admiral Zero Skyhawk - or Zero, as she asked to be called - and the centaur was simply “Sara”. She didn’t talk much, Sara; just listened. Zero, on the other hand, talked plenty. Once dinner and the pleasantries that come with it had concluded, she set about explaining the problems that she had come to Embarcarious about. As she talked, it became clear why Embarcarious had directed them to us. As we are, we are specially equipped to deal with and knowledgeable about that particular topic and things relevant to it; I, for one, am a historian, and have access to many documents that would likely be useful to them. Most of them were fairly old, but still decently useful and relevant to their plight. As Zero leafed through them, I spent some time writing down some more recent information for their reference; they were mostly a sum-up of things that I’d learned but couldn’t give to them physically. By the time that I’d finished that, Zero had finished looking through the documents. After some quick discussion, I ended up going back into the study to gather up some more that were more specific; those took a little more time to find. We talked a little, during the entire process. What she told me awakened old - and new - memories in me. We both, it seem, have the same sort of problems. She’s suffered greatly for hers; and, I suppose, we both have. As it turned out, we had a great deal in common with one another. Towards the end of the evening, I gave her a magic item that I imagine she would find more useful than we would. Terisio and I invited both of them to stay a little while longer, and then to accompany us later that when we went back out to join our companions again. The thought was that, if they came with us, they could gain more experience and perhaps apply that when they returned to Teriock. They accepted, and we made a pleasant evening of it. I enjoyed it; it’s not often that we get to entertain company, these days, and everyone can do with a little bit of firelight in their lives to lift the darkness a little. Eventually, it was time to depart; both Sara and Zero did, indeed, come with us. We loaned Zero another magic item to use during the course of the battle, and instructed her on its use on the way to the meeting halls. Once there, the task at hand was decided upon very quickly; in truth, I think it had been decided before any of us had arrived, because we’d all known it was coming. Several ships had sailed from the Darkness Zone earlier today, and they would be landing up near Tradjador tonight. Our role was to try to defend the coast agains them as best we could - to fight undead, and in the darkness, no less. Needless to say, I was very nervous; we didn’t have the slightest idea of what was on those ships. And more than that, the last time that I had gone about in the dark as I would be tonight... I was not looking forward to it. Terisio and I gathered several members of our companions that we trusted - Zero and Sara included - and gave them instructions. Most of them would probably be forgotten when the battle got hot, but for the moment, they wouldn’t do any harm. Then, it was time to march; and, far too soon, we came to the shore. Against the light of the stars, we could see several large ships; they appeared to have three masts, or so said Zero. I couldn’t see particularly well - infernal darkness, limiting my vision! It’s nearly as bad as wearing a helmet. And, she said, there were several smaller ships approaching the shore - landing-boats, full of what we were to fend off. The first one landed; out from its holds poured tens upon tens of bone warriors. Together, we and our companions dealt with them fairly quickly and neatly; by the time that they were all laying on the ground, the second landing-boat had yet to hit the shore. I looked around, and didn’t see Terisio; that frightened me. At first I didn’t receive any response when I thought out to him, either, and that frightened me more; but he eventually thought back and said that he was waiting by the shore. I took another of our companions there and joined him; there, we all treeformed, and waited for the next boat to land. When it did, we waited for all of the creatures - skeletons, this time - to clamber a ways onto shore before attacking. They quickly found themselves sandwiched between two sides of the battle, and fell one after another. They respawned and stood back up again, of course, but it wasn’t so difficult to take them down once more after having done so the first time. They, too, were dealt with quickly. Meanwhile, the necromancers amongst our companions were murmuring that there was something wandering around in the ethereal realm. I waited the seconds necessary to join it; and, once I had, saw that it was a specter. I rebirthed it fairly quickly, and took care of one of its respawns; I also saw a couple of allied necromancers wandering around the ethereal realm as well, and knowing that they would be able to deal with the rest of it decently, slipped back out of the ethereal realm to wait for the next boat. We did the same thing - to wait by the shore, in treeform, until they had passed by us and then to ambush them. This boat was full of, rather than undead, a large number of trolls and orks and other such beings. Curiously, they appeared discouraged; they were slow to step from the safety of the boat’s hold and onto land, which I’m not certain I’ve seen before in trolls and orks. These, not being undead, were even more easily torn through than the last two boats had been; and, as they fell, we looked up for the next landing-ship and found none. Even more surprising, the large boats were moving - and rather than sail towards shore, they were sailing slightly away from it and southwards. A cheer went up amongst our companions - for this was more than we could have hoped for. We had left expecting a bitter fight, and had instead driven them off so thoroughly that they had been forced to reconsider their plans. As they cheered, they turned to leave; but Zero, and Wombats and Terisio and I did not. Zero flew out to commandeer the landing boats; and, those procured, we took it upon ourselves to follow the main boats and to keep a watch throughout the night, in the event that their reconsideration of plans should involve a midnight attack. We kept watch in shifts. After the adrenaline of the battlefield, for the first few hours, none of us could sleep. Zero and Terisio left to scout out what else was on the boats; what they brought back was grim news. Amongst a sea of corporeals, there were also six apparitions guarding their perimeter; quite a few more specters than that on the boats; and, two demons. Our prey didn’t seem to be present among their numbers - but the demons would be challenge enough. Once they returned, I took the first watch; our companions quickly fell asleep. Terisio refused, at first; he seemed bent on staying up the entire night. This, I would not allow; he knows as well as I do the perils of approaching the battlefield whilst unrested. Eventually, I convinced him to follow sense, and he fell asleep. That task done, I set about patrolling in the ethereal realm; and, when my time was done, I woke Wombats so that he could take the next watch and made as comfortable as I could next to Terisio. It didn’t take long until I, as well, drifted off to sleep with the rocking of the waves. --- -Charlotte-Augh! Nighttime! After having tried fighting during the day, I can definitely say that I prefer doing so to trying to at night. It didn’t even involve fighting in the first place - though I suppose it did a little later on - , and everything that happened is still all blurred up inside my head. Hopefully it’s not too jumbled-up and out of order, but I promise nothing. I stayed towards the back during the course of events, too, which only makes it worse - since it was harder to tell what was going on in the first place. After dinner, we went out to the last shrine to defend it from the Dagdemar Knights. They took a while to get there - we beat ‘em to it, all right, and they kept us waiting - and when they did, we kept them away fairly easily. I don’t think there were much of ‘em left at this point, anyway - just those two. They got away, in the end, though we took care of a number of their minions. That done, we started fiddling around with the orbs and the hollows again. When everything had been set in the right place, another orb appeared: it was larger than the others, and made of crystal. As it appeared, we had a vision. There was a woman running through the forest; at her side, she carried a bow. As she ran, she came upon a great tree - so tall that to see the top, your face had to be straight up. The tree was blackened and dead. She saw it, and a great cracking and splitting noise came from the tree. The woman - Artemis, I’d imagine - drew back her bow to shoot an arrow, but as she drew back her bow, it, too, cracked. Then, there were words: Arrows into the wind A dream quenched before its birth Eldest flower, morning wake Nightmare sewed into the earth Silent watchers hunt the dead And eyes turn to the prey Ressurected from a false demise While doom stalks shades of grey Found where it never was Killed before its light All that was will never be The answer walks the night
A tower in the morning A honeycomb drawn wide A triangle for a shinning dawn A breath that all will ride Known to all And others lack Name them now Or the stream flows back
This year she never was
Day breaks The gathering hush And she steps out from the dream Walking through the morning A stranger to the scene I have not found her since that day Though I search each and every way.
The vision ended there. We opened our eyes again and, as we looked up to the sky where there had been the tree before, watched as the moon itself dimmed. I don’t know what that means; surely it has something to do with Artemis, but... what? What has she done? Or maybe more accurately to say, what have we done? And as we saw the moon dim, an elf girl - a little younger than me, I think (relatively, of course) stepped towards the orb saying that she’d had the vision before and that she needed to complete it. She touched it, and spoke softly, “But what if the gods never were?”. I wonder. I wonder, I wonder, I wonder. What does this all mean? The gods are. Though I don’t devote myself to them, I know that they exist - and I know that they influence this world in astonishing ways. The world would be a very different place of the gods did not exist. And that vision, too - if the end of the vision involves the nonexistence of the gods, then what does the first part mean? Can’t be anythin’ good, if you ask me.
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 19:16:04 GMT -8
June 2011 Campout, Day 3 --- - First thing's first, we got rid of the demons and other assorted undead from the Darkness Zone ships that tried to land the night before and ended up high-tailing it out of there.
- We got a cursed item of Dagdemar (deity-connection-messing-curse) with the Darkness Zone's time effect on it. It messed us up very badly.
- Papers were decoded, dungeons were explored, and plot happened. I think my head is still spinning from that one a month later.
--- Enyari FenwëDawn came with the gentle rocking of the sea. I could have - we all could have - used more sleep, I think, given what lay for us a few hours hence; but the light of day has other plans, and once woken up, it is unfortunately difficult to fall back asleep. Once we’d all awakened, Zero flew back to Pinnacle to warn our companions and to bring back a couple of items from our armory. There wasn’t much more to do after that point other than to wait, and to watch, and to hope that the battle wouldn’t start so early in the morning that we’d have to try to take care of it on our own. I’m happy to report that such a situation didn’t turn out to be the case. Zero returned fairly quickly, and our assorted companions arrived some time afterwards. We stood together and watched as, just as the night before, a landing boat slowly made its way from the ships to the shore. What disembarked was mostly skeletons and - according to the necromancers - a plethora of assorted ethereal beings; so far, no demons to be seen. The plan that we’d made generally involved waiting for the demons to arrive, which required that we last until they saw fit to make an appearance. I spent most of that time dueling skeletons in an attempt to keep ethereal things off of my back, which they were most certainly aiming for. I was, I am embarrassed to say, knocked unconscious by a skeleton a total of once. The fault is mine; I felt something ethereal in the general vicinity - no doubt waiting for me to exit the duel - and thus ran some distance away so that it wouldn’t have the chance. This involved presenting my back to the skeleton - which you should *never* do to an enemy unless there is no other option - and it took the rather unfortunate opportunity that arose. Luckily, one of my companions saw me quite quickly and healed me. After that, I went ethereal to see how many were left, and noted an apparition that was apparently also a nature mage. That is a rather unsavory combination, all circumstances considered. Specters and apparitions checked, I returned to the ethereal plane and set about waiting for something to materialize so that I could trap it in a duel. Eventually I caught one, and took care of it fairly quickly; I’d have continued, since that seemed like a decent strategy, but it was roughly around then that another boat’s contents spilled onto the shore - this time, headed by one of the demons. In one hand, it held several spellstones and what appeared to be a fairly normal sword; in the other, it held a morganti shortsword. Terisio and Wombats and I started to head for it; almost as soon as it disembarked, it cast an Elder Sorcery cascade that displaced most of our companions in time. We were out of range of the cascade, quite luckily, but it left only us and a handful of other people to take care of the copious amounts of remaining undead. Before it had time to cast another spell, I rushed up and dueled it, and Terisio and Wombats joined the duel. It was over within minutes; the demon very nearly slipped its morganti sword into my husband’s gut, but it glanced off of the very edge of his armor. Once the demon was down, one of our companions ran over and touch-exorcised it. In that split second, an apparition swept out of the ethereal realm and made off with the morganti sword. It wasn’t the nature mage, I don’t think, which was better than to have been so; but regardless, an apparition with a morganti sword is an unappetizing thought. A third boat landed; along with another hold full of undead, the second demon walked off. Terisio and I tore over to it and dueled it as soon as we were in range; Wombats was either out of commission at that point or off elsewhere. Once we entered the duel, we saw that the demon carried a morganti staff as well as spellstones and another weapon. I hoped to the gods that the morganti staff wasn’t a spellcasting aid; if it was, we had probably just gotten ourselves into more trouble than we could handle. Whether it was or not, I’m not certain; not ten seconds after I entered the duel, the demon mana-drained me. I remember one of the last things I thought as I went down being, “Thank the gods for mage lore”; though I was unconscious and only somewhat weak in my spirit, if I hadn’t had it, I would have died. I remember feeling, at some time in my unconscious state, the hairs rising on the back of my neck. Terisio told me later that the demon had tried to hit me with the staff, but was unable to as it was still locked in the duel. To say that the thought of its strike succeeding fills me with terror is a great understatement. When I was reawoken, the battle was over; everything had dissipated when Terisio took down the demon. Zero had taken control of the main ships at that point, our companions had returned from their displacement, and we had found the two weapons that their forces had stolen from us. From there, it was back to Pinnacle. While most of the others immediately were off again on another mission, I made my way to a quiet inn to take care of some of the guild paperwork from the last few days. Another woman was there, practicing her art; we spoke a little, but eventually she left to visit a buyer in hopes of selling a piece that she had recently completed. I stayed longer; once I finished the paperwork, I set about attempting to make sense of a paper connected to some caves or tunnels in the area, and which Embarcarious had found and left to the party at large to figure out. I looked at the lettering that it was written in, and something stirred within my memory: my mother had spoken of lettering in the Grey Isles that, at first glance, appeared to be very decorative knotwork. I suspected that this lettering was likely what she was talking about, which seemed to give a clue as to its origins - and incentive to try to pry apart its secrets. With some help from others amongst our companions, during the course of the previous day we had figured out the meanings of several of the characters and the proper orientation of the piece; but there was still a great deal that needed doing. I tried, for some time; but I found that I couldn’t focus. I sighed and put it back in my note-pouch, and started back up the mountain towards the meeting halls to await the return from the latest adventure. There was a little time to be passed, but not overmuch. Melissa arrived at some point to staff the meeting hall, but that was the only occurance of note. When they returned, they brought with them a curious item: an orb placed on a pedestal decorated with the shapes of dancing skeletons. It had been found in a chest carried by undead and guarded by what I believe they said were several Knights of Dagdemar. Several of our companions requested that Melissa identify it, and she did. When the ritual finished, Melissa seemed puzzled. The item, she explained, was very evil and very old - very ancient, and from far back in Roekron’s history. But there was next to no information about it whatsoever, and by all rights, the item shouldn’t exist. It was also, she said, cursed; anyone who had touched it would suffer a block of sorts between themselves and their deity. Quickly, cries arose to destroy the item; Melissa explained that we needed to keep the item to remove the curse, and that the usual way to get rid of such a curse is to kill the cursed person while they hold the cursed item. Even more quickly than the cries to destroy the item, there were cries begging Melissa not to hurt them or cause them undue pain; her reply was not to worry, as she would use a death ray for the process and it would be over fairly quickly. While Melissa spoke, I watched her. A shadow of sorts began to stir in the back of my mind, and when she mentioned the death ray, made itself known. At this particular moment, Melissa was reminding me of someone else - someone that was not, or had not been, Melissa. The thought - well, I’m still not certain of how it makes me feel. Maybe I never will. And maybe it’s best not to dwell on it at all. During my sojourn into the realm of thoughts, people had begun to oracle to their assorted deities about the item. Several people, I thought was interesting, announced that they were oracling to the universe; and Kyrin said that she was oracling to the Yavanna Tree. Kyrin went unconscious mere moments after she began the oracle, and we could not wake her; she seemed to be in a coma of some kind. That was already problem enough, but it turned out to be just the beginning. For some reason that I cannot quite recall, Emyrn chose that moment to verbally go over the vision that Kyrin had had about the Yavanna Tree some time back, and said, “The stream flows back”. The next moments were filled with what is among the strangest of sensations that I have ever felt in my life. The only way that I can really describe it is feeling like I was slipping away from reality and forgetting something that I couldn’t quite recall; and the next moments were confusing. I found myself looking at the hobbits assembled, and wondering why they weren’t working - to some extent, the same thought occurred to me about the dwarves. The elves in the room - even my own husband - seemed to thin, or to become little more than shadows; and all the centaurs faded away as well. What were centaurs, in any case? As a historian, I should know well that centaurs are merely a myth. The thought occurred to me that since the hobbits weren’t working, maybe I should order them to do so; that should put them in their place. And, a moment later, the sensation mostly ceased. I looked at Terisio, and noticed him and several of the other elves knotting their brows and rubbing their temples; when I thought out to him to see if he was all right, he brushed me off; it was just a headache, he said. Then I mentally checked myself to make sure that *I* was all right, and found that the sense of forgetting hadn’t quite left me entirely; I knew that there was something that I should be able to do, but I wasn’t quite sure what it was anymore. Once more, the nature mages gathered tried oracling to their deities about this very strange object; I watched as, one by one, they winced or recoiled from nothing. The gods, it seemed, were unhappy - and something was very, very wrong. This year, she never was.
...
Where do gods come from? Of their birth no one is sure We know they cannot die But what if they never were!A moment passed; and then, another. Connections began to form in my mind, and as things started to come together, I began to mentally scream a stream of curses at my mother. The gods-curst, meddling fool! What had she done!? Did she have any inkling, at the time, of what she had set in motion? Had she not learned before? There was no way to confirm it, or at least not yet, but largely due to her the Sisters hadn’t really existed in any form for nearly two decades now. The vision had referred to the Sisters; and if this was happening because the Sisters didn’t exist... By this time, Melissa had sent everyone out again to look through the assorted caves the Embarcarious marked out as connected to the paper, and was leaving the room. I resisted the urge to catch her at the door and - but no. There was no time for that now, and the person that I really wanted to berate probably wouldn’t be able to hear. Terisio started to head towards home, and I assured him that I would be along in a few minutes; in the meantime, I spoke to several people - Emyrn, Anonymous, Annabeth, and others - and arranged to convene later in the evening. If it was indeed my mother’s fault that this had happened, then we had damn well better reverse what she had done - and quickly, before it started to get worse. When I returned to the house, Terisio was there and waiting. I looked at him; after a moment, I unsheathed my wakasashi. I asked him to trust me; I was going to knock him out. He wanted an explanation, but I couldn’t give it to him; even if others have never learned that some things should not be known, I have. Uncertainly, he allowed me to knock him out. That done, I treeformed him. If the stream of time was flowing back, and the elves were beginning to get headaches - no. I was not about to let my husband fall prey to the Sun Fever, if indeed the headaches were the symptoms of the Sun Fever returning. When this would hopefully be all over later tonight, I could revert him; but for now, he would be safer like this. That done, I retired to my study and continued to hack away at the alphabet of that strange paper so that it could be ready when my companions returned. It was easier to focus, now, with the force of pressure breathing down my neck. But nevertheless, it still took me a long while to puzzle through; many of the different letters were mirrored versions of others, and I cannot count the times that I accidentally marked one as the other and had to begin again. Through continuous trying, however, sense started to emerge from the words. This is what they said: In the fountain of the smallest mage In the cave of liquid stone He hid the rock of formation Whose purpose is unknown. A light where none existed A candle to the soul A piece to many puzzles That enacts a precious toll. Long he looked to find it And long he fought for its gain Long he pondered upon it Long it was his aim. If you wake the heart of dragons Be careful with your mind For the heart knows only passion What you seek is what you find.I read its entirety but once; then I found myself knocking over my chair in my haste to get out of it and then tearing back to the meeting halls, once again cursing my mother the entire way along. It wasn’t her fault this time, I suppose; but rather than curse her for something that she had done, it was more appropriate to curse her for having gone off and died and thus not been around to deal with this. Maybe cursing her was useless and somewhat irrational, but to be perfectly frank, it provided a small measure of relief that at that point I very desperately needed I had thought to ask whoever was staffing the meeting halls for indications as to what caves they had gone to, and then to pursue them before any damage to be done - but I was too late. When I finally burst through the doors, the party that had gone out was already there; and in their was a man clutching exactly what I was afraid they would find. Though not exactly, I suppose - but close enough. I listened to what exactly is, and my fears were not reassured; the stone that the man held would start to disappear if others tried to touch it or take it without his permission, and by this point seemed to have bonded to his being in some way. Worse still, the man was fairly new to adventuring; he hadn’t even achieved enough experience to enter a class yet. Embarcarious, who had been staffing the room and talking until now, looked up and saw me watching with what was most likely some sort of horrid expression on my face and the paper in my hands. He asked if I wanted to explain what was going on; after some humorless laughter and a moment of thought, I agreed to explain what was going on by way of their asking questions and my answering them. It’s easiest to control information and focus that way, I find. They started to describe what they had gone through to get the stone. The first cave that they had gone to hadn’t been what they were looking for; they then proceeded to a second, and correct, cave, which was located within the lava tubes. There was a series of rooms; they showed me the route that they had taken on a map that had been found with the paper that I had been puzzling through. They went through several doors that required riddles, the answers to which were Sunlight, River, and Shadow - a very interesting non-coincidence, I thought. They also had to fight a hydra, blue drakes (which they had charmed and ordered to go hunt vampires, of which I approved immensely), and a golem. The doors beyond each of the creatures could only be opened by the person that had delivered the final blow to it, which I thought made a great deal of sense. It was a series of tests made to protect that which lay within; the person that eventually got hold of it would have to be nimble enough in mind to answer the riddles, and able to defend themselves well enough to hold off even such creatures. The flaw was, of course, what had occurred here: if a group of people had gone through, and the item was picked up by someone that could not have passed the tests alone. As I listened, my fears were somewhat assuaged; the man, it sounded, had answered two of the three riddles, which seemed to indicate that he had a good head on his shoulders. After they had told me what they had found in the final room, and what they had seen in oracles that they had done, and I had answered some of their questions, I took the man - Makai, his name is - aside and instructed him in what he should remember as long as he possessed that object. I asked permission to touch it, and he allowed it; I examined it curiously. It matched near exactly a drawing that was on the paper that I had not an hour ago been squeezing the meaning out of. Once I was sure that he had understood what I had told him, I asked him to meet myself and the others in the evening. Plans change, and evidently they can be turned on their heads in scarcely more than a moment. This is why I hate trying to plan things. But regardless, he agreed to meet us; and when I left, my brain was whirling with half-formed thoughts about how to incorporate Makai into the evening’s plans without putting anyone in too much danger. My hopes were not high. I think what we’re going to have to do is to approach the matter as carefully as we can and to try to keep going regardless. There isn’t time to plan for much of anything else; and in any case, as far as I’ve been able to discern about this kind of approach, there isn’t much use to planning anyway. The only way to get through it is to try to roll with whatever comes and hope that you don’t get bruised too much on the way down. If all goes well, I will return later this evening; if not, I don’t believe I shall be returning at all. It’s time for me to leave, now; there isn’t much time before we convene at the mage school, and it’s a miniature journey to get there from the house. Normally, I would pray to the gods for help; but I think that, for once, the gods need more help than we do. --------- Two Weeks Later (07/03/11) Enyari FenwëI am not my mother. And, I am glad to say, I don’t think I ever will be. I tried to be her; I tried to take her place, as she had trained me to do, because I thought that it was what *I* had to do - and, in my trying, nearly caused the nonexistence of not only myself but a half-dozen others as well. Her paths are not mine to walk; perhaps another will take that route, someday. Perhaps it will be my lot to train the one to pick up her legacy - but it does not belong to me. I know my path, and I know what my purpose on this earth is; and I should never have strayed from it. I have come to the conclusion that we each have our own ways to navigate the world. My mother’s way sailed on the tides of thoughts and dreams; Terisio’s way is by blade and hand and physical effort; Xey’s way is to keep trying and trying and to look underneath every rock and behind every tree in the hope that someday, something will work; Embarcarious’s way is to carefully look at all the options available, divert the opponent’s eyes and mix half of the cards, then to choose what seems to be the best action to take. Each of us has our own ways, and when it comes to the last of it, they all balance each other out. And when someone tries to step outside their own way and to wear someone else’s boots, the balance becomes upset, and disaster is bound to occur somewhere along the way until that person wakes up and wears the boots that they were meant to have. Only then can they begin walking in the right direction again. And my way? My way is with a sword in one hand and a scroll in the other; with my mind in what might happen and what might be done, and my body in what can be done and should be done; and with my arms open to those along the way who have been broken and need to be protected so that they can heal and move on. My way is to balance the options, hope for the best, and do what I believe to be right. I’ve forgotten that, of late; and I think it’s far past time that I remembered why I am here and to continue walking down the path that I am meant to follow.
Chronicle for Palo Alto Club League, 07/03/11 --- - Yay for existing again!
- Yay for huge, danger-ridden sacrifices to the Yavanna Tree!
- Yay for vampires taking over Magden's elite guards! Oh wait, scratch that "yay".
- Yay for huge, awesome ethereal rifts to keep specters and such out! Yay Oditan!
- Yay for time-distored items touched by the Darkness Zone! Wait, scratch that "yay" too.
--- Enyari FenwëThe world turned solid once more. Instead of the fluid, ever-changing place from before, I opened my eyes to see the others - Makai, and Kyrin; Anonymous, Emyrn, Annabeth, and Oreyn. Caydis was there too, thank the gods - as were both Embarcarious and my husband. Neither had been present when we had begun. Particularly surprising was Terisio’s presence; seeing as how I had treeformed him in an unconscious state not more than several hours ago, he had evidently been found very quickly. “You’re back!” he cried. The comment seemed a tad strange; we had been here the entire time, though admittedly we had been in some ways elsewhere. I said as much, and - - two weeks? Two weeks?It would seem that “back” meant having returned after having been missing - body and mind - for two weeks before Makai and Terisio could devise a way to get us back. Once the hubub died down, Embarcarious casually mentioned that we might want to take a look at the map and the news boards hung in the meeting hall; he then strolled out of the room. I asked Terisio what had happened; he glanced uneasily back at me and said that we should probably see for ourselves. We filed out of the room and through the halls, carrying with us an air of trepidation. The trepidation quickly turned into shock and then horror as, even from across the room, we set eyes on the new map that had been hung to reflect the changes that had taken place in the world. The Darkness Zone - which had been a dark blob on the map and remained so for as long into my childhood as I could remember - had spread to cover not just Andionion, but also parts of Svodlun, Ilionass, Blackspire, Aramir, Eon Ion, and even the eastern shore of Hostor. More than that, a second - and larger - Darkness Zone covered most of Dagdeoth to the edges of the map and, most likely, beyond. The news only made the situation worse. What the Darkness Zone was was not just the endless, moonless - though now, thanks to Artemis, it did indeed have a moon of sorts - twilight that I had walked in once before; it was also, evidently, the bounds for an alternate reality. It had been as such for a while now; but it had only been discovered now. In this place, centaurs were little more than a myth; elves were rare and often tennants, and hobbits were slaves. Dwarves and humans remained largely untouched. Most deities were only allowed shrines rather than temples, as proper - save one. The main deity worshipped was named the Dark Lord, and was known to be Dagdemar’s son. What was particularly frightening was that, once someone went in, that person would not remember that the true reality existed; all that they knew was the reality they were presented with. Some people didn’t even exist within that reality - and so, upon stepping inside, would disappear and be lost to both places forever. Moreover, those that strayed outside of the Darkness Zone would forget the existence of the reality within, and continue about their business in this reality without thinking anything strange. The only ones that were able to discern the existence of both were elves, who would dream of another place - and, upon meeting several other elves and discussing their dreams and finding that they had been dreaming of the same things, realize what had happened. Also frightening was that the expansion had not been a slow growth; it had taken place in mere moments, and could probably do so again. How, by all the holy robes of the gods, is one supposed to guard against that? If you go in, you forget what you knew and what you meant to do - unless you are an elf, and become at that point either nonexistent or socially powerless. The gods can’t help; their power there is weak. The only way to safely deal with it is from the outside - but even then, how? Where to start? So enters a song written by a minstrel in Amir Ford. It was not, of course, from the famed oracle that was called the Minstrel of Amir; he was dead due to the influences of an assassin carakwaith named “the Reaper” that had been slain not too long after she had killed him; I heard later that it had been written by a runesinger friend that had accompanied us to the Grey Isles nearly two decades ago. This is the song as it was sung to us: If tomorrow seems uncertain, the dream is running dry The stars are repositioned and you cannot recall why Just listen to these words my friend and hold on to the last You are fighting for our future, you are fighting for our past.
There are three in need of naming, cracked with existential rocks And naming holds the solution to the coming paradox You must journey ever-deeper into darkness and despair You must reach out to the withered roots and whisper comfort there.
If your travel brings you closer to a world that should not be Know that you must keep your vision clear no matter what you see Although many will condemn you in the name of their Dark Liege For the Son is always watching, and the gods are under siege.
Once you reach the Heart of Shadows and confront the Flapping Death Know that the darkness will continue for as long as it draws breath I can show the way no further, you must find it on your own But this world depends on Heroes; and you'll never be alone.In essence, in order to destroy the Darkness Zone, we would need to destroy the luphgaunt that lurked inside named the Shadow Bat. I saw Oryen shudder; he had escaped its touch by a hair’s breath nearly twenty years ago. I think it still frightens him, and for that I don’t blame him. A being made of morganti, able to appear and disappear into the shadows with no sense of where it will appear next; something that can be harmed by next to nothing - not even magic - and that has more respawns than any undead should be allowed to have... How are we to destroy it? There was silence in the room as I contemplated this. Everyone else, I imagine, was thinking of much the same things that I was - save one piece. I turned and took Makai aside to a different part of the room. He still held in his hands what he had found in the caves two weeks ago. It’s dangerous, at least as far as I’m concerned; more so, maybe, if you don’t know how to interact with it, or even have a basic idea of what to expect when you possess something like that. I have him a choice; he chose to become my apprentice and so learn what he might eventually need to know. Sometimes, there is more danger in having knowledge than remaining ignorant - but this is a time that I believe the inverse to be true. We sat and quietly discussed amongst our assembled group what on earth we were going to do, and hypothesizing about what was underlaying the events that, evidently, we had been missing for. During this time, our companions returned from fighting the remaining Knights of Dagdemar left on Hostor. Once they returned, there was consideration of what we were to do next. It was decided that, rather than pursue something written on the task bulletin first, we were going to make an expedition to the Yavanna Tree and “whisper words of comfort there” as best we could - that is, to make a mass sacrifice and hope that we could give it enough energy to stay alive even in the darkness. Given that we couldn’t stray into the Darkness Zone itself, the only option left to us was to fly above it to where Einandori was located. Regular flying wouldn’t reach high enough, which left us with trying to make the journey by griffin. Needless to say, few of us knew how to ride griffins. Some people chose to be polymorphed into griffins rather than to ride them, which posed its own set of problems. As it was, we weren’t going to be able to fight if we were too busy trying to cling onto a griffin’s back - and, knowing that we would likely be facing vampires at the very least, that was not an appealing thought. But what else could be done? While Anonymous went to herd the griffins over to our departing spot, everyone returned to their residences to pick out things worthy of sacrifice. I chose a wakasashi that had once been Eon’s before he died; it was meant to go with the katana that I wielded, but Terisio had only rediscovered it recently. It dealt magical damage and was without any sort of flaws, making it what I thought was a rather excellent sacrifice. I returned to our place of departure to find griffins being paired with riders; I buckled on my sheaths tightly and then mounted, trying to get comfortable astride across the griffin’s back. It was a good attempt, but unsuccessful. As this was getting sorted out, we discussed a plan - though to be honest, it wasn’t much of one. Essentially, we would stop for nothing. Even if a vampire came soaring out of the Darkness Zone, we wouldn’t stand and fight; we would flee as fast as we could. To attempt to fight was too risky. Oreyn, who was somehow comfortably mounted on a griffin next to me, made slight changes to this; he declared that he was going to hold off anything that we came across single-handedly, so as to give us more time to run. I argued; Terisio had very nearly lost his father once, and to do what Oreyn wanted to do was borderline suicide. My father-in-law, however, could not be persuaded; as an apprentice at the Mage School, he said, he knew how to handle himself. There was nothing that I could do, so I dropped the matter; but I still worried nevertheless. Once everyone had mounted, we took to the air. It was a long flight, and terrifying at that; first there was land, and then nothing but ocean below us; and, eventually, the Darkness Zone. For most of our flight over the nighttime clouds below us, we were safe; it was only when we were nearing our intended destination that, out of the blackness, there arose two morganti-wielding vampires and a brace of ethereal beings. I hated myself for it, but I gritted my teeth and kept flying past them - leaving Oreyn behind. I looked back once to see him fending off morganti blows; after that, we were too far away. We gathered at the spot of the Yavanna Tree and quickly began our sacrifice, knowing that the vampires wouldn’t be far behind. Oryen joined us a few minutes after we had gathered, and appeared to be entirely unharmed. He tossed in several of his spellstones to the pile of weapons and other assorted items that was meant to sacrifice; then, at once, we offered it to the tree. Everything vanished; we could feel, in that brief connection, a sense of growth in the tree. There was also what felt like the stirrings of a vision waiting to be born in the back of our minds; but in order for it to transcend the limits of the Darkness Zone, we would have to linger to receive it. We didn’t have that time. It was then that the vampires caught up and began to mob us again. We scattered with panicked cries and started flying back towards home as fast as we could. I took a route that swept around most of the chaos, as did several others. Perhaps we should have waited to receive the vision; but a vision does no good if the ones that receive it are dead and cannot be brought back. In short, we fled. We straggled back to Pinnacle one by one. I looked for Oryen every time, and didn’t see him even though most of our companions had returned. I still waited, and in the meantime was left with an overwhelming sense of guilt at having fled the battlefield like a frightened deer and not stood to fight with the others - against the object of my hunt, no less. Though there may be survival in such flight, there is no honor in cowardice. It was long in coming, but eventually three figures appeared in the distance. They quickly grew larger and descended; one of them was Oreyn. The three of them had stayed long enough to receive the vision that the Yavanna Tree had been attempting to send to us. As they described it to us, I found myself remembering my mother’s last piece of cryptic notes that she had left shortly before her death. The vision and the images that she had transcribed were suspiciously similar. The vision began with a tree. At first, there were fae folk whizzing about its branches; then they disappeared and flowers blossomed on its branches, out of which hatched several creatures that looked similar to what had once been the familiar of a companion named Annabeth. They were rather dragon-like in form, but also had some unicorn-like traits mixed in with their dragon traits. Then the vision changed, and they saw a girl standing on a road. On either side of the road were large cliffs; and, in the sky, there were many upon many dragons of all different colors. Once Oreyn and the others finished describing the vision, I said that there was more to it, and described the rest. The next piece involved the forest in the Darkness Zone; my mother had said “There is no hope, there is no life” and “Destroy the Nightstalker”. The last part was a mother and child laying dead in the snow. When I’d first seen the papers, I believed the Nightstalker to be Broden; but it would seem that it was otherwise. What more that half of the vision meant, I’m not sure; much is lost when the movement and timing of the vision can’t be seen. We discussed the vision as we retired to a nearby inn for the midday meal; and, amongst those involved, we also discussed how we were going to continue the journey that we’d started - and how to do it properly. Under the hubub, Terisio also began to tell me of what had transpired while I had been busy ceasing to exist. It seemed that a great deal had happened in my absence, and I was more than a little sorry that I’d missed the excitement. Nevertheless, that set my mind back on its proper path - and, once we had finished eating, he and I left and made our way to the guild halls. Magden’s group of elite guards had been morganti slain during the night; those that hadn’t been killed were missing. Terisio went to talk to Magden; I went looking into other places regarding the rumors. The rumors, namely, were that some of Magden’s guards had killed each other - which indicated that they had been charmed, and which further indicated that there was a vampire sticking its nose where it didn’t belong. I felt a presence stir in my mind, and opened it up so that Terisio could tell me what he found; what he did was show me what was happening during his conversation with Magden and what each party was saying. Almost immediately, Terisio started talking himself down a path that was going to lead him to a very bad place. I winced and asked him where he was, and he relayed the location; I started bustling off there so as to rectify the situation. He continued to update me; I could tell that his beating-around-the-bush approach was making Magden increasingly paranoid, and quickly told him to stop talking before he got himself in any more trouble. By that point, unfortunately, he’d dug the hole too deep and there was no return. I watched as Magden placed my husband under arrest, and walked all the quicker to their location. Once there, I began to speak with Magden. As my guildmaster, it wasn’t difficult; had I not been a warrior, I suspect that reasoning with him would have been a sight more difficult. I explained to Magden that my husband had been talking so vaguely not because he was one of the enemy, but because (I believed) he had been wary of anyone listening in. Terisio’s intentions, though confusing, were good; he was only trying to investigate what had gone wrong with his guards. I then proceeded to explain that it seemed like someone had infiltrated his guards and caused a betrayal of sorts - implying, but never mentioning outright, the presence of vampire. Magden looked confused for a moment; then a smug smile spread across his face and he slowly said, “Oh-ho! I think I know what you mean. Like spies, right?”. Fine. Call them spies. Whatever it takes. I confirmed it; he then asked why I was telling this to him if we were being overheard. I said that it was only what my husband had believed, and that I didn’t think that we were being eavesdropped upon. He then released Terisio from the arrest, gave us permission to investigate further, and told us to bring any spies that we found to him. I agreed and hurried Terisio away from Magden. Yes, my husband is a lovely person, and I care about him dearly; but as someone that is primarily a semi-martial, the way that one deals with warriors - that is, the simplest and most direct way available - isn’t something that tends to come to his mind. Even worse when it comes to simplicity are mages; and, come to think of it, maybe that’s why Magden isn’t so fond of them. Mages tend to see the web of complexity in life, and in many ways make it harder to understand - or at least to think through. As a warrior to the absolute core, I don’t see Magden taking that worldview very well. In any case, we’d promised to find his “spies”; and by the gods, that’s what we were going to do. I’d made a promise to my gods long before I’d made the promise to Magden; and regardless of what he’d said, finding them is my duty no matter what. --- -Charlotte-Not too terribly much going on today, or ‘least so it seems compared to what I’ve gotten the impression is usual. Or rather, not too terribly much going on that I participated in. I imagine that there are plenty of people, adventurers or not, having plenty of things happen to them. Not that I’m complaining or anythin’; interesting is not necessarily in any way synonymous with “good”. I guess that there was a bit near the end, but I got out of the way of that fairly quickly before something happened - I doubt my parents would appreciate me getting myself morganti slain. There was a bit of a historical - archeological, I believe was the specific bit involved - meeting earlier in the day, hosted by one “Sir Aelfwine Firespark”, a gentry from Amir Ford. What with knowing a bit about historical events and all, I figured I’d come along, and, shall we say, convinced myself in with short order. They’d found this thing - contaminated by the Darkness Zone’s alternate timeline, I suppose - that kept waving between being an item of Dagdemar and of the Elder Goddess. It sounds like people made some sort of connections about all of that and realized that the one event that had changed in the Darkness Zone and subsequently made everything different was that, in that timeline, it was Dagdemar - rather than the Elder Goddess - that had stepped into the world first. Makes sense, I suppose; the further back you change something, the more it’s going to affect you when it reaches your time. That’s the trouble with time travel, or at least one of the many. Anyway, so that’s how I found out about a special mission going on in the evening - again, put on by Sir Firespark. Something about charging a rod with mana from different locations. When we met in the evening, Embarcarious was a little more specific; there were five locations that corresponded to the five mage types, which would then - if the item was allowed to rest there for a bit, anyway - collect mana of that type. On a side note, I’ve surmised that everyone calls Embarcarious “Embarcarious” without the proper titles, regardless of rank; so I’ve decided I should probably do that too. When in Dsesnor, do as Dsesnorians do - or ‘leastways, that’s what they say. Though an anonymous “they” isn’t someone that one automatically wants to trust, I guess... So we went to all sorts of different locations. I had a bit of fun in the first one - there was a lava floe nearby, which explains the abundance of mana. Lots of fire elementals, too, which was a bit unfortunate. ‘Course, it gave me an opportunity to fun around a bit; and I must say, it’s still somewhat amusing to hear people refer to the place as “the place with the fire elementals and that voice”. So that was the first place; then we went to the Tradjador Forest with its earth elementals and Ironwood Ents, and then to some swamps near someplace called Hoss Bay. Lots of swamp-dwelling elementals there, and necromancers to boot; I died quite a bit. Landed in the fen every time, of course, and whoo! Did it ever stink! Thanks to Caydis, though, I didn’t end up getting trod into it too much. Next, we circled ‘round to the ocean. There were water elementals there, as might be expected. A bit of a curious pattern, that - we were goin’ to all these places because they had copious amounts of free-flowing mana. And, in each place, there were elementals of a corresponding type. The elementals like mana, I guess. In any case, the water elementals weren’t too great to fight; try running on sand or while knee-deep in the water and you’ll see what I mean. Not fun! Especially when the elementals are displacing people in time left and right. Not too many of us were left after that one, but we went up to the last spot nonetheless. It was up on a plateau. Since it was the only kind of elemental that we hadn’t run into yet (or at least, kind that I’m aware of), I guess that there’d be life elementals there or some such thing. And you know what?, I decided, I don’t want to deal with this. I’m going to spend this one as a gods-damned tree. And so, I did. Good thing, too - instant exorcisms, being cut off from your deities... Everyone always assumes that life magic is all about gentleness and healing and flowers and doey-eyed idealism, but no. It’s the nastiest one of the bunch, if you know what you’re doing with it. Live a hundred years and hope to thrive, I never want to meet an angry life mage. Once the rod had been there as long as it needed to charge itself up, we all took our leave and went back to Pinnacle - which, thankfully, wasn’t too far away. We were just outside the gates when people - commoners, I think, and others - started streaming over to meet us and take a look. They wanted to shake our hands or get us to sign pieces of paper, and... well, I know that sometimes people look up to adventurers, but that just seemed weird. I stayed away. Seems to me that if someone is being that friendly to you, something’s up. That’s when the morganti comes into play, see; something *was* up, and in a decidedly unsavory manner. I wasn’t the only person to high-tail it out of there. What can I say? A lot of the people that had come along were guildmasters, or very nearly so. I’ve only barely started this whole business of adventuring. Most likely, I’d only’ve gotten in the way. I watched from the city walls; it looked like there was a dirty dark blade out there, too, as well as the morganti. It also looked like they were losing until a couple of figures - other adventurers, I guess - went dashing out the gate and headed straight for the offending swordsmen and took care of them. Maybe I can be like that, someday - be able to look something like that in the eye and just take it out in short order. Not that it’s likely that I’ll ever be allowed to embrace that, of course, but one can dream. --- Enyari FenwëI’ve never been one to put my faith in chance. There’s already too much that’s uncertain in this world, and it seems folly to throw one’s self into the fray and trust in luck to see you through. That said, thank the gods for the chance that Terisio and I found ourselves near the Pinnacle gates in the evening during our hunt for Magden’s guards. We hadn’t found much and were discussing whether or not to leave off hunting for the day when people in the streets suddenly started talking about some sort of ruckus just outside the city - and morganti was involved. We took off running. I suppose it was a blessing that we were as well-equipped as we were; had we been there for any other purpose, we likely would only have had a pair of swords at best. It wasn’t long before we were on the scene; then, we did as we do and as our duty commands. There were two sired-by vampires there; one had morganti, and the other a dirty dark weapon. Both of them were Magden’s missing guards. Counting others that had been found during the course of the day, that left only one still at large. I still say that it’s folly to put one’s faith in chance - but on the other hand, it seems quite lucky that, even as we’d been searching for his guards, they effectively dropped into our laps. If only our hunting was always so easy! Afterwards, Xey came over and clung onto my arm. The vampires, it seems, had been asking after her in particular. What kind of filth-ridden, black-hearted monster chases a seven-year-old child with morganti? But then, I know too well the answer to that. The same kind of monster that would torture a baby and order her to morganti-slay her own parents. I don’t know why I even ask myself anymore. I hugged Xey, and stroked her hair, and calmed her down as best I could. Poor girl. She’s got a good heart, and tries to do her best to help and fight as a warrior does; but she’s still a child, and a young one at that. There’s a lot of world out there, and much of it’s none too friendly; and, too often, far too lethal - whether you’re a child, or an infant, or fully grown into adulthood. Too many people die trying to fix that. I suppose that the question is, then - what’s worth dying for to try to keep safe? She didn’t let go for a long time. Neither did I.
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 19:20:35 GMT -8
Campout Chronicle for the Club League Campout - 08/07/11-08/10/11 (August 2011)
Part One
Enyari Fenwë
“What would drink?” “The Yavanna Tree.”
...
“For me?” “For the Tree.” “Correct; for I am the Tree.” ...
...
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Who truly knows what will happen the moment they step from their doorway and into the world? We can plan; we can expect; we can attempt to shape that which happens to us. But by the end of the day, most often, we find that the day has not followed our plans; has not been bound to our expectations; and, for all that we did to make it what we wanted it to be, is still somewhat different from what we imagined. When our group of adventurers set sail from the shores of Hostor to aid in the defense of Celendil and of the Yavanna Tree against Dagdeoth, twelve among our number could not even begin to dream of what would occur in the coming days.
We all sailed to aid Celendil; most were clad thickly in armor or cloaks, and carried with them the greatest of their weapons - with which, upon arriving, they would join the elven defenders and begin to press back against Dagdeoth. Among the many, five of us had rather different intentions: Kyrin, Emyrn, Annabeth, Makai, and myself. For weeks before this voyage, we had spent many hours together - planning, debating, and attempting to devise our own way to aid Celendil: to heal the Yavanna Tree. We knew that we would have to parlay with Elianna Starlight in order to pass through the protections the elves have set around the Tree; as such, we were more lightly equipped and prepared for diplomatic discourse rather than a match of blades. I had only taken a sword and a stiletto with me, in terms of weaponry; and Anonymous had lent to me the Cloak of Navanna, for the wearer of that cloak cannot harm elves. As the only human among our group aside from my apprentice, I would need any extra help I could get to convince Elianna that we were worthy to approach the Tree.
The voyage ahead of us was long; and, rather than wander about the deck with most of my companions, I decided that it would be better to use the time to take care of some of the paperwork I am required to do for my guilds. Once working, I don’t appreciate being disturbed; accordingly, I locked the door to one of the storage rooms before setting up to work, and didn’t intend to unlock it until I had finished. It was mostly quiet, at least for the first half of the voyage. Early in the second half, I heard muffled shouts and thicker footfalls from up on deck; it would seem that something had decided to disturb our passage. I assumed that my companions could deal with it adequately on their own, and continued to work; eventually, the sounds above faded to normal volumes. A little while later, the sounds rose again - this time accompanied by a great thumping on the side of the boat, as well. As before, I assumed that they would be fine on their own - and so they were. The thumping ended with a chorus of what sounded to be laughter above-deck, which I took as a sign of success and then set back to writing.
A little later after that, I was startled out of my work - something suddenly didn’t seem quite right, and it made me uneasy. It took a moment to identify what the source of the feeling was: the ship was quiet. I couldn’t hear any footsteps, or shouts, or much of any noise whatsoever trickling down between the boards above my head. That was, in a way that nothing yet had been, a bad sign. I quickly strapped on my armor and weapons, readied my other effects, and carefully crept up the stairs to squint through a slit in the door to see what was happening.
There was a circle of protection set up in the middle of the deck; crowded inside of it were the majority of my companions. Most of those that were outside of the circle were wounded, or perhaps dead; it was difficult to tell. But most telling of all was the presence of several creatures in the ethereal realm - no vampires, but a couple specters and an apparition. Worse still, the apparition was wielding a morganti sword. Several of my other companions were also up and ethereal; my son was one of them. I waited until the doorway was clear, then slipped out onto the deck and waited for something to materialize so that I could take care of it.
As is their wont, of course, most of them slipped into the material realm only for a few meager seconds before slipping back out; I must say, it made them most difficult to stick a sword into - which is, of course, the point. I watched as Caydis gripped the apparition by the shoulder; it didn’t seem to be able to move. I assume that it’s part of his new abilities; he had said that he was better, battle-wise, than he had been before - and I will agree, that certainly is better. He also glows slightly and doesn’t seem to be entirely corporeal, but as long as he’s happy with it, there’s no reason for me not to be.
While he had the apparition held still, Kyrin and Emyrn darted out from the circle of protection and threw themselves overboard. They hit the water and sank, and started making motions of moving towards the smudges of the distant shore. Normally, that would be worrisome and indicative of being mind-controlled; but Kyrin, at least, has her ways of breathing under the water, and I assumed that Emyrn was using that as well. Not long after they jumped ship, the apparition and its companions were dealt with; after that, it was a smooth sail straight to the Andionion shore. We disembarked and Kyrin and Emyrn emerged from the water not too long after everyone was off the ship, neither looking at all worse for the wear.
From the mooring-place, we started towards Celendil. I had never been in the city before, and cannot attest to its normal state; but I can say that it looked as if they had been hard-pressed. There were so few people there, and most of them were clad in battle gear; but seldom did I seem them stop to talk or look around. The only intent seemed to be to get where they were going. The buildings themselves seemed worn as well, many of them lacking adornments of any kind - remaining, rather, severe and bare. Some of them were partially disintegrated, even. And, layered over the trees and far in the distance, faint wisps of smoke spiraled high into the sky to join the clouds that lingered over the city. This was no longer a place of lively goings-about and dwelling for the race of elves as it once might have been; rather, it was an outpost against Dagdeoth, and the only elves that stayed here now stayed to protect it.
We approached the far edge of the city. Even from here, we could see the Yavanna Tree in the distance. She loomed large and far above our heads, looking for all the world like a skeletal claw reaching desperately towards the heavens. It was encased in a circle of protection large enough to enclose even the Tree. Battle sounds rang out, and grew louder as we advanced; once at the edge of the city, we could see the black tide of Dagdeoth meeting the lighter scatterings of elves around the edge of the circle. We hadn’t watched for long when none other than Elianna Starlight herself appeared in our midst and demanded to know what we were doing here.
I’d never seen her before, and looked at her curiously. She was old, even amongst elves; her hair was greying, and crows-feet stemmed from the outer corners of her eyes. She carried with her a staff and her spellstones; on her back was a cloak that seemed to be forever flapping in some invisible wind. The expression that she wore gave me a powerful impression of a thundercloud - severe, dark, and edged with the threat of imminent danger. I thought at that moment that she was not someone that I wanted to cross; I have since been able to confirm this as an accurate statement rather than mere probability.
We explained that we were here to fight alongside the elves in the defense of their city. There was a little banter back and forth, and several insults were incurred on our side; but in the end, Elianna allowed us to continue. Most of our companions rushed down the green towards the ragged edge of battle, quickly engaging the enemy; Annabeth, Kyrin, Emyrn, Makai, and I stayed behind. With the Tree surrounded by a circle of protection, and Elianna Starlight most likely holding the key (as such), our task was to convince her to let us inside. Normally, I would have probably been the one to speak; but, as a human, it seemed more prudent that Kyrin - an elf - take on that task instead, so as to give us a better chance at success. I kept my mouth shut; the other reason that I was not the ideal candidate in this situation is that I knew I would have trouble keeping my temper in hand. I can only endure so much petty bullshit, even from ex-members of the Wizard Trade Order. Gods above, I will never be a politician.
We had never conceived a specific plan as to how to approach this; what little we did come up with was quickly discarded as being ineffectual. Lacking a better way to explain it, Kyrin started in with the direct route. She turned to Starlight - whose eyebrows were so impeccably arched as to convey her vast disdain for us - and said, “We’re here to save the Tree. We know how to do it, but we need to get closer to it to do it.”
Starlight’s eyebrows drew even higher. “Oh, do you?”
“Yes.”
“You presume that you have this knowledge - and what if what you do kills the Tree?”
“The Tree is going to die if we don’t do something, and if we do do something, it might live - so it seems like a good idea to let us do it.”
“There could be other ways to save the Tree; and if what you attempt to do kills it, then my ways of healing it will be useless.”
The conversation spiraled down from there. Throughout the debate, Starlight accused us of “presuming”, to put it in her words, much about the Tree and nearly everything related. Moreover, we made the mistake of getting drawn into both theological and racial arguments, both of which were nasty snarls to navigate; the same with mentioning that we were Children of the Scarred, which we had previously agreed not to reveal at all. Kyrin glanced back at me, silently pleading for help; I shook my head. In a pause in the endless back-and-forth, I whispered to her to take a historian’s view and start from the Yavanna Tree’s roots - the Unicorns.
Kyrin turned back to Starlight and tried again. “When the Yavanna Tree first grew, it was the Unicorns that planted it. The Unicorns are involved in its healing.”
“Do you presume that your deities created ours?”
“Yes! I do!” Kyrin shot back. She was beginning to get frustrated; I winced and hoped that she wasn’t going to get goaded into saying something stupid. For all her strengths, diplomacy is not among them.
“The Tree is an elven deity,” Starlight responded, with a hint of steadily-mounting impatience touching her words. “Your deities may have allowed the Tree to grow, but they did not create it. You may presume that it was otherwise, but I believe differently.”
So it continued. That approach proved to be equally as, if not more so, pointless as the previous ones. In the end, Kyrin put our request to Starlight frankly and without any trappings that could be latched onto for cause for argumentation beyond what the question itself invited: “Will you let us closer to the Tree?”
“You are an elf, yes? Then you may go to the edge of the circle, but no further.”
“What about humans?”
“Humans must stay a... respectful distance from the Tree.”
“Which would be how far?”
“Two or three miles would be appropriate.”
“Look, some of the people that need to be present to save the Tree are humans. We need to get closer.”
Starlight responded with what was effectively an “oh well”, then curtly announced that she was needed elsewhere and couldn’t remain any longer to parlay with us. With that, she spoke to the dozen guards that had arrived during the course of our debate and said that we were to be placed under arrest. A moment later, she teleported away; we saw her reappear in the distance on the battlefield, amongst our companions.
The next few moments were uncomfortable, to say the least. We looked at the guards surrounding us; they gazed back impassively. For the moment, it didn’t appear that we were going to be going anywhere, which left time to attempt our plan regardless and hope that it worked even from this distance - a “respectful” distance, as Starlight had termed it. Emyrn, Annabeth, and Kyrin joined hands; the guards watched cautiously, but made no move to stop it. Together, they recited the riddle that lay at the heart of the healing:
“A tower in the morning A honeycomb drawn wide A triangle for shining dawn A breath that all shall ride Known to all and others lack Name them now or the stream flows back.”
There followed the answers to each line:
“A tower in the morning: The Elder Goddess. A honeycomb drawn wide: Love, Truth, Justice, Sorrowveil, Dagdameon, Crucept.” A triangle for shining dawn: Passion, Law, Perspective. A breath that all shall ride: Life. Known to all and others lack - name them now or the stream flows back!”
They then named the names that the riddle required. Emyrn spoke first: “Change.”
Annabeth spoke next: “Hope.” I was reminded briefly of her familiar, before it had faded; but that was why she needed to speak that name.
Last was Kyrin: “Balance.”
We watched, anxious. After a moment, the three broke hands and sighed, rubbing their faces tiredly. “We need to get closer,” Annabeth explained.
Then we turned to gaze at the Yavanna Tree in the distance. As we looked upon it, someone issued a gasp of horror. The Tree - already seeming to be on the verge of keeling over - had begun to crack and split down the center. The elves inside the circle didn’t seem to notice; neither did our guards, who looked at it with unmoved expressions. But we could see it - and were wary of what the cracks heralded. We had done something wrong. And - the Tree being so near to death already - any other missteps had the potential to cause its collapse entirely.
From the edge of the clash below, a figure started walking towards us; as he got nearer, we could make out that he was one of our companions - Jana. He approached us and asked what was happening, and we explained that we needed to get closer to the Tree. In the midst of the hushed conversation that followed, it was discovered that both Jana and Annabeth were trained and skilled diplomats - which we could use to our advantage.
They strode over to the guards, and the rest of us watched as they delicately posed the idea of moving closer; pinching here, pushing there, and layering the request with an inoffensive dose of goodwilled rationality. At last, the guards looked at each other and shrugged, then said that they might as well. We began to trek over towards the Tree with our escort of guards; midway through, Kyrin leaned over and whispered to me that she didn’t think that all of the elves there were high elves - some were wood elves, too, and probably didn’t have an overabundance of love for Starlight. I looked over at the guards; perhaps she was right. So far, despite our unfortunate tumble in talking with Celendil’s mistress, our dealings with its soldiers seemed to be gilded with a little luck.
A couple of miles later, and we found ourselves at the edge of the circle of protection. We looked at the Yavanna Tree inside; even from here, it was still another full mile away from us. Still, it was closer, and we weren’t sure that we’d be able to get closer than this. Knowing that, Emyrn, Annabeth, and Kyrin joined hands again and repeated the ritual. Upon its completion, they announced that we needed to be closer still - up to the Tree itself, most likely. Eyebrows were raised towards Annabeth and Jana; they took the hint and spoke to the guards again, trying to convince them to let us into the circle itself. And - though they tried every which way - the answer was the same: No. Even they, they said, weren’t allowed inside the circle; it simply wasn’t going to happen.
It was at that moment that, as if by some exceedingly unlucky twist of fate, Elianna Starlight chose to appear once more. Where previously she had been merely annoyed, she was now livid with rage. Thunderously, she asked what we were doing here, and berated the guards for not listening to her orders. Then - to save us the trouble of causing yet more trouble, I imagine - she told them to immediately escort us to Celendil’s prison.
And, understandably, they did just that. They bowed and turned back towards the city, and we began the long walk towards our imprisonment and eventual condemnation. That gave us still a little time to plan; I did not waste it. As we began, I threw out my thoughts to Terisio and found him; I expediently explained that we had unsuccessfully tried to heal the Tree and that we were now under arrest and bound for prison. We would not be coming back on the boat with the rest of our companions. I think he said something about asking Embarcarious for help; it was a little difficult to tell through the panic laced through the rest of what came through. For that, I was thankful - we were going to be needing all the help we could get.
Once I finished warning Terisio, I turned to Makai. As discreetly as I could - which, granted, was not much - I whispered instructions what he should do once we were in the prison. The object that he held, though still we scarce understood it or knew how to use it, was likely our key to getting to the Tree. A teleport into a circle of protection - especially one set up by Elianna Starlight, and especially when performed by someone who is not a storm mage - is normally a near-impossibility, as I understand it; but these circumstances were somewhat unique, and I thought there was a good chance that it would work.
The rest of the way there, I reflected on the little that I knew about Celendil’s prisons and court systems. My mothers had told me a little about them; both, as two of the Scarred and therefore effectively criminals in the eyes of Andionion, had been arrested here and managed to wriggle their ways out of morganti execution. But that had been in a different time under different rulers - before the King and Queen had been assassinated and Elianna Starlight had stepped down from the Wizard Trade Order Council to take her place. Under Starlight’s rule, I imagined, much would be different.
Kyrin, too, had been arrested here before; she had said that males and females were put in separate sections, which is why I had given Makai his instructions now. It was a funny thought; when she had been arrested before, she had been with a party attempting to help rekindle the Tree before it deteriorated to this state. And both her parents and mine - Celeste, Nyanar, Ara, Patric, and the others - had come to Celendil to speak to the Yavanna Tree for guidance and heal one of the unicorns that had created it - or let it come into existence, or what have you. Any time anyone from these bloodlines has come to Celendil with the intention of helping it, they find themselves arrested. There’s something of a curious pattern to be found there. Maybe more of a warning than a pattern, to be honest.
Eventually, we reached the prison building. Four of the guards broke off from the group with Makai, Jana, and (David) and led them down a walkway to the right; the rest of us were escorted to the left. The cells themselves held a few people each, and as such we were all locked in one cell. The guards didn’t take away our equipment before locking the door and walking away; I can only imagine that there’s some sort of process that they have to go through first. Or, maybe just as likely, they were needed elsewhere and simply didn’t have the time. Whatever the reason may have been, we were left in the cell with all of our various weapons and armor and spellstones. Under different circumstances, I wonder what we would have done being thusly armed; but for the moment, all that was left to us was to wait.
I looked out to the other cells. I’m not sure if the prison was more or less full than I would have expected, given Celendil’s state; we were certainly not the only people here. Some were elves - defects from the Shadowguard, perhaps, or simply made criminal for other reasons. There was also a decent quantity of humans, as well - captured Dagdeoth troops, most likely. Beyond a few cells down, I couldn’t see. There may well have been a smattering of other races as well, here for any sort of various reasons. Looking out at them, I wondered what they had done - and how many of them were here for crimes of mishandled good intention similar to ours, and to our parents before us.
My contemplations were halted when I was hit with a sensation that I can only describe as being shoved. But rather than being shoved from an outer source - thrown against the bars or the floor, for instance - it was more like being shoved from the inside out. I remember that sensation, and seeing the others react to the same feeling, and then death.
When I came to, there were clouds above me. Bare twigs upon branches upon larger branches loomed far above my head, stemming down to a trunk far larger than I could comprehend at that moment. Jana was there, too; so was Makai, clutching his item to his chest. What was I laying on? Earth. Moss. Leaf litter. And some very uncomfortable stones digging into my back. I stood up, brushing myself off, and nodded to Jana as he moved to rebirth Emyrn. It had worked! Even with Elianna Starlight’s infernal circle of protection in the way, Makai had gotten us past it and close enough to the Tree to do the ritual proper.
But at what price? I cast my eyes about the area for my companions, and my eyes were met with a sea of unfamiliar faces. There were hundreds of bodies strewn about this area within the circle; some of them I recognized as other convicts that had been in the cell across from us. They were all dead. And, beyond the edges of the circle of protection, companies of Dagdeoth troops were moving towards Celendil unimpeded. The city itself, far in the distance, looked to be bound for an ill fate; some of the buildings on the edge had begun to burn, sending up columns of thick, heavy smoke through the forest canopy. It was not so difficult to put two and two together: the amount of energy required to pass into the Yavanna Tree’s presence had mana drained to death, not only ourselves and hundreds of fellow convicts, but the entire city of Celendil. There would be no-one left to stop Dagdeoth’s advance. Maybe that meant Elianna Starlight, too, would have died. Some small, vengeful, bitter part of me took a little satisfaction in knowing that we may have accidentally killed her; but it was slowly dawning on the rest of me what I had done by telling my apprentice to teleport us here. As a warrior, I am used to causing great wounds to others as part of protecting Hostor - but aside from undead, which are not living in the first place, I had never killed anyone before. Not until this moment, when I could look at my hands and in my mind’s eye see the blood of hundreds of elves staining them.
Grimly, I set the thoughts aside. That was the price that we had paid to come here. If only so that those lives had not been wasted, we had best do what we had come here to do - repentance could come after that had been done.
Once all my companions had been rebirthed, we began to spread out around the Tree to the three buttresses that helped it stand. For a tree a mile thick and a longer way around, that is a long way to walk. Emyrn went to one buttress; Annabeth to another, and Kyrin to the third. We watched as they began to chant the riddle, letting the words fly far from their lungs to echo in the distance between them. Before they could let loose the answers to the riddle, a very strange thing occurred: as the stanza “Name them now or the stream flows back” was called, three people were summoned to the Tree.
They were Spartan, Celia, and (Stone). All three had stayed behind, when we had made our sacrifice to the Tree, to receive the vision that it had tried to send us. That sign was clear to us: they needed to speak the names. Each one took a place at one of the buttresses - and then, the ritual continued with first the answers to the parts. Then came the names.
“Known to all and others lack Name them now or the stream flows back!”
From one side of the Tree, I heard a faint voice: “Change!”
To another side, a little louder: “Hope!”
And the final - closest - one rang loudest: “Balance!”
The world felt as if it started to shift under our feet - something was wrong. The poem that we had was more than a poem and the words to a vision: it was, in truth, a riddle. It was a riddle, it seems, that we had guessed wrongly - and there were no more guesses left. I pitched forwards; the tree loomed even larger in my sight, and seemed to twist and fold as we were all pulled towards it by some alien force. Someone cried out, and the sound echoed in my ears and did not stop. I remembered thinking, hoping, that we had not killed the Tree too. There was a crushing sense of weight, and a feeling of falling as one might feel in a dream - and then the earth beneath my feet was stable once more.
Everyone was there. Makai, Kyrin, Emyrn, Annabeth, Jana, (Stone), Celia, (David), Spartan, (Chris), and Gallion - everyone who had been present when we failed to name the correct names was here. They were all lit by twilight tones that shifted between shadows and faint dusk light - and everyone was tinged with shades and tints of grey. From hair to weapons to skin, and eyes, and clothes - even to the blood that leaked from cuts and wounds - everything was grey. So too was the world that stretched around us; an ocean, surface barely shifting, to one side, and a forest and underbrush stretching on the other.
First shock, then pangs of fear, and then finally helpless despair washed over me as it dawned on me where we had appeared.
Tentatively, I sent out a silent prayer to Vìðrar for guidance; there was no answer. I couldn’t even feel the connection or sense that my prayer had been received that is always there - and that confirmed it. This was the Vanish Zone; Kveldland; the Dream Realm. It has had many names, most likely more than I know of - though if it has a true name, I know not what it would be. To say that this place was dangerous would be an understatement. I have heard tales of morganti grass, of wraith dragons, of blood sacrifice rituals, rivers that imprison those who fall into them, and other things just as bad - all found in this place. There had been a carakwaith here too, once; but she was dead, now. Maybe that meant that some of the terrors of this place would have died with her - but most likely not.
And, in the background of these thoughts, was the nagging feeling - some small, vague connection to the riddle that we had failed. We had lost a guess; here, we could find another and bring it back with us. Perhaps we would even find an answer. That was why we were here, and that was what we must do. The problem was that I hadn’t even the slightest notion of where to begin.
Luckily for us, Kyrin and Annabeth did; they concentrated for a moment, and said that they could feel their familiars - familiars that had vanished with the Nomad Sisters - in this place. Lacking any better ideas, we turned towards the direction of that sense and began to follow their lead.
As we started off, I thought of Terisio. He wouldn’t know what happened, and there was no telling how long we would be caught here in these twilight landscapes. I tried to reach him mind-to-mind, but there was no connection; just as with my deities, it stopped dead. Even knowing that it would do no good, I sent a silent prayer off to my deity to keep my husband safe and from running himself into the ground from worry until I returned. If, a small voice echoed in the back of my mind, we returned at all. Knowing the danger in this place, it would be folly to imagine that we would come through entirely unscathed. But it would do no good to think about that; we would do what we had to and put our full selves to it, and could not do any better than that.
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 19:28:02 GMT -8
Part Two
Enyari Fenwe
I couldn’t tell how long we had been walking. I put it down to a trick of the landscape; with the fields and forests of endless grey that spanned around us, a sort of monotony set in with the tromping of our footsteps. I hadn’t realized just how much color does to break up scenery and make landmarks more recognizable - until, of course, there wasn’t any color to be found. So often, that’s the way it goes, isn’t it? We take things for granted so easily, and so often. Still, I suppose that some people might have found the grey tones somewhat calming; certainly, once you got used to them, they were decidedly undistracting. The grey just made me nervous, though - it made it that much harder to distinguish potential aggressors from their surroundings.
The quiet was unnerving, too. This place was very still, and there weren’t too many sounds to be heard aside from those we made ourselves. It was something of a relief when we finally did see something moving up ahead; at least it gave me something to focus on, and at least I knew what to look for between the trees now. Strangely enough, the creatures that we saw - I have no better word to describe them than that - seemed to have some sort of coloring to them besides the ubiquitous grey, or at least they seemed to have the impression of it. There were three factions of them: one that was tinged with a greenish color, the second with a deep red, and the third with gold. All of them seemed insectile in form, though even that is a useless description. Some were short and squat and round, or sticklike, or other forms just as unfamiliar. The three groups seemed to be feuding, or fighting with each other - though they didn’t seem to take any notice of us. Mostly, they were concerned with each other, to the point that I wondered if maybe they couldn’t see us at all. Just as well; at least one creature in each faction held a blade that was unmistakably morganti.
Take note, for this may be the only time I will ever say it: thank the gods I have seen and fought more than my share of morganti. The only way that I could tell that it was what the blades were made of was by sight; if the weapons had the soul-numbing aura that is characteristic of morganti, we couldn’t feel it. Nyanar, when she had last been here little more than a few moons ago, had also noted that she hadn’t felt the morganti’s presence - but she had attributed it to am amulet that she had worn when she came. So too she had been wrong about many things concerning this place, really. She’d also thought that, given its fearsome nature, the Reaper might have created this place - and that, with her destruction, it would have ceased to exist. Yet here were were, standing at the lip of this grey-toned valley, watching these creatures take arms against each other and considering how were were going to pass by them.
By now, we had been watching them for several minutes; they still hadn’t seemed to take any notice of us. If there creatures were going to attack us, I figured, they would have done so by now - and we might as well try to walk around them. Cautiously, we started down the hill, making sure to skirt around them and not get in their ways. On the chance that they could see us and didn’t yet care about us, we moved slowly and made no threatening motions towards them. Only once did any of them seem to take any interest in us; we were almost clear of them when one of the morganti-wielding ones flitted over to us and briefly inspected us before turning away. When it didn’t return to pursue us, we moved off and continued into the thicker brush further down the valley.
On the edges, it was easy to move. Walking was a simple matter of wending between the plants, which were spread far enough apart that we could still easily see other creatures ducking through the bushes as well. Further down the valley, the brush seemed to be much denser. What seemed to be almost a sort of path for now - a couple spans wide, and maybe even made by these things - disintegrated off into little fingerling paths that looked like small, twisting deer trails at best. Or at least whatever was the equivalent of deer in this place. The trails didn’t seem to phase the creatures, which navigated even the thornier tangles of vines with ease; but then, little seemed to phase the creatures save each other. What caught me most, I think, is that I didn’t understand why. Here we were, intruders in their midst, and gods know what else was out there - but what was the root of the conflict that made them ignore it all? As little more than aliens in this place, all the rules felt turned on their head - save that the sky was up and the ground was below our feet. Seeing the battle from the outside of it without any sort of preexisting assumptions or prejudice - maybe even for the first time - made me wonder what we in our own world were missing because of our own ongoing wars.
The creatures that populated this part of this world continued to ignore us even as we ventured down into the thicker brush and brambles. Though they slipped through it easily, it gave us a sight more trouble - not the least because we hadn’t the faintest idea of where were were going except for “down”, which was sometimes best found but going right or left or even up again briefly. When at long last we burst from the bushes and reached the bottom of the valley, there weren’t any other creatures in sight.
We took a rest. There was an old fallen tree lying across a small stream that seemed to have long-since dried up, and we clambered up its side to sit on it or else just leaned against it. I continued to consider what I knew of the place; it was, as far as I knew, a dream realm of sorts, or at least connected to dreams. Both Melissa and my mother had traveled to and from this place by falling asleep and waking up, as is fitting for dreams. Leaving this place, if we needed to, might be as simple as trying to wake up. I turned to my companions and posed the idea to them, as it seemed more prudent to try it out now than to wait until we were in any sort of danger that might make it more necessary. (Chris) volunteered; we watched as he closed his eyes and spent a few moments in concentration. He didn’t disappear. Rather, he opened his eyes, and told us that it had taxed him to try - he had had energy sucked away from him that could have been put more usefully to traversing this place. It was clear enough that trying to wake up wouldn’t help us; whether it was the result of having a duty here, or the Yavanna Tree powering a gate to it, or some change within the place or its nature, we couldn't simply leave by opening our eyes.
A few more minutes passed by without incident. We were considering that we had rested long enough and might do well to start walking again when there was movement further down the valley. It appeared to be just one creature; from a distance, it seemed humanoid in appearance. It was walking slowly, and as it came closer, we could see that it carried a staff by its side. We got to our feet and approached it equally as slowly; it didn’t seem aggressive, but it did seem to notice us, and we were careful. When there was some span and a half between us, the creature stopped - and so did we. Both parties considered each other for a moment. The creature really did seem to be not even just humanoid, but maybe even human. ...He? ...She? ...It? still had something of an unfamiliar air that everything in this place possessed, though, and lacked any sort of recognizable gender. Neither male, nor female, but instead both - or neither.
I don’t remember if we greeted it or not, or said anything in particular to it. What I remember from a few moments later was what it spoke to us. It said, quietly, “Hoof and claw have drawn apart.”
The beginnings of a prophecy nearly a half-century old, by now - maybe older. I recognized it before it finished the line. There was a pause, and it continued. “And only Isles remain...”
It dropped off, and Celia continued, “...Grey and true.”
Said it, “Sorrow and Love...”
And I finished, “...struggle again.”
“One to maim the...”
“...other.”
“The forces gather to...”
“...to sunder all.”
“And drive them from...”
“...the land.”
As we continued the dance back and forth, I winced as I noticed that I was beginning to cut off its words. Luckily, it didn’t seem to mind; just continued the back and forth.
“Sorrow will...”
“...end Love.”
“Prejudice...”
“...kills Justice.”
“Deceit...”
“...destroys the Truth.”
“As we breathe in...”
“...so shall we breathe out.”
“Or both shall perish...”
“...as the Grey Lord told.”
“Gone, the world will...”
“...know only emptiness.”
“For light shines and shows the...”
“...face of the world.”
“While it casts a shadow...”
“...which distorts our shape.”
“Believing we understand the world...”
“...we act.”
“But where is light...”
“...without shadow.”
“They are one and a...”
“...part of the same.”
“And should one perish...”
I had been fine until that moment. I have read over that prophecy so many times that it was effortless to recall it from heart - Nyanar saw to that. But in the prophecy, there was nothing after that line; just a name, “Lady of the Dark Woods”, on another line. It had always seemed incomplete, and we had never seen or heard of a second part to that line. I paused, and in the moments of silence tried to pull together something likely to come next - but before I could speak, Jana added on a final part.
“...then the other will die.”
I winced again internally. He was correct in idea, or at least had a good chance of being correct, as we didn’t know for sure was was supposed to come afterwards; but even so, the way that he phrased the idea didn’t have the same tone to it as the rest of the prophecy - somewhat like the firing of an arrow compared to the chopping of an axe. There is, I had been taught, a flow to these sorts of things that has to be maintained - and that flow had just been disrupted. We watched Jana and the creature, wary of what would happen next.
A thoughtful expression crossed Jana’s face, and then it faded to no expression at all except for a vague one of concentration. It looked like a riddle-trance; I had been in them plenty of times, and recognized its feeling.
And that was a curious thing - who was this creature? As soon as the riddle had popped up, I was reminded of the Riddler. He - it - too, had always had the androgynous humanoid form that this person seemed to take - though the Riddler, as far as we knew, always wore a mask. There was another person I had been taught about, too - androgynous as well, but faceless. It had been found wandering Stormshank’s Realm when Love had dwelt there in Her wounded state. Maybe all three were the same person in different guises - that wasn’t so hard to believe. But what reason would it have for appearing in those places, and taking those forms? The commonality that existed between them all I was something couldn’t quite put to words.
At that moment, Jana started from his trance. He shook his head - and then the world around us blended and faded, and we found ourselves someplace else entirely. It seemed familiar, as if we had been here before - but where along our path had it gone? We followed the sense of Kyrin and Annabeth’s familiars to make sure that we were headed the right direction, and started off again. We asked Jana what the riddle had been; I can’t recall the exact wording, but it was clear that the answer had been “Dragon”. He had answered swords, and other things that I can’t recall - but had answered incorrectly all three times.
And so, it seemed, the other riddle - the one that had brought us here - was a warning, as well. “Name them now or the stream flows back.” If we did not name our riddles or recite our lines correctly, we would be placed back to the beginning; and, as we were about to find out, the world would make each repassage harder to walk than the last.
A few moments later, I realized where we were: we were approaching the edge of the valley that we had come across before. The three groups of creatures were still there, each faction fighting the other. But when we approached them through the trees, they saw us this time - and, rather than ignore our appearance, they turned from each other and started advancing towards us, weapons readied for a fight. Their numbers - some three dozen or thereabouts - versus ours, which were a third of that, didn’t seem like a smart gamble to take, especially since we knew nothing about them or what abilities they might have. As they moved closer, I suggested to my companions that we run past them - and so we did.
They pursued us. Luckily, they didn’t seem to be quite interested enough to keep right on our tails; they were more inclined to walk quickly, if that. When we entered the edge of the brush nearer to the edge of the valley, I stopped and stood there. I was fast, and by now was near the front of the line, but it was my duty to make sure that everyone got through and to go back and retrieve those that hadn’t. I counted them off - Celia had already passed, then Kyrin, Makai, Emyrn, (Chris), Gallion - and went back to look for the others. They were there and still running, though they had fallen a little behind. I waved them onwards in the right direction, and continued to count them off as they passed me. Annabeth, Spartan, Jana, (Stone), and then finally (David) bringing up the rear. Not far behind him were the rest of the creatures, headed by the gold-tinged creature that was holding one of the morganti swords. Once (David) was passed, I turned to follow him - but not quickly enough. The leader, as it seemed to be, raised its hand - I could see Elder Sorcery spellstones turn into energy as it began an incant. In those spare moments, I felt a sense of destructive power in the words and braced myself.
The spells hit true; and, as I had none of my normal protections with me, sank straight through my armor and across my skin. I felt my body begin to crumble and peel away, disintegrating and leaving everything that I had carried with me to clatter on the ground in a heap. But, painful as it was, I did not die. I still had my spirit and was still functioning relatively normally - but in the ethereal realm rather than the material plane. I prayed silently that the creature could not reach me in this place; it still had the morganti, which would do worse to my soul than the spell had done to my body. But if it could reach me, it chose not to; it turned away and started down a separate path with its followers.
I turned towards the path that my companions had taken and raced along its length towards my companions. They had reached the edge of the thicker brush, but hadn’t descended into it. As I careened down the side of the hill, I called out, “Kyrin!”. She turned, saw me, and rushed up to meet me even as I rushed to her. She asked what had happened; I quickly explained that my body had been destroyed, but I was not dead. I then said that my items were still up the hill; I couldn’t touch them now, and hadn’t been able to retrieve them. She and Gallion took off back up the path to search for them. When they returned, they came bearing almost all of what I had brought with me, save my mask and a Nergoth stiletto. It was a shame that they had been lost, but there were other things that mattered a great deal more than this item or that item - like, for example, that I was still alive.
I couldn’t take my things, so my companions carried them as we plunged into the thicker brush once more. The trails twisted and turned in a confusing nexus, and some of us had more trouble navigating than others; I still stayed near the back, pausing every now and then to make sure that everyone was still there. There was little trouble, as long as we kept moving. The main problem was situated along a middle section of the path, where one of the creatures stood on the side and waited for us to come by. As we did so, it would strike that person with its staff and they would fall senseless to the ground. It slowed us down, but didn’t stop us; Jana stood just after the creature and healed everyone that came through. Once everyone made it through, we crashed down through the brush - not quite taking the same path as we had before, which briefly scared me for the thought of getting lost or trapped, but it still led to the bottom of the valley. As before, when we reached the bottom, there were no creatures in sight -
- Save one. At the very bottom of the valley, standing in the creekbed where he had been before, was the person that had danced through the lines of the prophecy with us. He didn’t seem so androgynous anymore. Rather, he did look something more like a “he”, and seemed a little more aggressive than he had been before. I wasn’t sure that the change was a good sign - especially considering the dynamic that had existed between the Unicorns and the New Gods, with the Demons posing as deities that were aligned with males as the Elder Goddess had been to females. More battle-ready as he seemed, though, he didn’t move towards us. We gathered around him some distance away as we had before; Kyrin said to the group in a hushed voice, “Let Enyari do it.”
The creature - man? - looked around at us for a moment, then calmly began again as he had before. But he didn’t recite the same prophecy as he had before; it was one almost as old, and was connected to the first one. So it began:
“For they have heard...”
“...the whispers.”
“Oracles speak...”
“...and they seek the words.”
“That will put...”
“...the lock into place.”
Already, I had begun to cut him off again. Thankfully, he still didn’t seem to react; it seemed that as long as the line was correct and intact, it didn’t matter.
“For they have...”
“...the keys.”
“As...”
“...you do.”
“But like you, they...”
“...neglected the lock.”
“And a key unlocks...”
“...nothing.”
“Without the lock...”
“...that fits it.”
“Soon, all too soon...”
“...they will see.”
“And another piece...”
“...of the beast.”
“Will be...”
“...taken into the Darkness.”
“To be...”
“...unmade and unforged.”
“For they have...”
“...learned where the danger lies.”
“And it is much...”
“...too close.”
“Too close...”
“...at hand.”
Others, despite Kyrin’s suggestion, joined in; first Celia, then Annabeth, then Emyrn, and Kyrin, and so on. I said nothing; merely hoped that they knew it as well as I. But, so it seemed, they did; and along the full length of the prophecy, we made only the most minor of mistakes - and those didn’t seem to matter.
“Now begins the watch...”
“...of the twisted world and the undone powers.”
“War comes upon us...”
“...and darkness talks at noontime hours.”
“Three will walk...”
“...into the myths of men.”
“Three will die...”
“...to bring myths’ end.”
“Three will...”
“...leave this earth at last.”
“And never leave it...”
“...in future or past.”
“Three shadows...”
“...grow long at the end of days.”
“Two die already...”
“...the last dies today.”
“Three will take...”
“...their seats, rousing men to hate and hate to fear.”
“They are tearing...”
“...out eyes, cutting off ears.”
“All’s lost...”
“...before the battle’s begun.”
“No care, for...”
“...the victor has already won.”
“They will come with nightmares...”
“...with howls and feasts.”
“They will come to...”
“...do battle to distract from the beasts.”
“They cannot be stopped, they will kill...”
“...the mother.”
“For now begins...”
“...the twisted world, where names bind each to the other.”
And that was the end. There had been more to the prophecy, though not much; but, it seemed, it was meant for a different purpose than the rest of what we had spoken. We waited for a moment. Then the man stepped forward, leaning a little on his staff, and asked, “Where are you going?”
Kyrin and I exchanged glances. Our respective mothers had both told us the stories of the faceless man in Stormshank’s Realm when they went to retrieve Love; and, though the man had said little, that was one of the phrases that he had used. Remembering the exchange, Kyrin answered, “Home.”
The man answered with the expected response. “Where is home?”
Before we could continue, the others chipped in with somewhat less poetical answers. “Hostor,” they said, “Pinnacle.” Kyrin and I exchanged another glance; well, we would see what would happen. There would be no steering the ship back, in any case.
Unexpectedly, a door appeared from what had seemed to be empty space. The door opened; through it, we could see the streets of Pinnacle. Just as unexpected as the door itself, we saw people that we recognized - some of our companions, in the same age that we remembered them. In fact, upon closer examination, many of them were wearing the same clothing and equipment that they had even just earlier today; which meant that, more likely than not, the door showed what was happening in our own world and our own home in the current time, and the current day. We watched for a few moments, speechless; then (one of Zane’s characters) strode into the scene, and someone - Jana, or Spartan, if I remember correctly - shouted through the door that the man still owed him money. But the man didn’t respond.
Behind us, the man with the staff had started to walk up the other side of the valley. There was a moment of deliberation and internal strife; I could tell Terisio that we were all right. We could go back. We wouldn’t have to worry about what would come around the next bend, next tree, next bush - or at least, not any more so than usual.
But we still had a job to do. A task - and a duty. Even given the chance, we couldn’t take it until we had done what needed doing. I sent a silent prayer that Terisio would be all right, then turned away from the door with the rest of my companions. As we started to follow the man up the opposite hill, the door shut behind us - and now, even if we had wanted to, we could not change our minds.
It was something of a trek up the valley - up always takes longer than down. But there were fewer bushes and vines on this side of the hill, and none of the bug-like creatures or others came to hassle us. I watched our guide - as he seemed to be - as we walked. He morphed continuously, sometimes slowly and sometimes quickly. Sometimes, he seemed male; other times, she seemed female, and other times it returned to the androgynous state that we had first found it in. Briefly, it even took on a more animalistic state, and was nearly walking on all fours. It was fascinating to watch, though I was lost as to what it meant.
Eventually, we reached the top of the opposite hill. Even I was a little short of breath, to say nothing of the others; it had been a long climb, and a steep one at that. We paused for a few minutes to take a quick breather. Someone realized that, since we had both a guildmaster thief and a guildmaster necromancer among our group, the first could glue my items to the second and the second make use of ethereal travel and carry my items to me. By the time the time had been taken to do that, everyone was plenty well-rested and ready continue onwards - and so, we did.
From the crest of the valley’s edge the landscape was largely flat, or at least flat in comparison. There were still hills, but they were small; sometimes small creeklings or patches of brush covered them. It was more like a plains for a little while, though that didn’t last long; it quickly developed back into the same kind of forest that had covered the edge we’d come from. If anything, the forest on this side was older or healthier than the forest we had emerged from: the trees were taller and thicker around, and the layer of leaf litter on the ground was a veritable ocean that we nearly had to wade through. I was starting to get the hang of the endless grey tones, I thought; it was getting easier to keep track of things through form and shape rather than relying on coloration.
It was quieter, too, this part of the forest. We hardly saw anything aside from ourselves moving between the trees; when we did, the movement was distant and didn’t seem inclined to investigate our presence. Our walking set into a rhythm, and a peaceful one at that. We didn’t talk much - the better to keep our ears open for anything that we did have to be wary of. It didn’t do us much good, unfortunately; as it often seems to be in our own world, a presence of quiet in this place seemed to herald unfortunate tidings.
Some miles into the forest, we came to the lip of another valley. This one was much smaller and a little less steep. It was maybe thirty feet deep, and there was a large and relatively flat area at the bottom. It was also mostly clear of brush; the only things there were the trees, which were spread far apart and allowed for easy movement. As the one we had crossed previously, however, this valley was inhabited. At the bottom, there were numerous figures milling about in three places. One of each of the figures of the three gatherings stood out.
On the side of the valley left to us, there was a being that seemed humanlike; she was a woman with long black hair and lighter-toned eyes. From the ends of each of her fingers protruded long, curved morganti claws. On the side of the valley to the right of us, there was an even larger figure - dragon-sized - with giant black wings and a morganti cleaver. To the far edge and the center of the valley, we could see nothing but a mass of greyish fog that reminded me of my own fog - and the sense of morganti inside of it.
Violent, paralyzing fear washed over me and started to curdle my insides. These were no morganti-wielding insects more concerned with fighting amongst themselves than chasing down intruders: these were none other than the Demon Sisters and gods-know what else amongst the count of their minions, and they most definitely meant us harm. Most likely, they would take great pleasure in obliterating us. Sorrow, or Sorrowveil, stood to our left; Prejudice, or Dagdemeon, stood to our right; and Deceit, or Crucept, lay waiting straight ahead.
I quickly assessed the area, and realized that the only way past them was to walk directly through them. There were rivers behind us and around the valley, and now that the Demons had see us, we wouldn’t have nearly enough time to cross the water and flee. The creatures started towards us; I screamed at the necromancers, and they screamed at everyone else. There would be no walking through here; the only thing to do was to run as if Hel Herself was at our heels - as, in a way, she was. Even these Demons are, if not true deities, near enough to them that the difference doesn’t matter a whit.
We broke into a run and scattered like so many frightened rabbits. I couldn’t see the others; it was chaos. People, beings everywhere. A boulder came soaring towards me; I ducked. It missed. There was a patch of brambles, and I slipped behind it. Cover, must have cover. Halfway across; a creek. I jumped it. I could hear footfalls and wingbeats and thumping behind me; screaming, there was screaming. Two-thirds there; the other edge of the valley was in front of me. I skirted the edge of the fog with as large a buffer as I could maintain. The air was filled with spells and arrows and boulders. Vague intents - lava, armor, nightmares, spirits, unforge - crackled in the air as Elder Sorcery whizzed back and forth. Up the hill; can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t stop...
I leaped the edge of the valley and kept running. It was still uphill, but that didn’t matter. I wouldn’t have cared if it had been a bed of thorns or a wildfire or an iced-over lake I had been running on, as long as I could put more distance between myself and the what was in that valley. I chanced a look back and saw some of the others - Celia, Kyrin, (Chris) - trickling up behind me. Good. At last, the feeling of fear dissipated a little; I saw a somewhat hidden spot to the side of my path and finally stopped running there to wait for the others.
They weren’t long behind me. Celia, Kyrin, (Chris), Annabeth, Jana, Emyrn, (Stone), Gallion, Makai, and (David). Had I still had a body, I would have embraced every single one of them. Everyone had made it - save for Spartan. We waited anxiously; maybe he had just fallen behind. When a few minutes passed by, it became clear that he wasn’t going to arrive.
Then started a debate: should we go back for him? Under normal circumstances, the answer would have unquestionably been yes; but the day when standing face-to-face with the Three Demon Sisters become a normal occurrence is a day that I hope the world will never see the dawn of. Still, leaving Spartan behind didn’t sit right with me, and I could see that the idea made most of the others uncomfortable as well. That we might need him for the eventual completion of the ritual, though thought of and spoken of, paled in comparison to the bare fact that he was still one of our companions and it was the among the more selfish of cruelties that we, having survived, might not go back to rescue him from whatever fate awaited him in that valley. But we still had a task to complete - one that, if done right, would help many more than just one person. And we could not complete that task if we all lay dead or twisted at the bottom of that valley for having tried to rescue him. Eventually, we decided that we couldn’t risk going back - and from there, continued onwards, trailing behind our mysterious guide.
As I trudged amidst our group, I contemplated that our decision might have been otherwise if another - Kyrin, for example - had been the one taken instead of Spartan. Nearly as much as leaving the man behind, that didn’t sit right with me; it sent an ugly feeling rolling in my stomach. Who are we to determine that one person is worth more than another? Who are we to decide the value of each soul that we set eyes on, and to treat each one differently according to what we see? And yet, for the sake of what we might feel for or hold against another, we do; and more often than not, what we feel personally is greater than what we feel obligated to do. Maybe our world would be a better place if it were the other way around - but then, perhaps not. Most likely, it would be too different to compare. Either way, I was finding contemplation of the matter overly depressing at that particular moment, and thus buried the matter towards the back of my mind for my subconscious to work out instead.
There was silence for a long while as we walked on. It was a heavier sort, and gloomy; not much like the peaceful silence that had fallen earlier. It lingered for a long time, hanging down upon our heads and shoulders so that nobody felt inclined to speak. When at last someone did break the oppressive silence, she - Annabeth - murmured her words quietly. “My connection with my familiar is bending through our guide. Where he faces and moves, I can feel Hope.”
Kyrin responded, also quietly. “I can feel the same with my familiar. It’s weird.”
Silence fell again. I looked at our seeming guide’s back. Who was it? What was it? What was it doing here, leading us through this place? I could find no answers.
We walked on. Little occurred; after our encounter with the Demon Sisters, we found nothing else that chose to hassle us - and saw little else in the first place. Trees faded to trees faded to trees, all in their twilight-lit shades and tones of grey. Still, we trudged on, following the sense of Kyrin and Annabeth’s familiars through our guide; monotony set in, and I felt as if my sense of time had become numb for the endless sameness around us. Scores of hours passed us by; but we did not stop to rest, and only continued our weary march towards what we hoped would be our missing guess.
All the while, I could feel the energy drain from me. There was a time when, mad with grief, I hid myself away from the world in my piles of work and refused to sleep or eat. I began to feel the way that I had then: the drained, thin-as-glass feeling and hollowness in my face grew as we plodded onwards. The others started to tire as well; their feet began to drag, and their heads hung lower and lower. I wanted nothing more than to lie down to sleep - but we couldn’t risk that. Even if this place had lacked its usual dangers, it was still a dream realm; and to sleep in a realm of dreams, which others had entered by falling asleep, seemed a greatly dangerous idea - and perhaps even fatal, or effectively so. No, we could not sleep; and so, we walked onwards. We had walked for several days straight, by my reckoning, when something finally changed to interrupt our monotonous twilight march:
Night fell. It was very sudden, compared to the sunsets I remembered from our world; in less than half an hour from its beginning, the world was pitched into utter blackness. Whether it was a true night, I wasn’t sure. It was possible that concepts like “day” and “night” meant little in this place, and maybe didn’t really exist at all; that there was merely the twilight and the dark, and nothing else between. If there was a moon or stars, we couldn’t see them through the thick layer of leafy canopy above our heads. There was scant light left to us - barely enough to see by, though it kept us from being blinded completely.
With nighttime, even in our world, comes danger. Night is when the dead will freely walk the land - those creatures that cannot bear the daylight, but revel in the the darkness. Nighttime brings blindness of the senses to us day-dependent creatures, and makes even the simplest of tasks - minor combat, sorting through papers, or simply taking a trip to the privy - infinitely more complicated and likely to ensue in harm. But with the darkness in this realm, there came a different sense of danger; it was less a wary, half-caught scent and more like a person stalking you in the darkness and pressing a blade to your back. If you have ever been walking through the woods alone at night and heard a chorus of wolves start to howl; felt the hairs rise on the back of your neck in dread and in fear, knowing that something else is out there you are not safe; that is much what this sort of danger felt like. We needed, we knew, to find safety - and quickly.
Not long after the darkness fell, we came to the edge of another descent. This one didn’t seem so much a valley, as the other dips had; it was shaped more as if a bowl of dirt had been scooped out from the earth, leaving a hollow behind. This hollow had once been covered with buildings; now, it was full of desolate, crumbling ruins. Silvery forms slipped in and out from between the ruins. Spirits; dead people wandering a dead village, perhaps to haunt there forever. A knot twisted in my belly as I looked at it. When Nyanar had been caught here before with a man named Connor, they had come to a place much like this - or, maybe even the same place. An earthen bowl filled with ruins: and inscribed on the ruins were depictions and descriptions of blood sacrifice to an unfriendly deity. What more they might have found, I don’t know; they were ambushed soon afterwards. The one thing that gave me a little sliver of hope was that, across us on the other side of the bowl, there was what appeared to be the entrance to a cave. There had been no cave when my mother had come here.
Our guide stopped on the edge of the bowl. It turned to us, and looked at us silently for a moment. Then, with a curiously emotionless voice, said:
“You have done nothing.” It paused.
Several moments passed, and it echoed back what Jana had said to it earlier: “And the others will die.” Once more, it paused. Then, a handful of moments later, said,
“The dead remember. Tread lightly.”
With that, it vanished, leaving us alone at the edge of the bowl.
We stood silently for a few moments as a feeling of foreboding descended upon us. Then, we retreated a ways away from the edge to confer.
“What did he mean, ‘you have done nothing’?”, Makai said.
“Maybe it means that we’re innocent. We’ve done nothing to these people.” Annabeth replied.
Emyrn rebutted, “Or maybe it means that we haven’t done something that we should. We have done nothing.”
To that, I said, “It could mean both.”
“But even if it does mean both, or one, or the other, what are we supposed to do?”
“If we’ve done nothing,” Jana said, “and we were supposed to, it might not be safe for us to go down there. He said, ‘the dead remember’”.
I said, “Maybe we should wait until it’s light again to go down there. It might be safer. We would have to keep moving and hiding during the dark; it’s dangerous out here. But we’re not going to be sleeping anyway, so it won’t be too much of a loss.”
“The caves seem safer than out here does,” Annabeth said, “and I can feel my familiar in that direction. I think we’re supposed to go down there.” And she was right; the cave had held a sense of safety, at least relatively so, when I’d set my gaze on it.
(Stone) said, “I agree. We can’t stay out here.”
(Chris) replied, “Going through there is going to be really dangerous. There are spirits there...”
“It’s not as if the rest of this place hasn’t been dangerous,” I reminded him. “We’ll be in danger no matter what. We don’t have much choice left to us besides danger.”
“It would be easier if we knew what our guide meant! The dead remember... what do the dead remember?” Kyrin said.
Emyrn replied, “I still think it’s something that we should have done that we didn’t. ‘And the others will die. The dead remember.’”
“If the dead remember... it’s not something good. They might try to attack us. Some of them could be specters, or apparitions, or something.” Gallion said.
I though of Makai, standing almost across from me. He still had his item; maybe we could use it to help us. “What if we use that,” I said, pointing to what Makai held in his hands, “to mask our presence? To make us silent, or invisible.”
Kyrin and Annabeth winced a little. “That might not be a good idea, Enyari. Last time, it took mana from us, and we can’t afford that right now.”
“It might be possible to intend it to take mana from something other than us.” I was realizing, more and more, that the item functioned much like Elder Sorcery; it was likely possible to specify intents like that on it.
Annabeth said, “I don’t want to risk it. We can’t afford to make mistakes; not right now.”
Emyrn turned to Makai and said, “You’re the one that’s used it. What do you think - would it work? Should we do it?”
Makai paused, then looked at me. “My master should decide.”
I swore internally. I was one of the last people present that I would want to make that decision. Even if I had been a mage - which I’m not - my decisions regarding that item so far had yielded less-than-desirable results. “You are the wielder of that thing,” I told Makai, “and the decision should be yours.”
Further debate ensued. In the end, Makai decided that it was too risky to try. It was also too risky to stay out here, we had all decided; the only thing left was to try to pass through the ruins in the bowl and make our way to the cave on the other side. We turned back to the bowl and began to slowly creep towards it. As we inched our way there, I quietly instructed my companions, “Don’t attack them. If they attack you, defend only. If they’re not going to hurt us, we don’t want to give them reason to. Only attack if they start to deal significant damage with their attacks. And remember what our guide said: ‘Tread lightly’. Step carefully, step quietly. Don’t talk if you don’t have to; if you do have to talk, keep it to a whisper. Don’t disturb them in any way if you can help it.”
We reached the edge of the bowl. From where we had been before, there was a path down. It was only wide enough for a single-file line, maybe two side-by-side at best; Jana, (Stone), and (Chris) reached the edge first, and went down first. Celia, Kyrin, Emyrn, Annabeth, and Makai were next; I was towards the back, and Gallion was behind me. We hadn’t gone far down the path when a pair of the transparent beings appeared; they looked like spirit guardians, or haunts. Both of them stood watching us for a few moments, looking us up and down; they they began to move around, examining us. One of them tried to knock out (Chris), but couldn’t through his helmet. “Be careful of your heads,” he whispered up to the rest of us. “Don’t let them knock you out.” Everyone already had their weapons out; one by one, we moved our various blades up to guard around our heads.
We continued down the path into the bowl; a couple more haunts appeared, but as long as we didn’t bother them, they didn’t attack us. When we reached the bottom, a wall of haunts appeared. They had swords drawn, and swept down on us; I caught their attacks on my blade. When the haunt aiming for me hit my sword, I felt the force behind it; it was weak. It wouldn’t have done hardly anything in terms of damage if it had hit my flesh. The others seemed to feel the same thing. Nobody attacked; we let the haunts give a more passes on our blades. When they didn’t cease, Emyrn whispered to them, “We have done nothing,”. A pass later, they stepped back and faded away.
Little by little, we moved onwards. Haunts continued to appear from nowhere and attack us with those near-harmless swings; Emyrn, and Kyrin, and Annabeth began to whisper to them that we had done nothing until the haunts faded away each time. It took time, but we didn’t stop; eventually, we reached a small river, which from above had seemed to be about halfway to the mouth of the cave. There was a bridge over it, and we started to cross it. We had done well, so far; the haunts seemed content to appear, take a few swings, then fade away again. One of the haunts - a centaur - wore a familiar-looking mask across its nose and mouth. I wondered - who were these people? What had they done to die here? Why were they bound to stay?
Halfway across the bridge, our venture - which had been going better than I think any of us had expected - began to fall apart. I still don’t know who, but somebody seemed to have lashed out at the haunts; the haunts began to escalate, and when we blocked their attacks, the swings we felt were quicker and heavier: ones that would cause us harm, if we weren’t careful about blocking them. Everything began to fall apart from there. People started to attack the haunts, rather than to keep defending against them and letting them calm down.
Another haunt appeared in front of me - this one in the ethereal plane - when I stepped onto the bridge. Its fingers tapered to claws; threads of darkness swirled around its transparent form. I raised my sword to parry; it took a few eager swipes at me, though it was still too far away to make contact. I could feel the drain of energy as its claws passed close to me. This was not a haunt - or, if it had been a haunt, it was now a wraith. I looked at its eyes; they glowed, or glowed as much as anything could when everything was colored grey. I couldn’t tell what color its eyes might have been if it were in our world; as it took another swipe at me, and I focused on the mana drain, I thought that it was probably a blue wraith. A common wraith doesn’t drain that much in one go.
It was closer, now. It swiped at me again and tried to mana drain me. Normally, such attack go through any shields or swords or weapons, as an Elder Sorcery touch would. I’ve taken precautions against that, and always wear silver armor; but I’d forgotten just then that my sword was not silver, and blocked it with my sword rather than let the mana drain dissipate harmlessly against my armor. I felt all of my remaining energy drain away from me; then, I was falling, and death swept down make its mark upon my spirit.
Moments later, I awakened, and rose again. I looked at my hands; they were tipped with claws. I knew that I was dead; but something was different. I have been undead before. I have been a zombie, a skeleton, and - once - a sired-by-vampire. Each time, though the memories are blurred and fuzzed, I could remember how I felt: I was mindless. I was not myself. What I was told to do by the creature that made me, I did; and I did things, as a result of those orders and my own lack of self, that I never would have done if I had been myself. But this time, I was different. I felt like myself. There was a... a disconnect, of sorts, between my mind and my body; they felt like two different entities. But I was myself; and, when the wraith that had mana drained me ordered me to attack my friends, I felt no compulsion to obey. For a moment, my insides felt as if they had been warmed with sunshine, and I though a silent thanks to Terisio. He had arranged protection for my mind; and the protection extended even to being turned into undead.
Even so, when my “master” told me to attack my companions, I turned towards them as if I meant to do so. I had no intent to actually harm them, of course; but it wouldn’t do me any good if the wraith knew otherwise. I caught up with them and started trying to call them - to get Kyrin’s attention, anyone’s attention. I realized that I was in the ethereal plane, and slipped out; maybe they could hear me better. I called to them, first quietly, then louder - why weren’t they turning? Why were they ignoring me?
More wraiths started to appear, and began to close in on them; Emyrn turned to Makai and spoke, and he pulled out his item. They stopped moving forwards, and he began to focus on it while the others defended him against the wraiths. I kept trying to call out - to warn them that I was still me. To tell them that I wasn’t going to attack them. I called; and realized, no, they could not hear me. I had been talking in wraith-speak the whole time, and to living things, it was silent. I tried to call with my own voice - but no. I had no voice, nor way to make one; not as a wraith. I watched, desperate, as my apprentice’s item started to glow; I felt a burst of energy latch on to me and the other wraiths, and it began to pull us. There was a moment - I reached out towards them and tried to warn them as I started to fade away - and then, there was nothing.
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 19:38:55 GMT -8
Part Three
Enyari Fenwe
My hand opened to empty air. My companions were not there; neither were the spirits, or the valley in which they resided. All that remained of where I had been moments ago were eight other grey wraiths - one of which, it looked to be, had once been Gallion. The wraiths started to drift - silently, smoothly, almost as if they were skating on ice that wasn’t there - and look about the landscape we had all appeared in.
The great blanket of darkness had been peeled back from the sky; this world had returned to its shimmering twilight tones once more, leaving no trace of the horrific creatures nor the sense of impending danger that had come - and, it would seem, gone - with the dark. What did that mean? I had felt no time passing, but that didn’t necessarily mean that it hadn’t. Or perhaps the effect was centered around the valley, and having been at the very least physically displaced, we were beyond its reach. It was obvious that that valley and its cave were near to the heart of what we were trying to find, and it seems a sensible conclusion that it would have extra safeguards.
That didn’t matter, now - at least, not for the time being. I was not in that valley, nor was I where my companions were, and until I found one or both again it wouldn’t do much good to think on it further. I looked at my still-outstretched hand and saw the translucent, darkness-frayed fingers tipped with claws. What could I do now? I couldn’t use my own abilities; the skills that I learned as a paladin had been fading ever since we appeared here, and the skills that I learned as a samurai I couldn’t use in a form other than my own. That said, I was not entirely helpless: I was a wraith, and that is no small gift. What were a wraith’s innate abilities? Ethereal travel, mana draining, flight, hand-to-hand combat, only damaged by magical means... Certainly not a weak spread. I looked at myself, thinking over this alien form, and that was when I realized: I was hungry.
We had eaten nothing as we traveled; to be honest, I’m not sure that in this place we needed to eat. Hunger hadn’t touched us. But this wasn’t that sort of hunger. I think I finally understood in that moment why undead have such an insatiable desire for the blood and energy of living creatures, though I wouldn’t be able to express it even now. It is a physical longing, but as much as that it’s a mental craving for more, more, more to fill the emptiness of something that doesn’t seem to ring quite right inside.
There were no living beings around, as far as I could tell; but in my company were eight wraiths that had very recently been feeding on my companions. I considered them for a moment - wandering, drifting, searching...
Some score of minutes later, I felt somewhat more satisfied, though the nothingness inside me still cried out for more. I wandered the landscape, looking for something familiar to lead me to my companions; behind me, scattered and drifting in their own ways, were the other eight wraiths. I had forgotten that draining their energy would put them under my control - and, well... here we were. So far, I hadn’t been able to find anything familiar; I would have liked to have sent the wraiths out to look, but I couldn’t figure how to describe to them the total of the numerous pieces of landscape that my companions and I had passed through - or, at least, not in a way that would give them anything substantial to work with.
We wandered for a time - how long, I wasn’t sure. I paused in a snatch of trees and turned to my new companions, then asked them - told them, rather - to spread out and search for my old companions. They were not to harm them, drain them of mana, or in any other way cause them discomfort. Immediately after finding them, the wraiths were to come directly back to me and lead me to where my companions had been. During all points of this venture they could not harm or feast upon my companions. My orders completed, I watched them one by one take to different parts of the landscape and fade away into the distance.
Sending the wraiths to find my companions felt a little dubious; I had tried to make sure that they wouldn’t be hurt, but it was possible that they would disobey my orders - allure or not. All I had was the hope that it would work out, somehow. Once my wraiths were out of sight, I, too, started to drift across the landscape in the same direction that I had been heading ever since my displacement.
The nature of this place is strange. Worried about my companion’s safety as I was, at one point during my wanderings I tried at one point to simply bring myself back to them. I thought the thought, and let it have the potential to become real in the same way as one simply intends to move one’s hands or feet - and, interestingly enough, it almost worked. Had I been myself, I think - Enyari Fenwe rather than Enyari the Wraith - it probably would have. Lacking that dimension of selfhood, however, it had done nothing but create an interesting sensation and drained me of a mana. I hunted down one of my wraiths and mana-drained it again to replenish myself, then followed the general direction of their wanderings in the hopes that one of us would find something.
It took time. Had we been in the real world, I would have counted hours before anything happened; but this was not the real world, and time didn’t seem to flow the same way - if at all. In that time, the scenery changed; the forest grew smaller and smaller until the brush lay thickly clinging to the ground and the trees began to resemble the size of the ones we had appeared next to when we’d first set foot here. The brush and trees shrank to wind-tossed shore plants as the ground underfoot turned from soil to sand. I began to despair; perhaps we’d gone in the wrong direction entirely. This was far from similar to any of the landscape I’d trodden through in the last few days, and I couldn’t imagine that staying here would gain me anything.
I began searching the area for my wraiths; once I had rounded them all up, I would give them new instructions and we would try a different direction. Searching took time; we were all spread out, and most likely were spreading further all the time. The one advantage was that here, there weren’t too many trees to block the horizon - though there were a few sandy hills and cliffs, and occasionally what looked like pieces of old ruins. Those, I tried to avoid.
I climbed one of the cliffs to get a higher vantage point. When I looked out at the world around me, I saw quite a bit - more sand, more hills and cliffs, the forest in the background, and so on and so forth expected natural features - but no wraiths. Now that was a curious thing. Where had they all gone? And that was when, from a path carved into the steep, sandstony cliff that lay before me, Kyrin came racing up towards me.
She stopped a little ways down the path; maybe six or seven spans away from me. I turned to face her; she looked at me hesitantly, as if she were considering whether or not she should come closer or try to run away. I sheathed my katana, and she began to cautiously inch closer - still hesitant, and still seeming as if she were braced to run. When she was maybe four spans away, I bowed to her. She looked at me again; a little bit of the caution left her face.
“Enyari?”
I nodded. “Can you speak?” Kyrin asked. I shook my head. No, I couldn’t speak; I’d learned that last night when I’d tried to call for help the first time. I wasn’t about to forget it.
We clambered down the path together; Kyrin led me past the cliff and into one of the ruins that I had been so keen on avoiding earlier. I started to feel little snatches of voices -
“-hungry-”
“-wait, watch-”
“-come out... come out...”
My wraiths. My godsbedamned disobediant wraiths. I shouldn’t have trusted them. No, I didn’t begrudge them for it; I understood what it was now to have their gnawing, insatiable hunger. It was only their natures. But I’d given them orders, dammit! And, more importantly, these were my companions!
Or at least after a fashion, anyway. Kyrin and I turned a corner to see a grove of trees surrounded by four or five wraiths that prowled between their trunks like so many hunting wolves. I strode over to them and began yelling at them - go away! Get out of here! I tried to appeal to their sense of wraithhood. These were my food and my living things to feed upon; the other wraiths could go find others to drain.
I repeated it, again and again, until they begrudgingly began to move towards the exit. It was a slow process; they kept looking back at my companions with pitifully ravenous stares, which I discouraged by yelling at them to keep moving again. Eventually, I herded them out of the ruins; once they exited, I watched them go and scatter around the landscape as they continued to look for food - all my wraiths, save one.
I turned back to the ruins and went to find the wraith that used to be Gallion. He was there, lingering uncertainly next to a wall; by now, most of my companions had reverted from their tree forms, and Kyrin was explaining as best she could what was going on. They looked at me as I entered; and, as I walked towards Gallion, they gathered around to watch. I wished they hadn’t. What I was about to do already felt repulsive enough without everyone spectating it.
Slowly, I drew my katana; as I did so, I ordered the-wraith-that-was-Gallion to put down his weapons. He did. I told him to curl up in a ball on the ground - and he did. He was not to defend himself in any way. He was going to lay there, and he was going to take it... and he did. It was over quickly. I slashed at him one, two, three, four, five times in quick succession until he crumpled and began to respawn; and I repeated it each time before he could make to retaliate, until there was nothing but Gallion’s body left lying on the ground. I dragged Jana over, and Jana rebirthed him; Gallion shifted and popped to his feet without seeming to have been overly harmed. Good. Thank the gods he hadn’t died for true.
For a few seconds, I stared at Gallion’s body; then I turned away from Gallion to face Kyrin. I looked at her for a moment, and she looked back silently - and then I offered her my katana, hilt-first. She looked at the blade, then looked at me, and she understood what I was asking. I wasn’t sure if she had possessed a magic weapon aside from her rapier or not, but now she did; as she grabbed it and looked at me, her face tightened up. It looked like she hated herself for what she was going to do as much as I had. Slowly, Kyrin lifted my katana; I winced and braced myself, and then the blows fell. There was brief greyness as I felt my body repair itself again, and then she killed me again and again until even the greyness was gone. There was nothing.
When I awoke, I was greeted by the rather interesting sensation of having flesh. I blinked, and felt the skin of my eyelids glide over my eyeballs; I moved my hand, and it no longer seemed to drift in empty space. For a moment, I could feel all the tiny organs and muscles in my body beating and thrumming away, and it felt alien and strange - and then the feeling faded. When I stood, it occurred to me just how heavy this body was - but it was a body, and that was what I wanted. I was Enyari Fenwë again; Enyari the Spirit and Enyari the Wraith were nothing more than memories. I smiled. Finally, here I was!
Kyrin reached out and hugged me; I returned it. I think she was probably relieved, just as I had been with Gallion, that she hadn’t destroyed me for good when she’d killed me. More unexpectedly, Gallion, too, offered a hug. “Thank you, Enyari,” he said. “If you hadn’t been here, I don’t think I ever would have gotten back.” It was a little melodramatic, but to be honest, I think he was probably right. Then again, I don’t think any of us alone would have gotten this far if it weren’t for all the rest of us helping along.
Once the celebrations and greetings ceased, I took time to look around this place that my companions seemed to have made our camp. There was sand everywhere; the winds tumbling outside blew it in in droves, disguising whatever might have remained of a floor with nothing but soft grains. The walls around us, though crumbling, offered a little shelter from the wind. These walls, upon closer inspection, were inscribed with runes that I had never seen before; many had been worn away, but some in the corners were still clearly cut. The letters were a little ornate, and twisted in odd ways. As I was looking, I felt a tap on my shoulder; it was Kyrin. She had been watching my inspection, I suppose; wordlessly, she handed me two pieces of parchment. I unrolled it and found the same symbols that were on the wall. “There were a bunch of leaves that blew by in the wind,” she explained. “These came with them.”
I looked at the paper, trying to match its orientation to the symbols on the wall; no luck. Since most of them were so faded, I couldn’t tell. The rocks on the ground were clearer, but there was no way to determine from where the stones had fallen and how the letters might be oriented. That was no help. I sat down on one of the rocks with a grunt, pulled out some spare pieces of parchment and some charcoal sticks, and began to copy down the runes so that Celia and I could both work on deciphering this strange alphabet.
Meanwhile, we swapped stories; I told them my adventures as a wraith. They told me that they had made it through the valley to the cave, and run all the way to its end. There, they found a collection of interesting objects: a statue of a woman, some kind of flowery shroud, arrows of colored lights, a lantern, a stand with an orb, and an empty bone hourglass. The statue had had her hands cupped, and they had tried fitting objects into it; oddly enough, Makai’s item fit perfectly, and once in it seemed attached somehow - so they hadn’t removed it. He still had his connection to it, but it was no longer with him, as it were. They had tried to figure out what to do with these things; in the process, Makai accidentally summoned Kyrin, which was how she got here. The figuring had taken too long, however, and eventually they found themselves in this place with the fog, and the sand, and the ruins. They knew that they had found their last guess, though they didn’t know the answer - and then had the choice to stay or to leave. They chose to stay. That, they said, was when they found the papers; and they had been here ever since.
Once the stories ended, I had finished copying the papers and handed one to Celia. What followed then I can only describe as tedious. The two of us unsuccessfully tried to hack at this unfamiliar script; we discovered that not only could we not determine which way was “up”, but the lines of the language didn’t line up with one another entirely. Further frustration ensued. Kyrin discovered that (Stone) had an alternate personality, and started acting as an emissary between them. The rest wandered around the area, kicking at stones and building mounds and looking for hints and clues. Occasionally, somebody would toss out some piece of speculation to the room, and we would chew on it for a while; but other than that, we were largely quiet.
I don’t know how long we sat there. As is the case with both tedium and time - at least, time as it existed in this place - it could have been a mere hour, or it could have been a very, very long stretch of time. Eventually, I realized that it was getting difficult to see the paper that I was trying to decode: it was getting dark again. I stood up; the others paused in what they were doing, and seemed to suddenly notice it as well.
Annabeth called from outside of the ruins, where she had been exploring. We grabbed weapons and ran into the dusk towards her voice. When we found her, we found her on the edge of the forest - hadn’t that been further away earlier? - pointing a little ways into the distance. We squinted, trying to make it out through the quickly-falling darkness, and eventually realized: it was the bowl in the earth that we had encountered the “night” before.
Needless to say, we quickly hurried back and gathered our things - strapping on armor, buckling on sheaths, buttoning up cloaks, and so on. We returned to the spot and then continued on past it, inching slowly - quietly - to that place once more. By the time we reached it, it was fully dark out; and, as with last time, with the darkness came the feel of impending danger.
We looked at it carefully. It was the same bowl - but yet, different. The entrance to the cave was still on the other side of the bowl, and there was still a river separating the separate halves, but there were no longer haunts and spirits occupying it: these things were corporeal. Nearer to the edge I saw a few orcs and goblins, and maybe a giant further in; as I watched them, I realized that they were actively patrolling the area. We observed for a little while longer, watching their patterns. Slowly, the feeling dawned on us that this was a test that we had to pass in order to get to the cave. So be it.
We pulled back a little ways from the lip of the bowl and started to plan. That had been on of our failings last time: we simply dove into it without giving it too much thought other than “should” or “shouldn’t”. I wasn’t about to make that mistake this time. I reviewed everyone’s classes and tradecrafts, and we found a system that worked well. Four of our number were guildmaster life mages. I had them all activate pacifism. One stood at the front of the group, the second at the back, and the other two were spaced in the middle of the group and each carrying one of the pieces of paper that we had found. Each paper-carrier was guarded by a warrior. The rest - nature mages - were dispersed throughout the group and were assigned charges to treeform should the need arise. Further, we each assigned a number to ourselves; every so often, the plan was to quietly “count off” and make sure that we were all still there. Once we had done all we could, we set out again: inching slowly towards the bowl, past the lip, and descending down into the valley.
Almost immediately, a goblin came bounding up to us. Kyrin quickly dug into one of her cloak pockets and offered it a silver coin. “If you guide us through the valley, we’ll give you another one.” The goblin grinned happily and took the coin, and proceeded to poke at us and look at us curiously. It didn’t seem to mean any harm. We proceeded a little further, and other figures started towards us: an orc, it looked like, as well as an ogre and a hill giant. The lattermost was cradling boulders. Quickly, we treeformed, hoping that they would leave and lose interest if we waited long enough.
They came and inspected us; maybe they were smarter than most of their kind, I don’t know, but they seemed content to wait and watch for us to revert. After a few minutes of this, our patience wore thing; speaking in the way of trees, we negotiated a way to move forward. It was somewhat inchwormlike, I suppose. The first nature mage and her charge - Kyrin and Jana - would revert, run a few steps forward, and then treeform again. The second nature mage and his charges - Gallion and (Chris) - would do the same, and so on and so forth until we had all moved forward, and then the process would start again. It worked well; nobody got hurt, I don’t think. We were starting to get the hang of the system by the time we reached the river - halfway - and were, all things considered, in good spirits. So far, this was working much better than the last attempt had.
Just as we were beginning to cross the bridge, the lingering sense of this valley being a test swelled into our awareness once more. More than that, we realized that this test had been a test of time... and, though effective, our method was slow. We were running out of time. Just after this notion, another feeling swelled: danger. The danger that had always been present was quite suddenly much, much more present - and it was just behind us, near the lip of the valley.
There wasn’t anything else to do. I quickly empathed to the others to revert and run - run as fast as they could, don’t stop for anything, don’t fight anything - just bowl through it - , just keep running to the cave and don’t slow down. No matter what. There was a moment of tension, and it felt like the moment was going to snap; and then, all at once, we reverted and started to run.
I lost sight of the others quickly. Through the darkness, it was hard to tell what all was there. Figures loomed towards us as we crossed the bridge, then faded away as we tore past them. I saw bigger figures - cave giants, maybe - and felt a fireball whizz past my shoulder. Other figures were near the cave; I didn’t know what they were, other than that some intuitive sense knew that they were worse than what I had already passed. I ducked to a corner, hoping to move around them, and found myself caught in a dense patch of bush. Annabeth was there too, clawing at the vines - she had had the same idea as me.
Creatures started closing around us. Though the vines tore at our feet, we forced our way out of them and broke through to the cave entrance. We ran down, down, down - into the darkness, away from the things up above - almost feeling like we were being swallowed down in some great gullet. Eventually, we reached the end; some of our companions were already there. We waited, anxiously, and others trickled down one by one - each announced with light, slapping footfalls that we greeted with tensely drawn blades - until many moments passed and there were no more footfalls.
I heard a shaky voice call out from the darkness. “Count off.”
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
“Four.”
“Five.”
“Six.”
“Seven.”
“Eight”.
“Nine.”
“Ten.”
Thank the gods. We were all here. We had made it.
Everybody rushed together in a tangled group embrace. We separated, laughing shakily, nervously; but gods, we were here! Some sat down on the the ground and let the adrenaline course through them; others started pacing until the jitters went away. We quieted down quickly; there was still that looming sense of danger that hadn’t disappeared yet. It had, the others said, eventually faded the night before; but tonight, it hadn’t yet done so. We didn’t know what was up there - or what might be slipping through the darkness of the cave. Still shivering with tense pangs of trepidation, we waited - watching, and squinting through the new-moon blackness of the cave.
Some minutes passed. Then Kyrin cried out and pointed, drawing her weapon; as she pointed, we saw it too. It was quiet - utterly quiet, even against the echoing cave floor - and we hadn’t heard it at all. The thing was humanoid, and wrapped in a dark cloak. As we saw it, it lunged towards us with a sword; as the metal passed by us, we saw that it, too, was black as the cave around it. In other words, unmistakably morganti.
I looked at the creature; thank the gods, there was only one. It passed with its blade again, and advanced onto the edge of our cave nook. We pressed back into the wall, clutching our weapons. I murmured to the others that we had to attack it all at once - that was the only way we could do it without losing anyone. It passed with the blade again, and I counted - “One, two, three!”
Everybody rushed forwards. The air was suddenly filled with the gleams of starsteel; of silveel; of silver, and the faint glow of magic pulsing along the blades; and then, the creature crumpled to the ground. I would have looked under its cloak to see what it was - but the cloak, the creature, and the sword all faded as it hit the ground. As it disappeared, the sense of danger lifted.
I looked around. Everyone was still on their feet; nobody had been hurt. Good. Then I turned around - and there, in a room further along the cave that I wasn’t sure had been there before, was a white statue.
She sat on a black shroud with flowers embossed upon it, Makai’s item cupped in her hands. Also on the shroud were the other items that they had told me about: the orb, the hourglass, and the arrows of light. To the side, off of the shroud, was the lantern. Behind the entire ensemble, the cave seemed to end; there was naught but a wall of blackness after it, beyond which I couldn’t see. Together, we entered the room and approached the shroud. And it was a curious thing; though there is no sense of the gods in this place, I nevertheless was taken by the same feeling that comes over one when one steps into a temple, or a shrine, or another place of worship - or, if one is more naturally-attuned, as many of my companions were, the way that it feels to enter an ancient grove of trees, or a soaring canyon that still lacks the touches and wear of civilization.
We sat around the shroud in a crowded sort of half-circle. Now that we were closer, I looked at the objects more closely. First, the statue: she knelt with her hands cupped and her cowl up, seeming at once solemn and calm as she contemplated - but what? Prayers, Makai’s item, or other, more private thoughts? A thought stirred in the back of my mind; perhaps she was the Elder Goddess. Who knew? I moved on to the orb. The pedestal upon which it rested was constructed of three figures with their arms outstretched, as if they were holding it up against some great force. The last - the hourglass - sent a shiver down my spine. Yes, it was made of bone; and I recognized it from the descriptions of the Riddler’s Hourglass that my mother had given me. What I hadn’t realized about my companions’ descriptions was that they truly had meant that it was empty - not only was it devoid of the sand that marks the flow of time, but of the timekeeper entirely. It was nothing but an empty bone.
So far, we had touched nothing on the shroud; we were reluctant to do so, not knowing what the repercussions might be. The lantern, however, we picked up; the general consensus was that it was only a source of light, and not a piece of the altar set out before us. Kyrin held it up to the wall of darkness in front of us, but there was nothing there. Now that we were closer, the notion occurred to me that it felt less like a wall and more like the edge of the world; as if it were a great height that one could simply tip off of and fall for eternity. Whether it came from the sense or the idea, it was hit with a vague pass of vertigo, though it faded quickly. ...It didn’t feel like this black, misty wall was made of morganti, but then, nothing in this place did. Chris volunteered to stick the tip of his pinky in to see what would happen; he withdrew it, and the tip was gone.
I wondered, briefly, if maybe morganti was the essence of nothingness. It might explain a lot - but then, maybe not. Either way, there were more pressing matters at hand than debates about the metaphysics of morganti.
Names are powerful things. Before we dared to do anything, we set about making non-names for all of the objects and concepts laid before us. The saying of a name can outright summon or call the being that you speak of; this was well-known of the Demon Sisters, and applies to others as well. But whether or not the being is summoned, it can still draw that being’s attention - and anger it, if used the wrong way. It was safer to use non-Names for the time being, until we figured out what we intended to do. The names spiraled forth - cupcake, muffin-man, blackberry, lemon, lime, muffin, fruitcake - and with a measure of resignation, I wondered who on earth this business of naming things after breakfast foods had come from. It started with the Sisters when they were still in the forms of unicorns and demons, and the tradition had carried over since. I wonder if the gods are ever subject to the feeling of humiliation.
Once the naming was done, we set about discussing the objects set in front of us. They weren’t what we had thought when we tried to name the Yavanna Tree - “Change”, “Balance”, and “Hope” - but left without that, we weren’t sure what these objects should be named. And furthermore, what did everything mean? Tentatively, we began to explore more tactilely; a few at a time, we fingered over the shroud, which felt almost like soft down feathers. The lights were insubstantial; the statue felt as if it were made of an ordinary stonelike substance.
Maybe one of the names was “Nature”? The shroud, after all, looked like flowers and felt like feathers, and we had received the papers in a burst of windblown leaves. Or perhaps one of the names was “Death”; the shroud was black as funeral garb, and the leaves in the wind had been dying. As we discussed and touched, sometimes the arrows of light moved to point to different things. One might hope that they would have helped, but then, as with any answer, they seemed to merely multiply the questions.
Somewhere in those moments, as we felt around the shroud, the hourglass toppled over to lay on its side. We started at it, horror-struck for a moment and afraid that some sort of explosion was about to occur. It didn’t; Kyrin picked up the hourglass and examined it more closely. “You know,” she said, “it looks kind of like the Riddler’s -” Too late, she realized that she had uttered a Name. We went dead silent; and, in that silence, heard a slight scuff on the cave floor behind us. With a gulp, we turned our heads.
The Riddler stood in the gap behind us. It was wearing a mask that reminded me rather strikingly of Iaknoa; it was the face of a bird with a long, storklike beak. Someone in the group muttered something about plague masks. We started at it; it calmly gazed back at us, then took steps forward - one, two, three - and waded through our huddle. Hastily, we moved aside to let it pass. Briefly, it then turned with its palm outstretched; upon its hand, it traced the Elder Sorcery word for “Riddle”, and I saw Kyrin and Emyrn clench their hands that bore the same mark. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a somewhat sardonic reply about how yes, what a riddle it was indeed, thank you very much stirred in the back of my mind, but I didn’t dare let it touch my lips. Then, once it finished the tracing, the Riddler plucked the hourglass from Kyrin’s hand and traced its finger along the empty gap. It set it carefully back on the shroud. Then, carefully, it picked up the orb off of its pedestal and showed it to us; as we looked at it, we saw an expansive ocean dotted with the forms of islands - one of which I recognized as the outline of Roekron.
The Riddler set down the orb back in its pedestal, then plucked the lantern from Kyrin’s other hand and walked to the entrance of this small room in the cave. It set it down on the cave floor with a quiet clank, just by the door (as it was), and then vanished.
We sat sill for a few moments, somewhat dumbstruck; I heard a few breaths - my own included - sigh out after being held back in tense reigns. (Chris) stood up and started to make for the lantern, with (Stone) quick to follow. I hissed, “Don’t touch it. The Riddler left it there for a reason, and until we know what that reason is, we don’t touch it. It could be a hint, or a way home, and we just don’t know. Leave it there.”
“We’re not going to have light!” (Chris) argued.
“We have enough,” I said, gesturing at the arrows of colored light that still lay on the shroud. “Don’t touch it.” With something of a humph, (Chris) sat down; (Stone) continued to examine it curiously for a minute or so, circling it and looking it up and down, before joining us again.
As we continued trying to come up with all the whys and the wherefores and the whats that we required to solve this puzzling array, the lantern lingered in the back of my mind. I glanced back every once in a while, just on the chance that the lantern was a warning of another black-cloaked figure wandering down the cave or some such thing; but one never appeared, and nor did the earlier sense of danger return. If there hadn’t been other things to figure I might have put more focus into figuring out what the lantern meant - but there were somewhat more pressing things to solve. After a little discussion, we eventually decided that only three things needed to be Named: Makai’s item, the orb, and the hourglass. But what, by the blood of the gods, could they be?
Once more, we heard the slight scuff of something behind us, and our heads whipped around - to see the Riddler once more. This time, it wore not the storklike plague mask; instead, it wore a more typical mask that was cloven in half and dripping some substance down the cloven center - blood, or lead, or some other thing. It faced us and traced the Riddle sign on its palm again. Quietly, I murmurred, “Kyrin. Emyrn. I think you’re supposed to go with him.” Hesitantly, they stood and wove through us to stand before the Riddler; they outstretched their own palms, and the lanternlight caught the morganti-etched Riddle signs on their own. Then they, with the Riddler, disappeared.
We looked at the spot upon which they had just stood for a moment more, and then turned back to the shroud, the woman, and the items. Time was sure to be running out; and while they were busy riddling with the Riddler, we had to decide the Names of the objects. We were very, very careful to spell them out so as not to invoke the power of names. Annabeth pointed to Makai’s item. “I think this one might have something to with M-A-K-I-N-G. Maybe I-N-S-P-I-R-A-T-I-O-N, or C-R-E-A-T-I-O-N.” There was a little discussion, and we agreed that Creation was the best name.
I pointed to the orb, and said, “This one is W-O-R-L-D.” That was agreed upon, and we moved to the hourglass.
What was the hourglass? More than Makai’s item, we debated back and forth about what it was. Death? Riddle? Eventually, we tentatively decided on “Time”. Then, all that was left was to wait; assuming that they succeeded, we knew that Kyrin or Emyrn would have asked what the names were. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before they appeared; the Riddler was not with them.
“One of the answers is ‘Time’” Kyrin said. That was it; we had the names.
There was a quick flurry of deciding what the proper ritual would be to name the objects. The decision was that one person each would touch the objects; that person would say the name of that object. Makai, of course, touched his item; I touched the orb; and Kyrin touched the hourglass. One at at time, we spoke the names -
“Creation.”
“World.”
“Time.”
And nothing happened. We realized, with an air of sheepishness, that we had forgotten to invoke the riddle - and began again.
Together, we recited: “A tower in the morning A honeycomb drawn wide A triangle for shining dawn A breath that all will ride. Known to all and others lack, Name them now or the stream flows back!”
Makai touched his item and said “Creation”. As he said it, the name seemed to fit; it was correct.
I touched the orb - and as I did so, we briefly felt as if the floor of the cave shuttered beneath our bodies in a sort of earthquake. It made sense; this thing was tied to the world, and I must be gentle. I uttered, “World” - and that, too, slipped into place as it felt it should.
Kyrin, then, touched the hourglass; and, as the final name, spoke “Time”. But the sense of fitting didn’t follow - it felt wrong. Incorrect.
And, with this realization, we watched in horror as the items started to levitate of their own accord and drift backwards into the wall of nothingness. First, it was the colored lights; one by one, they were sucked away. Then Makai’s item - it drifted up out of the statue’s hands and away into the darkness. So too the orb and its pedestal; we watched, unsure of what was happening, and knew only that something was going very, very wrong. We watched as the hourglass, too, started to rise and drift backwards - and I decided that I didn’t care about the consequences anymore. “GRAB IT!”, I screamed, and Kyrin snatched it up right before it passed through the veil. The rest of the items, too, we grabbed - the statue, and the shroud, and so on as they tried to rise and drift away. We could feel them tug and pull as they desired to fly back, and the thought occurred to me that we were now perhaps physically holding back the fate of the universe. An odd thought, and to be quite frank, a frightening one.
Meanwhile, Kyrin was frantically speaking as she gripped the hourglass. “I asked for the names and the Riddler said that it wasn’t fair to give three answers for one. And there was one answer he could give but it wasn’t the right one, but it was at the same time. So I asked for it, and he said ‘Time’, but maybe I’m wrong and the hourglass is three answers!”
So we tried it. We shouted out trios of names, and Kyrin repeated them.
“Death, Life, Rebirth!”, I yelled. Nothing.
“Birth, Life, Death!”, shouted Annabeth. Nothing.
“Beginning, Middle, End!” said Emyrn. Still nothing.
“Young, Middle-Aged, Old!” yelled (Chris) - and nothing.
Time was slipping away; the items continued to fight our grasp. Panic mounted as we continued to rack our brains for answers and shout them out; it was close, so close...
“Past, Present, Future!” I screamed at Kyrin. She repeated them, just as frantically, and we felt the names click into place one by one. Finally, so near to the end, they fit.
Then, everything was suddenly there again - everything that had drifted through the wall of blackness, and everything that hadn’t, all back in place. I didn’t remember it coming back; it simply had. That which had fallen back looked older and worn; Makai’s item showed visible cracks, as did the orb. We looked upon them, brows knit - and then, as we watched, the items and the cave around them faded into nothing.
The world was full of sand. The sand drifted in the wind around us; gathers of leaves tumbled past. The sky was grey - clouded? Fogged? It was difficult to tell.
There, in front of us, were three women. They stood in a triangle, all facing each other; in front of each of them was a cup, and in the center of the triangle was a chalice of water - or of some clear liquid that seemed as water, at least. The first woman looked young; not long an adult. The second woman was more middle-aged, and her face bore the lines and grey streaks of hair that come with that time. The third woman was an old, hunchbacked crone; she looked ancient, but something about her form still bespoke of a brightly-burning fire kindled within her. The three women looked at us, then asked, “Do you know who we are?”
“Past, Present, Future,” Kyrin answered.
“Yes,” they said, “as three, we are. What are we as one?”
We looked at each other in sidelong glances, and then the women recited another riddle. It was long, and I can’t remember its full measure; I remember these small snippets and meanings -
“...Men hate us, gods fear us...” “...We create them, as we end them...” “...At the beginning of the world, and to the end...”
When their chorus of saying finished, we each looked at each other, somewhat dumbfounded. Tentatively, Kyrin answered, “Time?”
With that, the old crone’s cup turned over and she faded away. One of three guesses.
Kyrin looked at the middle-aged woman and answered again, “Hope?”. The woman smiled at Kyrin, and she said, “I like that answer - but no.” Her cup, too, overturned, and she faded away.
We made no more guesses after that; instead, we turned to confer. We glanced over, briefly, at the last woman; but she didn’t seem to mind our discussion. Almost straight off, (Stone) asked, “What about Fate?”.
“It’s a possibility,” I answered, “but we should make sure that we can’t think of anything better before answering. There’s only one guess left.”
“Time? No, that’s already been tried.”
“Creation?”
“But they’re endings, too. That’s not it.”
“Dreams?”
“Maybe, maybe... What about Life?”
“Probably not.”
...And so it went. Meanwhile, as we spoke, Makai drifted off from the group and began to brush away at the sand; digging at it at first, I think, out of boredom or thoughtfulness, but then out of curiosity. As he brushed away the sand, we saw parts of a stone mural that had laid beneath it. Upon it was a motif - again and again - of groups of three women. One image depicted two women holding a thread, and the third a knife with which to cut it; another showed three women gathered around and stirring a large, bubbling cauldron. Another was three women gathered around a cradle, inside which there lay a babe; and yet another with the the sun rising, at high noon, and setting. We looked at them, and from my studies of history, knew their Name; so too did the others.
We turned back to each other, “It’s Fate, guys.” Then we turned to (Stone). “You say it,” Annabeth said. “You thought of it, and it’s your right.”
(Stone) approached the Fates; he looked at the last one - the young woman - and said, “Fate”.
She smiled, and nodded once - Fate. Then she gestured at the chalice in front of her, and said in a kind, quiet voice, “This life is yours to pour.” She paused, and then added, “What would drink?”
(Stone) looked back at us, and we urged him onwards - most likely, he was the only one who could touch it. He knelt and took the remaining glass in hand; it was the only one of the three that had been clear, I thought. One was a goblet made of clay, and the other made of wood; this looked like a wine glass. (Stone) carefully poured the life-water into the glass; then stood, and not knowing what else to do, offered it to the young woman.
“For me?”, she asked.
“For the Tree,” he answered.
The young woman smiled and took the glass. “Correct,” she replied, “for I am the Tree.” Then she tipped the glass back and drank - and as she did so, the world faded away once more.
* * *
We found ourselves standing back in the circle of protection around the cracked, dying Yavanna Tree. We looked through the circle, and saw that Dagdeoth had by now taken over well and truly; ranks of troops marched past the edge, and the air was thick with black smoke in the direction of Celendil. The bodies of the other convicts were still in the circle with us; any others outside the circle had likely, by now, been animated as zombies and other undead. And yet, something else was different - and I looked up. Near the top of Her branches, the Yavanna Tree had begun to grow again; just at the very highest tips, there were leaves that hadn’t been there before.
Our group looked around at each other, and we knew what had to be done. After a quick debate, we chose three people: Annabeth to represent the past, for she was one of the eldest members of the group here; Kyrin to represent the present, because in what has happened this year it is what she lives for - not for the past, nor for the future; and Gallion to represent the future, knowing that after this adventure, he would strive to change himself into something better. Each of them walked to a buttress, and touched it; and then, they began the ritual for the final time.
I watched them go, and for a moment, wish that I was among them. I spent years of my life training for this - willingly or not - and it is the kind of task that my mentor intended for me to do. But to think of it... this was not my place, nor my time. It was theirs. Though they may stand solidly as one of each, I linger between the times, holding fast to none especially - and, furthermore, I am not my mother.
What if Nyanar were here? What would she say now - think, feel, be? I know that she would be among them - for this is her ken, if not mine. And what would she feel, knowing that everything she had worked for - strived, tried, toiled, to complete - was done?
The voices of my companions rung out as they shouted the measures of the riddle, and quickly merged into a rhythmic chorus of flowing words. The lines of the riddle drifted up to the top of the Tree, and we watched - listened - as it progressed.”
“A tower in the morning A honeycomb drawn wide A triangle for shining dawn A breath that all will ride. Known to all and others lack, Name them now or the stream flows back!
A tower in the morning: The Elder Goddess. A honeycomb drawn wide: Love, Truth, Justice, Sorrow, Prejudice, Deceit. A triangle for shining dawn: Passion, Perspective, Law. A breath that all will ride: Life. Known to all and others lack, Name them now or the stream flows back!”
Then Annabeth’s voice alone rung out: “Past!”
And Kyrin’s quickly followed: “Present!”
And last, in that lingering moment of lilting momentum, was Gallion’s voice: “Future!”
But still, something was missing.
The earth beneath our feet began to shudder. The Tree tilted - teetered. It felt as if it were swaying back and forth, first wont to fall this way, and then that, and began to crack from a great strain that we could feel in the air, and the soil, and the roots around us. A roaring filled our ears; over it, I just barely heard Kyrin’s voice shout out, “Time!” - but still, nothing happened. The world rocked harder, and just as it seemed that all was to be lost, I felt (Stone) shift beside me to stand at the forefront of the group.
“FATE!” he shouted - and the world fell into place. The ritual was completed, and the world stopped its thrashing as the final name was spoken and the final pillar was raised.
Then the air shifted; a breeze, smelling of clouds and sweet, overturned earth tugged at our hair and our clothing. A single, huge crack of thunder sounded, and I felt a drop of water dap upon my face - then another, and another, as it began to rain. I saw the smiles upon my companions’ faces, and felt another upon my own, and we turned our faces up to meet with the rain. Would that I could describe the way those raindrops felt. It was like being born anew; the small aches and pains that I’ve acquired in my body faded as if I was once again younger, and they had never been there at all; it felt like sunlight through an impossibly clear window; and it felt as if a layer of dust and dirt that wasn’t even there was washed away to reveal clean, glowing skin. It was amazing.
With our upturned faces, we watched as the Tree transformed. The old, crumbling bark on its trunk and branches peeled away and fell, revealing newer, growing bark beneath. Leaves grew and matured near the top - though not at the bottom. And there, upon the Tree’s crown, there grew a single white flowerbud.
Down below, old dirt that had accumulated around the roots of the Tree washed away to reveal living, full earth. As the dirt washed away, bodies in the earth appeared, and shifted, and stood. Spartan was among them; so was Kamanari, and several Nonas Guards, and countless others who I can only imagine had been stuck in or died in the dream realm and unable to leave - until now.
Sweet mother. We had done what we intended.
And then, there was the sense of a Fate. It was so clear then - crystalline, and present - but I can’t quite recall it now. It was almost like a thread, I think - a thread, stretched out from the beginning of the universe all the way to the end, that had once been broken. Now, it was mended, and twirled back together - but it was fragile, and weak. We - I - couldn’t let that thread unspin again.
In the back of my mind, I knew the thread to be a fruit that would, eventually, swell from the blossom that would become of the bud in the treetop above. That was what it meant, and that was what we had to protect. The Fate rest with the fruit, and that which the fruit would one day become.
Somehow, I found myself knitted within a circle of reaching, embracing arms - and found myself embracing in return. It was done. We had survived. We were here.
One by one, my companions drifted off to find somewhat-less-muddy patches in the ground upon which to curl up and sleep. I had no need; having died, I was not down any mana in the same way that they were. Instead, I turned again towards the boundary of the circle of protection, and mentally called out to my husband. With a small, hopeful air of incredulity, he responded; and then it grew, and blossomed, and I could feel him smiling. I ran to the edge of the circle, where I could feel him moving towards as well; and across it, we touched our hands opposite it.
I saw movement behind him - Elianna Starlight. Grimly - or as grim as I could feel at that moment, which I concede is very little - I turned to wake my companions. We hiked over to the edge of the circle of protection, where Starlight grudgingly opened a door and let us and the others behind us file out. As she walked past, Kyrin said to Starlight in an impossibly sweet voice, “Thank you for letting us into the circle of protection.” I snorted into my hand; Starlight’s face twisted into a narrow-eyed mask of naked hatred, and she turned away without another word. For once, I think I have to say that I liked Kyrin’s approach to diplomacy.
Once free, I rushed to where Terisio was. He and our companions had returned here to help battle back Dagdeoth’s forces, but we didn’t go to join them; instead, we sought refuge in a won-back corner of forest. We opened our link between us, where words needn’t be words and ideas can make more sense, and we began to tell our separate tales of what had happened.
And oddly enough - even as I was reliving and recounting the horror, and the pain, and the terror that we had journeyed through - I felt at peace. Peaceful. Calm. Almost as if I were emerging from an icy rushing creek to stand in warm, surging sunlight. Celeste was here. Nyanar was here. Caydis was here. Xey was here. Celewin, as she should have been, was here. Ara was here. All of those who had fallen before towards this same goal; all those that have worked towards the same ideals; all of my companions who had taken that harrowing journey beside me - were in that moment, there with me, even as they weren’t. So too were all of those that would pick up the strand of Fate that we will leave once each and every one of us passes on - they, as well, were gathered there beside me, though they don’t yet know that that is where they will be.
All of us - those who had been before, those who came now, and those who will come after - are here. And we are here to stay.
* * *
Epilogue
One might ask why, being as aware as I am of how sensitive the information is that it contains, I have published this document and the tales of the adventure that we undertook. There are many reasons. It is because of what Elianna Starlight is failing to do - to protect the Tree - and what she is doing in taking her revenge against us. It is because of what the Wizard’s Trade Order is doing in this battle - and what it is not. But in truth, it comes down to one reason:
I am publishing this document because I am a historian. I am aware of the sheer power of history; and I know that, even if the now will not listen, the future will have a true account of what occurred. I don’t doubt that, as with the slaying of the Shadow Bat, or Dagdeoth’s campaign against Hostor, or Elianna’s “protection” of the Silverwinds’ Animal Army, the current political powers of this world will try to twist this story into something for their own gain and appearance. It’s what they do, every single time.
They have deceived us many times before. What of the genocide of the Huro-Malak? Or of the Sea Elves? What of the times past in which the Wizard’s Trade Order has secretly sent Dagdeoth against Hostor, and admitted to nothing? What of the rather unsavory origins of the New Morganti that the they are producing, and of their dealings with the Dark Council in working together for a common goal? You will find no records that the Wizard Trade Order has done any of this; and yet, if you look carefully for the evidence, it will be unquestionably laid before your eyes. They have deceived us, again and again, and will continue to do so for as long as they allowed to - and they cannot be allowed to do so forever.
I refuse to twist that truth for my own gains. Here I lay my exact role in these events, as I lay the roles of my companions; I hide nothing. The future must know what has happened, and what is happening, so that they, too, can understand what is going on in their own times and with this own Fate and so protect it against what may come. That is why I write this, and furthermore, why I let the world see what the words are; I leave you with its words, and leave with you the knowing that if anything comes of them, it must be of your own hands.
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 19:49:07 GMT -8
(November 2011 - Season Finale Chronicle) As with last year, this is more a "summing-up-of-the-year" affair than a "this-is-what-happened-today" affair. A bullet-point list of what happened on that day: - Shifter started mucking around with players and Sorikonian Martial Masters and mage teachers and making dopplegangers of them. And making carakwaiths out of the actual people. And using the dopplegangers to replace them.
- Shifter may have then been morganti-slain by Goblin? Or pretended to morganti-slay himself? Or morganti-slain Goblin? Well, not the latter, given what happened in Teriock, but the whole blasted business is terribly confusing and I refuse to believe that Shifter is actually dead because I'm paranoid. So there.
- We did a huge attack against Dagdeoth and won, I think. Exploded some of their fortesses with lava, thanks to Nina Earthshooter.
- Elianna Starlight pretended to be Dagdeoth and then blew up the Pinnacle mage school. Or at least part of it. *hissssssss*
--- Enyari FenwëI walked amongst the ruins of the mage school today. There wasn't much there; not of the Storm tower, at least. All that was left was a little of the foundations that the spells hadn't been able to tear apart; the rest was scattered rubble, intermingled with snatches of dying autumn leaves. They say it's going to take at least a decade, maybe two, to rebuild it. I've said it once and I'll say it again: Elianna Starlight is - was - a world-class bitch. I respect that she was bound by an oath; I do not respect that her expression of it became little more than a misguided excuse for a tantrum she would have probably liked to have thrown even without it. Thankfully, by the grace of the Dark Lady, she got exactly what was coming to her. I imagine she would probably wish a similar fate for me. Who knows? Maybe someday, I will get what's coming to me. Hunting vampires for a living doesn't come without certain hazards, and I wouldn't be surprised if, someday, I'll have to pay my own dues for what I've done. So be it. I will die knowing that I took as many out as I could. Maybe that won't be good enough - but it will be some small consolation. And, once again, who knows? I've been lucky enough before to avoid that fate, and chances are that I will be lucky again. Though, even so, anyone can be taken - eventually. They even managed to take my husband, and that's no small feat; but I took him back. And so it shall always be until the day they manage to take me - take both of us - for good. I think it's a fair trade. What’s the score so far this year? More than plenty. Personally, I can count my daughter and my husband among those affected. For Pinnacle, I can count numerous mage students; I can count even more numerous townsfolk and peasants that have been charmed or sired-by; I can count Magden Threebeards. For the world at large, I can count many more; I recently went to Sorikonia and found evidence of Curves’ influence there. And, of course, who could forget Amir Ford? The entire city of Amir Ford was, for the greater part of this year, under the control of a carakwaith named Bones. And who knows what happens in the rest of Roekron - and beyond? The taint is spreading, now that the original carakwaiths have revealed their presences to the rest of the world. We can count our own score, too. Myself, I’ve killed a handful of vampires and two minor carakwaiths this year - one of which was my husband. My husband has taken down more noble vampires than we’ve bothered to count. My mother took out the Reaper herself, just before she died; and our clan of fellow vampire slayers have, altogether, taken out a great many other noble and sired-by vampires. Bones has been taken down, and the city of Amir Ford restored to a largely non-vampirfied state. Even out east in Teriock, headway has been made; a ship from that part of the world came to Pinnacle bearing news that the carakwaith Lance had been exorcised. Some weeks later, another messenger brought news that Fish, too, had been destroyed. All in all, it seems like a pretty fair balance - there’s give, and there’s take, and everyone is trying as hard as they can. I’ll admit, though, that I’ve never really been one for balance. When all’s said and done, I’m here to protect my love ones and my home, and woe to those that would try to take them from me. I am a paladin to Viðrar, god of vengeance, and so long as there is life in my body, I will keep my own. I’m here to protect them all, and I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon. But truth be told... I’m tired. So much changed this year, and so much of it seems so... distant, now. What was it, then? I think it was Geb, in the beginning - Geb bandits and pirates (oh yes - Geb “law enforcement”) that started raising a fuss. We gave them a pretty good thrashing and they went running with their tails between their legs. Seems like they’ve gone to harass Eon Ion now; we haven’t seen them for months. It’s hard for me to remember the earlier part of the year, not least because I wasn’t involved: my children were. I and others from my generation came in later, when it became clear that our world was about to be shaken up quite fiercely. And so it was. First, High Queen K’uni Kendrai paid our city of Pinnacle a visit in order to discuss peace treaties and the possibility of unification that was being asked of the other provinces as well. Unsurprisingly, negotiations did not pan out well, and we were left with something of a disagreement between our two parties. I believe there was the threat of outright war implied at some point, and that was the end of attempts at resolution. Her Highness left in something of a huff, but only after discovering that one of her personal Silver Service guards was a disguised vampire. In the process of helping Melissa dispatch it, we discovered that there were other vampires infiltrating the Silver Service as well - but due a moment of confusion, didn’t manage to take them down. I don’t doubt that they’re still there, and most likely spreading their plague. Good luck, dear Queen. You’re going to need it. That same day, I tested out my new equipment on a horde of undead that included an undead cave troll-demon crossbreed. With it we found a scrap of paper that fluted some of the first signs that the carakwaiths were returning - for upon it was Bones’ sigil. Even that seems so far away, now - gods know, it only got worse from there. In lieu of Her Highness’s visit, we were payed another - by Dagdeoth. They began to land troops in Hoss Bay with what seemed to be intent to invade. Now, I don’t have any proof, but I’ll tell you this: Dagdeoth has been used as the Wizard Trade Order’s attack-dogs against Hostor before. It seems to me a rather neat “coincidence” that no sooner than do we refuse to acquiesce to the Queen’s demands that we find Dagdeoth on our doorstep and ready to pick a fight. ...We searched for coins and we searched for papers as evidence, but I think that Dagdeoth has probably learned its lesson from last time and is being more discreet. With Dagdeoth came a force to be reckoned with. There were handfuls and handfuls of none other than the Dagdemar Knights; they were a tough fight, though they fell eventually. So too were there demons, and wargs - and what, at the time, seemed to be new spells cast on the troops as a whole. Spells that allowed the troops to absorb rather than take damage dealt to them; that allowed undead to respawn instantly; that allowed even the living troops to deal mana drains with every attack - and so on. How does one fight an army built like that? Of course, that’s the intent. We did what we could: knocking out, death raying, treeforming, and so on. But despite some of our best efforts, they kept encroaching closer, and closer, and closer across Hostor and nearing the city of Pinnacle. That’s not to say that we didn’t have help. A group of adventurers from Teriock, as part of negotiations of some kind of alliance between Hostor and Teriock, were present to help us sort out Dagdeoth - at least, they were in the beginning. Some of us and ours, in exchange, went to Teriock as well; and, in that exchange, I think it could be agreed upon that many alliances were formed aside from the overarching, formal construct. The Sorikonians also offered their assistance later down the line, as it were. These law enforcement of the Wizard’s Trade Order sailed across the sea to Hostor and offered to swoop down and save us all from Dagdeoth - if we agreed to the unification terms previously put forth by K’uni Kendrai. Needless to say, that particular brand of help was undesired. Unfortunately, the Sorikonians were undeterred, and began to very slowly disembark and begin to march towards Pinnacle. As I understand it, they were caught in the wide-spread Beedle’s Festival somewhere along the way and felt obligated - having been invited to partake in the celebrations - to attend, so it took some time to reach their destination. That was, as I said, later on, however. I apologize for the haphazardness of this summary. Time is... difficult, to quote a former teacher at this school. When so much happened in so short a span, and when some of that was indeed related to the changing of the ebb and flow of time, it becomes difficult to pick it all apart and tell it in the right order. What comes next may be somewhat out of order; may other, better records correct the mistakes in mine. During the time when we had the help of Teriock adventurers, one of the groups brought back an orb that had - until very recently - been in the hands of some of the Dagdemar Knights. They took it to Melissa the Scald, who identified it; there followed a series of very, very strange effects. Firstly, she said, the item was very old - ancient, even. And yet, there was no information about it. Further, the item shouldn’t exist at all. Then the second effect: as she said this, a time distortion occurred. It was... very strange, to say the least. I remember looking about the room, seeing the hobbits, and wondering - why were they being so lazy? Why weren’t they at their work? I remember looking about the room and seeing - or rather, not seeing - no centaurs. All of them were gone. A myth. They were nothing. And I remember the feeling of power that briefly coursed through me: of mastery, of superiority, and of command. So too it was felt by the dwarves and other humans present. Then, the moment passed; most of us felt as if we were trying to remember something that we had forgotten, save the elves, who had only a sudden, pressing headache. This was our first herald of that which had been brewing in the Darkness Zone for nigh on fifty years. Yes, the Darkness Zone was what we had known it to be: a cloud of darkness hanging over the forests near Celendil - blotting out all but faint starlight, leaving nothing for the trees to grow upon. What we had not realized before was that the Darkness Zone was a massive time distortion: a hole, of sorts, to an alternate time stream that had been diverged from this one at a very early point. What was that point? The most likely notion that I have heard is that the time stream in the Darkness Zone split off in a universe when Dagdemar - notout[/u] of the Darkness Zone, you became the “you” in our time stream - and forgot your memories of that place. The only reason (amidst this various forgetting) that we knew anything at all was because of the elves. Elves inside the Darkness Zone would often have dreams of this other place and other time; and, upon meeting another elf and happening to discuss these dreams, would realize that there were two time streams occurring. And, thanks to the song of a rather singular minstrel by the name of Lennet, we knew what the root of this time effect was: the Shadow Bat. It was just as we were figuring this out, of course, that the Darkness Zone decided to expand for the first time in fifty years - in a very, very big way. The Darkness Zone was now touching at least a little bit of most of the provinces of Roekron, and another large, secondary Zone sprouted up to cover the entirety of Dagdeoth. Undead began to emerge from the Darkness Zone by the pailful and terrorize places that they wouldn’t have had nearly as easy access to before. At the same time, the carakwaith Curves - a carakwaith who, among others, had been though to have been dead for decades - attempted to assassinate K’uni Kendrai. With that, it was revealed to the world that the carakwaiths were still alive - and vying for power. In the midst of all these changes was the Yavanna Tree. The Yavanna Tree has been dying for some many years now, thanks to the Darkness Zone and all that within it; but it seemed that something was going particularly wrong now. We started having visions - many given to us by Artemis - of the Tree breaking or collapsing and the feeling of something terribly wrong happening. It was somewhat more... complicated than that, but I would prefer to sum up and let the reader dig up the details where they have already been written in other places. Meanwhile, elves in the Van Nennon area had been cooking up a sort of portable “time bubble” that could be used to safely traverse the Darkness Zone and still retain your equipment, your memories, and your self. Shortly thereafter, the Shadow Bat was destroyed and the Darkness Zone - all of them - faded away. The records will show that it was K’uni Kendrai’s Silver Service that took down the Shadow Bat; but many here on Hostor - myself included - think otherwise. The thought here is that there is a secret organization of sorts that took down the Shadow Bat - and that, being secret, they would never take credit for what they had done. Given what I know about rumors on this secret organization, and given what I know about the, ah, state of the Silver Service, I don’t doubt that the Silver Service had absolutely nothing to do with it. But, thank the gods, the Darkness Zone was finally gone. The Yavanna Tree, however, continued to die - even after the Darkness Zone was peeled away. What was happening? We knew not. All we had was a vision from Artemis, accompanied by these words: A dream quenched before its birth Eldest flower, morning wake Nightmares sewed into the earth. Silent watchers hunt the dead And eyes turn to the prey Resurrected from a false demise While doom stalks shades of grey. Found where it never was Killed before its light All that was will never be The answer walk the night.
A tower in the morning A honeycomb drawn wide A triangle for shining dawn A breath that all will ride Known to all and others lack Name them now or the stream flows back.
This year she never was.
Day breaks The gathering hush And she steps out from the dream Walking through the morning A stranger to the scene. I have not found her since that day Though I search each and every way.
Where do gods come from? Of their birth no one is sure We know they cannot die But what if they never were!We knew that at least part of the vision was a riddle; and, having lost a guess to the riddle once before, we made an expedition to Celendil in order to help defend the Tree and to hopefully get to the roots of the problem, as it were. Once more, this misadventure has been detailed elsewhere; I’m content to summarize that after a long trek through a world of dreams, we mended a part of that which was broken and found ourself face to face with the Fates themselves. After our return, we found the top branches of the Yavanna Tree beginning to grow again - and, nestled upon its crown, a flowerbud was beginning to grow. Fae began to gather around the tree; together, they started a ritual to help the flower grow and to pollinate it. The ritual was supposed to last six weeks, at which time the fruit would be fully ripened and fertilized. Around this time, we found out what exactly Dagdeoth had been doing to bolster its troops. It wasn’t using spells; it was using an ancient race of people called “the Accursed”. They’re aptly named; the Accursed have the rather unique ability to hold as many stable curses at one time as they desire, without the risk of the curses conglomerating into a super-curse. The Accursed that Dagdeoth was using had been “cursed” with many reverse curses - several of which, such as the ability to absorb damage, affected the entire army. What remained was to find the Accursed - difficult, given that in order to disguise them the Dagdeoth troops had become a sea of humans - and find some way to kill them. Once dead, it’s said that Accursed are not as apt to return to life as other humans - which is something of a blessing. Time passed, as - we hope - it usually does. The world stayed in something of a stasis for the next cycle of the moon: Dagdeoth continued to attack, provinces continued to defend, Svodlun continued to remain neutral, Amir Ford continued to be consumed by vampires, and the ritual of the fae continued undisturbed. Some four weeks into their ritual, the “root” of the Yavanna Tree’s problems - as it was - was unearthed. In the aftermath of a battle of massive Elder Sorceries between all of the mage schools, the Bone Tree crawled out of an earthquake-created rent in the earth right underneath the Yavanna Tree. Think of it! For fifty years now, the Yavanna Tree had been fighting off not one, but two luphgaunts. It’s no small wonder why it was starting to die. Just as the Shadow Bat before it, the Bone Tree was quickly fought, defeated, and imprisoned; for now, thank the gods, it can do nothing. The months after that all seemed to stretch into much the same: fighting Dagdeoth, seeking out and destroying vampires, and hoping to somewhere along the way pin down the carakwaiths that were at the ends of the chains and remove them entirely. The ritual of the fae - which had been briefly disrupted by the appearance of the Bone Tree - completed, leaving a shriveled, dying fruit. The fae began to sacrifice themselves to the fruit by the hundreds, attempting to keep it from dying completely. Something was wrong, and we knew that something was wrong; the problem had only been half-fixed. We spent some time attempting to figure out what the other half was. Maybe we would have gotten there, eventually, if we hadn’t already had our hands full with Shifter. We had known that there was a carakwaith somewhere on Hostor; personally, I suspected Nym. After a mishap involving a tomb and a circle of protection, however, my hypothesis was proven otherwise. Quite a bit of time was spent attempting to keep Pinnacle from turning into another Amir Ford - removing people’s charms, sorting out the sired-bys and nobles that were starting to infiltrate not only the town but also the school, and attempting to find the hideouts that the vampires were using to secret their victims away. I don’t think that was Shifter’s tactic, really; he’s more subtle than Bones, and I would imagine he was simply trying to infect several double guildmasters rather than take over an entire town. Most likely, it was just that vampirism has the unfortunate tendency to snowball and gather momentum as it goes along. It didn’t help that, by now, the Nonas Guard - who had previously been helping defend Pinnacle - had swapped their loyalties to the Dark Guard Skynight Division, who had slain Fenrir Nonas not long ago. While here, they had been a formidable vampire-hunting force; and, now that they were gone, our job got a sight more difficult. I suppose I should mention that Illionass took a beating this year; not only did its reigning king end up on the wrong end of a morganti sword, but the province itself was beset by wave after wave of Dagdeoth armies and eventually whittled down to almost nothing. Once the world calms down a little, maybe we can help restore it to its previous state. In any case, there eventually came an extremely confusing day during which we realized that Shifter’s carakwaiths had a very similar ability to their master - namely, the ability to mimic others’ forms and abilities. The dopplegangers were also able to retain the memories of the person they were impersonating, it seemed, even to the point at which they truly believed themselves to be that person. The issue was... resolved? when, upon the battlefield, Melissa the Scald appeared and turned to a vampire hunter, whom she then reverted - and who seemed to be Shifter - and destroyed with morganti. True enough, his trademark staff left his body without fading; but then there was the issue of Melissa herself appearing to be some kind of doppleganger as well, so I’m not going to discount the possibility that Shifter was attempting to pull the wool down over our eyes yet again. It’s either that, or one of the two was Goblin - and to be honest, I’m not especially fond of either option. Once we had that problem off of our hands, there came again the matter of the Tree. A boatload of people from Teriock docked, bringing news that Lance had been exorcised and that Fish was very close to death as well. We exchanged our own, news, and the headed to Celendil. The Tree was still dying; and, despite the best efforts of the fae, so was the fruit. What happened next, I’m not entirely clear about; I can say that I saw Neanna herself speak to Feanor for the last time and take his crown upon her own brow, and that directly afterwards she headed in the direction of the Tree. I can say that I heard rumors of Elianna Starlight disappearing and being replaced by a crown-wearing elf who hasn’t been seen since. If I thought it wise, I could say more; but I will not. In the aftermath of whatever it was that took place, the world has been changed. The fruit lives now, yes, and will someday maybe grow into another Tree to take the place of the now-dead Yavanna Tree; but what was the price? The price was the elven afterlife. Even now, the door to the divine closes to elvenkind; it would seem that many elves, in an effort to go to their gods before they no longer have the choice to do so, have been committing suicide en mass. Elves with divine interventions have faded and passed on; my father-in-law was among them. My daughter, thank goodness, has not; but that is not surprising. I have very few things to thank vampires for - but that is one of them. In any case, it will be... interesting, at the very least, to see what happens to elves in the coming years. We know that they will have no connection with deities - except for, perhaps, that which the Tree’s fruit grows into - and no way to pray to or to receive aid from them. What happens when they die? The general hypothesis is that, lacking any other option, elves who have permanently died will become haunts and roam the world, restlessly, forevermore. So it was in life; so it will be in death. These are turbulent times. Sometimes, it seems like the only way to stay afloat is to keep moving and keep treading water; there is no rest to be found for those who want to continue to move onwards. How long can we last like this? So much has changed, this year. I look at the world around me, and it seems as if it’s much akin to the mage school around my feet: crumbling. When the year began, we had this place - this space of learning and of life; a safe haven that we could always rely on. We had friends - family - surrounding us that are not present now, and now never will be again. How many people were morganti-slain this year, during the course of these events? How many sacrificed themselves for the sake of others? How many died - in the manner of a simple accident - and slipped away, when they thought that they would simply wake up again a few hours later? We always remember the events; history sees to that. But it’s rare that we remember the faces behind the events - everyone who lived, and died, to make them happen. Unless you have a name akin to “Neanna” or “Bones”, no one will even know of you; and even names like “Fenrir Nonas” and “K’uni Kendrai” - though they seem so important now - will become meaningless and full of ash, and eventually be forgotten to the world. This is the way it has been; is; will be. Does that mean that we should forget the names and the faces of those lesser people who died as well? Does it mean that we should forsake the walls that sheltered us, though they lay in pieces under our feet? I think not. Winter is descending quickly, and soon enough, all these leaves that are covering up the stones and rubble will be swept away by the windy weather. No, the school cannot be rebuild immediately; nor can the wounds we suffer when our loved ones leave us be healed in a day, or a week, or a year. But both, eventually, can be mended; the only thing to do is to try, and to keep working at it, and know that one day in the future the efforts will pay off. I was told by Melissa the Scald that the more good that a person held in their heart, the more evil they would become as a vampire. Why? Because the strength and persistence that it takes to turn someone down that road has to be great enough to surmount the resolve of that good - and for someone for whom that sense of good is very strong indeed, it will break them until they lose as much faith as they used to have. But so it goes the other way, too; I said as much to Zero Skyhawk, before she died. The more that one has suffered and endured, and the lower that one sinks, the greater the healing force will have to be to tend to the wounds and raise one’s spirits high enough to keep them moving ahead. We have an entire country to tend to. That is a very big hurt indeed. We have survived a year of luphgants; of carakwaiths; of dying faiths and fading afterlives; of war, and turmoil, and invasion; of king-killers, of queenly inquisitions, and of celestial cessation; of shifting tides, and times, and trials. We are, even now, dealing with the aftermath of hurts that happened centuries ago; much of what occurred this year is the result of the quirks of their occurrences continuing to play out and crawl towards an eventual resolution. It has been worse before than it is now, though “now” leaves much to be desired. We can hope that, someday, there will be nothing left but fading scars; but that will never happen until we begin to rebuild these shattered stones into that which we dream it to be.
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 19:56:42 GMT -8
Palo Alto Club League Chronicle for 01/08/12 (January 2012) - Whee first day in Sorikonia/Sashi Eten!
- Fought a bunch of stuff, mostly. We tried to avoid doing anything that involved the clans. xD Which means that we....
- Fought marauding hill giants
- Fought goblin "mages" that were apparently being backed by a bunch of skeletons. Yay.
- Fought Grimsoeoth vessels trying to squish Dsesnorian aid vessels.
- Defended a Thunder Clan shrine against trolls
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Ellaria Fenwe’s Notes and Records
Date: 8th of Firstmoon, 15,955 Location: Sashi Eten, Sorikonia
Sorikonia An island off of the southern coast of Roekron; closest neighbors are Dsesnor, Temnor, and the Grey Isles. Previously pacifistic and were often called on for judges. Used to be focused on the crafting of magic items; are not as apt to do so any longer, though some Sorikonian Martial Masters still dabble in the art. Country pressed into becoming law enforcement for the rest of Roekron some twenty-five or more years ago; following, became a military state and cultural state deteriorated. Home to many well-known organizations; includes Sorikonian Martial Masters, Iron Disiples, and others.
Culture is based on honor and clans. Very organized; merit-based, merit taking the form of honor. Some higher-ups show curious traits of having both warrior (samurai) and mage (life mage) abilities; this also seems to have to do with their culture.
Honor Honor system is very important to Sorikonian life. One wishes to gain honor and to avoid dishonor simultaneously; this can become complicated depending on the current politics. One begins with honor determined by social class; tenants have the least - no - honor, commonors little more, and so on. Royalty and similars have the most. One can earn honor by acting honorably: defeating opponents of equal or greater merit in combat, aiding those in a weaker position than one’s self, showing loyalty, deeds of courage, and so on. One gains dishonor by declining a challenge to a duel, running away from a battle, dying, stealing, aiding one’s superior’s enemies, and behaving in a manner inconsistent with the law. Further punishment can take the form of imprisonment that has the potential to become indefinite if it is considered just for the crime or dishonor done.
Honor serves as a measure of merit. Those with high honor do not talk to or interact with those with low honor; mediation from a middle party is sometimes necessary. When one gains enough honor, one can speak to one from a higher class of honor than one’s self; however, after having done so, the worth of one’s honor deteriorates slightly.
Honor may sometimes come into conflict. If it is dishonorable to aid an enemy clan, but the enemy clan is weaker and requests your help, it is dishonorable not to help. Many political mires may spring from such situations. In such cases it is necessary to argue the honor of one’s actions as one acts accordingly in order to avoid dishonor.
Current Honor Count of Party: Six. Gains: -Fought and defeated a group of hill giants that were terrorizing weaker villages. Some of the hill giants had armor up to half plate and samurai abilities. Had some aid from life mages of one of the clans. -Fought and defended against trolls working to destroy one of the shrines of the Thunder Clan. -Fought and defeated Grimsoeoth troops working to defeat aid vessels from Dsesnor. -Peaceably dealt with goblins posing as mages and throwing rocks instead of spells. Did not fight; offered goblins sake instead, goblins quickly became inebriated and incapable of sense. -Won several challenges and duels against groups of samurai also seeking honor through combat.
Current Politics Sorikonia currently includes eight clans. These clans were previously one single clan until they split apart some years ago due to the divisive actions of vampires. They have more traditional Sorikoninan names; these are unfamiliar to me at the moment and difficult to remember, thus for the moment I give translations. The clans are the Fire Clan, the Thunder Clan, the Earth Clan, the Mountain Clan, the Heaven Clan, the Lake Clan, the Wind and Wood Clan, and the Water Clan.
The Fire clan is the current favored clan; the Thunder and Earth Clans are also highly favored. The Mountain, Wind and Wood, and Water Clans are neutral in standing at the moment. The Lake and Heaven Clans are currently in poor standing. Fire claims to hold the superior position due to its willingness to use force when necessary, even at times when other clans cling to more pacifistic urges. The Heaven clan was most heavily infiltrated by vampires, and thus remains in low honor. Standing is, as ever, dictated by the honor of each clan.
Two of the clans are currently involved in a blood feud. The roots of this are currently unknown to us, as we did not wish to become involved, particularly because they are both considered enemy clans to the Fire Clan under which we serve. The Heaven Clan appears to be feeling sore about its honor loss due to vampiric infiltrates; some members accused us of being party to vampires, as we had several spirit-born member within our party. It was mentioned that this clan has tendencies to accuse other clans of vampire collaboration quite frequently.
Quote Heard: A question about the religion of Sorikonia. A man wished to learn more about it. The reply given by the Fire Clan Ambassador was “You mean our clans?”. The clan system appears also to be a religious system. Sorikonians do not focus on deity-worship as much of the Roekron mainland does; instead, they follow a more ancient form of worship focused around the system of clans and tinged with elemental themes. The central belief given to us revolves around the idea that one must change and adapt to one’s circumstances rather than relying on deity influence.
International Politics: It appears that Dsesnor favors Sorikonia, as it was sending aid to Sorikonia. Grimsoeoth is assumed to not be in favor with Sorikonia, as it attacked these ships and we as part of a Sorikonian party attacked the Grimsoeoth vessels. It also seems that some clans may be predisposed to dislike foreigners in general, as they were hostile to our presence and made it clear that we were not welcome in as many words.
Inn-Keepers
#1: Ambassador for the leader of the Fire Clan. Laid down the cultural and political situation in Sorikonia when we first arrived.
#2: Head of the Iron Disciples. Cannot take any stance on missions specifically regarding clans, as he must remain neutral to all of them given his position. As he could speak to us in a manner that the head of the Fire Clan could or would not; implications are that either he or his standing holds less honor than that of the Clan head. May also have to do with commitment to neutrality.
#3: A sensei of some sort. Notable for his love of and indulgence in the drink “sake”, a kind of Sorikonian alcohol. Urged us to sample the food of Sorikonia, as it is quite different from much of the food on the mainland. Much more easygoing seeming than the previous inn-keepers.
Iron Disciples The Iron Disciples are a group underneath the Sorikonian Martial Masters. Have heard the nickname, “The Fist of the Martial Masters”. Unlike the Masters, they are not pacifists, and have a history of intervening in more militant ways when diplomatic resolutions are not viable. Currently they have become the primary law enforcement for the city of Sashi Eten, and must remain very neutral on all matters in order to maintain equal balance with all the clans and be trusted as having a fair judgement. They seem to have replaced the role that the Martial Masters previously stood in, and often serve as judges when the Masters often can or will not. They are primarily a group of martial artists, and have other abilities associated with it; specifics of these abilities is currently unknown to me. Must investigate further.
Possible Signs of Curves Certainly marks of past evidence. Position of the Heaven Clan due to its infiltration still stings even at the present time, and it is clear that her influence has divided much of Sorikonia and the divides remain.
Currently there is some conflict between the clans; whether it is continuation from previous divisions or new conflict sewed by Curves is unclear. Greatest evidence was an unexpected outpouring of undead - largely skeletons - from a nearby lake as we dealt with the goblins. Party present largely slaughtered; those who were not fled the battle. Possible that undead were created by a hostile clan or group of necromancers instead of Curves or spawn directly; however, I am not discounting the possibility that these were charmed or otherwise controlled by Curves to do as such and muddy the water. No hard evidence at this time; merely speculation.
Chronicle for January Quest League in Palo Alto. (January 2012) -----
- Yay vampires! Again! (stabbidystabbidystab)
- Fought orks from Grimsoeoth
- Ended up guarding a pagoda-burial-place for a samurai-haunt
- Escorted double-guildmaster prisoners from Serpenton - can you guess how we found out about the vampires?
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Astari Mir Selene
Here’s a big change for you: you have a hobbit, who’s grown up and lived in Hostor all her life. Hostor - the home of hobbits, and therefore a country of excellent food, good times, and light fingers. Oh, I know; it’s something of a stereotype that all hobbits are thieves, and while maybe it’s applied a little too liberally, it does have its roots in truth. Anyway - you have this hobbit who’s grown up in Hostor, and one day decides that she wants to live something besides a quiet life and instead go adventuring. Sure, Hostor has its fair share of adventurers - but you’ve always *been* on Hostor, see, and you’re curious to see something different. So you trek all the way across to the other side of the continent and join up with the Icashi adventurers, which is about as different as you can get. Icashi: prison town of Dsesnor; and Dsesnor - the land of honor, ritual society, and *arresting* all of the thieves that are a little too sticky-fingered. And speaking of sticky, the food is horrible; it seems to all revolve around the concept that all meals must be accompanied by a bowl of bland, sticky rice.
But I wanted different; so different is what I’m saddling myself with, and it’s why I’m going to stay. At least, for now. We’ll see what happens in another few turns of the moon.
Icashi is governed by an official whose name I can only remember as Kanshu. Don’t tell him I said that, though; I doubt that he’d find it particularly appropriate for a subordinate to call him by a familiar name like that. His actual name very nearly puts the name “Embarcarious Petrafloutus” to shame - and if you add the titles, too? there’s no question of who the award of “most ridiculously superfluous and complicated name” goes to. He’s part of the Wu Clan - known as the “Tiger Clan” to us westerners - which is, apparently, the clan in charge of guarding Her Highness Kuni Kendrai. And to top it all off, Mr. Kanshu rides a gold drake. What with all of the connotations brought about by all of that that, I don’t think that I particularly want to be crossing on the wrong side of his bridge anytime soon.
Next to Dsesnor, you have Grimsoeoth. In Grimsoeoth, you have Shim Town, which is apparently Icashi’s rival town. Kanshu explained that when Grimsoeoth took over Shim Town, Dsesnor was hoping that Shim Town would be displeased by this and pull of some kind of revolution - but evidently, it’s turned out just the opposite. Whatever intelligence is coming in from over there says that Shim Town is quite happy as is and is experiencing some kind of renaissance and massive outbreak of festivals. This makes Kanshu nervous. Personally, it makes me a bit skeptical. Then again, I don’t claim to understand the weird psychology of these easterners - but then again-again, I would kind of assume that in a culture in which defeat and capture is almost as bad as you can get in terms of your honor, Shim Town would be doing something more productive than celebrating. Me? I smell a rat somewhere in here.
Anyway, what with Grimsoeoth’s proximity to Icashi, apparently Grimsoeoth forces make up the bread and butter of what we find ourselves beating down. This particular batch was a group of Grimsoeoth orks. It was a roaring good time; I ran right up to the front, weapons swinging, and had a good time hacking them up. I could see myself as a barbarian, I decided in the midst of that battle; right there in the thick of the excitement, tearing down your opponents in droves. Barbarian and.. thief. Thief sounded good. Of course, my own attempts at finding coin on the bodies of the fallen were somewhat hindered by all of the *other* hobbits who were picking through the orks’ pockets. I guess that, unlike most of them, I care about getting out of the battle alive and *then* looting people rather than risking my neck for a few silver pieces while there’s a bloodthirsty axeman standing over me.
We got back from that particular tangle all right; we’d completely smashed their forces, which is all well and good. “Honorable”, too, I suppose, by the rights of eastern culture, but honestly? I’m just glad that they’re not sitting on our doorstep and making life more difficult than it already is. Screw “honorable”.
Mr. Kanshu wasn’t tending to the inn when we returned; that was reserved for one “Baron Lumi” of Lumi Town. He was an elderly man, and judging from the milky blueness of his eyes, blind - on the material plane. He was also a mage - a necromancer and a life mage - and seemed to have some kind of vision on the ethereal plane. Then again, he did keep talking about how our spirits “sounded” excited and that he could “hear” the brightness of victory in us, so maybe he couldn’t actually see at all. No, I don’t know how spirit guide works - so sue me. I’m not a necromancer, anyway. Sheesh. I liked Baron Lumi, though. He was very kind, and seemed to have a sort of gentler patience that is rather noticeably lacking in Mr. Kanshu. Call it the wisdom of age, if you like - I imagine that that’s what some would term it.
Anyway, among the things he told us was that there was a High Priestess of the Elder Goddess waiting to meet at the local Dragon Shrine with the various females in the adventurers here. While the rest of our companions went off to participate in the bushi battles or some such thing, myself and a few others - a dwarf, a centaur, and at least one other - made our way to the Dragon Shrine to see what the Priestess had to say. ...She rode up to us on a horse. A *horse*! It was the most gorgeous creature - a shiny, deep black coat and long, flowing, white mane and tail. The horse’s rider shared its long, flowing main, though the Priestess’s was golden rather than pure white. She dismounted and walked over to us, carrying a fistfull of spells - as is proper for a High Priestess of the Elder Goddess - as well as a staff and a bow. They were hers, I assumed; and, that one such as her would choose to wield them, I wondered what they did.
She sat with us on the stairs to the Dragon Shrine. Settling herself, she looked at the few of us gathered, then asked, “So - what brings you here to Icashi?”
“Curiosity,” I replied, a grin creeping across my face.
“A good answer,” the Priestess replied. “Curiosity, by the way, did *not* kill the cat.”
The dwarf woman stirred and asked, “What did it do to the cat?”
“Made it stronger,” the Priestess replied.
Now, what a curious answer, I thought. What a curious answer indeed...
Once introductions were settled, the Priestess began to spin her tale of being in this place. “My fellow Priestesses and I,” she said, “have been given many visions of late. It seems that, very soon, this place will be on the forefront of many battles. We’ve noticed that women seem to play a big part in turning these battles one way or the other. That in mind, we’ve come to equip you.”
She reached behind herself and pulled out a large pouch that had escaped my noticed before. From inside it, she pulled out a bolt of fabric - and then another, and another, and handed one each to each of us. I touched it, and, wide-eyed, looked at everyone else. Spidersilk! This was spidersilk! That alone was worth a fortune, and here was the Priestess, just... giving it away to us.
But then she laid her bow out in front of her. “This is a bow of the Sisters,” she said. “If you use it, you can pay a mana and select a species type, and you will have hunter for that species type for the rest of the battle.” Nobody reached for it; I think most of us were probably afraid to take it. Eventually, tentatively, I slid the bow out of the center, since that what she seemed to be waiting for someone to do. She nodded, then laid the staff, too, in front of her. “The Dragon Shrine is also making a contribution. This is a Staff of the Dragon Priestess. It gives you an empathic ray, though the staff itself will deal no damage.” The centaur woman liked that one, and decided to take charge of it.
One would have thought that, with no more weapons left, the High Priestess would have been done - but no. She dipped a hand inside her pocket and pulled out a curious, intricately carved vial. “These are Tears of the Goddess,” she explained. “The vial has ten doses. Each dose will resurrect and identify the taker and give them a vision. Once the vial runs out, it must be replenished at the High Temple in Randwin. The tears are collected on a night when a full moon is shining during a rainstorm at the High Temple.”
I think that at this point, the best word to describe our general states of mind would have been “speechless”. We hadn’t even *done* anything, and all of a sudden we had a fortune’s worth of magical supplies at our disposal because of the general hope that we would do something with them at some point. ...Though I was grateful, I couldn’t help but think that this kind of approach was a tad unwise. Who’s to say that we wouldn’t just take the stuff and run, and give nothing back for it? And even then, she wasn’t done. She then produced five swords - one keyed to each mage type - and said that, if we could prove ourselves by mustering the party at large, we could use these as well and lend them out as needed. First, however, we would need to find the rest of the women in the party and bring them here.
The dwarf woman and I locked eyes. “Five minutes,” she said.
“Done,” I replied, then leapt to my feet and took off in the direction of the gladia- rather, the bushi tournaments.
Don’t make any mistakes here; I swear I wasn’t in it for the items. I just like a challenge. Hunt down, catch, and bring back the rest of the girls within five minutes? Again - done. And anyway, I was curious about those visions that the High Priestesses had been having. Maybe this Priestess would be more willing to talk about them if everyone was present.
I waded right into the arena. I didn’t have any weapons on me, and threw my hands up into the air to indicate as such; whenever someone mistook me for a combatant, I simply said, “I’m not here to fight!” and they shrugged and walked away. That’s one of the nice things about this place, Dsesnor. People actually pay attention when you tell them that, really, you’re not here to fight. That whole business with being “honorable” I guess. Honorable or not, it’s nice in situations like these. Anyway, I found two girls and almost missed a third, and within a couple minutes I managed to pull them all away from the bushi battles and back to the Elder Goddess Priestess. The dwarf woman had found the last remaining woman by the blacksmith, as had been expected.
The High Priestess looked at us, then asked, “How many of you are there?” We looked around at each other, counting. Eight.
“And I make nine,” she said. “You see, in our religion, we believe the number three to be a very powerful number. It is seen in the world as well, especially in magic - and, as you can see - “ she held up her hand full of spellstones - “the Elder Goddess religion is a very magical religion. But even beyond that, we consider the number three to be very important. Nine even more so; for the number nine is three threes. If you can, find another female to join your party; then you, too, will be nine, even when I am not here.
“In any case - as I was saying. We Priestesses of the Elder Goddess have been receiving visions of many battles of late, and believe that these battles will be very important in turning the tide of many forces here. We of the Elder Goddess religion have noticed some curious things about the way that females operate; and that is why I am here.
“Girls, we find, keep sight of the goal where men will get distracted and forget about the goal. They are powerful, and they are strong; women often tip the scales when it comes to matters such as what we see on the horizon. We want you to prove yourselves worthy of these items, and show us what mettle you have. Try to work together to influence the party and make something come of it, if you can. Try, however, not to alienate the men. Something else we have seen is that, sometimes, the men feel threatened by the powerful, powerful women. They will start to push back and become difficult to work with. If you can avoid alienating the men... more’s the power to you.
“Come back when you feel that you have proven yourselves. If you have evidence, show me; if you don’t, convince me why. Do you have any questions?”
“Yes,” I replied. Here was my chance. “You mentioned oracles and visions earlier. What have you been seeing?”
The dwarf woman added on, “Or can’t you tell us?”
The Priestess looked at us, then replied, “I can tell you - if you are the right group of girls.”
Ah. I see. Better prove ourselves, then, huh?
I turned back to her. “One more thing,” I said.
“Yes?”
“By what measure is worth decided?”
She looked at me for a moment, then answered, “By the measures that women usually hold themselves to.”
With that, she walked off to her horse and mounted. Before riding away, she said, “I will be in the area if you need me.” Then she turned and, kneeing the horse into a canter, rode to other duties.
...Now that raised some very interesting questions. “By what measure is worth decided?” “By the measures that women usually hold themselves to.” And what measures were those? I felt like I should know, somehow, but somehow... I didn’t. The first thing to come to mind was the catty, snippy judgements that females can so harshly make of each other - about looks, about lovers, about shallower goals revolving around excess gold and so on - but that obviously wasn’t what the Priestess meant. What measures were they, then?
I resolved to think about it later, and instead turned to the assembled women and said, “Let’s go look at the task board and choose a mission to convince the party to go do. Maybe we can prove ourselves by persuading them to do a mission and then completing it successfully. So we migrated over to the task board and looked it up and down, trying to decide what to do. Eventually, we settled on the mission involving the haunted pagoda - because a haunt is there for a reason, of course, and we wanted to know what it was.
How were we going to go about convincing the menfolk to pursue it, then? I asked them what they thought we should put forth as reasons, and they made a variety of suggestions. “We could say that there’s treasure,” said one. “And we could tell them that the haunt is a disturbance, and we don’t want the disturbance to spread,” said another. “We could also say that we think it might be important,” was another suggestion. All suggestions with some merit; now, who to say it? The dwarf woman - Davira, I found out was her name - and I looked at each other. Both of us remembered the Priestess’s piece about not alienating the boys and not making them feel threatened.
“We’ll have to make ourselves look like a smaller group,” we told them. “We can’t look like we’re working together, otherwise everyone else will see us as a threat. We should pick just a few of us - let’s say, three of us, since three is important - to try to convince the rest of the party, and only one at a time. Does anyone want to be one of the three?”
“How about you be one?” one of the other women suggested. Davira and I traded significant glances again. Not us. It was becoming clear that both of us had rather... shall we say... *strong* personalities that might be seen as somewhat more prominent than those of the other women. I suspected that if either of us tried to advocate for the mission, it wouldn’t go well; and Davira seemed to be thinking along the same lines.
“Not us,” I said. “They’ll probably decide *not* to do it if either she or I try to convince them. It should be three of you.”
Eventually, we wrangled three volunteers. After that, there was still some time before the party returned from the bushi battles. The centaur woman wanted to test out the magic items that we’d just got, via sparring; I agreed, and we started said sparring. One by one, the rest of the women joined in, and we experimented with different combinations of teams until the rest of the party returned.
Mr. Kanshu was tending to the inn when we all gathered there. As he started to go through the missions, I realized that he wouldn’t let us go to the haunted houses; because it was Baron Lumi’s domain, Baron Lumi would have to be the one staffing the inn in order for us to go on that mission. I whispered to the women nearest to wait, because it had to be Baron Lumi; and asked them to pass it on to the women that I couldn’t get to because they were in the midst of the group. They did so. What, then, should we do? some of them whispered back. “Vote for whatever you want,” I whispered in reply.
I forget what it was that they ended up doing. I realized that I hadn’t actually eaten since breakfast, and if I wasn’t careful, that would catch up with me sooner or later. I resolved to find food while the rest of the party went to deal with whatever other mission it was. As I was turning away, the centaur woman gasped in horror. “You’re not coming?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “I have other things that I need to do.”
“But you’re our leader! We need you!”
When on earth had I become the leader? Nobody had told me that I was the leader. Heck, nobody had told me that we were supposed to be *picking* leaders Apparently, there was some sort of conversation that I had missed. Fine. I’d deal with it later. In the meantime, my belly was making its displeasure known with increasingly audible grumbles.
“Look, you don’t need me all the time,” I said to her. “You can make decisions on your *own*! I *promise*! You’ll be fine without me!”
I swear that the woman made doe-eyes at me. “Please?” she asked.
Growl-grumble, said my stomach. “No, really. I have other things I need to do. You’ll be fine, I promise.”
The pleading went on for another minute. Eventually, I disentangled myself from the situation, and I searched out and found food. More rice. Sticky as it might be, it just doesn’t “stick with you” as much as *real* food does. I have *got* to find some sort of substitute for all this rice, otherwise I may well starve before the month is up.
Once food was acquired and consumed, I returned to the inn and waited for the arrival of the party. When they returned, they didn’t seem any worse for the wear - good. So far, I hadn’t made any promises that had ended up falling apart. It would have been rather terrible to promise the other girls that they’d be fine, only for them to be hacked up into bitty pieces and left to die on the battlefield.
Once again, Mr. Kanshu was staffing the inn - and we would have to wait on the haunted house. I whisper-passed the message to wait again, and it was passed on. We voted, and as a whole the party decided to transport some high-profile prisoners from Serpenton. We were to be extremely cautious, Mr. Kanshu said - these prisoners were all double guildmasters. They were being imprisoned for morganti-slaying people - and some of them, multiple people.
That sent some shivers down my spine. All there for morganti slaying? Even *multiple people*? Dear gods. Why would anyone choose to get near anybody like that, even if there *are* chains and caravan walls between you and them? But some of the women wanted to go to help out; and, with a resigned sigh, I joined them. If they were going, I needed to go in order to protect them and keep them together. Why do I get myself into these things?
The way to Serpenton was pretty quiet; I would say that the hours we spent *in* Serpenton, though maybe not quiet, were uneventful. You wouldn’t *believe* how much paperwork it takes to pick up four measly prisoners. First you have to sign off for the carts to wheel them in, then you have to sign here here and here in six different places apiece just to get to the prisoners, then another round of signing eight bazillion times to pick them up, and... well, we’ll just leave it at “it took a long time”. Some hours later, we were back on the road to Icashi, prisoners in town.
We had two carts and four prisoners. How were we going to split them up, once we were on the road? We could go four and zero in a kind of “all or nothing” situation; we could do two and two in a “safe” sort of arrangement; or three and one for somewhere between the two. After some debate, the “all or nothing” strategy was chosen; and off we went - oxen, carts, Serpenton paladins, dangerous prisoners, and all.
Caravan carts, being rather large, attract more attention than groups of travelers or adventurers. I sent two women to the first cart and kept two with me at the second, each to guard and heal at that particular cart should we need it. Ogres came to heckle us first; something large and dumb, anyway. They completely scattered everyone apart, which made for something of a disaster for everyone. I tried to avoid taking them on, but ended up tussling with one anyway while trying to heal up one of the other girls. It was pretty close, it seemed, but eventually everyone pulled through - except for the ogres - and we continued on.
After that was a group of humans that came up to speak to us. I don’t know if they were bushi or ronin or what; I stuck by my cart rather than go up to speak with them. The problem with this was that, while everyone’s backs were turned, a band of undead suddenly came running out of nowhere and charged the carts. Not good. They were skeletons, mostly, by the looks of it - doubly not good. If nobody had silver weapons, we were dead. Heck, even if some of us had silver weapons, we were *still* probably dead. Shit.
Turned out people did have silver - the paladins, for one, as well as a couple of party members. They saved our butts, though the battle was even closer than the skirmish with the ogres. People died - lots of them. Me included. Luckily, one of the women had brought the Staff of the Dragon Priest, and rebirthed me. I tried to rally the remaining girls to return to the caravans, but ended up being the only one that actually stayed over there. The man driving the carts apparently saw my presence as a good opportunity to hand off the reins and go fight, so he practically threw them at me and took off. Never mind that I don’t actually know how to make an ox do anything, reins or no, and never mind that they’re at least four times as big as I am. And gods, do they stink.
In the midst of battle, the caravans had gotten driven off course and were starting to drift down a side road. After some minutes spent yelling at the congretation of people still alive, they finally realized that yes, I was right and we were actually supposed to be on a different road, and they *finally* started moving in the right direction. Why me? By the time I finally got them going the right way, it was mostly the last dregs of the skeletons left chasing us; I flattened myself on the backs of one of the oxen and tried to be invisible, and that pretty much worked. Not long after, we managed to wrench ourselves away.
Not much happened between that and Icashi, thankfully. We were nearing the city when we found our path blocked by some members of the Icashi City Guard. What was your business? they asked. We replied that we were on city business and transporting prisoners; they accepted that, and parted to let us through.
Did I mention that it was an unusually large group of city guard? Some two dozen of them, maybe? And yeah, maybe they were guards, and guards are *supposed* to watch travelers carefully - but not like hawks surveying rabbits. Plus - heh - the way that they were spread out looked rather suspiciously like a trap formation in which they would close in from both sides and try to take the caravans out. Call it paranoia; I don’t care. I tried to, as inconspicuously as I could (which is not much, given that I had a caravan in tow) edge around the outside of the “guards” rather than drive straight through the middle.
Ahemhemhem: Called it.
Right about when the other caravan - which contained *all* of the prisoners, by the way - was right in the middle of the group, the “guards” came together like two waves in a storm. That was the end of it - the rest of it was chaos. I made it my priority to get the cart to the city before trying to help deal with things; of course, the dumb oxen made this as excruciatingly slow as possible. You’d think that, with piece of sharp metal waving around in their faces, they’d panic or something - but no. The same lumbering pace as always, even if I’m slapping the reins and screaming in their ears. Dumb animals.
The walls were reached eventually, and I threw the reins at one of the other party members before dashing back out to heal people and usher them to safety. One of the “guards” came running up with me - and, unexpectedly, grabbed my shoulder. I felt him try to charm me.
Well, shit. That’s not good.
It didn’t succeed; I suspect he forgot that he’d already charmed someone else. Possibly the centaur woman, who was quite ferociously attacking the rest of her party members. Sigh. Davira and I knocked her out and hauled her off, then came back for everyone else. Somehow, we managed to get everyone inside the city walls, to safety; thankfully, there weren’t any real casualties. We went and took the girl to get her charm removed, then joined the rest of the party at the inn.
Finally, Baron Lumi was there. The girls looked at me, and I nodded back; it was time. One at a time, they suggested the haunted pagoda, each putting forth their different reasons for doing so; and, by some sort of miracle, the rest of the party agreed to it! After having just fought some kind of vampire spawn, even. By the way, before we got to the whole business of choosing missions, Baron Lumi asked what had happened. Apparently the reason that the undead were so keen on taking those prisoners was because, with double-guildmaters, you can make a particularly nasty brand of vampires called “carakwaiths” - and we’ll leave it at that. I don’t want to think about it if I don’t have to.
Off to the haunted pagoda it was! Once we chose it, Baron Lumi informed us that he suspected that it was a “guardian haunt”. I guess that makes some sense, given what we saw. But one thing at a time, right?
The pagoda itself was held up by three pillars. I don’t know if that’s important, given that this isn’t really in the domain of the Elder Goddess as far as we know, but it’s good to note anyway. There were a bunch of people already at the pagoda, as it turned out - a ring of them, clustered around. Peasants, and maybe some inexperienced bushi. They were taking turns jabbing at something in the center - that “something” being very fast and, we could see more clearly as we neared, very transparent. They were... poking the haunt. With swords. FOOLS!
We immediately went to trying to sort out what was going on and making the people *stop* aggravating the haunt. It almost worked, except that as soon as we moved from one “stopped” portion to the next, another would start attacking again. People are like *cows*. They *herd*. Stupidly. They’re almost worse than those oxen from earlier, I swear. Eventually, some of the party members resorted to knocking everyone out. Not what I would have done, but hey. It worked, so I guess there’s something for it. Next, we tried calming the haunt down, which was something of a more difficult task.
It seemed like approaching it without weapons was doing it some good; Davira set hers down first and approached it empty-handed, and a few others followed suit. They tried talking to it, but that seemed somewhat less successful. It almost seemed like it was getting somewhere when -
out of nowhere, one of the menfolk challenged the haunt to a duel. Really? Challenge a haunt? To a *duel*? How stupid can you *get*? Well, the haunt accepted, at any rate, and the two began to duke it out. As they fought, I began to rethink my judgement of stupidity; the haunt was taking a kind of mock damage - spar damage, I guess would be a good comparison. The man eventually dropped the haunt; and with that, the haunt appeared back in the center of the circle. It bowed to us in a samurai-like manner consistent with the rest of its appearance and manner, then disappeared - signaling by doing so that we were worthy to guard the pagoda.
After some searching around, Davira found a hidden door in the floor. We tried to open it, but quickly discovered that we didn’t have what we needed - a key, of sorts. Some sort of item, anyway, that was designed specifically to open this door. It would seem that, if we want to get inside, we’ll have to track that down at some point. For the moment, however, we pretty much just agreed to guard it - and it would be good to know what we were guarding it from.
The women had a quick, quiet debate about whether or not to use the Tears of the Goddess. We’d have to die in order to do it - or one of us would, anyway - and we only had ten doses. Still... Davira volunteered to die. I handed her one of the discarded weapons, and she killed herself over the door; then I crouched over and let a dose of the Tears trickle into her mouth and watched them work their magic.
Ten minutes later, Davira’s eyes fluttered open. Then, quite suddenly, they drew wide, and she stared as if seeing something in the distance - that was the vision. When she settled back down, she started stumbling to her feet; we helped her up.
“I’m keeping a vigil here,” she announced to the party at large. “We’re supposed to stand vigil in a circle around the pagoda.” Surprisingly, most everyone agreed to join her; and thus we arranged ourselves in a lumpy kind of ring and... well... waited.
Some hours later, I found a quiet spot and asked Davira what she had seen in her vision. It was simple - we were standing in a ring around the pagoda, clearly guarding it, and waiting. I forget if she included some kind of foreboding feeling of watching or anything, but that seemed kind of implicit anyway. Why else guard like that, if not *from* something? But we’ll see. I started toying with the non-literal aspects of the vision; oracles, I’ve been told, are rarely so straightforward. If we were standing vigil all the time, we’d get tired; one night would be fine, but we’d have to work something out for future days and nights. I mentioned as such to Davira, and she agreed on both counts. How were we supposed to guard, though? And what from? I had an inkling, of course; between those sired-by vampires amongst the “guards” and the (somewhat) unusual stubborn combativeness of the humans poking the haunt - a kind of stubbornness that comes from being charmed, among other things...
It also occurred to me that, if we stood vigil, we would miss meeting with the High Priestess later today to explain how we’d proved ourselves. But you know what? This was more important than getting items, or getting approval, or anything like that. Something was going on in this place, and we’d made a promise to that haunt to stay here; and stay here we would. After all, the Priestess would be around for a while longer. Would the watchers of the pagoda hesitate to play their hands if we left? I doubt it. Even not knowing for sure what they were, I doubt that they’re *that* stupid - and so, the question becomes, when *will* they make their move? I suppose we’ll be finding out, eventually.
From the Letters and Records of Ellaria Fenwe
Greetings, Enyari!
I’m glad to receive news of your safe return. You will understand, I’m sure, if I am somewhat cautious in my report; given the circumstances, I would rather keep close than risk feeding information to someone else. If you do indeed travel to Sorikonia as you have mentioned, I assume that we can wait until then to establish identities, and I can give you the more sensitive of my speculations then. There is, of course, no reason not to tell you the less sensitive things in this letter, which is primarily why I am writing.
It is clear immediately how complex the politics of the clans are; recently, we have also learned how dangerous they can be, as well. There are several members of our companions that can natively travel into the ethereal realm - spiritborn, spirit warriors, and others. One of the clans accused us, and by extension the clan to which we answer, of being or harboring vampires in our midst. Given the preexisting situation in Sorikonia - you know what I mean - this is of course an exceedingly dishonorable accusation to be on the receiving end of. The spiritborn were taken in for questioning and spent much time attempting to convince the Sorikonian Martial Masters that they were not, in fact, vampires; and it would seem that, despite their best efforts, they stumbled into agreeing to participate in an exorcism for having “vampire-like traits” despite not themselves being vampires, this being clear even after having been identified. This was countered by a member of another clan, who used their mana to power an exorcism of a New Morganti blade. Due to this interpretation, this person has since been banished from Sorikonia. It is becoming clear that when one person is drawn into a dispute, those around him or her are also at risk of being drawn in, should they attempt to help or stand by that person, or even to stand against him. The fault of one risks the downfall of many, and it is often safest to avoid engagement at all.
Politics aside, there are also plenty of other forces acting on Sorikonia. Many of them are the usual affairs. Cave trolls attacking villagers was one that we recently dealt with. Even villagers have a very different mindset, here; they tried to run out and die for us, when we came to defend them from the cave trolls. Dying for someone incurs a debt, it would seem; and being indebted to an adventurer can be very useful to a villager. A new degree of complexity has been added even to matters as deceptively simple as things like these. There were harpies raiding along some of the coastal areas, as well; those were somewhat simpler to deal with.
Less simple are the undead that have been attacking us. Since last report, there have been more; skeletons and zombies, mostly, though there were others - something that might have been a shambler, I think, as well as what I believe was a wraith. It is difficult to tell what they are. Needless to say, they have been difficult; most of our companions lack even silver, and almost no-one has anything passively magic or any kind of spells. We have yet to find the source; as you are well familiar with, undead tend to propagate more undead, which then create even more of themselves, and finding the end of the chain can be difficult to say the least. I have suspicions regarding this matter, but I will wait until you arrive to explain them.
Aside from the forces acting within Sorikonia, there are also several notable ones acting from without. Grimsoeoth in particular is being troublesome; they have blockaded the blue reefs, and thus blockaded the way into Teriock. We went and took out some of their ships, but there are still far many more left to continue the blockade. For what reason they are there, and how long they plan on continuing the blockade, I cannot say. Hopefully there will be more news on this soon, but for the moment, I have no more than this to give you.
There is also currently the presence of an army of the Serpenton Guard (sometimes called the “Serpent Clan” by the Sorikonians) on Sorikonia at the moment. They are fighting their way towards Sashi Eten, and doing so to gain honor. I expect that they mean to meet with some official within the city, and are required to prove their honor first by engaging in nonfatal battle. We engaged them, and lost; I was not there and don’t know the details of the situation, but it seems that the battle became a matter of personal honor rather than that of clan honor, and as such became lethal for a short time before the matter was resolved. Amara tells me that the man responsible for the change in purpose was identified and... chastised, shall we put it.
In somewhat less ponderous news, we have begun to learn a game often played in this region. It is called “Minimoto” and is very much a game of strategy. I find that it is rather enjoyable, or at least the board-and-piece version is; there is also a facet of it which involves battle, though I have not yet sampled that. If you will forgive me for saying so, I don’t think that you would find it much to your taste; I know that you don’t like to engage in strategic games when so much else depends on constant exercises of more serious “games” of strategy and wit. If you like, however, I can teach you the basics; I know not for what reasons you are visiting Sorikonia, but perhaps knowledge of the game will be advantageous in your endeavor. It is, after all, very oft-played and highly regarded in Sorikonian culture, as is the art of debate, as well as the art of battle. All three are in their own ways and meanings paths to accomplishing goals in this place.
I look forward to your arrival; your perspective on some matters here would be most useful, I think, and it will be nice to engage in some sensible discussion with someone I can be sure won’t stab me in the back as soon as I turn it away. Your voyage, I hope, will bring you to better health than your last voyage did. Until we meet again, master, I shall conclude this monologue.
With all due sincerity, Ellaria Fenwe
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Dear Ellaria,
Thank you for your well-wishes. It’s good to be back, though it seems that I won’t be “back” for long! I assume that Kyrin informed you of my intentions? You’ll already know, then, that she’s coming with me, as is your brother. I wish that I could say that this expedition brought better tidings than my last; but, though they may be better in some ways, it is only slightly. In writing, I will say no more. No, I don’t begrudge you for your caution; it is understandable, given the circumstances. Thank you for giving me what reports you can; we can find time to manage the rest once we arrive in Sorikonia.
I notice that you haven’t named any specific clans in your report - though I’m sure that by now you know their names. Are the politics really so bad that you hesitate to mention them, even in a letter that only says what happened? It seems to me that either that is very worrying, and the clan politics are even worse than I expected; or that it might serve you well to develop some skill in negotiation and rhetoric. That would be wise in any case - it is, as you have said, part of the lifeblood of Sorikonia, and if you are going to be stationed there, you would do well to learn how to go about matters their way.
Interesting heads-up on the villagers. I doubt that we will be finding ourselves on the battlefield in Sorikonia, but if we do, I will make sure to watch out for villagers! The undead are somewhat more worrisome, however; though skeletons and such don’t phase me, the creators of their creators of their creators might. I would like to hear your hypothesis, when we can find the time; I take it that there is something else at work beyond what we already know, or something has caused you to suspect that there might be something more.
The Grimsoeth vessels may be problematic. I will see what I can find about them when we get there. It may be difficult to find much about them, though - who knows what they’re planning? I don’t know if they’re cunning in the same way that Dagdeoth is, and whether or not it’s likely that they’re just causing trouble or if this is part of a more elaborate scheme. You will be finding out during the next few months, I’m sure, if we can’t find out sooner. All in due time.
Ah yes - Minimoto. I’ve heard of the game, though I’ve never played it before. If you don’t remember from your history lessons, the game takes its name from Kajiro Minimoto of the Minimoto Clan, who was one of the first to fight the Bone Machine in defense of Nacrowaith. It was a very successful battle, and has since become legendary; the story is held in high regard by the people in that region. I think I’ll take you up on your offer of teaching me the rules, if there’s time for it; strategic engagement or no, it seems like a good thing to have learned. And, perhaps, it will be useful as well at some point. One never knows when one will find a use for some odd skill or knowledge like that.
Very funny, Ellaira. I very much doubt that this voyage will leave me in worse health than my last one, thank you very much, and if it does then it would seem that Fate is out for my blood as well. If that’s the case, then there’s nothing to be done! Take care not to fall into ill health yourself; I hear that being put on an island with hordes of skeletons tends not to turn out very well for those involved.
With wishes of good favor to your endeavors, Enyari Fenwe
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 20:19:18 GMT -8
(May 2012) Emystire “Mist” FenwëThere's been some really weird stuff going on lately. I guess that weird stuff is pretty normal, especially when everyone you know is an adventurer, but this is weirder than things usually are. And more importantly, I think it's prolly really, really important. I mostly know about the stuff in Pinnacle because that's where I live, but it sounds like the same kind of stuff is happening all over Roekron. Stuff was already even weirder than usual because I've been Dreaming with Xey. She was having trouble with her dreams, and they were making her insane. I used to have lots of trouble with my dreams too, even though it was different trouble from the trouble Xey's having. But I'm good at knowing how dreams work because I had bad nightmare problems, so I'm helping Xey. Right now, I'm telling her a story, because the way I found my way out of dreams was by walking in a story my grandma told me once. Xey's story's funny because sometimes it does things that we didn't tell it to do. But that's okay. Dreams are like that. We did other dreams, too, but those were different dreams. It started because there was something funny going on with the Spirit Realm in Pinnacle, and we were helping Embarcarious by exploring it and checking on a bunch of mana powerpoints. So me and Xey and a bunch of other Pinnacle adventurers went to him, and Embarcarious made us all ethereal, so we went and explored the ethereal realm. We started with the fire mana powerpoint first. There were spirity-creatures that we saw on the way, and they didn’t like us being in the ethereal realm with them, but they didn’t hurt us too much. It wasn’t very long before we got to the fire powerpoint. Stuff seemed okay there. We had to be careful because there were lots of fire elementals, but we were all okay. After that, we went to the Life mana powerpoint. I chose it because there are always life elementals there, and I was hoping that maybe my brother Caydis would be one of them. So we went, but when we got there, stuff started getting <i>really</i> strange. When we got there, all the life elementals were dead. They were dead in a really weird way, too - all twisted and mangled and funny-looking. There weren't any spirits with them. ...Life elementals are outsiders, right? Which means that you have to exorcise them to get rid of them usually. But there were still here even though they were dead. I think maybe morganti did it. That scares me a lot, because morganti is a bad thing, and if the person using it used it to kill life elementals, they're probably a really bad person. There was one more person with the life elementals, but it wasn't dead - it was wandering around between them. The person wasn't a boy or a girl, and it had a staff and had mage robes on, and it didn't have a face. I thought that maybe it was the Riddler, but I'm not sure anymore. The person was acting funny - it was walking between us all, and it ignored some of us, but got really aggressive at others of us, and it didn't seem to be doing anything. Xey started poking at the life elementals, and I went to the person and asked if it was looking for riddles. I didn't get a response, though, because a bunch of stuff happened really quickly and someone exorcised the person and it disappeared. Then stuff got even weirder. While Xey was poking at the life elementals, she started talking to them too. She asked one of them, "Who are you?". When she did that, three more faceless people appeared and started moving really fast straight towards Xey. She ran a bit, and then she stayed still, and when she stayed still they made a triangle around her. Then each of them asked her a question. They were those kinds of questions that even though they're made of small words, they mean big things. Xey took a long time to answer because she wanted to be careful about the big questions. When she finished answering them, the whole world around us turned grey. I remembered what that meant. It meant that we were in the Dream Realm. The Dream Realm isn’t really the same as dreams, except it kind of is. Xey and I have done lots of stuff with dreams before, but it’s not the same as the Dream Realm. It’s a special place. We weren’t there for very long. When the world turned into the Dream Realm, one of the faceless people that questioned Xey was still there. There was also a line of other people - people with weapons. There were two lines - one line facing the other - to make a path between them. The faceless person said that if Xey was going to follow her path, she had to walk like the faceless person walked. I forget how exactly it said it, but the faceless person meant that Xey and everyone else had to walk blind. Then it walked down the path made by the people. Xey closed her eyes and followed it. I went after Xey. Then all of the other people went behind us. When we all reached the end of the people-path, the world changed again. It had colors this time. We were in a forest. That was kind of scary, because at first Xey and me and Aelfwine thought that meant that we were inside the story that I had been telling Xey to help her find her mentor and get through the walls around her mind. I don’t think it was, though, because there was a lot of stuff there that wasn’t in the story. There were morganti beasts there. Lots of them. They seemed angry and prowly, kind of like they were hunting, although they mostly didn’t attack us. They just stalked and stalked and growled and disappeared in and out of nowhere. Not ethereal-disappeared, but really disappeared and then reappeared in other places. It was scary. We were careful about them. There were three other people there who the morganti beasts didn’t attack. They were all faceless people, like before. They were standing in a triangle again, but not around Xey. They were making motions in the air, as if there were some kind of invisible ball or orb there. It seemed a lot like a ritual. Except I think that something was really wrong, because there’s supposed to be something there, but there wasn’t and they needed it to complete their ritual. While we were trying to figure out the faceless people, the morganti beasts were still stalking and they were scaring everybody. One of the life mages tried an Elder Sorcery exorcism spell on it. That was really bad, ‘cause then the Raustkuru came. That was really, really scary. All of a sudden there was this huge wave, and it had lots and lots of eyes at the top of its crest. We were lucky because it was moving very slowly. I think something was giving us time to try and figure out what the three people were doing. But it was still getting closer, and closer, and we only had a couple minutes to do anything. We couldn’t figure it out, and I tried to stop the Raustkuru wave the way you do in dreams by imagining that there were lots of trees in the way, but it didn’t work. Eventually it was getting too close, and I yelled for everybody to go. That was the really scary part, because the Raustkuru stopped moving slowly and started moving really really fast, like a wave. Everybody started running away from it as fast as they could. After we ran a bit, the world changed again, and we fell onto the Tradjador Road in the real world. We could see the Tradjador Forest behind us. That was strange, because the Tradjador Forest is all the way at the north part of Hostor, and the life elemental place is at the south part of Hostor. I guess that dreams don’t need to follow the same rules as the rest of the world does, though. After that nobody wanted to keep trying, so we went straight back to Pinnacle, and me and Xey went to tell Embarcarious about what happened. I think Embarcarious is worried. About lots of stuff. The mage school has also been having lots of problems. Some of the students have been disappearing from the school. I don’t think anybody knows where they’re going. It sounds like what happened in Sorikonia with all those Kuan-Yin followers who got disappeared by those undead things. Except they came back eventually, and the mage students didn’t, or haven’t yet, as far as I know. There was also the really scary time a few weeks ago when Embarcarious got killed. It wasn’t just Embarcarious; it was lots of people. Some of the mage teachers in Dradri-Nuir, and in Astengrad, and even the Wizard Trade Order person named Celani Newform were killed also. Another lady was killed too - a Sorikonia lady named Chi’en Aroko, who was the leader of something called the Heaven Clan - except she was killed morganti and all the mage teacher people weren’t. But they were all killed at the same time, and nobody knows how it happened. The cult of people who worship the Raustkuru like it’s a god said they did it. I don’t think they did. Because even if the Raustkuru is really powerful, the Raust don’t seem like they really are. You have to be really powerful to kill someone like Embarcarious, because Embarcarious is a really good pacifist and he’s smart and I don’t think even vampires or carakwaiths can break into Embarcarious’s study and kill him, and especially not without other people realizing what’s happening. I brought Embarcarious tea and scones afterwards because I know he likes them and it might make him feel better, but I guess that tea and scones don’t really fix big things like that. It seems like somebody really doesn’t like mages. But if the Sorikonia-person was killed morganti even though the mages weren’t, I guess that means that the same somebody hates Sorikonia even more than it hates mages. There’s even more really weird stuff going on there right now, but I don’t know much about it. I heard that the gods are really messed up there, and divine stuff isn’t working, and oracles aren’t working. Spirits aren’t working, either, because apparently the Sorikonia people worship old spirits like most people worship gods, except there have been problems with spirits and the Spirit Realm there too. Really bad problems, like the spirit realm maybe going to collapse or something like that. It’s hard to know what’s all happening, though, because it’s far away and really confusing. All the Sorikonians are returning to Sorikonia instead of being Queen Kendrai’s army, though, because stuff in Sorikonia is getting so bad. That sounds like a good thing. Except some people have been saying that maybe it’s not, and it could be a trap instead. Like, maybe they want all the Sorikonians in one place so that they can destroy them all, or they want the Queen to not have an army so that they can do bad stuff to the mainland. That sounds like something Dagdeoth would do. Dagdeoth likes making lots of traps like that. So I guess that’s most of the weird stuff. I mean, there’s more weird stuff, but there’s always more weird stuff. I hope somebody can do something with this, because I want to help, but I’m not allowed to leave Pinnacle right now so I can’t do anything about the stuff besides what’s on Pinnacle. And if there are any Sorikonia people out there who read this, can you please send me a letter about what’s happening in Sorikonia? I might be able to help more if somebody actually tells me what’s going on for once. I know I’m just a kid, but that doesn’t mean I'm stupid or something. Okay?
June 2012 Campout, Day 1 - One of the Li shrines was infested with undead. It was cleared out.
- A Sorikonian ship disappeared off the northeast coast. A ship of adventurers went after it and also disappeared.
- One of the main ancestor shrines was attacked by skull warriors with morganti and skeletons; 2/3 skull warriors were captured, but the shrines were pretty much trashed.
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Aurora Nightsong - Sashi Eten, Sorikonia, Year 15,217 under High Queen K’uni Kendrai
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Seventhmoon, Day 1: Late Dusk
It is clear that the shrines of Sorikonia are in trouble. A small group of adventurers with a group of men at arms just returned from investigating a Fire Clan shrine. They found that the entire shrine was full up with undead: zombies, skeletons, and at the end there was a creature that appears to have been a shambler. The shambler was turned into birds by Chen Taka, who used his blessing from Amaterasu; and the rest of the undead were taken down or began to crumble once the shambler was dead.
The rest of the local adventurers have since gathered at the inn. Several events are afoot this night, and we have split off into two groups. One group has gone to investigate the disappearance of a ship. Just as the sun set earlier this evening, a Sorikonian ship off the northeast tip of the island disappeared. Onlookers say that it was there one moment and was gone the next - truly gone, not just taken into the ethereal realm. They are taking another ship out to see if they can discern what happened. The second group is leaving to guard the primary ancestor shrine within the city. The shrine has begun to howl, which on previous nights has warned of an oncoming attack by a group of skull warriors and their minions that has been heckling it for months now.
I am leaving with Shemdira to guard the shrine. Along with Mong and some members of the Order of the Flower, I have been helping to guard it for a few months now, and don’t intend to quit now when there is a clear danger present. We will be taking care of one entrance to the shrine; groups of Iron Disciples will be stationed at other entrances as well. With luck, we will be back later in the night - though some of the skull warriors have been wielding morganti in previous encounters, so there is a chance that we will not return.
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Seventhmoon, Day 1: Late Night
We have, indeed, returned, though rather worse for the wear. Shemdira was hit with morganti once, and has an ugly wound there now; I’ve tended to it as best I can, with Mong’s help. She’ll live, but it’s going to need constant care for the rest of her life. She’s sleeping off the excitement of the night right now, and I don’t blame her for it. I, myself, am going to sleep shortly, once I finish recording the night’s events.
We got to our section of the shrine and started taking a look around at the area. There were a handful of altars there - maybe ten or so - each adorned with flowers or items or other trinkets meaningful to the family members whose spirits they belong to. One of the larger, more important-looking altars we immediately surrounded with a circle of protection, but we couldn’t do the same for the others. The altars themselves were indoors, but the wall around them was as much open as not; there were many entrances around this section of the shrine. Only a few of us were here guarding it - ten people or so, I think. Mong was there, as was Chen Taka; I don’t know the names of the others. Some people quickly began setting up lanterns and candles so that we could see the approach of any undead through the darkness; others started patrolling the edges of the shrine. Shemdira and I found a dark corner outside one of the entrances and hid in the shadows, waiting for the creatures to appear so that we could hit them from behind.
It was some time before they came. Most of them were skeletons. I counted one, two, three, four approaching from our side. I waited for them to get closer - past our peripheral vision and nearer to the entrance. I waited too long, though - even as a fifth skeleton crept past us, the two furthest ones took off running into the shrine. Shemdira leapt, pouncing on one of the ones that was left and holding it in place while I made short work of it with my blades; then we quickly moved on to the other two who were still there. Those dealt with (for the moment - they were respawning), we moved back into the main shrine.
Already, it was a mess. There were skeletons everywhere. Only a few of them were engaged in battle with our companions; the rest were smashing the altars and their contents, hacking off pieces with their swords, and doing everything they could to tear the shrines down. Shemdira and I went racing off and began ripping down the skeletons nearest to us. It wasn’t too difficult - most of them weren’t watching their backs very well - but every single one of them had multiple respawns, and even having taken them down it was clear that we were going to have to fight them again later.
The battle continued, and was eventually joined by several groups of Iron Disciples from other, calmer parts of the shrine. A wave of them flooded the area, and they made short work of the skeletons there; while the skeletons were respawning, the Iron Disciples retreated to their previous areas to resume guarding them as they were assigned.
That was when the skull warriors came. The skeletons reanimated themselves, standing to once again engage in battle and continue their destruction of the shrines; and just then, another skeletal figure darted in, with morganti shortsword gripped in its bony fist. Mong, one of the other adventurers, and Shemdira and I immediately headed straight for it. The first adventurer broke off to take care of a skeleton that was trying to go for our backs. Shemdira and I got to it first, and tried to land a couple blows on it. The damn thing was fast, though, and managed to swing the morganti sword past Shemdira’s defenses and into her side. I leapt to the ground and started trying to get a look at the wound; I think Mong thought that we had legitimately been taken down, because he sent a treeform our way. We watched as he dueled it. The duel was short-lived, and the skull warrior went racing off; Mong was unharmed. At that point, we reverted, and I did what I could for Shemdira’s wound mid-battle before diving right back into the fray.
It was fairly long, as battles go. The skull warrior appeared a few more times; eventually Mong and I took it down, and Mong treeformed it. Mong also took care of another one that was creeping in the darkness beyond the edges of the wall. Around then was when we either wrung the last respawns out of the skeletons or the rest retreated - they stopped coming. Didn’t matter much, though: the damage had been done. By that point, the altars themselves had been completely trashed - pieces everywhere, tapestries on the ground, and most of the altars themselves were in several pieces on the floor. Even the shrine itself was damaged in places, and some of the overall damage had been morganti from the skull warriors. The only altar that hadn’t been victim to the damage was the one that we had put the circle around - but the rest were as good as gone. The battle hadn’t gone well in other areas of the shrine, either, it seemed - more ill tidings.
The skull warriors were exorcised, and the Iron Disciples began trying to clean the place up. That was the end of our duties for the night, so we returned to the inn to exchange tidings with the other group. They never showed up. Eventually, a messenger came and said that after staying stand-still in the water for a little while, their ship disappeared too. Nobody had any notion what had become of it. At the moment, the best hope we had was to wait for morning and see if the ships reappeared then - and, if not, maybe to try taking a look in the daytime to see if anything became obvious with the help of the daylight.
That’s about it for tonight. Or at least, that’s what one can hope. I wouldn’t put it past whatever this thing is to send other nasties in the middle of the night when nobody is awake to deal with them. More tomorrow - and for now, sleep.
June 2012 Campout, Day 2
- A group went to Icashi and got blessings and whatnot.
- On the way back to Sorikonia they investigated the disappearing ships; they found that a man there played a game with passerbys, and if you lost the game your ship disappeared. They won, and got the ships back.
- Another group went across to the tiny island next to the Grey Isles. They found two haunts battling a demon and a Sorikonian Martial Master, and recovered a sword and staff before fleeing for their lives.
- Chen Panjue gave the party a paper. It's at the bottom.
- There was more at night, but Aurora didn't return that night and thus adventures will be described next chronicle.
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Aurora Nightsong - Sashi Eten, Sorikonia, Year 15,217 under High Queen K’uni Kendrai
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Seventhmoon, Day 2: Early Morning
Last night’s intent to sleep didn’t quite go as planned. A couple of the adventurers invited me to join them at one of the local taverns with a few others. Long story short, everyone got rip-roaring drunk and somebody started a fight. The Sorikonian Martial Masters ended up having to come down and whip us into shape by putting us on guard duty around the shrine again for the rest of the night. That said, there was no sleep to be had (except for Shemdira, who remained blissfully univolved). I envy her a little - she’s much more awake than I am at this point.
The city is busy this morning. The Iron Disciples are continuing to try and clean up the ancestor shrine, and the Sorikonian Martial Masters are dealing with other problems or else trying to rest up from last night’s ruckus. That pretty much means that we’re all that Sashi Eten’s got right now, which is a terrifying thought. We met in the inn and Tao Kuo was there; he delivered the news as well as the array of the day’s events around the island. Here is the list:
>Urukai Captain makes formal attack announcement against Sashi Eten >Villagers slain by packs of Spinemen, Sorikonian Military offer aid >Spawnmen still a problem across Sorikonia, military assitance >Goblins disappear - only a few groups remain - investigate (where did they go?) >Windrunners decimate shipping villages on the south shores, amazons killed, military offers aid >Minrobian humans still attack non-humans, arrest them >Followers of Kuan Yin vanish into the tomb they were investigating, seem to be morganti-slain, none remain >>Shrines across Sorikonia report accelerated haunt of ancestors, tombs need investigating >>>Few remaining Temnorian Dark Heroes still strike at villages on the northern shore, track them >>>>Urukai army asks for assistance dealing with renegade turok ork and urukai groups >>>>Pirates attack shipping lanes along the Strait of Luminar, guards hired to protect cargo >>>>More morganti deaths on the south western shores, morganti haunts, shrine related? >>>>Travel to Icashi to investigate mainland connections and get better divine connections >>>>Island closest to the Grey Isles reports “beings” battling each other on it - investigate
In terms of details about them, I’ll go down the list. The Urukai Captain seems to be attempting to take control of Sashi Eten, but in an “honorable” manner so that it will be seen as legitimate. Another urukai adventuerer has offered to try to take control of the captain’s forces so that they won’t have that problem; we will see what is to be done about that. The goblins spoken of on the list are the goblins that were going around trying to hunt undead with silver weapons - Goodwind was taken with them at one point, but he’s back now. The Minrobians are thankfully not spreading too far; though they’re popular on the mainland, here in Sorikonia they are on the whole getting arrested and otherwise being dealt with. The Kuan Yin followers are the same followers who were “disappear-ed” by the undead blink beasts and reappeared on various shrines around Sorikonia - some of the adventurers, myself and Shemdira included, were captured and returned along with them. The morganti deaths on the southwestern shore are happening where there was at least one, maybe more morganti haunts - so that’s probably what’s going on there. As for the island near the Grey Isles - passing ships are describing four beings all fighting each other, although what they are changes from report to report (sometimes humans, or harpies, or other things). The rest of the missions, as far as we know, are pretty much what they seem to be.
Someone also suggested pursuing the people who were vanished in the ships last night; said event was added to the list as well. The vanished ships had not reappeared this morning at any point, and are at this moment still missing, as with the people on them.
Just as last night, we have decided to split into two groups in order to get the most done. The first group is going to sail upriver to Icashi and see what kind of information they can get from there, then swing by and investigate the disappearing ships on the way back. The second group is going to travel across Sorikonia to the island where the four beings are fighting. We had a choice of going over sea or overland; we decided to go overland, especially given that ships seem to be disappearing of late. Mong and I are going with that group. It’s going to be a long while before we’re back, but hopefully the excursion will be eventful enough to merit going there rather than wasting time that could have been applied to other things.
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Seventhmoon, Day 2: Late Afternoon
...We’re back. Barely. So are the people from the vanished ships, and the group that went to retrieve them. I... there’s a story to tell here. A big one. I’m glad we went, and I’m glad we managed to get away. It was close. Very close. For some of us, especially so.
Let it be known to those reading that what is described here is immediately significant to the state of Sorikonia at hand, and if they would know more, they should read ahead and pay attention rather than skip over and proceed onwards. A dragon is mentioned, and compared to the scale of what occurs later, the dragon is paid barely attention at all. That is the scale of what has happened.
We started relatively easily. There were a few hangups on the way - the usual battles with orks and zombies and the like. It took some time, but we eventually reached the southwestern tip of Sorikonia. We found a fishing village there, and dispersed amongst it to search for someone who could ferry us across to the next island. That in and of itself was a hangup, for the village and the villagers there were very poor. Most of their boats were worn-down and unable to carry us all, or else outfishing and scratching a livelihood for the people there. There was a boat-builder, but he was a very busy fellow and unable to help at that moment. Eventually, I tracked down an amazon who was able to sail us if we compensated him with goods; and Mong and some others bought the village’s stock of fish that it was selling in order to give them enough money to repair one of their other boats. It took time, but eventually, we were off.
At some point mid-way through the sailing, we stumbled onto some fish-stealers who were clearly sworn enemies of the villagers helping us. They seemed liable to attack the boats at first; they were approaching, weapons drawn, with pleased-looking grins across their faces. I stood and informed them that we were from Sashi Eten, and Mong stood and announced that he was an Iron Disciple, and the fishstealers turned and fled without a second thought. Hopefully that will provide the villagers with a little protection for a little while, in that the fishstealers will wait a while before returning to continue. It can’t be expected to last, though. Maybe we can do something to help them later on.
We landed on the shore of the next isle over - one smaller than Sorikonia, but still sizable. It was a much wilder place - clearly rural, and not nearly as populated as the main island. Plants were overgrown, paths were little more than deer tracks, and the people there were few and far between. The creatures there, too, were wilder. There was a band of dark ogres, as well as a group of skeletons. There were two haunts that wandered the isle - one more violent than the other - and, eventually, a leather dragon appeared. I have never seen a dragon before, and I couldn’t help but linger just a little to see it better. It was beautiful, and a magnificent being. The two saytrs sedated it for a while by playing it a lullaby; but eventually it woke and devoured them. For the most part, however, it left us alone.
The haunt was trickier. It escalated to a wraith as the group of us was passing through. It briefly dueled the dragon, who reset it to its original state, but we could not solve it or bring it to disappear. It took a long while to get everyone across, for there were no bridges and those of us with other ways to cross had to ferry those people who couldn’t - but, eventually, we did.
We met with the boats on the other side of the isle, and they ferried us across the short distance to the last island where the four beings were. Their presences were clear even as we approached; the island rumbled as it was shocked with lightning again and again, even though there were no storms above it or in the area at all. Four beings were clearly there, though what they were, we could not discern until we got closer.
The boat laid down anchor, and we disembarked. There was no hesitation or dawdling; we headed straight for the heart of the island, where the beings were doing battle. With the field now in view, we had a clearer idea of what was going on. The four beings there were divided up into two sides - two beings on two beings - with a host of minions in between. As we watched further, the beings didn’t seem to belong to either side; they switched or did as they felt.
The two beings on the left side of the field were haunts. One was a woman, and one was a man; both appeared to have been humans. The woman held a longsword, and the man held a staff. The weapons, though wielded by haunts, seemed to be perfectly corporeal. On the right were two very different beings, one more apparent than the other. The first was huge - the size of a giant - and had multiple morganti weapons. It shifted constantly, taking a variety of forms as we watched. The second was smaller. He appeared to be a Sorikonian Martial Master, though he was dressed all in black and displayed no insignia. Looking at him, my belly stirred as if there were snakes slithering inside it - or rather, he felt like a snake coiled and ready to strike. It works both ways.
Watching him, out of everything there, made me most uneasy. I recognized him. I was sure of it. Lalena had seen him in oracles given to her by Riddle (a worshipper of the Riddler, and a most curious man). I looked at him, and I thought, “The Prince”. It had to be him.
He thought back. He was aware of me, and knew that I was here. He was the Prince. Gods, help us all - though if he is here, it may be that the gods need more help than we do.
The Prince was too engaged in the battle to attend to me at that moment. I had cried out as the Prince became aware of me, and now my companions were huddled around me and asking what had happened - and I said that if they asked afterwards I would tell them, but that here it would only bring more danger. Then, I told them, we should watch. Just to make sure. Don’t run, don’t get involved - yet. We badly did not want to be on the wrong side of this.
Lalena came up next to me and said quietly, “Chess pieces. Black and white.” I nodded. Perhaps. I’m not convinced that it’s ever as simple as black and white, however - and thus, we waited.
We waited too long. As we watched, first the man was taken down, and then the woman. A white, jagged mouth burst from the staff and devoured the man whole as we watched; and as the woman fell, we heard - felt? - a voice cry out - “Help me!”. It came, we felt, from the sword. That was it. There was no more waiting. I turned to the companions at my sides and said, “This is it. We’re going. We have to go now.”
So, we did.
What kind of people plunge into battle with morganti-wielding demons and a being like the Prince? Idiots do. Idiots, every single one of us. It’s unfortunate when what needs doing requires a heavy dose of idiocy to steel one up to meet it. Some people call it bravery, and it’s that too, but all bravery is edged with knowing that you’re about to do something that is probably going to get your ass kicked. It’s idiocy, through and through.
We cascaded down the slopes and started what we had to. Mong went straight for the staff, then snagged it and ran; the sword was not so simple. Though the beings on the other side seemed very reluctant to touch it, they also seemed reluctant to let us have them. I think we almost had it once, but the people going for it had to veer away at the last second; I couldn’t see too well, as I was engaged elsewhere in the battle. My companions were beginning to flee up the slope, and they were being pursued by a host of spirit guardians, skeletons, and other undead; Shemdira and I were tearing through their ranks as quickly as we could to ensure the safe departure of our companions. It was going well; Shemdira ripped the head off of one while I stabbed another, and our companions were able to get through mostly unharmed.
There then came a moment when I realized that, firstly, there were no more of my companions heading up the slope - they had either already fled or were still battling down below; and secondly, all of the undead before us had finished respawning - and, with our companions gone, the only target for them to fixate on was us.
We ran. There was no way we were going to be able to take care of them on our own. Soldiers are trained to fight, but a smart soldier knows when she is outmatched and it’s acceptable to turn tail. First we darted around the edge of a large, stony hill to a small path behind it, then came out the other side and plunged back into the valley. It was almost empty at that point; more undead picked up and followed, some of them racing after us. There was no going back up to the ships at this point; the safest target was a tree. We ran further still; hands grabbed out, some with blades and some not. Shemdira leapt into the tree, and even with her headstart, kept climbing; most of the creatures were left below, scrabbling at the trunk and waiting for us to come down.
Shemdira leapt again, treetop to treetop. Most things followed us at ground-level, but an amazon who had been steering the ships earlier flew and pursued us through the air. He threw spear after spear, and eventually, Shemdira and I collapsed onto a net of branches and fell into quiet unconsciousness.
We reawoke later - something that I had not been expecting. There was nobody around, save us; the amazon had left, as had the skeletons down below. A quick peek around the trunk of the tree revealed that there was nobody left in the valley, either - and neither was the sword. I have been told since that a man named (Ray) dove into the midst of the beings gathered around the swords and, before they could strike at him, treeformed himself on top of the blade. He waited, and when they started to switch out their Elder Sorceries, he reverted, grabbed the sword, and ran up the hill with everything chasing him all at once. I wish I could have seen it. That’s the thing about bravery - it’s bravery when it works, and it’s idiocy when it doesn’t. That was probably the bravest thing that any of our companions did in that valley, period.
I patched Shemdira and myself up. We were bleeding heavily, and wouldn’t last long, but we might last long enough to get ourselves out of here - if our companions hadn’t left already. We started to go up the hill towards the shore, but then saw a pair of hill giants armed with boulders that way - and decided that it might be safer to travel through the brush instead. A few skeletons and the like were still patrolling back and forth occasionally, and we had to wait for them to go before Shemdira would leap to the next tree and hide amongst the branches.
It was a quiet, if nerve-wracking, trek through the trees and eventually on the ground. We avoided any kind of hassling on the way over; but once we got to the shore, it was not so easy. Our companions were still anchored a ways off shore, and the demon and the Prince and their minions were gathered around it. Jarek was there in the water, I was told afterwards; I didn’t see him there, though. He may already have been coaxed onto the ship by the time we arrived. I saw Mong, though - he was hiding and working his way through the forest towards the boat. He saw me, too, and we nodded at each other and then kept going.
A few near misses later, and everyone was back on the boat and we were sailing away. People were trying to convince Jarek to let go of his sword, but he was having none of it; it would seem that he was manadrained quite fiercely, and couldn’t remember anything that had just happened or who any of our companions were. With that, we sent him off to sleep and let him be. Identifying the sword could wait until we were safely back at Sashi Eten.
Once there, we were greeted by Chen Panjue the Dark Eyes, as well as by our missing companions. For their part, they had encountered a rather curious grey-haired potbellied man who had some kind of divine ties. He offered to play them a game, and they accepted; the game was a game of chess - with people as the pieces. One person played the man, and when one piece went to take another, the two people representing those pieces would duel to decide which piece stayed. The first ship of our companions lost, and so vanished; the second ship won, and was granted a boon. The boon allowed them to reclaim the vanished ships and the people on them, and return home.
This was explained to Chen Panjue, and then it was our turn. People told tale of the armies, and the demons, and the haunts that had died. They also told tale of the sword and staff, though neither were there right now - Jarek was still sleeping and had the sword, and Mong had taken the staff to the Iron Disciples as he must do. I chose also to raise my hand, and took the chance and told Chen Panjue, “The Prince was there.”
I knew not if he knew what that meant. I assumed that it would go either one of two ways: either he knew what I meant and would heed it, or he would not know and prove that he would be a bad person to look to in the future. I think... he did know, however, though he was careful with it as he should be. Before he could respond, someone else sent a response too.
I felt Him again in my mind, just after I said his name. He jabbed into my head, and with the jab came a searing pain. I felt energy draining from me as the pain receded. Prince or not, I wasn’t about to let him do that without any kind of response - so, in the next moment, I slammed right back into his mind and said, “Fuck you."
It was very quiet on his end in the next few moments. He said nothing more, and did not push back again. One last sense trickled through; he let it be known that he had marked me. With that, he departed.
Marked for what? I still don’t know. I didn’t have time to contemplate it at the moment, however, because in the next Panjue asked me, “What makes you think this?”
It was a moment before I could reply - I was still a little bit unsteady from my latest exchange with the Prince. “I... talked to him. Sort of.” I responded, and that was that. It sounded silly, and I knew it sounded silly, but it was the truth. He moved on after that. I don’t care if he believes me. I certainly wouldn’t believe me if I were in his shoes, or at least wouldn’t right away.
There were no more tasks to be had until later - dinner was to happen first. Trying to fight on an empty stomach is a bad idea if it can be avoided. Just before Chen Panjue departed, he did one more thing: he singled out a woman in our party named Lindor. He stepped through the crowd, then handed to her a piece of paper, and said, “I think you know what to do with this.” With that, he departed, and then did we.
That journey took all afternoon. It’s verging on evening, now. Dinner will be in a few moments, and after that it will be back to the inn to see what’s on the board for this evening. Almost everyone has gone off to it, actually; a small group has stayed behind and is looking at the paper that Lindor got. They’ve already figured out that it has invisible ink, and are burning the ink as I write this in order to see it. I’ll write the note in a minute, once they finish.
Here it is:
If you see the spirits’ fraying And have cause to wonder why Know that to this twisted game There is more than meets the eye. It’s religion at its root For what role to spirits play In this land of many shrines But ancestral worship’s way? Seek the shrines now torn and broken For there answers you may find At the doorstep of the dragons And the ancestors in kind. As when the heavens are assailed By the touch of spirits black Pursue the truest meaning Of divided lake’s attacks. Consider not just spirits When you think of those now dead For when masters play their games They send pieces in their stead. But whatever moves you make, Make them quickly as you may For the Champion is coming And will end all in his way.
Shen Sai Emeral %% I.D.
That bottom line is the part in invisible ink. I can’t draw them very well, but those figures are big footprints of some kind of bird. We haven’t figured out what yet. The answer will have to wait until after dinner; we’re leaving now so that we don’t miss it, and I think we’re going to discuss what the note means over food. I’ll be back to write what we figure out later, as well as what we end up doing tonight.
June 2012 Campout, Day 3
- Cleared out a couple minor shrines. Successful with Wind and Wood, but the Heaven shrine got unforged.
- Went after the demons using the Sword and Staff.
- Ended up going on a rescue mission to try to retrieve Jarek and the Sword from the Mist Demon.
- Sword was retrieved, a council meeting was had, and the sword and staff were handed over to the heads of Fire and Earth clans.
OUT-OF-GAME NOTE: I know this is a Junior League character and thus I should probably watch language, but Aurora has a soldier's mouth and it's hard to really write or play her properly without throwing in a half-dozen swears along the way. I'm trying to keep it minimal, but just be warned if that kind of stuff offends you or something that suchstuffs will be in every chronicle of hers.
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Aurora Nightsong - Sashi Eten, Sorikonia, Year 15,217 under High Queen K’uni Kendrai
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Seventhmoon, Day 3: Early Morning
Well then. To say that last night didn’t go is planned is something of an understatement. I’ve only just returned from being resurrected, as has Mong. We ended up going out to try to track down and arrest some Temnorian invaders who have been kidnapping people; long story short, *some* people need to learn to be less reluctant to hit first and ask questions later. Otherwise you end up swift-sleeped, killed, buried, and get your bodies dumped somewhere inaccessible. Shemdira was up all night trying to track us down, by the looks of it. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her quite this on edge before; she seems liable to jump at even the smallest noises. Whatever she had to do to get Mong and I back, it seems to have rattled her more than a little. She’s sleeping, now; I can join with the adventurers for one day without her. She deserves the rest.
As for that note - we did end up discussing it over dinner. We eventually determined that the bird footprints seem to belong to some kind of owl, and a live one at that - like somebody basically dipped the owl’s feet in lemon juice and stamped them onto the paper. The initials next to them - “I.D.” - sound like they might belong to somebody named Ishmael Dreamwing. We also got some information on Shen Sai Emeral; she was a poet of some note who was morganti-slain months ago. It seems like either it’s an old paper of hers that was only found recently, or she’s still alive and just in hiding, or somebody else has put her name there for reasons unbeknownst to us. The rest of the meaning seems fairly straightforward - the dragons and the ancestors refer to shrines, we think, and that those need looking into. It also seems like “heaven” and “lake” aren’t in there accidentally, and that they’re supposed to refer to those two clans specifically. Then the whole theme of games makes a lot of people think of the chess game with the clans that the person on the ship was playing, so that could be related too. Or something. It’s kind of hard to say.
Anyway - I should get going. We’re not meeting for a few hours, but there are errands to run and training to work at before then. Will write more later, assuming I don’t get killed again.
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Seventhmoon, Day 3: Early Afternoon
Back now, at least for a little while. We spent the morning clearing out those morganti-filled chests at few shrines - one group went to Wind and Wood, I think, and our group went to Heaven. I’m back early, actually; when people started unforging doorknobs, the idiocy was getting too pervasive to continue along with. Hopefully they won’t screw too much else up.
The shrine we went to itself appears to have been covered up by a bunch of old dwarven ruins. The records showed that there might have been a shrine in that area at some point but people weren’t sure anymore, and the entrance halls to the shrine definitely seemed like they were of dwarven crafting, so that seems to kind of add up. The door was actually broken down when we got there - something about urukai-sized that’s strong enough to break through what’s basically a stone slab. There were lots of littler tracks too. My bets are a demon (though I didn’t see one when I left) and a bunch of the little ghouls that we came across later on. The ghouls were actually some kind of minor ghoul and not that difficult to deal with - grave ghouls, I think they were called.
The whole thing, once we got in, was silver-lined and sanctified. Protects against ethereal stuff and other bad influences, I guess. We went through a whole bunch of hallways and rooms, and eventually found our way to part of the actual Heaven shrine. There were three doors there - one with another door on it (turned out to be an exit), one with sunlight coming through the clouds (which led to the shrine), and one with treasure on it (not sure what was actually behind that door). Only a certain subset of people could actually enter the shrine - people of a somewhat stricter nature, it seemed - and we didn’t stay there long. Just in case.
After that, there were most hallways and rooms. There was some amount of breaking-down of doors, but eventually it got to large stone ones that couldn’t just be kicked down. That’s when the incident involving unforging the doorknob happened, and when I just upped and left. They should be back pretty soon. I’ve been waiting at the inn for a while now, and unless they ran into extra trouble, it shouldn’t be too much longer.
It’s been some time - they’re here now. Both groups. The Wind and Wood group actually did manage to return with an unharmed morganti-filled box, for which I commend them. The Heaven group managed to set the thing off and ended up fleeing from a horde of morganti wraiths. Nobody was hurt, I think, except for the demon that they did end up having to fight past to get through to the chest. Mission-choosing is happening, hold on.
That was an... unexpected turn of events. Now that we know some of the things that the sword and staff can do - their names, by the way, are the Sword of the Angel Feather and the Staff of the Platinum Magus - and now that the demons are so close to Sashi Eten, we have decided to go out and fight them and see if we can take care of them right now. I guess that means I have to wake Shemdira.
It’s time to go now. We’re moving out quickly. With luck, I’ll be here to transcribe what happened. If not, hopefully someone will read this and have the good sense to find my will and take care of Shemdira if she’s still left alive. Goodbye, dear journal-snoop, for now.
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Seventhmoon, Day 3: Mid Afternoon
I’m back! So is Shemdira. Neither of us are any worse for the wear, though the same can’t be said for everyone. I don’t think anyone has been morganti-slain, or at least as far as we know; Jarek and the Sword of the Angel Feather are still missing, but we’re waiting for him to turn up.
The demons turned out to be pretty easy to track down. We found them in a valley some way away from Sashi Eten. They were both there - the Mist one and the Prince. Most of the early parts of the battle, Shemdira and I were waiting in the tree and picking things off from the sides. I wanted to get close to the Prince, but he was in too deep in the battle at that point. It was hard - the Mist-demon kept going ethereal. I’ve gotta say, trying to evade something that wields three morganti weapons when it’s constantly shifting between the material and ethereal planes is just a little more than unnerving.
Flynn was using the staff while in the shape of a wyrm, and Jarek was using the sword; they both went straight down to Mist to try and deal with him. I thought it was going to be the end of Flynn - I watched when the Mist Demon stuck him right in the belly - but the staff did something weird and Flynn was just there in his normal form instead of as a wyrm. Sounds like it made sure that only his wyrm form was morganti-slain, and not Flynn himself. Soon after, the Mist Demon took off running; Jarek was hot on his tail. When we tracked them down later, they had both been teleported off to somewhere else, though we’re not sure where yet. Mong is working on finding someone who can trace the teleport in case Jarek doesn’t come back.
With the Mist Demon gone, it was easier to get to the Prince. I guided Shemdira right down towards him, and got that sucker face to face and tried to send a mental blast his way. Someone interceded before I could, though - some weird masked guy from Icashi crept up behind him and dispatched him. The Prince did a pretty crazy maneuver to try and avoid the blow, but it turns out that the guy was using this thing called “Susano’s Blade” and it has some kind of field of inevitability, so the Prince ended up getting dispatched anyway. He was treeformed, and we waited to deal with him until we could get rid of the rest of the demons’ minions.
Blinky zipped the Prince back to town, and he was quickly set up in a circle of protection. After we returned, he was resurrected and questioned - and that’s when we realized that things weren’t quite what they seemed.
Dopplegangers. The damn Prince is using dopplegangers. The guy we caught was actually named K’an Freten, and had been kidnapped and disguised to look like the Prince. It took us some time, but we put the puzzle together: the Temnorians seemed to be kidnapping Sorikonian nobles of a certain build, and they were being controlled and dressed up to take the place of our dear Prince. There are at least five more, it sounds like - members from Fire, Mountain, Lake, and Heaven. Gods damn it.
And Jarek’s still not back. I’ll update in a while. Mong’s talking about mounting a rescue mission if he isn’t back soon. We’ll see.
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Seventhmoon, Day 3: Late Afternoon
Jarek’s still not back - the rescue mission is a go. One of Chen Kamanari’s advisors - Chen Linnet - can trace the teleport and, one better, send us to wherever they went. The problem is that we’re not sure where exactly that is, and getting out may end up being more of a problem than getting in. We’ll see.
No more time - time to go. I’ve been given the Staff of the Platinum Magus to use, as well as magelore armor, so I’ll do what I can to make the most use of it.
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Seventhmoon, Day 3: Evening
One battle and one impromptu council meeting later, we’re back. The teleport went fine; in addition to myself, Mong, and a fellow other adventurer named CJ, Mong rounded up some Iron Disciples and some thunder-style monks to come with us.
Yeah, as it turns out, we teleported to kind of a nasty place. It was in what used to be one of the shrines, but the shrine was totally defiled by this point. Blood everywhere, morganti damage, holy symbols blotted out, the works. Worse still, the Mist Demon was still hanging around - as well as some kind of huge golem and a mire of other undead. There were chests, too, that we had to try and avoid setting off; we assumed they were full of morganti and triggered to unforge, and it turned out later on that we were right.
One of the monks took care of the golem pretty quickly - reflected its own morganti attack back onto it. A charmed martial master tried to duel me, but I avoided it, and he ended up just being kind of useless and wandering around the area and not doing much. Somebody set off the box of morganti wraiths not long after that; I sent a quick prayer to my goddess and let off a platinum dragon breath at the ones chasing some of my companions. They just kind of... disappeared. The same went with the next two breaths, which pretty much took care of all of them.
Soon enough, it was just the Mist Demon left. He was sticking to the ethereal realm at that point, and none of us had ethereal travel. Normally I can’t see spirits, but the armor granted me that ability. We waited for a long time, hoping that he was going to give up and try to attack us, but he seemed perfectly content to try and outwait us. Eventually I got fed up and lost my patience, and circled around to the front of the group and challenged the demon to a duel for honor.
Probably not the smartest thing ever. The conversation went something like this:
“I don’t know what the hell your name is, but whatever it is, I challenge you to a duel for honor.”
He looked at me, befuddled. “You don’t know me,” he said.
“I don’t care! Just get the fuck out here already.”
“You don’t know me!” he said again. A dangerous edge was creeping into his voice at this point. Probably should have heeded it - didn’t.
“So are you going to come out, or don’t you have the honor to face me?”
That’s the point at which he slipped into the material plane. Of course, he also reverted into his true form - that huge, cave-troll sized bout of swirling mist. To make matters worse, we learned what exactly that mist does: it blocks the use of all chi-based, spirit-based, and divine-based abilities, and it actually eats blessings. That wasn’t too pretty.
At that point I blasted him with the platinum dragon breath. He didn’t really disappear like the morganti wraiths had; instead, he got forced through the wall of the shrine and some minutes away. That gave us enough time to search for Jarek and the sword and get out - we hoped.
The martial master was remove-charmed, and he pointed us to a pair of stone double doors. Sure enough, Jarek and another marital master were laying there, both dead; the sword was next to him. The martial master insisted on being the one to test for traps so that he could regain some honor, so we let him - he was Fire Clan, after all, and he could use it, especially in his position. He got the sword, two people grabbed Jarek and the other martial master and carried them out, at which point Linnet and a small army showed up. It was comprised not only of her, but of a few members of Kamanari’s advisors, Chen Panjue, and - surprisingly enough - Tui Ripentot. There wasn’t much time before the demon was likely to be back, so Linnet cast a “we escape” Elder Sorcery, and there we were back in Sashi Eten.
That’s when the politics started. It ended up being a clan meeting, so I’m not sure how much I’m actually allowed to say. I will say that it ended up being so because, one by one, most of the clan heads and some of their ambassadors just “happened” to wander in and discover everyone there. I will also say that, midway through the battle, I made a mental check for the Prince and used the opportunity to deliver to him another mental punch in the face, this time with backup from an extra mana and help from the staff. Partly it was because he decided to put me higher up on his “To Kill” list as soon as I bothered him, but mostly it was because I just wanted to punch that bastard. It’s a wonder that I’m ever going to manage to stay alive for very long, if I keep with my current history and pasttime of pissing off every similarly powerful being that I happen across.
Lastly, the ultimate decision - which is made public, and I’m pretty sure I can legally disclose. The sword and staff were handed to the heads of Fire Clan and Earth Clan respectively for safekeeping. At least they’re not being kept in some vault somewhere, I guess, and can actually be used if needed.
So that’s the day’s adventures. We could go find more, I suppose, but I don’t think that anybody’s particularly keen on it after having faced those demons not only once, but in some cases twice. It’s been a long day. Shemdira needs to sleep, and at this point, so do I. Goodnight for now, and I shall write again another day!
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 20:35:08 GMT -8
August 2012 Adult League Campout --- Aurora Nightsong - Sashi Eten, Sorikonia, Year 15,217 under High Queen K’uni Kendrai--- Eighthmoon, Day 2: MidafternoonLooks like it’s going to be an interesting afternoon. Somehow, some way - don’t ask me how, because I’m not entirely sure - I got roped into joining Chen Kamanari and some of his companions when they go into Tui Ammoni’s tomb. I think part of it has to do with the Platinum Magus Staff; they were looking for someone to use it when they go in, and I’d used it before, so there you go. Speaking of the Platinum Magus Staff, apparently it belongs to a set of three items - not two. The third is only summoned when the same person wields both the Staff and the Sword at the same time - this person being, in this case, Chen Kamanari. The item is a shield, and it has a picture of an angel and a mage on it. Not sure what it does, but whatever those things happen to be, they’re probably pretty epic. We’re off in a moment. Not sure what all we’re going to be doing - and, for that matter, I’m not sure they really know either. But I guess that’s okay. Rule of Innocence and all that. --- Eighthmoon, Day 2: Early EveningFuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. The Prince is a dragon. An awful, terrible, I-don’t-even-know-what of a demonic morganti-and-gold dragon. What have I been doing? I’ve been hitting a dragon in the brain. You know what I say about bravery and idiocy being the same thing, and it’s bravery when it works and idiocy when it doesn’t? Well some things are idiocy no matter what you do with them, and that’s one of them. Dear gods. What have I done. I’m not going to say what happened in the tomb, just in case it ruins things for other people. I will say that it was interesting, and I will say that it was educational, and I can say that I learned a lot from it and will make sure that others can as well. --- Eighthmoon, Day 2: NightIt occurs to me that I should have listed the rest of what I learned about the Prince, given that that shouldn’t ruin anything. On top of that, it’s useful information for the people who are going to potentially be fighting him. Of which I guess I’m still one, because I figure, he’s already pissed off at me - no reason to stop now, right? As I said before, the Prince’s true form is that of a demonic morganti-and-gold dragon. He has morganti teeth and claws, and black horns coming out of his head. I think. (I guess the morganti teeth part explains why the shark I punched in the face last time I mentally hit the Prince had black teeth). He’s proficient in Elder Sorcery, of course; I heard him use words and felt him use spells from storm magic, necromancy, and life magic. His breath weapon went off and hit someone at some point too - not me, but a mute martial artist that came with us. It’s... awful. It’s called “Shadowlands Breath”, and is actually pretty similar to gold dragon breath in that it gives you a large number of deaths. The difference is that each death that is given to you gives you an increase percent chance of passing onto the Prince’s home plane when you die - that being, I guess, the Shadowlands. Nobody knew anything about this place, and while on the one hand it would be nice to know what exactly that is, on the other hand it’s probably one of those things that you don’t want to know. He also has kind of a weird aura. It unforges all magical items that come within his presence. This poses problems, given that while he is a dragon he’s also a demon, and demons can only be harmed with magical damage. Not sure what we can do about that, but there has to be *something*. That’s about it for what we learned, I think. There will be more opportunities with different people on a different day.
August 2012 Campout (Junior League), Day 1 - We continued the Air shrine and got rid of a couple more doom guards and a wraith.
- The Heaven shrine got started; it's full of lots of undead.
- We found the green demon, kind of - it has to do with insanities and minds and fun stuff like that.
- There were a bunch of insane Sorikonian men-at-arms who were guarding a shrine that they thought was Sashi Eten. Read the last bit (late night) for more details on that.
- Also, undead army around said shrine, too. We started work on that.
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Aurora Nightsong - Sashi Eten, Sorikonia, Year 15,217 under High Queen K’uni Kendrai
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Eightmoon, Day 6: Afternoon
Apologies for not having written yesterday. It was a busy day, and by the time we were finished, I was exhausted. Figures I have to go back out there today - we were working on cleaning the Wind and Wood shrine.
To make matters worse, Amara and her Order of the Flower posee tried going into the Tomb of the Clanless Sensei. Somebody put flowers on the shrine, fine, except that that put them into some kind of dreamstate with yet another morganti-filled box on a shrine. Except, this being a dreamstate, they were all blind or something like that. I don’t know. Anyway, they tried to move it, they screwed up and released morganti haunts into the Tomb, and that was the end of that. Keep in mind that we’ve realized that when something happens to a major tomb, an effect is repeated in the clan or clans connected to that. Someone screwed up the main Fire shrine and all the royalty are in morganti comas, someone screwed up the main Mountain shrine and all of their members have suddenly (and ironically) become very weak, and so on. Yeah, well, what happens when you screw up the shrine that’s connected to all the clans?
Apparently what happens is that all of the clan nobles take on the “wounds” of the other clans. Not using their arms, or having stiff legs, or what have you. Not only that, either - they don’t realize it. They don’t understand, or can’t, or something. And you can’t tell them what happened, either, because as soon as you start talking about the Tomb of the Clanless Sensei, it’s like you’re not there anymore and they go wandering off into the sunset. I tried telling Chen Panjue what was going on by saying that things had “not” happened and hoped he would put together the pieces, but I don’t think anything actually got through to him. It’s the intent, not the words you use. Or something. Gods dammit, I’m not an Elder Sorcerer! I can’t deal with that kind of crap. Basically, they broke it, and now they get to fix it.
Meanwhile, we’ve been having some success with the Wind and Wood shrine. We went in yesterday - that’s what was so exhausting. It wasn’t so much the physical exertion as it was the knowledge of what would happen if you failed, and there following constant nagging fear and paranoia that just kind of wears away at you. Because, as is admittedly fitting for a shrine to the Wind and Wood clan, their shrine is inside a mountain. There are stalagmites, or stalactites - whichever ones come down from the ceiling - that come down and are shaped to form platforms. You jump from one to the other. And if you miss? Or if, say, one of the platforms gets unforged, because a chest went off and it counts as an item because it’s been shaped and crafted like that? It’s a thousand-foot fall, at least. Plus the area’s sanctified, so don’t count on your spirit getting out. Also don’t count on flying, because it’s a magical ability and we can’t use it in the shrines.
That’s just normally. Of course, the whole thing’s infested with undead, too. Lots of Doom Guards and a bunch of specters, at the very least - we only destroyed one Doom Guard yesterday (while getting mobbed by said horde of specters), but we saw at least one more on one of the other platforms. That’s about as far as we got before everybody except me and Mong decided to ditch to go do something else. Because, of course, anything else they’re doing could be far more important than trying to save the Sorikonian clans. It was stupid to keep going without backup, so Mong and I left as well and started preparing for re-entering today. So that’s what we’ll be doing in a little while, I suppose. Assuming I live to tell the tale, I’ll be back to describe what happened later.
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Eightmoon, Day 6: Late Afternoon
Well. I’m back. Not too much worse for the wear, either. We got further in cleaning out the Wind and Wood shrine - not too many mishaps, so far.
Upon going back in, we decided that before we disarmed any of the shrines, we wanted to get rid of all the undead. Otherwise, we would likely have made our jobs that much harder by trying to deal with specters or some shit like that while moving a chest. This required visiting all the platforms and checking them out - which also gave us an idea of how many we had to take care of, which was good anyway. I was using the Staff of the Platinum Magus, as I was yesterday; makes everything much easier to deal with. I found a neat trick against the Doom Guards, because of course they’re using shields on top of having full plate. Because of the head on the Staff, if you can hook it under the shield, you can pull the shield out of the way and then hit them in the soft spot. That ended up being quite useful.
Long story short, we took care of a couple of the doom guards. There was also a wraith, which is what was making all those specters, and once we took it down all the specters faded so we didn’t have to deal with them one by one. There were some other things there too - crypt sentinels and the like. There was also a trap that unforged one of the mini-platforms between the big platforms as soon as weight was put on it. Luckily, we were expecting that to happen, and nobody died from it. It was turning towards the later end of the day at that point, and we decided that trying to continue this right then would likely result in trouble that we could have avoided if we were fresh. We left, and intend to continue clearing the shrine tomorrow.
While we had been gone, another group had started clearing out the Heaven shrine and made some progress on that; apparently the whole thing is chock-full of hordes and hordes and hordes of undead. A miniature battlefield, almost. It sounds like they only got as far as they did because Chen Kamanari was standing by with his shield and presenting it to any undead that they lured to the entrance. They haven’t finished the shrine, of course - there hasn’t been nearly enough time for that - but it’s a good start.
Dinner is happening now. I suspect we’re going to be taking it as a chance to figure things out, since, we’re actually all going to be in the same room for a change. Even if it’s only for an hour or two.
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Eightmoon, Day 6: Early Evening
Maybe not as productive an evening as I’d hoped. For one, we had a magic item trader rather loudly talking over us the entire time - we mentioned the Tomb of the Clanless Sensei, and apparently that was how he decided to cope with it. The extra noise, as well as being swarmed by everyone looking to trade said magic items, made discussion difficult. In addition, some chick named Ishmael showed up and Amara spent the dinner exchanging news with her, so we never actually got any further. Especially given that the three of them - Amara, Iraya, and Ishmael - eventually went wandering off to who knows where because the inn was too distracting. That was the end of that. No productive evenings for us.
The main focus of the night seems to be around a shrine on - guess where? - the west side of the main island. Since the demons followed us back and landed there, it seems like everything that’s especially terrible tends to happen there. There’s an undead army gathering in that area, and one group is going to make a strike against it and try to cut through their numbers. Meanwhile, another group is going to go around the back and try to look into the shrine itself - something’s up there. There are whole bunch of Sorikonian men at arms who have mysteriously gathered around the shrine. Whatever’s going on, it can’t be good - hence, the looking-into.
I’m staying back. After the Wind and Wood shrine today, I need a rest. Especially given that we’re probably going to end up tackling multiple shrines again tomorrow. I’ll wait around for everyone to return, though, and transcribe what happened.
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Eightmoon, Day 6: Late Night
That took far longer than I anticipated. The group that went to investigate the shrine managed to capture one of the Sorikonians around it, and upon being brought back, he was put in a circle of protection. First, he was identified; it turned out that he was of Earth Clan, and that he wasn’t quite right in the head (who’d’ve guessed!). Part of it was that he was a soldier who had seen a lot of battle - that, I can understand. When I was still in the military, soldiers were forced to retire sometimes because the strain of battle had been too much and they just snapped. They would get flashbacks or horrible nightmares, or get moody and have trouble functioning normally, or be on the edge of flying into a rage at any moment. You can’t function like that. It’s a terrible thing to see, and much worse to be subject too. There was something more to it for this guy, though.
On top of the battle-induced insanity, something had recently been tampering with those memories and exaggerating them, or something. Making them worse. We figured what had happened on that front already, but I’ll get to that in a moment.
After he was identified, Mong set up a circle of protection around him and woke him up. Once he was awake, we proceeded to question him. Most of what he said confirmed what we already knew - he was a man-at-arms from Earth Clan, had been abroad and fighting, and the like. He didn’t hold up to questioning well; most of our companions were being idiots and pestering him with questions that didn’t pertain to anything even remotely resembling importance. Or sense. Because we absolutely need more insanity than we’re already dealing with. Once we noticed that the man was beginning to wane, we sent him off to sleep, and that concluded that.
The details needed to put the rest of the puzzle together were found at the shrine itself. One, as they were creeping up on the shrine, those present spent time eavesdropping on the Sorikonians. Their sense of reality had been distorted - they believed that the shrine was Sashi Eten, and that they were defending it from some threat or other. What that threat was, none of them could actually agree upon - some of the things heard were “merfolk”, “giant spiders”, “skeletons”, and so on. They also seemed to think that the undead army around them was on their side, and projected their fearfulness of whatever their threat was onto the adventurers who were attacking the army.
Two, around the general area of the shrine, there were many glowing lights. The men-at-arms treated the lights as commanders and generals; they were very respectful to them, and asked them for orders or gave reports to them. Heh, I remember that. Anyway, the lights would blink in and out of existence at some points - except they weren’t. Some people with spirit guide were able to see that the lights were blinking between the material and ethereal realms. Now here’s the real kicker:
The colors of the lights were blue, gold, and green.
Yeah, they went there. I guess there’s a reason that everything awful happens on that side of the island. Must be like home, sweet home for those demons by now. So basically, we’ve discerned that the green demon has something to do with minds and insanities, and the amplification of insanities, and may or may not have any kind of corporeal form at all. On the bright side, we’ve found some trace of it at all, so that might give us a beginning point to track it down from. If only ranger tracking were applicable in this situation - then we’d be set.
Either way, we’re not going to try and deal with it now. We’ve disbanded and people have gone off to bed. I should follow suit - goodnight. I’m sure there will be another wonderful day of getting slaughtered by demons and morganti wraiths to look forward to tomorrow.
August Campout, Day 2
- We finished the Air shrine. All royalty lost their left leg because we messed up a little.
- We tried to continue the Heaven shrine and found a room with a bone sword, and a vampire with a Chi'en blade of whispers.
- The Earth Clan ceremony happened; different people said and did different things.
- Night mission #1: Going out to fight the undead army. The Prince and Chih-Chang Fyu-Yu showed up, and initiated mutual destruction.
- Night mission #2: Our annual visit with the Muffin Man (aka, the Riddler). Riddles were given, answers were had.
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Aurora Nightsong - Sashi Eten, Sorikonia, Year 15,217 under High Queen K’uni Kendrai
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Eighthmoon, Day 7: Morning
We discussed plans over breakfast. It’s been decided that, since it’s already been partially cleared out, we’re going to finish the Heaven shrine and then proceed to Lake. We may be doing other things first - trying to rescue some of those Sorikonian men-at-arms, or dealing with the undead army, or other things. I’m not sure. There’s a lot that needs to be done, and not nearly enough time to do it in. We’re deciding what to do now - there will be answers in a moment.
Some people are going off to look into the crops in northwestern Sorikonia. Crops have been spontaneously disappearing, and some people want to look into it. I’m going to stay here and practice the song that Amara and Iraya and I are going to be singing at the clans’ service today. That’s more important than that mission in many ways - or, at least, to me. There’s no chance we can match what Earth Clan, as well as Mountain and Fire, have lost; but we’d damn well better give them the best we can offer. I’ve never been much of a singer, anyway, and I need the practice.
If anything else happens this morning, I will record it; otherwise, I will write more after the ceremony. Aurora out.
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Eighthmoon, Day 7: Early Afternoon
The ceremony was beautiful. Beautiful, and indescribably sad - but there is a beauty in that, too. When you grow up in the snow and the mountains and the harsh weather, you learn two lessons: one, that the only survival is endurance - and the world will kill you without a second thought. Two, that despite the danger in the snow and the storms and the world at large, there is still a beauty in it - even if that beauty is found in the sharp prick of hail, or in the knife-cut chill of the winter weather.
Everyone had gathered - as, of course, they should. All the Sorikonian clans and their heads were there. So were the adventurers, as were a great number of peasants. A shrine had been built in honor of the ceremony, and it was adorned with flowers and with other offerings - and more as time went on. Once those who would come had come, it was time for speaking to begin.
Much to my surprise, it was not Chen Kamanari who spoke. Nor was it the three remaining nobles of Earth Clan; and for that, at least, I can hold to them to no fault. Even at the ceremony, they still looked to be in a great deal of shock. It was Suun Fone - the head of Wind and Wood - who spoke. When she spoke, she wove a story of times past; of what the Clans, especially Earth Clan, had once been. We have only seen them in the state of those who drink to sustain themselves through the mire of politics; but that, Suun Fone said, was not who Earth Clan truly was. Earth Clan was made of those who enjoyed life, and it’s smaller pleasures; who cooked, and ate, and yes, brewed, but neither for the same proportion nor purpose. It was a side of the clans - that one in particular - that very few of any of my companions, myself included, had ever really been able to see. Politics - vampires and politics, especially, when they find ways to combine themselves - wear away at more than just the health of the leaders of a nation. They wear away at the nation itself, and the people by extension; and they wear away at the spirits of those people, taking from them everything that they were to become a shadow of themselves. That’s what a vampire is, and does. That’s what a vampire - Curves - did. Everyone suffers when such things are allowed to take form, and to grow where no roots were ever meant to take place.
Once Suun Fone finished her portion of the ceremony, it was time for others. People stood to make their own offerings or speak their own words; from a simple “Thank you,” and bow to the shrine from (Quinn), to a small piece about death and the spirits of those fallen living on in our memories from Taka, to poetry from Amara and Ishmael. There was food to be had, after that - but the sacrifices did not stop. Throughout the feast presented in honor of Earth Clan - as, we now know, most befit them - people came to leave objects or say their own private words to the shrine.
Then, it was time to sing.
Amara, Iraya, and I approached the shrine. We were all acutely conscious of the world around us; but that should not have stopped us, and it did not. We sang - wavering at first, and then stronger - through the whole song. Once stopped, we felt a need to repeat it again; this time while touching the ground. It was very fast - we designed a quick ritual space in the shape of a square - of Earth - and, with each of us crouching in one corner, touched the ground and began to sing again.
As we completed the song, we were presented with a choice. Something that we were to absorb - something that we had to choose quickly. There was no time to thing; I took my instinct and chose damage. Amara and Iraya hesitated too long, and the moment passed. As it did, I felt waves and waves of damage - more than I could ever take at one time; maybe enough to fell even a dragon - pass through me and sink into the ground that I was touching. I stood, swaying; quietly, I was informed that the damage had been of a morganti nature - huge quantities of it. I don’t know where it was absorbed from, and no-one else seems to have seen a source either; it just appeared out of nowhere, it seems. I don’t fully understand what happened, though maybe in time we will reach further enlightenment on the matter.
We discussed, afterwards - myself, and Amara, and Iraya, and Mong, and that Ishmael girl - what to do, and what had happened. I don’t even remember all that was said anymore; there was a great deal to cover, and it’s all muddled together in my brain by now. But after, there was food, and there was merrymaking, in honor of Earth Clan - and others, as well, though their losses were not nearly so severe. It’s time to leave my writing aside from now, and to instead devote attention to what needs it most right now. I will write more shortly.
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Eighthmoon, Day 7: Early Afternoon
I feel stupid now. I was reading back through this journal a little while ago, and it only just occurred to me that the Ishmael we’ve been talking with is probably the same “I.D.” who was responsible for that paper. If said paper had not been mysteriously taped to the inn board with a new note under it during lunch, I probably wouldn’t have even thought about it. Generally if you expect to get anything useful done you’re supposed to be observant, but it’s apparent I haven’t been doing very well on that front.
Anyway, the new note appears to be a continuation of the first one. It says:
“So what, then, will you do Now that time is running out? Will you let distracting aims Through your mission into doubt?
The shrines require cleaning Of air, heaven, lake And if you do not clear them soon Much, much more will be at stake.”
Ta Kuo read it off the board, and it was summarily decided that we should split the party between one group to take care of the shrines, and one to deal with other issues around Sorikonia. Even if everyone were capable of entering the shrines without triggering some kind of ill effect - which some are not, because of pacifism or other reasons - it would probably be chaos to have everyone in there anyway. We don’t need to risk more lives in doing it, anyway.
Back to the shrine of Wind and Wood it’s going to be, then. We want to finish that one before starting any other shrines. Back soon.
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Eigthmoon, Day 7: Midafternoon
The Wind and Wood shrine has been cleared out. We made a couple of mistakes here and there, and the effect has been that the Wind and Wood royalty have lost their left leg; but as far as damage done can go, that’s not too bad. Most, if not all of them, can fly anyway due to being air-styled monks.
The doom guards and the wraith had already been dealt with, of course, so it was time to take care of the shrines. A few people took turns at disarming them. I took care of one, (Quinn) took care of another - there was a hobbit named Scarab who took care of most of them, though. Maybe it has something to do with the whole light-fingeredness that comes with hobbits, or something - I don’t know - but he had a knack for it, so we let him take care of them. One of the spheres did get set off - it dishonored anyone who heard it. Which I think was me, Mong, and Scarab, because Scarab was disarming it, I was ready to dragon breath in case it exploded, and Mong was standing by for combat support. That ended up being our general system - somebody on hand to fill all of those roles. Everyone else would stay a good distance and cover their ears in case one of the little spheres rang - no point in everybody dealing with the effects. Needless to say, anyway, I’m not looking forward to the next time I die.
Only one of the shrines actually exploded, I think. That damn purkey went gobbling over to it and kicked it or something, and then that was the end of that. The morganti wraiths got dragon breathed a couple of times, but we didn’t deal with the morganti fillaments that were left, which I’m guessing is part of why the Wind and Wood royalty lost use of their left leg. The lesson here is that we need to be very, very thorough when we do this sort of thing, and clean up all our messes afterwards.
After so and so long of disarming the traps and taking the chests out, everything was cleared without further mishaps. It’s good to have that done. It’s a weight off of Wind and Wood clan, and it’s one less thing we have to dread needing to take care of.
We’re going to continue Heaven Clan’s shrine next. Normally we would have done Lake’s shrine first, but it seems wrong to start a shrine and leave it only partially finished in order to work on another shrine. I can’t help thinking that if that happened to a clan that I was in, the suspense would nearly kill me.
I would say to wish us luck, but I don’t believe in luck - too fickle. Let’s hope we can keep doing well at our jobs, then, since that’s something we *can* control.
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Eigthmoon, Day 7: Late Afternoon
Fuck.
It was going so well at first. I guess fighting through a veritable army of undead is never “going well”, but we were tearing through them without too many losses to ourselves. That’s what you call a war when you’re doing the same on a larger scale - “going well”.
If I wasn’t already sure that he or she’s been long dead, I would say that I want to hunt down whoever designed the Heaven shrine and kill him. Or her. Anyone who decides that the ceiling should be a perfect fifteen feet high - just high enough that if something is ethereal and flying, screw ever trying to find it - needs to endure a terrible and painful demise. I hate that person so much.
Undead. So. Lots of littler stuff. Some specters, some zombies, battle bones - all things that the earlier group had encountered. The Heaven shrine is built like a tower with a spiral staircase - there’s one level, then another, then another, and the general pattern seemed to be that the higher up you got, the worse what you were facing was. Eventually we reached one level that had a death knight holding - fuck - a bone sword. One of those gods-awful morganti swords that you can’t even approach unless you’ve got some kind of special mental stuff going on. I didn’t know what else to do, so I charged them and pulled off a dragon breath. Worked just fine, but I ended up running in the other direction and spewing a stream of curses because I’d gotten too close to the damn sword. Meanwhile, an elf ran over and pulled out a cloth and picked up the bone sword, at which point we could go over and poke them with the staff to make sure they wouldn’t be getting up any time soon.
I don’t even remember what we were dealing with anymore. I think we were debating what to do with the sword, because it needed to be not here. We were thinking about taking it out to Chen Kamanari, I think, when we heard a dull thumping sound followed by another. You know what we turned around to find? Goodwind with his head morganti-dispatched and rolling on the floor, and a vampire holding a smaller morganti weapon that we later found out was a Chi’en Blade of Whispers. Hell, it had been ethereal this whole time, and we couldn’t even feel it because of the damn bone sword.
We ran. Screw trying to deal with something like that with a bone sword in hand, and actually, screw trying to deal with that at all. We tore out of the shrine with that thing on our tails. It hit me with the morganti once, on the arm - I was too panicked to think of enduring the wound. I think everyone else managed to escape that, save one hobbit who was taken down at some point during the whole incident.
Day’s coming to a close. It’s going to be night soon enough, and there’s still too much to do. Well screw that, too. I’m going to go find a tavern, and gods help me, I’m going to stay there until I pass out. If I’m going to be able to sleep at all tonight, that’s how it’s going to have to be.
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Post by Celebfealor on Dec 14, 2012 21:14:33 GMT -8
Oh hey, lookie what I have! The last day's worth of campout chronicles! And it's only four months after the fact! =D
The quality of this is not going to be the best, due to a fuzzy memory and being somewhat out of practice with writing. But it's something, and it's there. Woo.
Aurora Nightsong - Sashi Eten, Sorikonia, Year 15,217 under High Queen K’uni Kendrai
Eigthmoon, Day 8: Noon
Good morning, sunshines. Everybody’s been asleep until now - half the day gone already. It sounds like they were out and about late last night. It was apparently nearly dawn when they got back. Hearing what happened, I almost wish I hadn’t missed it; but there’s no turning back time, and anyway, I wouldn’t change it. I did what I needed to.
There were two groups last night. The first group went out to fight the remainders of the undead army that was hanging out on the west side of the isle; the second group went chasing after a couple of wayward companions - Riddle and Scarab - and... well... one thing at at time, I guess.
The undead army went normally, at first. There was something about a litch, and lots of wraiths and specters and other ethereal-type undead. I should apologize in advance - not having been there, I’m having to go off of the various fragments people are giving me, so this may not be very cohesive. Anyway. The usual nastiness. They had the tent out - Scarab’s tent that’s also a circle of protection - and pretty much everyone who wasn’t in it was getting slaughtered, by the sounds of it. Then - out of the middle of the darkness - there was a huge breath that felt, quite literally, like death. That is to say, the Prince’s Shadowlands breath. Ayup. The old bastard himself decided to make an appearance.
Followed shortly thereafter, it would seem, by Chih-Chang Fyu-Ya. The two began to duel it out, and in the end, initiated mutual destruction. The Prince kept reflecting Chih-Chang Fyu-Ya’s morganti attacks back at him; and on top of those and a few doses of Shadowlands breath, he was pretty much toast by the time he managed to hit the Prince with a half-dozen exorcism arrows. ...The funny thing is, we have no idea what happened to either of them now. We assume that the Prince has been sent back to the Shadowlands, but for how long? When you have a Name Demon like this, it seems like you’d have to do something more ritualistic than just exorcising it. Then what about Chih-Chang Fyu-Ya? Did he go back to his plane? Or did he pass to the Shadowlands as well, and is fighting his way out even as we speak? Gods only know. Maybe not even them. Either way, he’s gone for good (at least, for a little while) - and so are his gargoyles.
And what about the other group? If you know much about Riddle, you can kind of assume what’s going to happen when he suddenly takes off in the middle of dinner. Given that Scarab went too, my guess is that Riddle gave Scarab an oracle and they were both compelled to follow it. So in turn, the other half of the group followed them. It gets weirder, though; they followed him, it turns out, all the way to the Tomb of the Clanless Sensei.
There were... somethings there. Haunts? Spirits? Spirit Guardians? Nobody seems to agree. But there were three types. Some mimicked and mirrored various adventurers around the party; some were carrying chests that looked very much like the chests in the Clan Shrines; and the last type looked like those Sorikonian war veterans that had been at the shrine behind the undead army. They messed with those for a while, I guess, and some people proceeded into the Tomb itself. There, they found none other than the Riddler. I’ve never had any contact with him, but given the stories by older adventurers and by the Flower Clan, he’s quite the presence. Things were done - I’m a little fuzzy on the details, but it involved solving riddles and getting visions - and then everybody was suddenly back at town and it was just before dawn. They then opted to stay up even later trying to identify each other and talk to Chen Panjue (who wandered away aimlessly as soon as the Clanless Sensei was mentioned). I’m not even sure that *they’re* sure what the outcome of that was.
So that explains why everyone is awake so late. Not to say that I’m much better. To continue on the track of today:
We’re splitting into two groups again. One group to try to clear out the shrines, and one to try and deal with the rest of the assorted issues around Sorikonia. Guess which group I’m in. We’re starting with the Heaven Clan shrine. I don’t know what the other group is doing. I don’t particularly care, either, as long as they get it done and don’t screw anything up in the process.
I wish that vampire misfortune of the nth degree. May we slaughter it with as much mercy as it deserves.
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Eighthmoon, Day 8: Midafternoon
The Heaven Shrine is now cleared. The lasting effect on Heaven Clan royalty is that their left hands don’t work. Nobody else died in the process, either - morganti or otherwise.
I don’t think I’m going to forget the climb up to meet the fiend anytime soon. The image is burned into my brain. Blood and gore doesn’t really affect me much, but the kind of evil twistedness that was there makes me shiver in cold sweat. I nearly threw up.
We entered the room and, after checking it, headed for the stairs. Upon the stairs were a set of morganti-severed fingers and toes - some belonging to a human, and others belonging to a hobbit. That’s when it began to sink in. We proceeded up the stairs - cautiously - and to the next. On that stair were the hands. Just the hands, no fingers or arm. On the next stair, legs - or arms, I don’t remember which - and then the other, and then the feet, and so on. On the last stair, we found their heads. Both of them. The vampire kicked Goodwind’s towards us. Or maybe he didn’t; I don’t remember. It was horrific.
We tried to fight it. But then, you try fighting something ethereal with a silent morganti blade when you can’t use spirit guide to find it. We stalled it for a while, until it flew up higher than we could reach (and dropped the heads onto us). The man with the purkey ran down to get help, and in a few minutes returned with a pixie. A pixie, for crying out loud. I think the vampire was about as befuddled as we were, but I guess you can never be too sure. Once the vampire was looking its way, the pixie reverted into none other than Chen Kamanari - and with a, “Have you seen my shield?”, the vampire was gone, just like that. Right about then was when I leaned against the tower wall and started dry heaving.
Searched the tower, didn’t find any chests at first. At that point we realized that there was something funny about the ceilings; turned out there were trapdoors in the ceilings, and the chests were in there. They were cleared out, again using the Platinum Magus Staff, and that was that. Heaven Shrine done.
There’s one more left. It’s the Lake Shrine. We’re off, now that we’ve had half an hour to recuperate and re-suit. No idea where the others are or what they’re doing; we seem to have missed each other. I guess we’ll see later tonight.
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Eightmoon, Day 8: Early Evening
All of the shrines of the clans have been cleared. We finished the Lake Shrine in one go; everybody’s exhausted now, though. The constant tension wears on your nerves like nothing else.
It still gives me the willies, in a way. It seemed deceptively simple. It was a giant lake in the middle of the shrine, and doors to other rooms around it. We went into the rooms, dealt with the chests there, and that was it. Actually, the getting-into was one of the harder parts. There were more undead there - apparitions, or something . Charmed the purkey man, slayed me, and generally caused havoc. We dealt with it decently and moved on.
For the chests, we invented a new method of keeping the balls from ringing - wrap them up in cloths to soften the impact and the sound. It worked well enough, but we started running out of cloths. Which in turn prompted people to start taking off clothes in order to supply the fabric needed to deal with them. Thankfully, nobody ended up naked. That would be impractical, to say nothing of the embarrassment.
We screwed up on the last chest - the big one. It exploded, and I think nearly a hundred morganti wraiths streamed out. The first thirty or so were absorbed by the shrine - completing the apparent loop that was our absorption of damage at the ceremony yesterday - and the rest began to swarm Mong and I. We braced. I forget how it all went down. There was some fighting - they got me in the leg once, and I think they maybe got Mong too - and then we managed to dragonbreath a bunch of them at some point.
At that point, the realization sinks in that we’re now surrounded by a ton of invisible morganti filaments. We literally could not move a step forwards of backwards without potentially losing a foot or a finger of other body part. Getting out of it was a long, nerve-wracking process of feeling around with a silver sword and then jabbing the wraith with the staff as quickly as we could. Took a while, but we eventually sorted them all out and left.
The effect on Lake Clan nobility is that of a thin soul. Thunder is the only clan that escaped unscathed. I don’t know what the implications of this will be politically, but they’re sure to be nasty.
Found out what the others spent their days on. Amara and Iraya led a team back to the Tomb of the Clanless Sensei and attempted to clear it out as well. They got the chest out of the dreamstate, but there are still a ton of morganti wraiths down there wreaking havoc. Something about what happened helped heal the Sorikonian nobility, though; they were able to speak about the Tomb and use their own limbs correctly and everything again. So whatever it was was good, I guess, in the end, though there are still loose ends to tie up.
Time to go out again - dinner is up, and the meeting about what to do is over. I’m going out with the group trying to figure out what’s going on with the Temnorians. At long last - something that shouldn’t involve undead in the slightest.
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Eighthmoon, Day 8: Night
You know what I love about being a ranger? Your senses get so keen that if somebody tries to, say, creep up behind you and slit your throat, there’s almost a sixth sense that knows they’re coming and prompts you to dodge. You can then turn around and stab your would-be assassin in the gut and drag him off to the body pile.
That was my method for dealing with them, anyway. Once we realized that they were assassins - and a whole lot of them, too, trying to intermingle with the common folk - I just kind of wandered around as if I hadn’t a care in the world and kept my awareness up for attempted murders. I don’t believe in karma, but it’s nice to think that we dealt a dose of it to them during the whole affair.
They’ve got these new weapons. Nothing show up about them on the overlay. Evidently, Temnor is up to some mischief or other. Not that that’s surprising. You have to wonder why, though...
With that, I think it’s time to turn in. And, after that, to take a break from all this for a while. The past few days have been successful ones, but also trying and tiring. To say the least. I’m done, for now. We’re adventurers, and we get plenty of excitement - but we need downtime, too. At least a little bit. I think I’m off to find mine. Another time, then.
There’s one last thing - but that’s tomorrow morning. It’ll be a quieter thing. Then, it’s time to rest. At least for a few days. Just a few, sweet days...
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Post by Celebfealor on Dec 16, 2012 23:19:01 GMT -8
And another couple short chronicles, also long overdue but finally here.
Aurora Nightsong - Sashi Eten, Sorikonia, Year 15,217 under High Queen K’uni Kendrai
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Ninthmoon, Day 15: Evening
Insane now. Don’t have much time to write things; takes a lot of energy to keep the crazy at bay. Tried to do an oracle about the Green Demon, with Riddle’s help. Made me go insane. All it was was darkness and things moving beneath the surface. Not even nearly helpful. Everything’s far away, and I hear voices whenever I talk. I don’t get scared much, but this is terrifying. My mind’s been taken away from me. I can’t even do anything without so much effort...
Spending some time every day training to see if I can buck this. Kyrin, Amara’s old teacher, is giving me lectures on things. Some of it a sight more than weird. Might help, might not. We’ll see. It had better.
Had some other thoughts, can’t remember them now - running out of time. Need to stop. Another time.
Aurora Nightsong - Sashi Eten, Sorikonia, Year 15,217 under High Queen K’uni Kendrai
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Tenthmoon, Day 6: Afternoon
I’m out. After a few weeks of training and preparation with Kyrin, I managed to get my head straight on my shoulders again. To say what actually went on is, quite frankly, kind of embarrassing for how ridiculous it sounds, and it would be hard to describe anyway, so I’ll give a close substitute and say that I used meditation techniques to tackle the problem. This being me, that ended up getting a little too literal a ways down the line.
I was meditating outside of town. Chen Kamanari, upon getting wind that I was toying with the Green Demon, forbid me from doing my meditations anywhere within or near the city. Amara, Fang, and a couple others came to keep an eye on me in case something weirder than usual happened - a precaution Kyrin had suggested.
My original plan was to try and find the traces of the Green Demon in my mind and track those traces back to the beast. I’m a ranger, after all; that’s how we do things. I found the tracks, and started following them. It took a long time of chasing my own tail in circles - once again, quite literally at times (don’t ask); but at the end, I found the Demon. Having found it, I also searched for our Mentor, and found him.
“Show me what you have seen,” he said.
“I’ve found the Green Demon,” I replied. “I know what it is.”
“Then show me,” he said, and was gone. In the same breath, I was also cast out of my meditative state and back into the real world - and, miraculously, was no longer insane.
I know why the Green Demon makes everyone insane now. Why it made those Sorikonian war veterans cluster around that shrine and relive their worst fears. Why, when Riddle and I tried to oracle it, there was nothing but darkness and something slinking just outside my vision. The Green Demon is me. It’s us - all of us. The Green Demon is everything about ourselves that we fear; hate; despise. It’s those memories that come back to haunt us long after they should have been filed away. The Green Demon is our inner demons, and that’s why it hadn’t manifested; because, in a way, it was there all along.
I know what the Green Demon is now. Now, it’s time to find out if I Know the Green Demon. The group of us - Mong, myself, Ara, and others - are going to return to our Mentor and show him what we have seen. Maybe then, we’ll Know what to do.
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Post by Celebfealor on Dec 25, 2012 10:41:12 GMT -8
Season finale chronicle for 2012, by Aurora.
Aurora Nightsong - Sashi Eten, Sorikonia, Year 15,217 under High Queen K’uni Kendrai
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Eleventhmoon, Day 4
What happened today happened for a reason. Or, really, a lot of reasons, I guess. The point is, once you’re at the end of it (or at least at the middle; there’s sure to be more - but more on that later), you look back and the trail that led to “now” becomes much, much clearer. Some people call this hindsight. I call it, “a historian with a pair of eyes and a brain”. So, this is Aurora’s Explanation of Why Today Happened. It will be followed by Aurora’s Hypothesis on What Will Happen Next.
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What I see goes back years. Not just to the beginning of this year, but far, far beyond that. You can trace the events back through several ages, if you really wanted to, but that’s more like the preamble or the prologue than actually relevant. I’m not here to give a history dissertation, I’m here to explain why these specific events happened.
A long time ago, somebody made a plan. The only name that I can put to it is Curves; but somehow, I doubt that the plan belongs to Curves alone. One of the funny things about history is that you start seeing the spiderwebs of how pieces start connecting to all the others; how tiny events (or not so tiny ones) influence the ones you’re interested in. Curves, in order to fulfill her plan, came to Sorikonia. Why did she do that? Sorikonia is probably the only place in Roekron where there are people who know how to make passively warded weapons. Curves was after passively warded morganti, and got it. We know these as the Bone Swords, and most likely other weapons that we don’t know of yet.
I would like to take this moment to point out the history of morganti. It was discovered by Hragnor, who went insane and shortly thereafter died - but not until after passing the secret onto Merigrad. Merigrad apparently also went insane and created a shit-ton of the stuff, then died as well. Both of these are known as “old morganti”. Recently - relatively, anyway - the Wizard’s Trade Order found a way to make something called “new morganti”, and also started making it by the thousands. It’s called new morganti because it doesn’t seem to be the same stuff as old morganti; it’s made with some kind of morganti spirit, which has been discovered due to far too many unforgings of the aforementioned.
Now, as far as I know, the Bone Swords were created some time after Merigrad died - meaning that it would have to be new morganti, not old morganti. This has since been confirmed with the unforging of a Bone Sword, which then yielded a morganti spirit riding some kind of white passively warded spirit. Draw whatever conclusions you want from that. I can think of two: one, the Wizard’s Trade Order is so hilariously inept that it can’t keep a secret so utterly important and dangerous as that of the making of new morganti safe from vampires, and thus is basically useless when it comes to matters of national security. Either that, or, one better, they gave it up to Curves under their own free will. Now why might that be, I wonder? If you can think of an explanation that isn’t either of these, I’d love to hear it, by the way. I don’t like the thought of our fearless leaders being inept any more than I like the thought of them being in cahoots with vampires. I’m sure that our fearless leaders don’t like either thought, either, and I would love to hear their explanation for how that happened.
At some point during this business of making Bone Swords (or maybe before, or after - I really don’t know), Curves was approached by someone else who had a plan. I don’t know who, I don’t know when, I don’t know where, but it happened. I’m almost sure of it. Because from what I’ve experienced of the Shadowlands, what’s there wouldn’t consent to be used merely as tools. If they wanted to do something, they would have had to come up with it in the first place, or offered their own ideas and agreements. Maybe I’m wrong, and it was all Curves; I’m just saying, I doubt it. Hey, maybe those morganti spirits that the WTO finds come from the Shadowlands, and that’s how they come in - hell, I’d find that pretty easy to believe. But anyway, whichever way it happened, at some point the Shadowlands got involved.
Meanwhile, Curves started making some carakwaiths; the only relevant one was named Whisper, who was at the time the head of the Chi’en Clan. The Chi’en Clan is, of course, a clan of highly notable magical item crafters, and some of the items that they were involved with was the Sashi Sabers. Dsesnor and the Wizard’s Trade Order were interested in these weapons (I can see why - I own one myself, and they’re incredibly useful), and made a deal with Whisper - even then, already a carakwaith - to buy them. Whisper requested that they pay for the shipments in chests and chests full of silver; and so, they did.
Why, you ask? Among the properties of silver is that it interferes with the ethereal realm. Ethereal things can’t go through silver, mana can’t be drained through silver, a lot of undead are only harmable by silver (and magic), and so on. Silver also masks the feeling that is so characteristic of morganti - that is, that feeling that makes your soul tremble in its shell. It’s known that vampires aren’t especially fond of the Gods, nor of any religion in general - not least because people get a great deal of power and resolve from it. It’s also known that Sorikonia is a place of ancestor-worship rather than deity-worship, and that many of their shrines are shrines to the spirits of their dead clan and family members. Knowing all of this, and being as cunning and creative as a vampire is, what would you do? Especially if you were the head of the Chi’en Clan, which is the clan responsible for the caretaking of these various shrines to the ancestor spirits?
Whisper used his position of power to take those same chests of silver supplied to him from the Wizard’s Trade Order and place them on various shrines throughout the island. Because the chests were full of silver, naturally they interfered with the functioning of the shrines - and, on a larger scale, the functioning of Sorikonia’s spirituality and worship; and, because it was Whisper placing the chests, nobody thought to question what was in there. Now, it turns out that it wasn’t just silver in there; in each silver-filled chest, there was also a new morganti weapon buried in that silver. Where nobody could hear it. Except, of course, the spirits whose shrines the chests were sitting on top of - and they became all the more distressed for it.
That wasn’t even the end of what went along with the chests, though; and this is part of where, I think, the Shadowlands come in. Along with the chests, there were also sometimes small orbs that looked like the meditation orbs that you see around Sorikonia - the ones that produce that pretty ringing sound. I hate that ringing sound. You would too, if you’d found out that the orbs that Whisper placed by those chests did things like dishonor you for a crapton or unforged all of your magic items or exploded, or things like that. That’s exactly what they did. There were a few different kinds of them. Some were plain silver; some were ornate with a phoenix on them; some were similarly ornate, but had a gold dragon on them instead. They did a variety of things. Another group of adventurers had an encounter once where a Sorikonian Martial Master who showed no signs of clan affiliation appeared when the gold dragon orb rang; around him, all magic items exploded. We find out who that was later on.
Whisper and Curves pulled this scheme for years and years. I’m not going to bother trying to guess how many; probably more than usual history records will be able to piece together. At some point along the way, Curves rigged the operation so that, were she to die, some of these chest traps would explode and wreak havoc across the shrines of Sorikonia. Meanwhile, the rest of Sorikonia was falling apart; that’s always what happens when vampires and politics mix. First, things start getting “off”. Then there’s the fighting, and the subtle takeover of one group from another, and so on, until the entire culture and political structure starts falling to pieces. Sorikonia had a lot of wars and conflicts between houses, not least because Li Clan was in charge... but also because vampires were getting into the mix. This is the point where we reach the beginning of this year. Earlier this year, of course, just that happened: Chen Kamanari, Chen Linnet, and several others entered Curves’ hiding place and defeated her. I have heard that, just before she died, Curves said that Chen Kamanari would regret destroying her even more than letting her live; and many people felt afterwards, of course, a huge ethereal earthquake that went off.
Shrines started behaving weirdly after that. People began having problems with the gods - they couldn’t connect to or reach their gods. Small wonder, if their shrines were screwed half to hell and back. Then followers of Kuan-Yin began getting visions and chants, and soon after that began getting kidnapped by strange disappearing quadrupedal undead. Nobody had any idea what the hell they were at the time. I don’t think anybody has any idea what the hell they are even now. Given what we’ve seen now, though, I’d guess that they’re from the Shadowlands. That’s where all the unsual and unknown kinds of undead seem to have been coming from, at any rate. So these undead kidnapped Kuan-Yin followers and adventurers (myself included), and a month later everybody ended up dead on shrines all across Sorikonia. Seeing the theme yet?
Of course, at this point, nobody had any idea what was going on with the shrines, and knew nothing about chests or silver or morganti or any of that crap. It was obvious that something was wrong, though, so people went into a bunch of shrines to look into stuff. Turns out that a lot of them were infested by undead - even a shambler, in one of them. That was what we noticed first. Later on, we learned about the chests because of an explosive mishap in a keystone of some kind; and that began the task of disarming and removing all of these traps - all of which were activated, by the way, by any chi or spiritual abilities. No samurai, no spirit guide, no paladins, no Sorikonians, and so on. There were a lot of people who couldn’t go in to help because they would just blow things up.
Some of those people started following hints - bits of poetry, pieces of historical text, rumors, fragments of oracles, anything they could get their hands on. Names started flying - “The Prince”, “She”, “Tui Ammoni”, and others. What they meant took some time to piece together. The Prince was a fun one - and by fun, I mean the kind of fun that makes you feel like tearing your eyes out and sitting in a hole and doing nothing for the rest of your life. At first, we thought he was some kind of human-like being; he took the form of a non-affiliated Sorikonian Martial Master (refer to the third paragraph above this one), and we discovered him and another terrifying being we deemed the Storm on an island at the very end of Sorikonia. Those two and a horde of undead fought a horde of haunts, the leaders of which possessed the Sword of Angel Feather and the Staff of the Platinum Magus - both extraordinary undead killing tools. Battles were fought, items were rescued, and life continued on.
Further investigation revealed more and more about these beings. Turns out that both of them were not in their true forms when we first saw them. The Storm, though at first it appeared to be a demon, was in its true form a huge swirling storm whose mists blocked all chi, spiritual, and divine abilities, and which ate blessings. And the Prince? The Prince wasn’t human. More like, something in the realm of a morganti-and-gold-demon-dragon, which had an aura that passively unforged any magic items that came near it and a breath weapon which gave you a likelihood of passing onto its plane when you die. Both of these beings were from a place called “the Shadowlands”. They had also appeared before in Sorikonian history; an honorable samurai of Lake Clan named Tui Ammoni had fought them and sent them back several ages ago. Luckily for us, we had time to figure out how; a being named Chih-Chang Fyu-Yu appeared and began hunting them, and later successfully exorcised them back to the Shadowlands temporarily.
By this point, a lot had happened. Essentially all of the Earth Clan nobility had perished because apparently if you explode the main chest in the main shrine of a clan, without having disarmed the other chests down the line, there’s some kind of ancestral cascade effect that obliterates you. If you’re more careful and you set something off, there’s still damage; at the end of it, only one clan escaped any damage, and that was Thunder Clan. The rest had problems - a thin soul here, an unusable leg here, a useless hand there, and so on. Thankfully, though there were mishaps along the way, all the chests had been dealt with; this brought the return of normality to Sorikonia’s ability to communicate with the divine and ancestors, as well as a great weight lifted off of their minds and souls. In kind with this spiritual healing of Sorikonia, the High Council initiated a ritual of pacifism that had not been practiced in decades - many, many decades, from before they became the Queen’s army. The whole nation took part in the ritual, which involve swearing an oath of pacifism; and so, Sorikonia has begun its return to its roots.
Even the tomb of the Clanless Sensei - a place that seems to be connected, not just to a single clan, but to all of Sorikonia, in the way that a clan shrine is connected to its clan - had a chest within it and was dealt with, though I’m pretty sure it’s still full of morganti wraiths at the moment.
Speaking of morganti wraiths, a lot of those were killed in the process too, thanks to the Staff of the Platinum Magus. Turns out that just killing a morganti wraith isn’t enough; if you kill it, it turns into an invisible, hair-fine morganti filament, which will slice in half anyone who happens to stumble into it. Or, if you poke it with silver, will resolve back into a haunt. The best way to deal with them turned out to be poking them with the staff, so there was quite a lot of that going on. I guess that means that they count as undead, which seems fine if you don’t think about it but gets a little weird if you do. The Sword of Angel Feather, though it made it easier to fight them, wasn’t quite as effective as the Staff in destroying them completely. The Staff is even better than the Shield - it turns out that if you do specific things with those specific items, you summon a third item to the set: a shield that exorcises any undead that look at it. Pretty useful, if you ask me.
Meanwhile, we’d been doing a lot of research into the matter of the Demons, because it was pretty clear that they were coming back. Turns out that there was a third one, too, and that they were all associated with colors: the Prince was gold, the Storm was blue, and the last one was green. The Green demon didn’t seem to have manifested at all; we eventually put together that the third demon was yourself and your own inner demons. As for how to really get rid of the Demons? You had to fight them and defeat them, and in order to do so, you had to Know them. Pay attention to that capital. That’s one of the things I learned from Kyrin - the difference between Knowing and knowing. Just knowing something is like reading it out of a book, or hearing a rumor, or something like that. Actually Knowing something is knowing the true nature of the thing at a deeper level than just knowing can provide; it’s feelings where knowing is facts. We had to Know the demons, and thus spent a great deal of time in pursuit and earning of this knowledge. Eventually, we had the names; and then, it was time to wait.
That’s about where we were when today happened. Demons exorcised temporarily, shrines cleared out, Sorikonia in the process of healing, names known and prepared, items safe and sound... and then, today.
When we woke up today, there was a gate on the western tip of Sorikonia. The gate was made where previously there had been a village; the village had been in earlier months slaughtered and taken over by the Demons and their undead army. I swear to gods, anything that happened that was related to the demons, happened there. Anyway - a gate appeared there. The gate was made of bones. On the other side of it was someplace nothing like Sorikonia: it was fire and smoke and darkness, and all kinds of terrible creatures. It was a gate to the Shadowlands.
Worse still, all across Sorikonia, there were many mini gates to the Shadowlands as well. You know where they were? They were inside all of the shrines all across Sorikonia. All of them. The pattern which held true for so much of the year continued to hold true today. Other patterns held true too - like undead. There were strange samurai-undead, wreathed in mist, that escalated like haunts every time they were killed or exorcised. Those came out of the gate, or maybe even gates.
We went inside the Shadowlands. First we took care of Shemdala Nightwhip, who thought she could come and destroy Sorikonian shrines while they were weak - and then we went inside the Shadowlands to see what waited there. What was there were things I’ve never seen the likes of before, and never want to again. Emaciated goblins that screamed and ran and broke into twice as many whenever you hurt them; huge, twisted demon-like creatures with more elder sorcery than I ever want to see in one place; and other similarly awful horrors. Quick as we went in, we went out again.
Then it was time. We thought about the Prince - and the Prince came. The power of his true name is such that I will not write it down, in the event that some witless idiot should find it and try to read it out loud; but we knew it, and fought him with his Name in mind, and defeated him. While we were exorcising him, the Storm appeared; and we knew his Name, as well, though for the same reasons there’s no way in hell I’m putting it down. We fought him, and took him down as well; and began to exorcise him. Meanwhile, all the rest of the Shadowlands creatures at the gate had begun crossing into Sorikonian territory and attacking everything in sight - which is to say, us - though as they were exorcised or destroyed, they were sent back inside (at least, until they walked back out). We finished the exorcisms, eventually. As each exorcism finished, a side - a pillar - to the gate collapsed, leaving that which was inside trapped inside and that which was outside trapped without unless it could be exorcised to send it back in. With the Prince and the Storm dealt with properly, two pillars were gone - but there was one left. The top pillar, for the third Demon. Given its nature, that had to be dealt with differently, so deal with it differently we did.
We did some more research before going out to deal with the third Demon. There were still some mysteries to be solved and still loose ends to wrap up, and given the pretty good possibility that we were going to PD by the end of the process, it seemed better to get things squared away beforehand rather than hoping for an afterwards. That done, we went to face our inner demons, as it were. There were four of us there: Chen Kamanari, Amara, Mongoose, and myself, as well as a few others who were unable to help us but could stay and guard us from the outside. We went back to the gate, and faced our inner Demons; there, we made a pact with them, and fought a duel with them for the fate of Sorikonia. The duel was won - at a cost more to some than to others - and with that, the third pillar fell, leaving the gate to the Shadowlands to crumble into nothingness. For now.
Not bad for a day’s work. Says I, anyway. Three name demons exorcised, a gate to an extra-dimensional Hell closed off, Sorikonia reasonably safe from divine threats. ...For now. That’s the part that gets me, see, and that’s why there’s a part two to this: namely, the Aurora’s Hypothesis on What Happens Next part.
Because the problem with this sort of thing is that there’s never a simple end. You think you kill the plant, but the roots are still there; and a few years later, just when you’re not expecting it, the plant grows back somewhere else. This isn’t the end. I’ll guarantee you right here and now, this isn’t the end.
Something we had a sort of revelation about while fighting our inner Demons was about the nature of Sorikonia’s problems. The vampires had messed with the heart of Sorikonia, if you want to get mushy about it. Screwed up everything it stood for, everything that made it what it is, all that business that vampires usually go about. The Shadowlands was a deeper part of the problem - say, the solar plexus, right about, if you want to use an anatomy metaphor. The problem is, the problem goes deeper than that. Beyond a problem with the Heart of Sorikonia, there is a problem at the Root of Sorikonia; and though we’ve cut away the leaves, there’s still the root waiting there underground to resurface sometime else. This isn’t the end; mark my words. I don’t know what the problem is, nor where to find it; I just know that it’s there, and that some way down the line, we’ll start to find out what it is.
We can hope it won’t involve the Shadowlands again. Even though the big gate’s been destroyed, though, nobody’s gone down to check all the littler gates in and around the shrines - so there very well may have been seeds planted there. I’m sure there are people who could tell you more on that subject, but I’m not one of them. Shrines and divinity and all this business aren’t really my forte. I went paladin solely so that I would have a chance of tearing down the Prince, and with him gone, I don’t plan on studying more into it than the guild requires. But speak of the devil - or the Prince, at any rate - with those three demons exorcised, they shouldn’t be back for a long, long time. The last time they appeared was in Tui Ammoni’s time, which was quite literally ages ago. If they’re going to appear again, at the very least, I think it’s pretty safe to say that they won’t appear and become part of this problem.
You know what probably will, though? Morganti. I’ll bet you anything - almost anything, anyway - that morganti is part of the problem. At its simplest, it will be a problem just because there are a horde of morganti wraiths trapped inside the Tomb of the Clanless Sensei; and given that the state of that tomb is so bound-up in the state of Sorikonia, I would be surprised if at the very least that didn’t feature. Beyond that, though... as always, it goes all the way back to the beginning. What sparked this train of events? Curves wanted passively warded morganti weapons, and she made those Bone Swords. She used the spirits of Sorikonian ancestors to do it, and she got it.
Something broke there. I don’t know what, or when, or where, or how; but something broke in that process, and that goes deeper than the Shadowlands. It’s what allowed the Shadowlands in all its demony hellfire to touch Sorikonia in the first place: something had been broken. And I’ll bet that it broke then and there. Demons and their ilk can’t usually even set foot on Sorikonia; there’s some force here that prevents their touching it. But with the number of demons we saw on Sorikonia this year - Name and otherwise - obviously, something’s not right. And hasn’t been right for a long time.
Personally, I forsee other complications. There’s one thing that’s been nagging me: when we went to clear out the Heaven Shrine and disarm and remove the chests there, we fought a vampire. A full-blown vampire. This was, keep in mind, almost six months after Curves had died. If I understand how vampires work correctly, when Curves died, so should have all of her vampires. Not only should have, but did - the damage done to the clans when all of its vampirifed clan members collapsed was enormous. So why was there still one lone vampire, of no particular note other than that it wielded a Chi’en Blade of Whispers, still there after all that time? I’ve been thinking about it for months, and still haven’t come up with a clear explanation. I’d hate to think that there’s another vampire that has hold in Sorikonia, but there are vampires everywhere, and that’s the only explanation that makes any real sense to me.
Beyond that, I have no idea. Seems like plenty to me, though if this year was anything to go by, whatever happens in a few years will be far more complicated than just that. Those are just pieces. Eventually, I’m sure, we’ll fit ‘em together - but that will take time. We’ll probably only really have them once those events start happening, and nearly when it’s too late at that. Everything’s clearest in hindsight; secondmost so, when you’re in the middle of it; and the hardest to discern with foresight. That’s why, to me, history is such a wonderful thing: it’s hindsight. All of the pieces of what happened before become laid more clear, as do the connections between them. And, using that, you can kind of see where you’re headed next. Sure, you may not see the landslide on the way, nor the cliff between here and there, nor the cave of angry beasts or what have you - but you know that, at the very least, you’re headed in a clear direction. The question is, how will you get there?
It’s going to be interesting, I think. Even if nobody else is - and they will be, so don’t worry about that - I’ll be watching for the signs. Someday, we’ll find out what they mean. And when that day comes, I’ll be there - we’ll be there - waiting to fight it back to where it belongs.
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Post by Celebfealor on Feb 4, 2013 21:27:36 GMT -8
Hooray! I finished chronicles!... for last month. Because somebody *coughcoughKiorielcough* apparently doesn't know what "stop" means and is content to ramble on forever and ever and ever. And ever. And ever. I'm not going to disclose how many pages long this is. In my defense, it's for two characters.
Things: 1) Tsumio demonstrates the joys of recording devices. xD 2) Street scenes in Kioriel's section gave rise to the best meta-roleplay ever. Seriously. If you read nothing else, go find the bit with the peace-religion people and the kids playing swords in the street. It's the best. ^_^
Tsumio
My name’s Tsumio. This is my journal. Amara wants me and Shailar to keep journals about what happens when we’re adventuring. I guess it helps, or something? I don’t really know. I’ve never done anything like this before. But I’m trying.
We’re in Sashi Eten in Sorikonia. That’s where Amara did all of her adventuring, years ago. She really liked it... I don’t know yet. I haven’t really gotten enough of a feel for it. But Dsesnor’s not really supposed to be that different, so maybe it’ll be okay. The first thing people went to fight was goblins. I was still getting my weapons and stuff together, so I didn’t go with them. Shailar did, though. I think she’s a lot more eager about this than me.
I mostly just sat around waiting for them to come back. It didn’t take very long. I mean... it’s just goblins. Even I know that goblins aren’t supposed to be that hard. There was something about a fire-dog-thing, though. I’m not really sure what it was, but it sounded kind of interesting. So anyway. They came back, and then this Sorikonian Martial Master named Chen Panjue the Dark Eyes came in too. I sort-of recognized him from the old chronicles and stuff - I mean, I knew his name. I guess he was a lot younger back then. I wouldn’t really know, though. Anyway, he got talking about history and Sorikonia, and how things were here. There was this whole long speech; he talked about Broden and Wall, and the Dark City, and the way that Sorikonia used to be infiltrated with a vampire but then the vampire died, and it turned out there were these problems with shrines that older adventurers had taken care of... it took a while for me to think of it, but I realized it might be kinda neat to record what he was saying, so I copied it down. This is what I got:
“We are still in the middle of some of the ramifications, and problems surrounding these events from years ago. There were many problems with morganti. For those of you who are not familiar with what morganti is - a dangerous weapon that I hope you have not encountered it in your young lives, as you are - but morganti destroys the soul of a person, and anything done with it is permanent. These weapons were being made in Serpenton by the Wizard’s Trade Order, and this is not our place to judge whether it is right or wrong, although now we are being asked to judge whether this was right or wrong. Our ruling currently is that this is definitely wrong, to be creating these things. Unfortunately, those who are now in control of Serpenton - and all of those mechanations for how to create those morganti weapons - is the Dark City, and they now control that area. We assume that they have the ability to create these morganti weapons - though we’re not sure. It could be that perhaps they are in possession of such a number of them that they’re just using a huge supply that was kept there... or perhaps they are creating them as we speak.
“Some of the legacy of the problem is that some of these weapons were destroyed on our soil - a great number of them, in various traps set about by the vampires that they ended up having to kill. These traps left a very dangerous situation; places in the world where, if one is to tread there, you can be cut apart by morganti that you cannot even see. It is simply in the aether. These dangerous places still exist all across Sorikonia, where morganti weapons have been destroyed and left. Unfortunately, people run into them. And that brings us to one of the problems we’re having currently with our people.
“The Sorikonian Martial Masters are pacifists; they are not willing to kill or damage other people. But we do believe in defending ourselves, in how we see fit - through magic, and spellcasting, and also diplomacy. And we’ve tried to keep our people, the common folk of Sorikonia, along with this belief also: a way of pacifism, and a way of not using force. Of using a way of diplomacy and reason. However, the people of Sorikonia are in a bit of an uprising - they have become rather militant, and have armed themselves. You may have noticed when you went out to deal with the goblins that many of our famers and other common folk carry around weapons quite frequently and are prepared to do battle whenever necessary. This is unfortunate for us, but we see it as somewhat inevitable, given that we live on the doorstep of a great evil across the Bay. It has scared many of our people into believing that if they arm themselves well, that they will be protected from that evil.”
Then I got a hand cramp, so I stopped. He went on to talk about how the vampires are encouraging things like this by going after the people who’re truest to pacifism, and leaving the more militant ones alone. There was more after that, and it took a while. I probably should have recorded it, but my hand still hurt. At some point he got to talking about what was on the mission board, and people decided to go try to stop a group of urukai and a group called the People’s Militia of Sorikonia from attacking each other. So we all left to do that. It’s technically our job anyway, I guess, and when they do it they’re breaking their vows of pacifism.
A lot of people went to try to solve it. The craziness was really kind of overwhelming. Lots of people making lots of noise, flailing all around the place, chattering away... Shailar, of course, was surrounded by a group of other people, and she was happily amongst the chattering away portion of the group. I kind of wiggled in with them once, but fell out pretty fast. Nobody was really able to hear me talking anyway.
Somewhere on the way just outside of Sashi Eten, there was something about people scrambling for weapons scattered or fallen or something on the field. I don’t know what that was about. I just kind of ignored it. On the way after that, we ran into a group of orks. I wasn’t really sure what to do, so I just kind of stayed back and healed everyone. The orks, too. They seemed kind of confused; one of them was complaining about how half our group seemed to want to fight, and the other half didn’t, and they weren’t sure what to do about that. I think I like that kind of complaining, though. It means they have some honor, and maybe aren’t really the bad sort or anything like that.
At some point we got past them somehow and found a huge group of militia attacking just two urukai. It looked like maybe the rest of their orks had been killed off a ways away. People started trying to intervene between the two groups, but they weren’t really having any of it; everybody was aggressive and smacking each other around, so a lot of people on all sides ended up hurt. I just kind of bandaged them back up. Let the fighters fight if they want to, I guess. And if they die from it... well... I guess that proves that fighting isn’t really the way to go. Or if they live from it, maybe it is.
I got between a fighting human and urukai at one point. I was kind of scared to, honestly, because they were so angry at each other and I thought they might stab me... But I was surprised when they didn’t. They got kind of mad, but they tried to fight around me instead of through me. I don’t think either side of it was really all that bad; they seemed mostly like basically good people. They just didn’t happen to agree, I guess.
I was trying to figure out what was going on, so I kind of pulled an urukai aside and asked why they were fighting the humans. They said it was because his urukai and orks had been killing bandits and taking their things, but the other humans didn’t like this and just kind of attacked them. I didn’t get much more than that, though, because first the really loud, annoying person with the poofy white hair came over and was interrupting at the top of his lungs, and then the urukai’s friend was getting torn down and he went to help him.
The milita went running off - back to the village, or something? - at that point, so we followed them and tried to get their side of the story. It was pretty clear that they were basically being racist, because they thought that all urukai went marauding and slaughtering all humans. He couldn’t even name a family member or friend from his generation that had been hurt by an ork. The closest one he could come up with was his grandfather. So that seemed kind of silly, on his part.
Then Shailar came, and did her thing where she talks people around in circles so that they agree with her. They did agree to something, at least temporarily? So I ran back over the urukai to deliver the message to them. Meanwhile some of our group was talking to them about making some kind of gladiator match business instead of going after people, and maybe it was going to work or maybe not. Somebody told me to go away, so I did. There wasn’t really that much I could do anyway.
When things got worked out somehow, we went back. I kind of left after that for a while. Just to rest, and stuff. Except when I came back, they had all left for lunch, so I left again, and by the time I came back they were doing another mission. The hurricane relief, or something. So I just sat and waited again.
Then I couldn’t tell what was going on when they came back, because it was so noisy. I heard something about sea, so I went with them - I was kind of hoping we’d be going to guard the fishing boats against the sea serpents so that they could fish, but I think it ended up being those weird sea creatures that had been spotted. Only figured that out later, first.
It took a while to get there. On the way, we met a group of militia again, and Shailar did her talking around in circles thing again and convinced them to go help out at the East Gate. Where all the undead were. Which they happily rushed off to do. I kind of glared at her, but I don’t think she noticed. She’s pretty nice most of the time, but sometimes she gets really arrogant and doesn’t care about anyone else, and does things like that just because she can. Those people’re probably dead now, and they didn’t really do anything wrong.
Not that there was much we could do about it. So we kept going. It was pretty soon after that that we found those sea things. They were almost like huge, huge, huge fish, except they could breath on land and walk and they were using real weapons. Somebody got hit, and it kind of splattered them all over the ground and he was dead. I hid behind a tree.
I don’t really want to talk about the rest of the mission. I might not really remember it that well anyway, so yeah. Other people can talk about it, or something.
That was kind of all that happened. Sorry for having such a boring day. When Amara had us read all those old chronicles and history things, they were all really exciting. Maybe I was hoping that adventuring would be like that. But I guess I’m not cut out for that kind of stuff. Sorry for wasting your time.
Kioriel Fealor
Before I begin, I think it important that you know a little of who I am. This, not out of some vain, narcissistic desire to center the world around myself; but so that you may know my biases, and know the perspectives which color my view of the world - and, knowing them, be better able to draw your own conclusions, which may be very different from my own. Though I may tell the story as I see it, that does not necessarily mean that the way I tell it was how it happened. This is why we have minds: so that we may discern what is truth from what is not. And this is why we have hearts: so that we may discern which truths are our Truths and which are not; for there are many truths in the world that not everyone will always share.
As you see above, my name is Kioriel Fealor. I am a wood elf from Eon Ion; I would tell you the town, but it being of little significance outside our nation, I would have to find a name for it not in the Elven language. It may already have one, but I don’t know it - and I’d rather leave off than misname it, so I will leave it alone. I grew up in that town, and in the woods there; it is where I was born and spent most of my life. There have been many, many changes in that time - the Closing of the Veil, the moving of power from the tragically-fallen Queens to the Council, the invasions and waning of Geb and Temnor. The woods were one of the few greater constants in the world - for, though they change, they change in cycles. As the turning of a wheel down a long, beaten road.
There were always travelers and wanders. I enjoy talking with people, and listening to their stories and lessons. It is how I obtained my education; there were no grand libraries or gentrified governesses in my town - but one, I find, doesn’t need that. If you find what people love and let them talk about it, it turns out that even the most reserved will turn into a fountain of passions and experiences that you might never expect. And it is one of my beliefs that all people in the world have something to teach us, and lessons to learn from. No matter creed, nor disposition, nor what kith or kin they may keep - bards, refugees, merchants, pilgrims, farmers, adventurers, and others.
I chose to travel because I love to learn. This is my first time outside Eon Ion. I chose Sorikonia because the philosophies and ways of this place have always interested me most; and in many ways, they feel more akin to my own than the more secluded, arrogant ways of my kin. I appreciate the careful neutrality of traditional Sorikonian culture, and the commitment to nonviolence and pacifism - but not passivity - that is characteristic of the nation. Most useful to remember, I think, as you read my records of what happened, is I am not here to fight and have grand adventures - I am here to learn, and philosophize, and get to know a people different from my own. What I pay attention to will be distorted according to those values; and if you wish to know more of the battles and the adventure and the heroism, a different set of records might be more beneficial to you than mine.
I believe that I have written more than enough of an introduction; it should be clear by now where I stand. Onwards, to the story of the day.
The day is the sixth of firstmoon; the place, Sashi Eten. More specifically, the inn; the congregating and cooperation of the local adventures centers around an inn, both during the day itself and later in the evening when we turn to simple companionship and socialization rather than adventure and questing. It was crowded with everyone inside at the same time; the group is very large. It seems that many have, at the surface, been brought here in order to help Sorikonia defend against more violent threats (of course, underneath, each will surely have their own reasons besides). One of the problems that Chen Panjue the Dark Eyes - a keeper of the adventurers here, and a member of Thunder Clan - described is that many members of Sorikonia have in recent times broken their vows of pacifism and taken up arms to defend themselves. They are afraid to pursue any path but that; and, with the Dark City on their doorstep, I can place no blame on them. Particularly when, as it was described, the Dark City vampires are encouraging this by attacking, more often than not, those who keep their vows of pacifism over those who break them. It is a subtle manipulation of this culture, but nevertheless seems to have been greatly effective.
Several times, the adventurers came and went, before I sought to join them. The first missions - “mission” is the accepted term for them, it seems - were much of the sort described earlier: helping deal with threats that we, non-Sorikonians, could take care of in ways that true Sorikonians could not quite so easily without breaking their vows. The first was goblins, which were causing problems for farmers; the second was intervening between groups of militia and urukai. I confess that I chose not to participate in these out of mildly selfish aims. I know that, in the course of my being here, combative missions will inevitably become a part of my repertoire; but I desired to at least begin with something more in tune with my own reasons for being here. The symbolism in that act is important to me. Done thirdly was to simply disperse throughout Sashi Eten and help to deal with smaller problems within the city, before they could erupt into larger ones. It was on this mission that I finally joined in with the other adventurers. It was them I met first; most only in passing, though I held a brief conversation with a hobbit named Dedoric the Cloud. An apt name, given his rather voluminous mane of white hair. He seemed of the businessman type, though I hesitate to be quite so quick to judge at first speak.
Then, we dispersed throughout the city. Some went to the spar matches; others, to the blacksmithery; others, in and around the market. I stayed largely in that group. One of the first things met with were a pair of life mages who had somehow gotten a tight embrace around one of the men I recognized as being an adventurer (though, I am sorry to say, I don’t yet know his name). He seemed at first to accept it, but when they released him, he called them “dirty hobos” and walked away.
Next, a pair of children play-sparring in the street, with sticks as their swords. How old, I can’t be sure - surely under the age of ten, however. I walked up to them and asked what they were doing; they proclaimed that they were barbarians doing battle with one another. I suggested to them that they play in a corner, where they wouldn’t risk hitting bystanders - but being, of course, bold barbarians, they weren’t of a mind to do so. That was when the pair of life mages from earlier walked over. They introduced themselves to me as religious folk, who supported notions of peacefulness. Second, the woman of the pair reached over and attempted to stop the children from sparring, citing that such play-fighting would encourage real violence within them.
Now, as you can already tell, I am one for philosophy. I entered into a discussion with the two mages as the boys played beside us. My take, I explained, was that it was not so simple as that - which is not to say that it couldn’t happen, but that it wasn’t the sole cause or even always a cause at all. Rather that fighting is in the nature of all beings - even humanoid beings - and that, rather than attempting to suppress those urges (only for them to bottle up and burst out later), they must be acted out. The best way being as these boys were doing: sparring through play. That done, they might not be so inclined to take out the desire to act as such in a much more dangerous and real way later. They nodded, and seemed to see my point; then they bowed a farewell and walked off, discussing that or other things. Afterwards, there was a small spat that involved - as I had feared - a bystander accidentally being hit by a stray stick and reacting rather violently in turn; I separated the two, and then took the boys to the sparring ring where they could watch the fights go on. With a quick word to the supervisor that the kids were there and not to be let to actually enter the ring, I left back to the market.
Which, by the time I returned, had come to a state of disarray. I found several wounded on the ground; some were my companions, and some were not. In addition, there was an angry troll making its rounds through the square. It was distracted; I quickly bent down and tended to my companions until I could waken them. Some of them had wounds I couldn’t take care of - broken arms, twisted legs, and the like. I looked around for a life mage amidst the chaos, and found one; but when I attempted to go waken him as well, one of the hacked men hissed that he was part of the mafia and would just attack us if we woke him up. At a glance, it was hard to tell if that was true; but him being out of the battle, I left him for the moment in favor of dealing with the troll. Nobody had a torch or fire of any kind, so I resorted to taunting the troll into chasing me and attempting to lead him closer to the men-at-arms’ barracks, who would be more likely to have the proper things necessary to deal with it. It was a half-success; the troll would follow me for a time, then fight others, then follow me again, and so on.
A pair of others rushed in and seemed to have it relatively under control, so I turned my attentions back to the life mage. If it was true that he belonged to a mafia organization, then it would be preferable not to have him running off in the midst of the chaos. I hauled him off to the law enforcement office, and explained to the man on duty there - he seemed quite bored, or else occupied with paperwork, or perhaps both - that there had been a scuffle in town and that the man was supposed to be a member of the mafia, but I was only going on the word of my companion and had no proof myself. He looked up, reached over and woke the man up, and said, “You are in custody of law enforcement, and are now being peacekeepered. Are you or have you been a part of any mafia organization?”
“Any mafia organization?”
“Yes, any mafia organization.” The officer was barely looking up anymore; this seemed to be fairly routine. I wouldn’t want the job of law enforcement, I think; I would go mad. But I commend those who can without such effects.
Anyway - the mage I had brought in hesitated. At last, he said slowly, “Well, I’m part of many organizations...”
The officer looked up, eyebrow raised at the mage - or, indeed, mafia member - then turned to me and said, “Thank you for your work. We’ll take it from here.” He reached over and took the mafia member’s staff, and passed it off to me. “You can have his staff.”
I left the man - men - to their fates, and stepped back outside and onto the streets, new staff in hand. Usually, I tend towards a bow and arrow - it is, after all, the sort of thing I grew up on. But having a side arm for when one runs out of arrows, or else what is essentially a long stick and may thus be used as a versatile tool, is always a good thing.
It was just as I was stepping foot onto the streets when a woman came racing through them, shouting that a woman was having a baby and needed a midwife. I know little of midwifery, truth be told, but hoped that I would be of some use regardless; a man I recognized as belonging to the adventurers also heeded the call, and together we went racing off to help tend to the poor woman. For the sake of preserving the integrity of the readers’ stomachs, I will not describe the process; but the birth was successful, and both Dedoric and I learned a great deal from it. The woman, it happened, as also a noble of Earth Clan; and to thank us, she gifted to me a magical amulet. She needn’t have; I was there to give, not to gain. But I know well that it is rude, especially in Sorikonia, to refuse the offer of a gift - so I did not object.
On the walk back, I conversed with my companion. His named, I learned, was in full “Dedoric the Cloud” - apt, given the veritable mane of white hair poofed quite prominently atop his head. He seemed a sociable sort, and we conversed well together; at one point, we were stopped by a woman who was quite clearly seeking a particular sort of companionship with someone. She latched onto Dedoric, who seemed a little unsure of how to handle the situation; to spare him the discomfort, I offered to have tea with the lady, and we took some time and went our separate ways.
It was not long after that when I reached, once again, the market. The battle with the troll had since been cleaned up and otherwise taken care of, or at the least all signs of such a thing had been righted and wiped away. Not many people were left in the square; I supposed that many were inside, taking the afternoon meal. Often, I’ve found, it is most crowded during luncheon... but perhaps Sorikonia was different from Eon Ion.
That was when the cry rang out. A wagon holding a force of men at arms rolled down the street as fast as the oxen could be made to pull; upon it was perched a crier. The call rang out through the alleys and houses:
“The East Gate is under attack! The East Gate is under attack!”
I followed the cart, jogging lightly behind it; true enough, it came to the East Gate, and the men at arms rushed out. Many of my companions were already present - some at the gate itself, others looking out over the wall. I joined them, craning my neck to attempt to catch a glimpse of what was approaching.
At first, it appeared to be the shambling figures of zombies and the darting of skeletons; and that was plenty in and of itself. But, watching more carefully, the forms of spirits flickered in and out of this plane occasionally. There were many kinds - some with red eyes, some with blackened eyes... and, somewhere near the back, a pale and heavily-cloaked figure hung as well.
There was little we - or they - could do. A few of my companions went running out the gate to try to take on the undead; they were quickly and summarily taken down and killed. The undead kept on, and tried to slip through the opening in the gate - but, found, they could not. Sorikonia, in lieu of the appearance of the Dark City, was sure to have made many protections about vampires and other undead of an unsavory nature; and, it seemed, this was one of them. They appeared, killed who they could, and then fell back, as a tide licking the edge of the shoreline and receding.
Uneasily, we drifted off as well. There seemed to be little to be done, aside from drag our dead comrades to the healing halls and join the city in lunch. Dedoric came and found me again, and asked me to lunch; after making sure our intentions were clear - as neither of us were searching for a romantic partner, it would seem, and wanted to make sure that neither party was about to misinterpret that - we went off. It was an enjoyable lunch, and rejuvenating to both of us. We returned just as the rest of the party was leaving to deal with a group of ogres; and then elected to stay behind and get to know some of our other party members better.
Upon their return, a woman with a half-withered visage and a missing eye came limping into the inn after them. She held a staff, and was dressed in the manner of a Sorikonian Martial Master; and for a moment, I was in awe of her. Though her manner was grim and - to be truthful - intimidating, I recognize also that to have those sorts of marks upon your body speaks a story of the one who carries them. What story, I would not dare to ask; that is not my place. But it shows that she is due a great deal of respect.
Her manner, however, I found somewhat more unnerving than her appearance. She reminded me deeply of a snake in the way she looked at us, and considered us, and she seemed to take a certain perverse satisfaction in the prospect of righting the wrongs she saw as done to Sorikonia, or to its protecters - and when I say “righting the wrongs”, I mean to imply a certain darker method of doing so. Understand: I do not pass these as judgements upon her, nor expect them to be true or untrue. These are merely my initial impressions, as is the case with everything in this record. ...She was, I will admit, terrifying. In a small, widened-eyes sort of way.
Which is not to say I was afraid of her. Many things were suggested in the course of deciding what to do next - going after the ancient treasure, or looking into the guardians being summoned by the Masters, rescuing some of our other companions, and the like. After each suggestion, she asked of the suggester, “Do you think you will die doing this?”, to which they gave varied answers. I added my own suggestion - I felt it important to give aid to the villages in the northern part of Sorikonia. The fringes of the Dark City had bathed the norther tip of the island in conditions akin to a hurricane, and the people there required aid. We are all people, and all need help sometimes; the best we can do is be ready to give it to one another. I suggested the hurricane -
She asked - “Do you think you will die doing this?”
I responded - “I think others will die if we do not.”
She considered me for a moment, and replied, “A very honorable answer...” before continuing on.
In the end, we settled on hurricane relief; that pleased me. It’s more my style than something such as fighting ogres, and I was glad to see that many others were favorable to the idea as well. There was some trouble on the way - first, an Elder Sorcery having problems with a Flame Elder Sorcery that had taken a rather explosive turn; next, a pack of rather large lizard-beasts who seemed to possess a bite that would have the secondary effect of burying one’s spirit in one’s body. A very unfortunate development, for us, given that they seemed to be hunting and desiring to eat us. But I can imagine it being greatly useful to them. Luckily, most of the lizards were not slain; rather, knocked out, for a centaur named Layla - who we had met previously in the inn - had offered to take them back and train them.
I stayed out of the way and let others deal with them. In case it is not yet apparent, I am not especially talented at fighting; my gifts lie in other places. Others - in particular, an elf named Shailar - commented on this demeanor (“You’re not much of a fighter, are you?” - to quote.) Once the lizard-beasts had been dealt with sufficient to Layla’s and others’ standards, we proceeded onwards.
The slightest edges of the weather began to pull and tug at us. We encountered more trouble - a group of humans where were very apparently going out of their ways to get into our ways. To reiterate, I am not the fighting sort; while both their group and several members of my companions began posturing at each other and became distracted with it, I ran around the edge and leapt the river and kept going, soon followed by others. I think they may have attempted to pursue us, but with the weather as strong as it was, gave up soon after.
At last, in the distance, we could see the wrecks of several villages in the distance. The weather was exceedingly strong; I feared that it may very well toss downed beams and other large objects onto us as we tried to help, and as such, made sure that my companions would be able to withstand such a battering. That is one of my gifts: I have never really been sure why, but I have always possessed an ability to bless others with the ability to withstand the first waves of hurt they are met with. It has been useful - and continued to be useful, here. Aid to my companions bestowed, we shouldered against the wind and made over to the villages to give our aid to others.
Something was off. I wasn’t sure what exactly it was; it was hard to tell, in the chaos. Not only was there the noise and force of the blasting sheets of wind and rain, but there was a great deal of yelling for help and the cracking of shifting debris. I started looking for unconscious people hidden in the rubble; where I found them, I tended to them as best I could, and brought them back to consciousness so that they could either help their fellows or remove themselves from the situation. One of them didn’t seem to take kindly to this; I had healed him, and was moving to another, when he crept up behind me. The next thing I knew, he swung a broken floorboard into the side of my head, and my face was in the mud and everything went dark.
Someone woke me up; we proceeded to strain together against some of the heavier debris, to help free a few trapped souls. As we worked, one of my companions came up to us; I thought he was there to help, but he, too, changed course to stand behind me. Before I could free myself from my position, he smacked his pommel into my head and added another bump to the one already there. I remember thinking that this must be what was wrong - and then, once more, nothing.
I reawakened to another of my companions shaking me. He helped me to my feet, and we continued about our business. I made for a small hill that rose modestly over the edge of the mess. Given the apparent hostility amongst the villagers and my companions, alike it seemed that something was affecting their behavior, and I thought I might have a better chance of divining what that was by seeing the situation from the outside. One companion - Torald - spotted me, and made his way over; I was a little wary, but he didn’t seem to be under the same influences as some of the others. He held my equipment and helped me survey the landscape while I rearranged my askew, falling-off, about-to-trip-me-up mess of a dress. I am aware that dresses are impractical for adventuring, at least if you expect to be doing much fighting; but I find it useful in other situations. And in any case, though it’s impractical, it’s me. I was not terribly inclined to give that up.
I finished re-tying the dress when Torald and I noticed a large gust of debris quickly headed our way. He tossed me back my equipment, and we scrambled out of its path. I found myself next to another of our companions; he informed me that some of us and some of the villagers were being charmed. That seemed sensible to me - it made a tidy explanation for why people were acting as they were, especially so with our proximity to the Dark City. I scanned, searching for what was probably a vampire in our midst; and found two figures who, in the manner that they were creeping about the debris with the grins of hunters on their faces, seemed to be of an unsavory nature. They were probably the vampires in question.
Hefting my staff, I tiptoed around their backs, positioning myself to give them both wallopings about the head as recompense for the two I’d received. I hoped only that they were just sired-by vampires, rather than the true thing; if they were the latter, then I - and all the rest gathered - would seem to be in deep trouble. A deep breath, a quicker few steps, then I brought the end of my staff cracking down on the one’s head. It seemed to work - he went down just fine, which spoke to him being either a sired-by vampire, or charmed, or else an innocent target. The other one took exception to my actions, and started towards me; I turned and ran across the scene and jumped the stream, just out of his reach. Shailar and a couple others were already on the problem; they walked over and began dragging the suspected vampire back in the direction of Sashi Eten.
After that point, there seemed little else we could do. Those who could be freed, had been; that mess which we could salvage, had been; those who were not dead or otherwise badly wounded had been patched up and could care for themselves. We waded out of the mess and mud, and followed Shailar and the others back to town.
Waiting for us was a Martial Master who named himself as Tui Perry. He seemed the yang to K’an Stormwing’s yin; he projected an air of enthusiasm and an overabundance of energy that contrasted starkly with her slippery, sneakier sort of personna. Indeed, he announced that he found great fun in teasing Stormwing, because he knew he could always get a rise out of her and was greatly amused at this fact. I know not for certain what I think of him yet; but he seemed an interesting sort of person.
The majority of the group soon departed to look into the matter of the seas creatures moving onto shore; I did not join them, but instead went to see if I could find the dregs of the situation with the vampire and other such things and learn the outcome of them. When I finished, I returned to the inn; and they returned, reporting some king of gigantic fish-people who had killed many among their number without a second thought. Conference began again; it was decided that we would venture to the volcano to attempt to assist with the guardian summonings of the Masters; and so, forth we went.
This time, I went with them. Right away, I noticed that Shailar - a woman who had seemed so apt to socialize in the previous parts of the day - was quite suddenly withdrawn and solitary. Something must have happened, I surmised, in the previous expedition; but it was not my place to press what it was. I asked if she was all right; she lied, saying she was fine. I offered to help keep people away from her so that she might be alone if she so desired, and that offer was taken - and so it went.
We had but started up the side of the mountain when we ran into a group of... something. I heard something about the militia, and something about someone being mistaken about something, but that was the end of my awareness of the situation. There was another group coming down the mountain towards us - humans (militia?), or orks, or something of that nature - but, as before, I ran past them as combat engaged between our groups.
Once I came to a sheltered bend in the path, I stopped and waited for others to appear. A few trickled up the rise; but not nearly enough. One reported as he passed that most of our companions were down; some of them were dead - the other group was killing us. Upon hearing this, I spoke to the others; we arranged a small group to run back down and attempt to drag our companions back up here out of the chaos. Several stayed behind to tend to them in safety. I gave to those going out my spare endurance, and then we ran out and filtered through the edges of the battle.
I made for a woman first; she was on the edge of the fighting and in Sorikonian garb, but I was unfamiliar with her specifically. Dragging her up the steep incline of the volcano was difficult, but doable; I left her where my companions would be able to reach her, then dove back down to retrieve another person. What happened next, I can’t quite recall; all that I remember is the feeling of pain, and then the feeling of darkness, and then a deepening of the dark and then death.
How long I was dead for, I was unsure. I opened my eyes - alive, now - to see the scowling face of a young woman standing over me. At any rate, the rescue seemed to have been successful - other of our companions were here, and evidently getting rebirthed by this woman. Someone explained - this was Li Tiesha. She was angry - but that was fairly apparent. Unhappy, she ranted, at being cooped up on the mountain all day in these rituals; and irritated with skeletons that were interfering in the ritual and drawing it out even longer. Dutifully, we went out to try to hold off these skeletons as best we could.
We climbed over a rise, and saw the rituals in the distance; in the other direction, and advancing upon us, were the forms of skeletons of which Li Tiesha had spoken. She was, indeed, correct - to a point. That which we greeted were skeletal, to be sure - but rather than strictly skeletons, they were battles bones, and crypt sentinels. Though not immediately visible, there was also a wraith - more bad news. Few of us had even silver weaponry, and nearly none had anything magical to speak of. I was allowed to borrow a silver weapon, as I hoped to be of use; but despite a handful of threatening passes and advances on the various undead, it quickly became obvious to me that the silver would be better in the hands of another. I returned it to its owner, and set myself to attempting to waken the inevitably wounded companions amongst us.
We were losing - badly. Inevitable, unfortunately, in such a situation. At last, the ritual of the Martial Masters was completed; and Li Tiesha herself, seeming quite happy to let loose her frustration on our aggressors, joined us and knocked back a battle bones into the slow, stinking stream of lava that flowed down the volcano’s side. That was that; we returned, and at that point, disbanded. The sun was setting, and the time of working for the day had completed.
Many dispersed throughout the inn, either at the tables to take the evening meal, or upstairs to their rooms to rest from the day’s events. I went to wander the streets and familiarize myself with their arrangement and - more importantly - their inhabitants. That is why I’m here, after all. Such is what my day was spent doing, as much as I could; and such is what I hope my days to come will be spent doing. I mean to keep to my purpose - but whether or not that is what the world wills, is another matter entirely. Sorikonia seems to be encountering dilemmas of the same sort, if exponentially more extreme; and I hope, too, that it will keep to its own purpose in the coming days. But it seems, unfortunately, that that will be a harder task than anyone yet anticipates.
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Post by Celebfealor on Mar 5, 2013 13:07:21 GMT -8
Aaaaand February's chronicle. I will try to get March's done before April.
Tsumio
The first thing done today was undead. Mostly skeletons, I think. I didn’t go - I’m not ready for that. I don’t think I’m really ready for anything in Sorikonia. If they’re already having us try to deal with undead, it’s because there’s nobody better to deal with them, or else those people are busy. It’s only going to get worse. Sometimes I wish I could leave, but I can’t. I think I’m stuck here.
Harpies seemed a little bit easier, and the rest of the group was going to try to take care of some that were making problems for travel, so I went with them for that. Right off the bat, we came across some... dark heroes, I guess? I’m not sure we ever really found out what they were, but they were pretty powerful. Some of them had Elder Sorcery... they weren’t particularly nice, and they were trying to pick a fight. I didn’t know what to do. I just kind of froze in place, and eventually one cast his terrorball at me. We didn’t have any life mages or anything, so I just kind of had to wait to wake up naturally. Luckily, the dark heroes were gone by then.
We hadn’t gotten much further when we were ambushed by... something. I’m not sure what, or I can’t remember, or something. They came out of nowhere, and there were lots of them. They attacked us straight off; I didn’t really interact with them much, just went around and patched people up. ...They killed some of us. It was kind of eye-for-an-eye, though; there was a small group of people who said they thought that the attackers were vampires, and they had the main guy down and were trying to exorcise him by cutting out his heart and staking it to the ground. I’m not really sure what proof they had that he was a vampire - it was pretty gross, and I didn’t want to get too close. I kept going and left them there; I didn’t want to make a fuss of it, especially because some of our own group were dead and needed to be carried off. I grabbed the guy named Mask. He’s called that because he wears a mask all the time.
Took a while, but eventually everybody kept going. We were already in pretty bad shape by the time we reached the harpies, and when we got there... there were so many of them. It was like a giant cloud of flapping and screeching, and they didn’t really look that afraid of us. More like, they were happy to fight and going straight towards us. I was trying to edge around the side of the meadow and use the trees as cover. One of them spotted me, and I guess he was a necromancer or something, because he threw another terrorball at me. I couldn’t get out of the way in time, and that was kind of it for me.
They rescued us later on. I don’t remember much - I was unconscious for the whole time, I think, or else maybe just too confused to realize what was going on. That took up the whole morning; I guess we were all out of it for a long while. I stopped after that; I can take a hint.
I don’t really think I’m cut out for adventuring. Amara wants us to keep trying, so I have to, but I’m not so sure it’s a good idea anymore. It just kind of seems like I’m a liability. Or a terrorball target. Or something. ...It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Kioriel Fealor
It is the third of secondmoon. Thus concludes the second day of my adventuring here, in Sashi Eten, Sorikonia. I have had some interesting revelations today; and, though all made for greater insight, some bode better than others.
Much of the morning I spent engaged elsewhere, and by the time I arrived, several groups had come and gone. The first, to take down groups of undead on the northern piece of the island; the second, to attempt to reconcile some differences between some ogres and some farmers and their livestock; and the third, to discourage a flock of harpies from interfering with travel. It was this last group that did not return, surprisingly enough. Only one or two people were able to make it back - the rest of the group, they said, had been taken down.
A rescue mission, then, was in order. Myself and others geared up to go after them. Tui Perry had also been conscripted into helping us by other members of the party; however, it would seem that while we were readying ourselves, he left and took an alternate route through the mountains. Why, we would soon see - we had been walking for only a short time when we found ourselves faced with another group of undead. At first it seemed fairly small - mostly zombies - but those few among us with access to spirit guide, upon looking at the group, blanched and turned the other way. What all was there, I’m not sure; I heard something about specters, and about wraiths, and about a large number of them. Once the first few broke, as people are so apt to do, the rest followed. The majority ran towards town; I diverted my course and made for the mountains, chasing after the route Tui Perry had taken. Only one other person followed. It seems to me that, just because the main route is blocked by undead too lofty for us to handle, doesn’t mean that we should abandon the mission entirely - rather, find a different way to do it.
The difficulty with such logic is that, if others don’t happen to see it as well, it may end up being only a handful of people attempting to take on a problem far greater than themselves. Such dilemmas are what stories are founded on, to be sure; but there is always a balancing force that was not present at that particular moment. Luckily, though it took them some time, the rest seemed to have decided to set out again and they caught up to us just as we reached the area the harpies were said to be in.
Along with my staff, I’d brought my bow and arrows; I nocked an arrow it at this point, anticipating the need to discourage harpies from attempting to interfere in our rescue. As an extra precaution, I activated my amulet; with a little extra energy, it would let me endure wounds that would otherwise have overcome me. It seemed likely that such a thing would be useful here - and it was. It quickly became clear to me that, for all my good intentions, to attempt to fight the harpies would end badly for me. Many of them, anticipating archers, had brought shields - which, of course, made the endeavor of trying to fell them a sight harder. Rather, I gave up such a futile course, and stuck to my usual course of attempting to simply give aid and healing to those better suited to fighting than I.
Given the harpies, however, that soon turned to be largely futile. Not because they were tactful enough to remove people from my reach; but rather, it becomes difficult to attempt to give first aid to someone when one of your arms, having endured the force of an arrow sticking through it, is not currently working properly. I took two arrows - one in a leg, one in an arm - and endured them both before they managed to shoot one into my belly and take me down for true.
By the time I wakened, the battle was done; I tended to a few of our companions, but sadly, found that a handful of them had not been wounded but outright killed. For what reason, I cannot say. I was pondering the reasons behind this when, in the distance, my eyes caught another group moving in. They didn’t seem hostile; and given the make of the armor worn by the woman leading the group, I suspected that they may have been associated with the Elder Goddess.
We went to meet with them, and they came to meet with us; and it turned out that they were indeed of the Elder Goddess. An honor, indeed; the woman leading them appeared to be a Warrior of the Elder Goddess. I myself am not affiliated with the religion, so I can’t say for sure if that’s what she was; but I hold a great deal of respect for their ways, and from what I understand, there are not many Warriors of the Goddess left. The appearance of one here, then, spoke to something significant afoot.
It seemed to be so. Our conversation, to the best of my recollection, went as this:
“Have any of you seen a gem?” she asked, to the group at large.
“...What *kind* of gem?”, was the sentiment echoed back.
She cupped her hands, showing the rough size - a little larger than a fist. “About this big; it’s mostly blue, with purple edges -”
“What cut?” someone interrupted.
“A pretty standard cut,” she replied, looking back at the man, “And floating about head-high.”
We all looked at each other. Nobody seemed to have the faintest idea what she was talking about. It seemed - to state mildly - that if anyone had seen it, they would know instantly that that was of which she spoke; after all, it seemed fairly distinctive. We struggled with silence for a few moments, then a few voices muttered out things along the lines of, “No, we haven’t seen it.”
“Well, if you do,” she replied, “let us know immediately. We have seen it in many visions of late - so of course, it may be either physical or a metaphor - but more likely the former. It is likely to be incredibly dangerous.”
“Dangerous to who?” someone asked.
“The women will likely be able to interact with it relatively safely,” she said, “but it may be dangerous and even deadly to the men of your party.”
(Some of the aforementioned men, at this point, rolled their eyes and made exasperated mutterings at each other. Such is, at least goes my understanding, a common reaction to the Elder Goddess religion in general, by menfolk. I would say that the reaction is not unfounded, though on the other side, I understand it is in the nature of the religion.)
She turned to depart - I asked, before she could go, where we would find her should we get wind of this gem. She turned back, and said that they would be at the Elder Goddess shrine; and then we went our separate ways. Her group, I would assume, went either to continue the search or back to the shrine of the Elder Goddess; and our group made its way back to Sashi Eten, where we would proceed to revitalize ourselves and our rescued companions with lunch.
During lunchtime, many people - having accumulated enough experience to be accepted by the guilds - attended an honor testing. The honor testing is a sort of secondary measure taken to make sure that those who would join the guilds will reflect well upon them. Some guilds have more strict standards, it would seem. I didn’t participate - I don’t yet have quite the measure of the kind of experience they look for - but I watched. There were three parts: two questions - “What is the more honorable thing you have done?” and “What is the least honorable thing you’ve done?” - and a third piece that was left largely to mystery. The process was interesting to watch; I have no notion of who passed and who did not, though even if I did, I would not mention such here. That is their business, not mine.
After lunch and honor tests alike concluded, we continued with our day. Many among our number, anticipating having passed their tests, went to the guilds to receive training in their chosen skillset. The rest of us of us turned our attention to the placing for the upcoming Tournament of the Steps. The Tournament is a highly revered Sorikonian ritual which takes place only once in every hundred years; the one who wins it gains honor immeasurable. To many, it is a place to test their skills; for others, a way to accrue honor and a great deal of favor; and for others, myself among them, it is more importantly a celebration of Sorikonian culture and ritual - which, in these times, seems more important to attend to than ever. I shall attend to that train of thought and extrapolate upon its nature, however, later in this document.
To place in the Tournament, we were first divided into two teams and told to attempt to best the other team. I suppose it is somewhat ironic, in a way, that I chose to attempt the tournament places at all; as I have mentioned before, the way of combat is not a way I am talented with. My strategy during these battles, then, reflected my own way of doing things: I did not fight, and instead chose a strategy that to me seemed more fitting of Sorikonian culture in any case.
Rather, I began each round by blessing my companions, which they could choose either to use or decline. Then as each round progressed, to those who approached me with drawn swords, I simply said, “I will not fight you if you do not fight me”. I was mildly surprised when, each time I made this request, it was honored and the challenger moved on to another. This applied even to first aid as well; I found one of my teammates unconscious on the ground, who had fallen beside two of the opposite team - one healing the other. I waited for the first to heal the second, and then when they both turned to fight, made my same plea. They granted it, and then I asked one further: that I be allowed to heal my own companion, as I had allowed the first man to tend to his own. Even that, they granted; and so it was.
In the end, my set of teammates won all three of the matches which took place. This put us at a higher standing in the placing of the Tournament; and then the true placing began. The Tournament of Steps, you see, is a curious form of dueling; two opponents sit facing each other, with a judge between them and to the side. The judge counts a succession of three; during the count of three, the two may move and attempt to land a hit - or point - upon one another. By the time the count is over, however, they must have ceased their movement and be perfectly still, else the point go to their opponent. The first person to gain three points wins the match.
(Needless to say, I did not place beyond my first match. Even I can operate with a level of efficiency in combat, when supporting my companions; but left to my own devices, I am near-doomed to fail soon thereafter.)
Unfortunately, the Tournament of the Steps placing is a very slow process; the duels themselves are long, and many are repeated as successions of winners face against each other and attempt to place higher and higher. It took nearly two hours to complete the placing. By the end, despite my respect for Sorikonian culture and wish to help it stand strong during these difficult times, I was beginning to regret my decision to participate. The time could have been used far better, I think, on helping deal with the myriad of problems across Sorikonia that we have yet to attend to.
Upon returning to the inn, we found our companions already gone on another mission; and for that, I am thankful. At least - or so it seemed at the time - something was getting accomplished. In the mind of getting things accomplished, I then departed again with several other members of the party - Shailar, Dedoric, and Urun. We made our way to the main set of ancestor shrines, and sought one that belonged to a family during a time when Sorikonia was still unified. There, we observed the rituals of a sacrifice; we each placed offerings on the altars (I a poem, and Shailar a drawing), and prayed for help in defending Sorikonia.
The ancestors granted our prayer and accepted our sacrifices, and sent to us a vision. First, we saw a stone wall; and the stone wall seemed empty, and vacant, and tinged with bitter sadness. Then there were flowers growing from the ground - but even as they grew buds, the flowers withered and died before they could blossom. Next, we saw people working in the fields; and no matter how they raked at the ground, or sprinkled water upon it, or mixed the soil with mulch, nothing would grow. Wind blew; dirt and dust and grime blew away with it, and clods of the earth broke apart as they rolled across the ground. People became weary; the dark, swirling form of a stormcloud turned in circles, watching and waiting with predatory patience. Those same people wearied further, and began to hunger and to tire, and as their strength waned became angry and began to fight with one another; and then there was the dark could turning again, and waiting, and watching with its patience.
Next, there was a shift; and after the shift, we saw the back of a warrior or samurai of some kind. He took off his helm, and looked down at it, turning it to face him; he seemed to speak to it, for his lips moved, though we heard at that time no sound. He looked up, and then heard words.
What those were, I am sorry to say, we did not quite catch; we frantically attempted to copy them down, but to no avail. The images that we had from this poem - this prophecy, perhaps? - were of wind and sand; were of chains; were of fire and life protecting this place. ...Next time, we will come better-prepared. Next time, we will do our best to write it down before it slips away.
What does the vision mean? I am no oracle, nor diviner of any sort, but some things still seem clear. The cloud is the Dark City; and the City, as is its wont, watches Sorikonia and waits. It batters this place with continued assaults that are meant not to kill or maim or damage, but to dishearten; and then the rest, they plan, will take care of itself. People will begin to despair; and soon, as they tire of the constant wearing, will turn on each other and tear each other - and by extension, this place - apart. That, it seems to me, is what the plan. The East Gate is an excellent example of this: vampires and other undead showed up, caused a commotion, and then left. There was little damage done to the integrity of the walls themselves, but since that time, a group of rioters has sprung up and rages at the event. How many times will this occur in the future? How many harms, how many slights - how many wounds to the spirit rather than that which is physical? That seems, to me, the most thorough way to destroy a people or place of all.
Thoughts in our heads and worry in our hearts, we returned to the inn to find our companions returned as well. The commotion, as we slipped in, was high; and so were tempers, as well. What had happened?
What we divined from the story since was this: after finishing their training, that group of our companions went to aid merchants in delivering goods to the various towns and villages along the roads. Though it seems simple, it seemed that it quickly became not so. There became the question of a chest; what role this chest played still seems to be somewhat in confusion, other than that it caused chaos. It was a silver chest, and sanctified as well, if I understand correctly; and some sort of confusion in its delivery that caused it to be opened. Nothing was found inside of it - but strange things, at that point, began to happen. People began to act out of character and turn on one another; it seems that one person was kidnapped by a cult and questioned, and though the cult painted themselves with good intentions, those intentions are in question. Visions were also involved, and perhaps charms; and one of our companions - the feyborn - disappeared entirely. It ended with most of our companions killed under a fallen-in cave ceiling; and everyone returned to the inn, spirits or otherwise, to be resurrected and to ask Sorikonian justice what should be done.
The verdict seems to be that there was a brownie involved, and perhaps other tomfoolery as well; and that, as such, it would be difficult to discern who was truly at fault, given the chaotic actions of such a fey creature. Many, still, do not trust this cult, who follow a deity of destruction; but for the moment, the law has held judgement. Time will tell, I suppose, what will happen to them.
I cannot help but think, however, of the vision we had with the ancestors. They warned of outside forces wearing away at Sorikonia, and the Sorikonians then turning on themselves - and is that not what had just happened here, on a smaller scale, within the party? It is troubling indeed. I cannot say for sure if it is related or not, but if so, I would hardly be surprised.
What to do? Use what we know to counter what will happen. We plan on this end already; but I will leave that for another time, and speak on results rather than plans. Thus ends the chronicle of our second day’s worth of adventuring.
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Post by Celebfealor on Mar 28, 2013 17:59:24 GMT -8
Chronicle for 03/03/13.
Kioriel Fealor
A great deal happened today. Some of it productive; some of it, not nearly so much. Some of it left with a happy ending, or a promise of the same - and some ended with not a bang, but a whimper, and the terror and loss at the end of a deep black pit. It has left many of us with the bitterness of revenge upon our tongues - and that is a feeling I wish that fewer were able to stomach.
I shall begin, as is fitting, with the morning. The morning dawned with promise - and, for some of us, with side fits of nervous energy. This was the day where a month of work culminated: where a month of meetings, of gatherings, of debating and of dreaming; of all the effort to bring together members of the militia, of Sorikonian society, and of our own group of adventurers, would culminate. We sought to bring together several groups which had been in conflict with one another - the militia, the adventurers, the Maimed Cult, and Sorikonians who had alternatively broken and kept their vows of pacifism - and, rather than attempting to solve out problems on the battlefield, hold a discussion to hear all parts of the sides involved and attempt to work together for a solution that would be fitting to us all.
All groups - excepting one - agreed to attend. The Maimed Cult was the only group we had heard nothing from - neither a yea, nor nay. They had been quiet all month; and seeing that, upon the missions listed for the day, that this had extended not just to us but to all across Sorikonia, made me nervous. To state that they mislike us adventures would be to grossly understate the strength of their conviction - and I worried that perhaps, upon seeing an opportunity where we would be unarmed and involved in discussion, they might attempt to make an attack or assassination upon us. There was a great deal of last-minute rushing to attempt to scrape together nonviolent defenses should such a thing come to pass. We had agreed previously not to bring weapons, for in a meeting reserved for peaceful discourse such a thing would send the wrong message; and we knew that, should it come to fighting, we would have to fight in the way of nonviolence so that our point would not be proven moot. Some loaned us amulets of disarm, or grieves of martial arts, or other such magical trinkets that would allow us to fight should the need arise.
Further complications ensued when, as we gathered at the mission board, we were not greeted by a familiar face; not by Chen Panjue, or by K’an Shu Hui Stormwing, or by Tui Perry. Rather, we were greeted by Earth Clan royalty: K’en Showseeden. In his hand, he held three pale white blossoms - a sign, then, that his mission here was one for peace rather than for contentious disruption. Just before he began to speak, he bowed - and for a moment, I could have sworn that he had bowed to me. But I think rather that he intended to bow to those of us who had arranged this ceremony with the militia, for we had all gathered in a tight bundle to make for last-minute discussions and arrangements.
Then, he began to speak. “This is a good idea,” he said - in more words than that - and he offered us the use of an Earth Clan space were we would be safer for the duration of the gathering. It was said, as I stated previously, in far more words and in a more ceremonial manner than this; but, as I cannot remember his exact wording, I would not wish to taint his manner with an ill-fitting interpretation. He made his statement; and then, after casting his tree flowers to three corners of the room - in a triangle - he departed, and Chen Panjue replaced his space shortly thereafter.
Though I am sure K’en Showseeden meant well, it sent our corner bubbling with anxious chatter. What were the political implications of this? We had intended for the Marital Masters not to be involved in this at all, so that it would not seem that we were acting as their dogs; for the militia in particular, and perhaps others, held some amount of disdain for the Masters and their ways, and we wished not to involve that sentiment in the discussions if it could be avoided. But by accepting his offer, were we not, then, accepting the meddling of the Martial Masters? That said, how could we decline the offer, without giving undue insult to either him or to his clan?
“We could say that we are not able to return the gift, and thus must decline the honor,” Shailar suggested.
“Yes,” I said, “that is true - but we should only say it if it is indeed true, and I am not so certain that it is.”
In any case - details and news were being given by Chen Panjue, and so for the most part we ceased our discussion and resolved to continue it later on.
The end result of the choosing was to go aid villages on the north side of the island, which had been experiencing difficulties with storms and with the Dark City at large; these villages were being preyed upon by ronin and bandits, and as such there was an obligation to help them. I would have gone - were it not for the fact that the meeting with the militia could start at any time, and I refused to leave the city until the meeting was completed. True, perhaps I would not be selected to speak at all - for the voting for our three speakers had not commenced - but as one of the primary organizers, I felt an obligation to remain in case any last-minute issues should crop up, as they always seem to do.
On the way out, nominations for speakers (each group was allowed only three) and votes were taken by Shailar; in the end, the speakers would by Attano, Ittami, and myself. More reason to stay, then; so as the other adventurers went off to their mission, I remained in the inn and practiced my arguments and prepared for what I hoped would not be the battle to come. I have done little debate before, you see, and certainly nothing of this calliber; and despite my companions’ apparent confidence in me, until I had practiced, I could not maintain the same. Not when so much could possibly be at stake.
When the adventurers returned, they were somewhat fewer in number. Many, it would seem, had been captured in the course of their adventures; and that seemed strange to me, as capture is not something that bandits and ronin tend to do. What that meant, I was not sure; in any case, though once more I could not yet leave, I gave my vote to rescuing our companions still back there. In the end, such was chosen, and the rescue was done.
They came back, sometime later, companions in tow. This had been more difficult than they had expected, it would seem; all of the ronin and bandits previously fought, it would seem, had already recovered themselves and were ready to fight again. What did this mean? I am not sure, other than that they seem to have more help than only themselves. There seems to be a great deal of Dark City influence on the northern part of the island, and I would not be surprised if that were involved... One companion in particular had suffered for this, and received a rather nasty-looking knock upon his head; he was rushed immediately to the Life Mage’s guild to make sure that everything on the inside of his skill was still working in proper order. Later, it turned out that he was fine; the damage had mostly been shallow, for which we were all glad. Despite all this capturing and collateral damage, they had emerged victorious - and so, we set down to another round of mission-voting.
Tui Perry was staffing the inn at this point; and, now that we had reached some sort of resolution, we were ready to proceed with the meeting before it attempted to proceed without us. Tui Perry, unfortunately, was not with us on this, citing all this talking as being “boring” - for which I do not blame him, given his seeming temperament, but which was counterproductive to what we felt needed to be done. He tried; I will given him that. He attempted to rush through the voting for such things very quickly, hoping to catch our companions unawares between that and by dubbing it the rather vague “people thing”; and he might have succeeded, had our companions not already been aware that now was the time and were keeping half an eye out for our raised hands.
With that, he was forced to concede - but suggested that in addition to this talking-style mission, a more active mission might be done. This was agreed upon. I believe that they attempted to deal either with the ogre farmers or with a group of rather fearsome undead while we met; but I confess that I was at that point paying little attention to the other half, as most of it was consumed with the oncoming meeting.
Just before we began, one more obstacle presented itself. A figure - some sort of rhino-man named Rocksteady Bighorn - attempted to enter this place. I had heard a little of him; it would seem he was infamous in Sorikonia for disrupting rituals of great importance, and had earned a great deal of dishonor with Lake Clan in particular for actions of the sort. We were unsure of what to do when a trio of three Thunder Clan Martial Masters came to the scene and attempted to make him leave, even to the point of banishing him from Sorikonia altogether; and for some reason that I know not the full breadth of, this excited him, and he ran to get his possessions before saying that he was ready to be deported. ...As all four of them left, I let out a breath of tension. I had wanted neither party to be involved in the discussion, as I expected that either could create unnecessary problems. We already had problems enough, with possibilities both regarding the difficulty of the task at hand and with the possible appearance of the Maimed.
We placed ourselves as the other meeting members entered; several people took pen and paper and set themselves to transcribe what was spoken of. To others, we distributed items and instructions alike, saying that should the worst come to worst that we should all be ready to defend each other and all those present at the meeting.
The last of those meeting trickled in, and the door was shut - good, I thought, for that meant that anyone attempting to enter would be seen before they could act. As everyone settled themselves, I lit a stick of incense in order to sanctify the area - though truth be told, I know that a single stick of incense will not be sanctifying much of anything. What it will do, however, is perhaps go a ways towards clearing the mind and allowing those present to refocus on the matter at hand. Once the incense caught - there was something of a draft making the lighting difficult - we began.
There were, of course niceties and greetings to and from all parties involved, and gratefulness acknowledged for their presence. Then, it was down to business. I began to speak of what was to happen at this meeting, so as to re-outline that which was already laid down in the letters sent out previously; the militia spoke quickly, then, for it seemed that they had other things in mind.
“I thought we were here to get reparations!” was the cry.
And, indeed, it would seem that they were, though that had not specifically been the intent. Nevertheless, it must be dealt with, and I supposed it fell under the intended topics in any case. I glanced around the room for Shailar - where had she gone? Wherever she was, I hoped that she was as ready as she had said she was to take responsibility for her actions...
“There is one among our number,” I replied, “who was responsible for sending that division of the militia to the East Gate. Her name is Shailar. We have not agreed with her in what she has done, and in fact have been upset as well with her actions.” With that, I finally saw Shailar - she had knelt into a bow so low that her forehead touched the ground. Something in me twisted, seeing her like that - for that was a bow not only of respect, but of submission, and not something I would wish anyone to have need to do. But for the sake of the integrity of the meeting, I showed nothing. This was for Shailar to deal with.
The militia recounted their version of events - that the division involved had been mercilessly sent to their deaths against an enemy that Shailar knew they could not fight - accurately, Shailar said. She gave a promise to them that after the meeting they could seek whatever justice they felt appropriate for her actions; and, that done, we continued.
What were the sides here? I will speak of them in sum.
The militia distrusted the ability of foreigners to deal with the problems they faced in their own nation’s lands, especially so in light of recent mishandling of situations. What they saw was a need: was the presence of the Dark City on their shores - never mind all other somewhat more mundane threats - and the need to defend their homes and families when there were no others who could adequately do the job. They were willing to sacrifice their vows - and, yes, their Sorikonian citizenship as well - in order to protect the vows of others. This was something that they had been born into, or entered into as a child still to young to understand the implications; and many of them felt now that they had been cheated of a choice that was theirs to make.
Those ordinary citizens who had not broken their vows, too, spoke of worry of the Dark City - and of the need for Sorikonia to be a safer place. They believed that the vow held a purpose in Sorikonian culture and the integrity of its spirit, but that despite it and perhaps because of it they still lived in fear of that which they knew was just a strait over on the mainland. Knowing this fear, they also understood those who felt the need for violence, and the need to break their vows - for what else was there to do?
There were also those citizens who had broken their vows, but not gone so far as to join the militia. They were tired of being bullied, they said; tired of being picked on by all a manner of creatures - both undead and not - who saw pacifists as easy targets who would not, or could not, fight back. They wanted to be able to defend themselves, and make certain that they could protect their own. “Tradition will not defend us,” they said; what was the point of the vows, if they left them with hands as good as tied behind their backs?
And then, there is us. We were by and large foreigners brought to this land to fight on behalf of Sorikonia, so that its citizens would not have to break their vows and disrupt the spiritual integrity of the island. This was the same integrity which, while intact, keeps the like of demons and other such invaders from setting foot on Sorikonia - and which, broken by broken vows, would allow such things to enter and wreak their havoc. The vows were necessary as part of the protection of these islands; and the more who forsook them, the more endangered this place would become.
The militia would have none of this, citing that they were “unprotected by divine powers”. What to do instead? Several solutions were toyed with. The non-pacifist civilians toyed with ways of finding loopholes in the honor system and in the pacifist vows; of examining the wording of the vows and attempting to find a way in which they could act without disrupting them. But would damaging the integrity of the intent damage as well the integrity of the vows themselves? We did not know.
After further discussion, we brought to the table a solution we had come up with before the meeting. The Martial Masters, we said, were effective as pacifists because they had learned a great many other skills which went with them - snare, knockback, disarm, and so on. What if we could teach to the militia - and perhaps to other members of the population at large - these skills, so that they could still defend their island without having to break their vows in the process? We knew that there would be guildmaster knights coming to Sorikonia within the next month - those who would be among the older adventurers, at least - and we could pay them to train those who wished to receive it.
But would that, too, violate the vows? Perhaps if used for attack, we mused, but perhaps not if used exclusively defensively - for that was not violence, but nonviolence and counter to violence. How many people could be trained - and if we attempted to train an entire population, would that not consist of a breakage of vows as well? And what of undead - and those things which could not simply be disarmed and snared to be dealt with? This could be greatly impractical, it seemed.
In counter to their point about undead, I spoke an anecdote of seeing Li Tiesha defeat a battlebones by knocking it into an open lava flow. Undead still take natural damage, and with a combination of pacifist skills and of use of the environment, they could still be dealt with. Furthermore, we were still here; and if necessary, we could refocus our efforts primarily onto undead if the more mundane threats were somewhat more under control.
There was further discussion; in sum of that, it was decided that this was a solution that could be attempted. The militia at least would be trained, and perhaps others; and, if they found the training both useful and adequate in taking care of the needs of Sorikonia, they would retake their vows. But only, they said, if this proved to be a long-term solution - for that is what they truly needed at this time.
Lastly, just before we ended, I spoke of the vision we had with the ancestors. They should not take our word for this, we said, but rather should speak to their ancestors themselves. I explained that the wearing away of Sorikonia and their vows was what the vampires had in mind, or at least that was our interpretation of the vision. There was a prophecy of sorts as well, we said, but we had not been able to record it in full - perhaps they would find that they could.
Thus ended the meeting. I could have soared, for the joy inside me. There had been no need for fighting, either against the Maimed or each other; there had been no violent disagreement verbally, but rather quiet and reasonable discussion; and we had a course of action which perhaps we could take to release pressure from the problems that we faced. I had been cautiously optimistic about the meeting - but even then, I had not expected it to go so smoothly as it had.
Afterwards, Shailar stood and spoke to the militia. They conversed for several minutes; and then, Shailar came back to me, a grin spread wide upon her own face. They had wanted an apology; and they had wanted an acknowledgement for her actions. That was all. Not revenge, nor any kind of retaliation against her - just that. They had forgiven her, and then went upon their ways.
We all went to lunch at that time, for it was lunchtime - and a lunch well-earned. There was a great deal of celebration both within those present, and with others as we told to them the outcome of the meeting. Nevertheless, despite the lightness, there was a small corner of my mind reserved for worry - and that, as well, I shared with those companions who had joined us. The Maimed had not made an appearance at the meeting to attempt to assassinate us, as we had feared - so where were they? The thought began to take hold that, perhaps, something had taken all of them over, or had even outright destroyed them. It seemed not implausible; we have, in our own party, seen the way that cults operate, and it would likely be simple to take one over if one had the appropriate resources and charisma. That merited investigation, and we resolved to do so later in the day.
Shailar and I concluded our lunches quickly, then left for the honor testing halls. We had yet to take ours yet, and now that both of us were prepared to enter a class - for I had been somewhat further behind than Shailar in that respect - it was time to do so. At first, we spoke to Chen Panjue, and he tested Shailar; but upon learning our intentions for our honor test, he said that he could not test us, and sent us to the guild of our intent instead. There, we were presented with another form of honor test: rather than speak to our own honor, we had to find six people each who would speak on behalf of our honor for us. These six people could not be of the same social standing - each one had to be different from the rest.
The rest of lunch, we spent speaking to our companions and attempting to find those who would be willing to speak for us. I was surprised at how readily people agreed to do so; I had several people seek me out and say that they would speak for me before I had even begun to search (though half of those had been sent by Shailar). In the few spare minutes before we arrived at the inn again, we had all but one or two more to find who could speak for us.
Once more, the bubbling hubbub of voices rose and then quieted as we prepared, again, to face the taskboard and its missions. Before, however, we would be able to tend to these tasks, there was a celebration spoken of: the Tournament of Steps was concluding. The two finalists had been chosen, and would face off against one another just this hour in the final stage of the Tournament. It was a great celebration, and required attending by anyone who did not desire to see severe regressions in their honor. As such, the majority of us stood and began, once more talking cheerfully and freely, to the place where the Tournament was held.
The arena was just a ways out of town; we did not arrive unharried. On our way, we found our path blocked by a group of rather contestable Crab Clan seeking to fight for honor. I attempted to verbally dissuade them, though I do not believe I was heard; for an urukai who had accompanied us had already begun battle, as had many of my companions. Many of Crab Clan found themselves dead on the field due to the former mentioned - and then, we left. Inside myself, I was torn regarding my opinion of this. On the one side, the presence of Crab Clan angered me, for reasons that I shall explain later; and I hoped that death would make them rethink their actions. But I do not believe that killing is the right way to make someone do as one wishes, and could not find it in myself to support the actions of my companions in that instance.
Nevertheless, we continued on.
When we arrived at the arena, we found the seats full of the people of Sorikonia - both members of the commoners, and of the higher classes. They mingled as they chose seats, wove around one another, or attempted to procure refreshments from the merchants selling food and drink. As I seated myself, one such merchant came over and offered such things; having had just eaten lunch, I declined, and set him on his way.
Not long after, I was joined by one whom I had not seen before: at first he appeared to be an elf, but he walked with a hunched posture, and seemed to be a very undomesticated sort. This was confirmed shortly thereafter; he took his food from the fish in the stream, and saw no reason for why people would do such a think as cook our food. His name was Ghan’Kah. I spoke with him for a while, and bought him some food from a merchant so as to aid in his manners during such a ceremony. He attempted to return the favor, and handed me his raw half a fish; not wishing to upset him, I tucked it away inside my bag and explained that I was not hungry now, but would partake later.
The final spectators settled themselves, the two finalists entered the arena. I recognized them: one was Attano; the other was (Richard). They were joined by none other than Li Tiesha. Though the arena was large, and the voices muttering many, we had no trouble hearing her; I would imagine that some sort of magic, or perhaps simply vocal techniques, were employed to achieve this. She welcomed us to the Tournament of the Steps, and then, citing that she was “supposed to give some kind of speech”, began about the origins of the tournament.
She was of Li - of Fire Clan, she said. Especially in light of recent history, people know fire for its militant ways; for its destructive form, and its violent nature. But that was not all that fire was; she said - fire was also passion. And that fire was passion is something that, all too often, people forget. When the first Sorikonians arrived on the island early in Roekron history, they had to fight to win the island for themselves - and win, they did. To take it from what dwelt there at the time is not something that one fights without the passion that comes with believing in what one is doing. That is why, she said, we have the Tournament - so as to commemorate, every hundred years, the fighting that their ancestors had to do to win Sorikonia, and to celebrate skill in those arts as the need rises to defend it again and again.
As she spoke, I listened - and I looked. Now that people were not moving around so much, I curiously watched the people of Sorikonia for their reactions. That is what I do - for all that the nobles are important, so too are the poorest of citizens, and it tells a great deal of the matters at hand how those two groups react to one another. One man I caught watching me as well - though when I saw him doing so, he turned his head quickly. Something seemed off about him, but... I was unsure of what.
I looked further - there was another man I caught looking at me. He glanced at me, fingering the hilt at his weapon; a brief inspection, and then he turned away. As he turned, I caught a glimpse of what should have been an ear buried in his hair: it was not there. All that was left was an empty, severed hole; and rather than blood, it oozed a black substance that reeked of morganti.
The Maimed. They were here.
I scrambled to my feet - difficult, in my dress and in my haste - and found Shailar, not too far away. I ran over to her and said, “Shailar. We’re leaving. Now.” In my panic, my tongue was too tied to mention that we were surrounded by Maimed Cult - and I wish it had not been so.
Eyes were beginning to draw towards me. Shailar was confused, and taking her time in getting up; I urged her to stand faster. Others began to rile themselves and stand, wondering what was happening. Li Tiesha stopped her speech, saying with the vague hint of a question, “Oh - there appears to be a problem in the back?”
In the next moment, false crowd-goers stood and drew their blades; and with them, there was the soul-aching fear that comes with unsheathed morganti. I took Shailar, who was finally on her feet, and ran.
What happened in the next minute or so, I do not know - we were running, and I was too frightened to pause and consider what had just happened. Some ways away, we paused for breath; and it was in that moment that I realized that we could not run. We must go back and help. Shailar and I, and the one or two others who had followed us, turned on our heels and raced back, weapons out and ready to face that which was there.
The Maimed had struck fast, and left just as quickly; by the time we reached the arena again, the tide of their members had receded. I looked around in the chaos, searching for people struck down with morganti. I will be ever-grateful that no-one was wounded for true - there were no bodies on the ground. But I saw four different people who had been morganti-hacked in various places around their bodies - arms, eyes, legs, and the like. There were others who were injured or hacked, but only so with mundane weapons; and those injuries were being seen to.
Upon seeing my return, a crowd of people began to flock around me. “How did you know?” some asked, eyes wide with wonder. One took it so far as to ask me where my third eyes was; it was in my head, I responded, a smile in my words. A number of people came also to profess their gratefulness, thanking me for the forewarning I had given and some saying, in these words, “You saved my life! I am in your debt, Kioriel.”
It was strange, I thought. I dealt with this crowd as I would any others: I checked to make certain they were all right, and spoke calmly and humbly, saying that I had done only what any would do in my situation. For I had done very little; only made use of my eyes and my mind, and done as I always do in being curious about the people around me. That was not so much; and something that any person can do.
At that time, guards came rushing up the hill, asking what had happened. I explained the situation very briefly, then said that if there were trackers amongst the guards, they should make use of their skills immediately and try to locate where the Maimed had gone - for they could not have gotten far, in this time. The guard nodded and rushed back to others of his companions to arrange that such a thing be done. This done, I seated myself; one of the women whose arm had been morganti-hacked was seated near me. I shifted closer to her, and asked how she was aside from her arm; she seemed shaken, understandably. I took some cloth and helped her bandage the wound and its new mark of ever-running black ooze; and we conversed, quietly, with the mutterings and nervous fluttering of others around us.
Li Tiesha’s voice cut through the chaos - amplified, again, by some invisible means. We settled ourselves as she called for quiet and called for calm. What should be done now?, she asked. This was an important celebration, but it had been interrupted by drastic events. It could either be continued now - not to be deterred by these events - or it could be postponed until a later time, when protections could be re-set. A vote was called amongst those gathered; and the decision was almost unanimous that the tournament be continued now in spite of the actions of the Maimed.
Once more, Attano and (Richard) faced each other. They took their seating on the ground as Li Tiesha drew away and prepared to count for them. With the first count, it began, and they moved to their feet, one blade drawn and one not. It was a dramatic battle to follow; both were skilled, as they should be to have been placed in such a tournament. Towards the end, the score was two against two, followed by a tie hit which had to be re-done. At last, (Richard) landed a hit on Attano that the latter could not counter; and so, the duel was ended, with (Richard) the victor.
Grin spread wide on her face, Li Tiesha moved forward and began to speak. “The winner!” she said, indicating (Richard); and there was a thunder of applause in the crowd as, for a moment, the attack of the Maimed was forgotten. Now was for the reward. Attano, as the runner-up, would be given something to the effect of a magic item, or an imbue towards the creation of the same. (Richard) was given one favor with the Martial Masters - and its use, he had to decide in that moment, there and then, in front of the crowd.
He thought for a moment; then said, “I choose to use my favor on the creation of a pacifist defense force for Sorikonia.”
Shailar and I turned towards one another, smiles on our eyes and our lips. To think! First the meeting with the militia, and now this! We joined the cheer that arose from our companions as they responded to (Richard)’s decision. Perhaps things were not so bleak as they seemed after all.
The crowd began to file out of the stands, our own among them. In small groups here and there, we traveled back to the inn to continue with our task-taking; along the way, there was much discussion - both black and bitter, and bright and hope-filled - of what had happened in the arena. On our way back, we asked other guards what the casualty rate had been in other parts of the area’s crowd; and, thankfully, it seemed that we had been seated amongst some of the worst of it. There were not nearly as many injuries in other places.
We returned to the inn; and, though there was much to be done, most of the discussion that followed was focused around the Maimed Cult. What? How? When? were the questions asked - for it seemed already-decided that this was the correct course of action to take. A group of some half of our number left shortly thereafter, thinking to track down some of the Maimed and teach them a lesson in their turn. I did not go with them. For us to follow them, I thought, would be what they desired from this - how could they not see that this would happen? If their intent was for us to track them, they would be ready to wreak further damage upon us. Furthermore, the mutterings in the group that left were of revenge; and that is not one of the feelings upon which I base my decisions. Myself, and those companions who thought similarly, turned our sights to other tasks.
For a time, we waited on the chance that our companions would return shortly; they did not, so we discussed what we would do in the time until they returned. We split into two further small groups: one to face down Crab Clan, who had been challenging people to honor-duels all across the island; and the other to tend to the north road, where goods had been vanishing since the apparent vampiric brownie had been released in the area. Dedoric, Oliver, and others joined that group; Shailar, Urun, and myself went to Crab Clan.
It was my intent to speak to a group - as I had attempted to previously - and, shall we say, make clear in many words that they were not welcome here. Or, to put it somewhat more bluntly, I intended to yell at them. Most of those handful gathered to accompany me were not there to attend to the mission, precisely; that was my intent, not theirs. Rather, they seemed rather curious to attend to the spectacle of me yelling. I do not think that any of them have heard me raise my voice before; and certainly not in anger. Such a thing is rather dichotomous with the form of myself I usually present to the world at large, and to see that form disrupted is apparently worth spectacle.
We set out; on our path to the most recent seeing of Crab Clan, we happened upon a man. As is polite, we talked with him; it would seem that he had just come from the area in which Crab Clan had been, and was somewhat disgusted with their actions. We spoke of our intent to him, and he said with a light in his eyes that he would come; for he was a courtesan and a diplomat, and might be able to help us. For the rest of the walk, he and Shailar and myself talked and played at our trades with one another. It was fun in its own way - and a welcome break from the more serious matters at hand.
Soon thereafter, we saw Crab Clan. They were not engaged in combat at the moment; good. Perhaps we could avoid that start. I handed my staff to Shailar, and our newfounded companion handed his staff to Urun; and together, we proceeded ahead of our group - who hung back to watch - and approached our quarry.
I don’t have the exact transcript of the conversation. In sum, it went something like this: I yelled at them for daring to come to a pacifist nation and incite violence, especially amongst a people already battered by the Dark City and other forces. I made clear - as I had before - that if their intent was violence, they could pack up and return to the mainland immediately, for they were not welcome in this place. They countered, at first hefting weapons, and later somewhat more meekly; saying that they were challenging no people who did not accept of their own free will. Were I one to use strong language, I would have called them on their words according to the strength with which was deserved - for what kind of free will is that tainted by intimidation?
Meanwhile, our companion was laying down the law - far more calmly, I might add, than was I. He spoke of the vows of Sorikonia, and of what was and was not to be done, and of the rules about honor challenges according to the Martial Masters. By the time we were done, the Crab Clan seemed somewhat checked; they had made a half-promise to speak with their commander, who should in turn work their presence out with the ruling body of Sorikonia.
We began back towards Sashi Eten. He and I were handed our respective weapons; and the three of us - Shailar, him, and myself - continued to make coquettish plays at one another on our way back. At the gate, we parted ways, with the promise of dinner at some future time; and we made our way back to the inn. In less formal company, now, I contemplated other undertones that had shot through that encounter - not brought by them, but brought by me. The reason it is a spectacle to see me yell is that I so rarely feel or have need to do so, or the desire to act upon it. What is it about this place - this island, this culture, this people - that moves me so deeply that I will raise my voice in anger at those who pose a would-be threat to it? I have since thought a great deal on the subject, but will not include such thoughts here, for this entry has become long enough as it is.
Our group was the first to return. The group with the boxes had not yet come back - as is sensible, for they had a longer way to travel - and neither had the group that had gone to find the Maimed. As time moved on and we sat in silence, I began to worry on the latter. What if something had happened to them?
Yet soon after I began my ponderings, the group dealing with the stolen goods on the north road returned. As the group last month had done so, they seemed greatly confused, and unsure themselves of what exactly had transpired. Dedoric, at the least, was in great spirits; for he had managed to smack the brownie before it had time to shift away, despite being unable to see it. Mostly, the group settled themselves into ours quietly; and since, I have never gotten the full story, mostly because those involved seem not to be able to grasp what exactly that was. It is clear that something is playing with the minds of those who attempt to stop it... but how? Why? ...Whatever this is becomes more troublesome by the month. Still; they had returned mostly unharmed this time. And so, it was with quiet that we awaited the eventual return of the Maimed-hunters.
And, at last - just before the setting of the sun - they did.
It was worse - far worse - than what injuries the had sustained at the Tournament of the Steps. I could count; every few people sported a morganti hack somewhere on their body, and in some cases even multiple hacks. Further than that, some showed not just hacks, but entire sections of their body which had been sliced off in one smooth line - wounds given, not by blades, but by filaments. There had been three, they said; three in the cave where the Maimed was waiting, marked in ways that the Cult understood but at the time the adventurers did not. Thus ensued battle - and encounters with those same filaments - and that left them in this state.
Was it worth it? In the inn from then on, there have been many mutterings - voices speaking softer, and deeper, and blacker, of what should be done to the Maimed now that this has happened. I have watched my companions struggle to go about their daily lives since: to walk up and down stairs without crumpling to a heap, or to try to learn how to wield a sword or pen with their non-dominant hand, or do a myriad of similar tasks that they could once perform with ease. Some want sympathy, and to them I give it; and some want to pretend that it doesn’t exist, and to them, I acquiesce to their wishes as well. But that does not change that it has happened; nor does it change the reasons for which it happened.
I do not believe in revenge. Or rather, I believe that it exists, but I do not believe in it as a path to follow, at least for myself. How could I, when all too often it leads to such things as this? The Maimed make their attacks as an outburst of revenge upon the state which they perceive as having done nothing to prevent their wounds, or the wounds of their loved ones; and their revenge causes revenge in turn, when those who have been wounded in turn find kindled in themselves the desire to bite back. The cycle continues, and as it does so, grows stronger and stronger as the wounds accumulate higher with time.
I believe in discourse. I believe in speaking, and especially in listening, and in attempting to come together to fix the problems of all - rather than to separate and begin to attack one another for each of our problems. That is why we planned the meeting with the militia and others; that is why I chose to yell at Crab Clan, rather than attempt to defeat them for honor. Both served me well, for those issues are now somewhat calmer - but then, that is because that is my way of doing things. The same path will not work for everyone, and I know this. We must all follow the paths which speak to us - but to do so, we must rely not only on the immediate urgings of our feelings, but also time and distance and careful consideration to see if this is truly what is right. I cannot help but think that many wounds could have been prevented that day if others followed the same notion.
I do not begrudge them for the choices they have made - for that was their choice, and their price to bear. But that doesn’t mean that I feel no sadness for what has befallen here - on either end. There is just as much mourning and sympathy to be felt for the Maimed as there is for my companions; for though we may not agree with them, they have felt this pain as well, and that is why things are as they are. Perhaps there is no other way to deal with the Maimed than to carry through with the promises made already by vengeful lips - and if that is so, so be it. I would urge those who continue along that path, however, to remember that the Maimed are humans and elves and the like as well - and that they do this for a reason, and that that reason is not so dissimilar from their own than they would like to think.
That is all I should say on the subject, for this has run longer and longer as I let my ink run free upon the page. This is what has happened “today” - or rather, that day, for it has taken me some days to finish this. Many seeds were set in place, and of many types and temperaments; and we will see, in the days to come, which ones shall grow and what fruits they will deliver. I hope that not all will be so bleak as that which we encountered today.
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