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[h2]The Reconquest 2 - Stories from a War-Torn Land[/h2]
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[hr]
[sub][i]Year 29AA, in the fortified fishing village of Scawick, situated on shore northeast of Ha-Dûna...[/i][/sub]

It had been hard to get Scawick to join the Dûnan forces, - even harder, perhaps, had it been to have the village function as the second headquarters for the resistance against the Sigeran influence. The Scawicks were Dûnans once, among the first to emigrate from the settlement proper only five years after its founding. Led by the Old Elk Scawick, this small band of eight or so families ventured out east to the shores north of Ha-Dûna, where they lived in peace and quiet reaping the fruits of the land and sea. 

That was until the Conquests, anyway. The druids weren’t always so clear on the fact that many of the tribes slaughtered during the conquests two years ago had, in fact, been Dûnan descendants - barely even one generation apart. Many had recognised each other, even in the heat of battle, but the mentality of the raging mob can sway even the strongest hearts. Those few who insisted on laying down their arms so they would not strike another Dûnan were themselves struck down. Before every assault, there would always be those who snuck over to the villages to warn them of the impending attacks - many of these were caught and executed for treason; sometimes, though, they got away with it scot-free. 

Boudicca had, and she was remembered for it. The assault on Scawick hadn’t been as destructive as others exactly because the townsfolk had escaped before the break of dawn and avoided most of the raiders. Many houses had been burned to the ground, but the lack of opposition had meant the assault itself had spared much of what would normally have been used for barricades, improvised safehouses and walls. Only a quarter of Scawick had fallen to the torch - not a single inhabitant had been killed. The following winter had been harsh, as the larders had all been emptied, and many had starved or been forced to cannibalise their dead. The wounds still ran deep, and the Dûnans who had participated in the Conquests felt the Scawicks’ eyes burn at their skin with every turn.

Only Boudicca was accepted amongst them, though her role as the mediator between the tribes put her in a precarious position. Frequently, she had to pull apart Scawicks and Dûnans who were at each other's’ throats over the pettiest things - a Dûnan had an extra ladle of herbal gruel; a Scawick got a little too cheeky with their tone; even something so insignificant as exchanging the wrong looks could ignite a street brawl with many casualties.

A month had passed since they had heard anything from the west - the Sigerans were tired, broken. Boudicca and the rest knew they only really had to wait and their victory would be within their grasp. However, even the raids for supplies had grown scarcer. They were planning something…

[hr]

[sub][i]Meanwhile in Ha-Dûna...[/i][/sub]

Ragnar sat on the steps of what had once been a prominent glassworks - only ghosts lived in its dusty halls now. It sat a mere hundred paces from the palisade gates to the inner city, though “city” was hardly a term for it anymore: Ha-Dûna was barely inhabited these days; most of the Sigerans had, in fact, deserted or passed away. Ragnar the Black Hog and his Stone Boars were the only real soldiers left in the ruins; staying around was a death sentence, after all - unfit for anyone but warriors fighting for…

For what, really? Ragnar asked himself.

The Dûnans had every advantage, even more than they knew about: Their chain of command had been shattered weeks ago - Teagan laid weak in bed, starvation finally catching up to her, too; the need to raid to sustain themselves had left their forces scattered and unorganised; they had no way of replenishing lost warriors, as they had no allies anywhere. 

Ragnar plucked a straw from the ground and placed it between his teeth. giving it a pensive chew. Maybe he should just take his men and leave? Their talents were too good to be wasted dying for some fanatical cause, anyway - they’d find work somewhere else.

He heard footsteps approaching from around the corner. Ragnar’s shadowed eyes rolled rightwards, homing in on the corner. He gave the straw another chew and spat it out. “Karstein, did you bring some gruel for me, too? I’m starvin’.”

“No, afraid not - little to cook gruel off of in these ravaged lands,” came an unfamiliar voice like satin. Ragnar quickened to his feet and reached for the worn copper axe on his belt. His hands grew weak when he saw the voice’s owner turn the corner. It was humanoid, no doubt about it, but it was tall - enormous, even. Boudicca and Frode both had no chance to even compare to this size. Its skin was pale, bleak, even, as though it belonged to a corpse, with hair blacker than coal running down to its bear chest. Most notably, however, was its grand wings - spanning a greater length than it itself was tall - sprouting out its back. The creature looked similar to a man in every respect save for those, and it offered Ragnar a sly smirk. “Why, you look positively shook, humani - paler than me, almost.”

“W-what--...” Ragnar, who had barely ever known the sensation of fear, replied in a quivering voice.

“[i]What[/i] am I, I reckon you’re asking? Quite rude, as far as opening questions go - I am very much a person, you know, so the correct thing to ask first would be ‘[i]who[/i] are you’. But fine, I will answer the question to put your simple humani mind to rest. I am aiviri, a son of Neiya and Oraelia - though I suppose my lighter siblings would call me neiyari…” He huffed somewhat.

“Wh-wha?” Ragnar offered again, but was interrupted by a ‘ssh!’

“Again with the rudeness, by the Goddess!” The neiyari exhaled some hot air and rubbed his right temple. “I can see you are only more confused, so I will introduce myself to you, as well, as a bonus before… Well, we’ll get there.”

The warrior began to back away slowly. Others had caught the black angel in their sights and were hunkering down in wary preparation for a fight. The neiyari cleared his throat. “I am Annihilari, eternal servant of the Goddess and consort of her holy child, Aveira, my heart and soul.” He posed triumphantly with a fist in the air and his wings spread out. “I was sent away on a quest to bring more servants until her glorious heel, and that was when I stumbled upon this… Humble village.”

“Don’t make light of our plight, demon!” came a sharp exclamation from the back. Annihilari turned to smirk.

“Wo-ho, a rebel, I see. Well, nothing quite like putting down the uprisers on the first day.” He reached down to his hip, around which was tied a skin belt holding aloft his linen pants. A mighty flash blinded the nearest Sigerans and those in the back joined in as the angel unfurled a terrifying whip of light and cracked it against the ground. The dry grass growing on the dirt road was immediately singed to a crisp. “Now, who was it that called me a demon?”

“Wait!” shouted Ragnar and lifted his hands up in the air. Annihilari rolled his eyes.

“Would a ‘please’ kill you?”

“Please! Don’t- don’t kill us! We, we barely have enough to scavenge for food without letting those, those… The [i]others[/i] come and take our, our…” He looked away, unable to meet the smirking aiviri’s eyes.

“My, my,” mumbled the angel and hid his inferno of a whip behind a wing. “Is your home under threat from an outside force, hmm?”

“You’re here to enslave us, yes?” Ragnar continued. Annihilari’s smirk turned to a furious snarl for a second and he spread his wings in a mighty challenge.

“Do not belittle my motivation as some simple prisoner run, you measly worm, you unwashed ape!” He then shrunk back together again and cleared his throat. “But that about sums it up, yes.”

Ragnar and the others, on the other hand, tried their best to grow back into something resembling an upright position. “W-well… I-if you help us against our enemies, then, then we will come with you freely. No, no need to kill anyone and, well, me and my men, specifically, can probably offer you some support in battle if you--”

“I don’t think so, insect,” he muttered. Ragnar shrunk a little and the others around began to say their prayers. Annihilari rolled his eyes again. “Although, I suppose Aveira would prefer her servants to be alive and well - she has such a good heart, my love.” He sighed dreamily. “So be it, you hapless parasite. Me and my followers will spare you and aid you in your troubles in exchange for your cooperation.”

“Wait, followers?!” came a shout. Annihilari put his smirk back on.

“Why, of course! These are dangerous lands - one should never travel alone.” As he finished his sentence, there came fourteen more like him, both males and females, descending from the sky. The Sigerans quivered behind cover and Ragnar swallowed. How much more would they suffer?

[hr]

The northern border of Ha-Dûna was scarcely protected at this point - with the limited manpower and shattered morale, the Sigerans were forced to keep their warriors fixed on the fronts most likely to be attacked - those being the south and east. The north was offered a single guard, one who often needed a companion to make sure they wouldn’t defect as soon as their shift began. A lone spearman sat atop the large rock designated as the watch spot, scouting the vast, hilly highlands which were beginning to whiten with the first autumn snow. Not a soul would wander these plains nowadays, save maybe for elk herds and wild goats.

However, today, the spearman spotted something vastly different.

At first, he thought it was an elk, its head was elk-like that's for sure, minus the skin, but the rest sure as all Dûna wasn’t. It walked upright, merely strolling without a care in the world, but its legs were hooved. The being wore haggard clothing, a long cloak, tunic, and pants that looked sewn together from various clothes and he could see the image of a pack on their back. The most concerning portions were the head, which looked like an elk-skull put onto a human body, with wicked sharp teeth sitting within its mouth instead and dried blood caked upon it, and the rusted and bloodied scythe that was held in their left hand. 

In essence, he saw what he could only assume was an utter demonic entity. 

The spearman ran - or at least that’s what his brain told him to do. His feet had frozen completely to the ground, and his quivering hands could barely keep a proper grip around the shaft of his weapon. He only stood there, watching as the monster came closer and closer.

Soon enough, it stood a few scant feet from him, its breath was heavy and haggard and the small dim eyes he could see within its empty sockets stared at him with hunger and fury. 

[color=8a0303]”Ha...Dûna...”[/color] A voice rang out, its voice he believed, it was deep and harsh, and further scared him to his spot. 

The spearman lifted a quivering finger pointing southwards, gesturing to a thin, rocky path leading up into the hills.

[color=8a0303]”Thank...you…”[/color] Its voice rang out once more, as it continued its trudging walk, going past the guard with little care, its scythe carving its own small ditch behind them. As they continued up the path, stone and grass started sprouting the ruins of abandoned farms and broken huts. Scavenging wolverines stealthed between the buildings with bones in their mouths; animal skeletons stripped bare down to the marrow littered the corners of the path; fields that would have been at the end of their ripeness cycle at this time, though still quite plump, had been picked down to the straw by rabid locusts. The land was, by all means, alive - but it was a desert to anything living off of it. The ruins formed a small hamlet, and further along the path, the monster could see the broken houses grow numerous, until its eyes set upon the peak of the hill, where the edge of the ghost town Ha-Dûna truly came into view. The creature cared not for the destruction around it, it had called them yes, but the city was its focus. 

As it advanced into the city, the houses became better maintained, though the general condition bordered heavily on close to collapse. Around it, starved people dared to look upon it before ducking back into hiding. It wasn’t until the creature had reached the city centre, there in front of the palisades to the core district, that people actively stared at it. Here, the density of people was great enough that, while none felt safe, they could at least rely on each other for a smidge of protection - or so they believed, anyway. A winged humanoid landed on the ground before the gate, a radiant whip held readily in his right hand. 

“Halt, creature - what business have you here?”

[color=8a0303]”Called...forth...why you, here?”[/color] The creature looked around as it spoke, staring down the starved people, the hunger called inside them, but these people were worth nothing to them, this winged being though called its attention. The master was ever curious in their quest here. 

The black angel pursed his lips. “I am here on royal decree by my love Aveira - I am Annihilari, her consort - sent to claim more land for the Goddess. Who called you?”

[color=8a0303]”The Master...lord of tragedy and ruin…”[/color] the beast once more looked around, and chuckled [color=8a0303]”You...claim this land?...not worth...it…”[/color] they spoke, looking straight at Annihilari. The neiyari frowned.

“Alright, maybe not the land, but the people inhabiting it will become servants of Aveira once the southern threat has been dealt with.” He twirled his whip around slowly. “Now, why were you called here? If you serve the Lord of Ruin, then we do not wish to fight you - however, if you are out for blood, we will not hesitate to strike you down.” From inside the city core, fourteen more angels took to the skies.

The creature laughed at the angel’s display [color=8a0303]”Winged flesh does...not scare me..the Master...has called me here...don’t know why...I...do not care...I hunger for feast...and feast alone...but...these...people...lack in feast…”[/color] The beast stared once more at the starving people, his hunger was slowly growing, the elk he had eaten before coming here were not filling enough, but he knew these people wouldn’t be either. 

The Sigerans cowered away from the two. “Please! We just want to live in peace! We’ve suffered enough for our sins - we just want to be left alone!” Annihilari rolled his eyes and sighed.

“They’re so broken that it’s hardly fun anymore. If you’re going to go on a rampage, take it southwards - the prey there’s much more fun to play with, I reckon.”

[color=8a0303]”South...wards”[/color] The beast looked vaguely in that direction [color=8a0303]”What...is...southwards?”[/color] knowing there was, tastier, prey made him consider this ‘quest’ less of a lost cause. 

Annihilari shrugged. “From what these people have told me over the last two days we’ve been here, ‘the believers in the false gods’ live to the south, readying themselves to attack at any point. They are vastly more numerous than these people here, and much better armed - and better fed. Really, it’s a wonder that these people haven’t surrenderyet.” The Sigerans around shrunk together. Some began to cry. “Oh, shut up,” Annihilari muttered.

The beast scoffed, then slowly shook his head [color=8a0303]"Large...Armed...dangerous hunt...could not...damage in ways that mattered."[/color] He slowly drew his scythe upwards, resting it upon his left shoulder [color=8a0303]"Better...to stay here...or hunt...surrounding area...lack of food...could be...solved…"[/color]

“Food?! Do you know where there’s food?!” came desperate pleas from the humans, all of whom instantly grew much friendlier towards the monster.

He chuckled [color=8a0303]"Yes...but...must...broaden term...food"[/color] He gazed at the frightened villagers, then slowly looked up at the angels [color=8a0303]"If...provide help...could assist...winged flesh...and these...people"[/color]

The Sigerans fell to their knees. “Anything! Anything! We’re starving!”

[color=8a0303]"Are...there...any villages...or small groups...nearby?"[/color]

The humans immediately lost some vigour and exchanged anxious looks. One of them stood a little taller. “No, not many left… Closest would… Would be Fianneck, but that’ll take us too close to Scawick.”

“The infidels have a strong presence there,” added another.

[color=8a0303]”I see….”[/color] He looked back up towards the angels, and directed the lead one [color=8a0303]”How….quiet...are winged flesh?”[/color]

“Quiet enough,” muttered Annihilari in response. “Don’t doubt our ability to ambush our foes.”

The beast nodded [color=8a0303]”Very...good...two...or three...winged flesh with me....if quick and quiet enough...could get some food...might not be much...but it could be enough to satiate...for time until i gather...info for better hunts.”[/color]

The neiyari exchanged looks. “What, do you expect us to carry grain and cattle through the sky like some birds?”

“Oh, please, please - help us! We’ll die otherwise!” pleaded the humans. The neiyari got busy shoving away the most desperate, who were busily reaching for and aiming to kiss their feet.

“Ugh! Yuck, fine! Fine, we’ll do it. Just - get off!” Annihilari kicked a boney girl off of his leg and dusted himself off with an eyeroll. “Destrura, Pathora, come with me. Lead the way, monster.”

The beast chuckled at the neiyari, but focused himself upon the humans [color=8a0303]”Which direction...is Fianneck?”[/color]

“Due east! Due east!”

“Due east, apparently,” came a mumble from the one either named Destrura or Pathora, who balanced her hands atop a pommel of a sheathed greatsword of sunlight. Annihilari sighed.

“Well, let’s get going, then - wouldn’t want the peasantry to starve.”

[color=8a0303]”Yes...let's...come winged flesh”[/color] The beast turned eastward, heading off, merely just expecting the neiyari to follow behind. The neiyari reluctantly followed along, though one could practically taste the bitterness in the air trailing them.

[hr] 

[i][sub]Further south, at Kirin’s Rest...[/sub][/i]

Within the stone walls, the city was overflowing with people and activity. Workers milled about, constantly needing to retrofit and repair houses and build upwards adding new stories connected by a hole in a cellar and a ladder loosely bound to the wall. Poles and other rudimentary support was used to hold up much of the town from collapsing in on itself, with was not an all too uncommon occurrence, however those who started making their life in the city knew to avoid buildings marked with red paint by the Midnight Watchers. 

The market district is a clutter of stalls and baskets, mostly run by the third or fourth son of a farmer or craftsman selling their families goods. Rudimentary copper and silver coins were eagerly exchanged. The concept travelling along with the ever-shifting pilgrimage of the guiding lights to this remote corner of the highlands. 

Kaer Pier eyed sourly a rack of elk jerky while scratching his stubbed jaw in annoyance. “Can you believe this, Valix? They want copper clumps in exchange for meat! Why, what manner of self-respecting druid carries metals in their pockets? Stones, I can understand - Boris can appreciate the odd spreading of gravel - but metal?”

“Yes, father,” responded the warrior Valix politely. They had been travelling to Kirin’s Rest by the long way, passing through as many villages on the way to garner support for the Dûnan cause. Now that they were finally here, though, they had hit a dead end: The leader of the ally they had hoped the most to recruit, the druids of the Guiding Lights circle, had yet to show themselves. This had Kaer Pier at the tip of his toes in frustration.

“Yes, that one - no, no, yea-- That one! Yes, thank you. One copper p--... I don’t--... Valix, do you carry any on you?” The druid’s palm flexed and unflexed its finger beckoningly like flower petals on the wind. The warrior suppressed a sigh and produced a bone carving - it was a figurine of an animal, a boar; it was masterfully carven, a product of weeks of work. Kaer Pier, as well as the merchant, both gave it a frown. “What’s this?”

“A boar, father. I carved it myself.”

“Is it copper, Valix?”

The warrior couldn’t suppress this sigh. “No, father. It’s bone.”

“The merchant didn’t ask for bone, though, did he?”

“Now, hold on,” mumbled the merchant behind them and snapped his fingers at the figurine. Kaer Pier handed it to him and he gave it a close look. “You said you wanted one piece of jerky for this?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I did. Does nobody listen in this town?” Heads around began to turn and frown. Valix sighed yet again. The merchant seemed unfazed.

“Well, I’m willing to take this if that’s all you want. Here you go.” The merchant handed Kaer Pier a slab of rockhard meat. “Have a good day, and may hope never leave you!”

The archdruid seemed to calm down and nodded his polite farewells before walking off, followed closely by Valix. “What was -that- all about? If he was willing to take other things, why not just say so from the beginning?”

“I believe my figurine could’ve fetched a higher price if we had sold it first,” added Valix matter-of-factly. Kaer Pier rolled his eyes.

“Southerners…”

The pair continued to peruse the town in search of temples or prayer houses to Seeros. Their search wasn’t very long, however, for as soon as they turned the corner of the jerky peddler’s shoppe, they were greeted by a sight that stole the breath from them both. It was a tower - the tallest structure any of them had seen - standing at least twelve men tall (no, fifteen!) and being built entirely out of stone. Kaer Pier staggered backwards at the sight and Valix tightened his grip about his spear shaft as though it calmed his nerves.

“By the gods,” whispered the archdruid, “is… Is that a tower?”

“That must’ve been what we saw from the outskirts. I thought my eyes were being cheated by weariness.” Valix gestured at it. “If their leader is here, I cannot think of any other place they would be.”

The druid whispered a small prayer. “A s-sensible assumption.” He swallowed. “You mean we have to climb that thing?”

“If heights make you uncomfortable--...”

“I have never been able to stare over the edge of the Cléanclippe, you know… Do you know what that’s like when we offer sacrifices over there?”

“I can only imagine,” mumbled the warrior and walked on ahead. The archdruid followed reluctantly.

The tower had no door, but standing in front of it, two men crossed their spears to prevent anyone from stumbling into it. Glaring into it, it appeared as the first room had small shrines to each of the gods with a staircase wrapping around the floor leading to the next. 

“Blessings of the gods upon you both,” greeted the archdruid and bowed curtly - not so much as to not compromise his station, however. Valix hammered his chest and bowed deeper. “We have travelled far with the humble intent to meet with the great leader of your Circle. Ha-Dûna is in peril, and we pray we may establish the old bonds our two sects shared before the betrayal of the Sigerans. Pray tell, is the archdruid at home?”

One of the guards, a younger man, almost shuttered out, “Archdruid at” before the other guard deathly glared at him and spoke up, “Please, step inside.” looking the younger soldier harshly again, “The attendants of the Nightward Tower will be with you shortly.” He said,  lowering his spear before deeply bowing and walking inside, while his companion started the climb upwards. 

The two nodded their thanks and, as they were left to wait, Kaer Pier offered a sigh of relief. “Thank the gods, they are coming to us!”

“Yes, father.”

After the wait, the young spearman, slightly patting, announced “Constellar Cionn and Watcher Gal are descending.” following him down to the ground floor was Cionn, wearing her constellar robes, Gal who wore black robes with a white crescent moon emblem on his left shoulder and various white dots throughout, and another soldier who wore more impressive armor than the other two guards and carried a bronze spear. 

As she stepped down from the final step, she bowed every so slightly, “Hello, welcome to the Nightward Tower of Kirin’s Rest. Why did the stars bring you on this journey?” 

Kaer Pier returned the bow, and Valix repeated the hammering of the chest and bent a knee. “Constellar, it is an honour,” greeted the archdruid. “May the Eight grant their warmest blessings on yourself, your family and all the wonderful villagers of Kirin’s Rest. I am Kaer Pier, archdruid of Ha-Dûna and officer of the Reconquest Army. I am joined by my trusty companion, Valix of Leothe, and together, we have come to reforge those broken bonds of old in an alliance against the Sigeran menace.”

“I am sorry. I do not have the authority required to help you in this manner.” Her eyes glanced away slightly and her voice became the slightest bit uneasy, “I was granted the greatest honor to attend to this holy place.” 

“But, I have no greater power than any other Constellar. To claim otherwise would be transgressing the law of thirds. You are free to attempt to rally the citizens or other Constellars to your cause, however it may be more difficult than you seem to think. The Sigeran’s are withering while we are building and growing. Few here want to throw away their future for the memories of the past.” 

The archdruid’s polite smile faltered immediately. “Do you mean to say that there is no chain of command here? Who do we talk to to bring Kirin’s Rest back into the fold, into the great family of Ha-Dûna?”

Cionn paused, “We are not without law, but it is not the Constellars who impose it. You can speak with the Queen, however, she is a native of this land and she did not think well of Ha-Dûna before the invasions.” 

The archdruid’s face immediately excreted a layer of cold sweat. “Oh, a native…” He drew a deep breath. “I suppose we will have to try. It truly is a shame, though - we were so hoping for your assistance in this matter; the Constellar’s assistance.”

The ever-quiet Gal broke the silence, his voice was only barely above a whisper but still clearly audible, “Do not despair in this place of hope. The stars will move with you to battle, but that is where my sight ends.” 

Kaer Pier raised a brow. “You must have good favour with great Seeros if you have such a sight, my son.”

He replied without an ounce of irony or malice, “I do.” 

To this, the archdruid nodded politely. “Well, if there is nothing we can do, then, we will try our luck with the queen. I-...” He pursed his lips. “If the great kirin is asleep somewhere up there, present it an offering from me, please. I would have died had it not been for its rescue, so I am eternally indebted to it, and to Seeros.”

Cionn nodded affirmatively. 

Gal took a cloth that was stashed within his sleeve and wrapped it around his eyes as a blindfold, “Please, follow me. I will take you to the Queen.” The Dûnans did as they were asked and followed along.

The watcher guided them through the narrow streets and tight corners of the city, easily navigating through it, avoiding uneven patches of ground and even some loose debris with ease. The streets were rather crowded, but they seemed to try to do their best to walk around him in equal parts respect and apprehension. 

As they moved through the city, they reached a part of the city where there hardly any of the multi-story buildings common to the rest of it. Gal guided them to the largest of these single story buildings and rested his hand on the door before waiting a few moments, “You may enter.” 

Kaer Pier took a deep breath. Valix’s stone face hardened further. “I’m not looking forward to this,” the archdruid muttered as they stepped inside.

“Right behind you, father,” the guard whispered politely.

Stepping forward was an uneasy feeling, as the ground was sloped downward slightly, with at the far back a woman sat on a throne of stones, beside her another much younger watcher by her side whispering something quietly to her. Above her painted on the wall was the visage of a boar. As they entered, she boisterously shouted, “And so the mighty Ha-Dûnans come to us for aid? The gods tell us to wipe out the festering wound that is the Sigerians, but why shouldn’t we salt the earth as we leave and be done with it.” 

The archdruid frowned. “Great queen, we are honoured to be allowed into your house - under the rules of hospitality as dictated by the gods.” Valix sucked quietly on a tooth in disapproval.

“You don’t have to worry about me killing you.” she said, casually looking over to her crudely made but battle-tested club, “I won’t want to have your blood soaked over my nice floors. But tell me, why should we help you rebuild Ha-Dûna. When has Ha-Dûna ever been anything other than a blight on the highlands?” 

The archdruid raised a brow. “I wouldn’t be so quick to anger if I remembered all the good brought to this land by Ha-Dûna, as well. Keep in mind that, before the arrival of my people, this place was nothing but stone and moss, spotted with small camps--” He was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. Valix gave him a sharp look and the druid swallowed. “... Please, think of all the good our people has brought! We have brought trade, growth, knowledge and religion - much of which your people, too, have benefited greatly from.”

The queen scoffed, “The people of these stones and moss remember well who brought them those things, and it was most certainly not the Kiers and their rest houses.” 

The archdruid rolled his eyes. “The resthouses supply hundreds of druids, many of whom have brought your compatriots great safety and prosperity, with the food and shelter necessary to live lives devoted entirely to the gods. Druids before it were forced to work the land alongside their studies - this puts too much pressure on god-fearing folk who have been tasked with keeping the peace in the land. You, too, must see that, that a civilisation such as ours must have such systems in place to keep our well-educated priesthood in good condition. It -is-, after all, the core of our people.”

:And those who wandered to our land performed the labor of the divine, and were provided the right hospitality, but tell me, what did you do to deserve to eat the fruits of the community?” the queen retorted. 

The archdruid sighed. “Come now, great queen - you are the leader of your people; I am leader of mine. We both know that, if left to their own devices, the people will gather in no greater masses than small villages. To keep united, we must have a strong governmental model, and a government must be supplied with taxes - the resthouse system. Your town keeps only growing and growing - surely, you cannot expect that your companions in rulership will rule without compensation, can you?”

The queen glanced back at her weapon, “Do you know why I am the queen? Because the last person who carried that club fell dutifully in battle, and he gave me the privilege to carry it back and I was crowned in respect to the gods’ will. When I receive a feast, it is not only because I live for this city, but because I will die for it as well.” 

The archdruid sighed. Valix remained steadfastly stone-faced. “I can see that we’re getting nowhere here. We are sorry for wasting your time…” He turned around halfway, but then stopped. “If I may offer a word of advice, however, from one ruler to another…”

The queen simply glared at him, not even trying to hide her contempt. The archdruid cracked a half-smirk. “Surround yourself with loyal, capable administrators and pay them well. With this many newcomers arriving at your gates every day, fewer and fewer are going to know about your deeds - the deeds of your forebears. You will need allies by your side when the unrest begins to grow.”

“Your rule is the reason that they are at my gates. We will meet the Sigerans in battle, we will generously allow you to reclaim what is left, but do not expect us to aid you any further. Now, my boundless patience is growing thin.” the queen replied. 

“Generous, indeed,” thanked the archdruid and bowed. Valix followed suit. “We will bid our farewell, then. May the gods smile upon your efforts.” With that, they exited the hut.

[hr]

[i][sub]East again of Ha-Dûna, outside the ruins of a village known as Ha-Saune...[/sub][/i]

Kelly gave the air a whiff, sighing somberly at the thick stench of char and death. They stood on the outskirts of the small village, a victim of the Conquest’s crusade across the central Dûnan plain. It had never been a wealthy settlement, necessarily, mostly on account of rocky soil that offered little to work with for the farmers, and not strategic enough a placement to draw traders and pilgrims. Still, it had been someone’s home, and now it wasn’t anymore. Kelly hated that she had grown numb to that initial sting of horror and sorrow upon seeing such destruction - she had spent the last two years, maybe longer, travelling these ravaged lands to do her duty as a Mother, but in all her time, she had never imagined she would grow used to the worst of it.

“Mother Kelly?” 

She blinked and looked down into the face of Kaer Cwenn, a druid who was part of her rescue party. Kelly acknowledged her with a nod and turned to her group of ten - three druids, five warriors equipped with an assortment of different weapons, and another mother, Lon. “We’ll do this as we always do - me and Lon will be the eyes in the sky while Kaer Cwenn, Kaer Myvon and Kaer Semble tend to whatever wounded we may find. Zelda, you and your warriors, keep them safe.”

“As you wish, Mother Kelly,” confirmed the warrior. The plan then spun into motion as the Mothers took to the sky and fluttered in over the village. The ground troops advanced cautiously. From the sky, the village somehow seemed even more deserted, crumbled huts and broken roofs witnessed from an angle they hadn’t been built for. The mothborn drifted slowly to capture as many details as they could, but their hope hung by a thread - the last three villages had offered nothing but charred remains and starving hounds.

“Kelly! Below!”

Kelly spun her head in the direction of Lon’s finger. There, thankfully quite visible amongst the black sooted buildings - a blonde head, hiding from the warriors and druids. The closer she looked, the more heads Kelly saw - chestnut, bronze, copper, amber. She looked to Lon. “With me!” Then they both turned sharply and descended. 

The two of them landed with two hard thumps on the stony ground, Lon rolling once to absorb the excess momentum. The crowd of heads turned to them and paled. A chorus of children all squealed in fear, and many began to cry and run. Lon and Kelly looked at one another quickly and waved their hands around. “No, wait! We’re not here to hurt you!”

“FOR HA-SAUNE!” came a shout behind them, followed by two more cries like it as Lon and Kelly turned to see three young boys, no older than thirteen, all run at them with copper axes much too large for them to wield. One of them wore a pouch with two holes in it for a helmet. Their swings went wide and then not wide enough, and Lon and Kelly gestured wildly for them to stop. 

“Now hold on and listen, please!”

“YAGH!” came a cry from behind and Lon groaned sharply as she jumped back. Her moonsilver armour luckily managed to ricochet what would’ve been a fatal blow to the leg by a fourth combatant, a fifteen year old girl. A boy like her was hot on her heels, bringing his spear up for a stab at Lon’s chest. Lon inhaled sharply and fluttered her wings mightily, unleashing a column of moth dust over the attackers. All five of them fell asleep on the ground. 

“Tansa!” came a weak squeal from the group of children as the rest joined the already crying ones.

Kelly groaned and approached slowly. “Please, would you just--!”

“Get away from them!” another voice ordered, and Lon and Kelly both readied another volley of dust. However, the owner of the voice ran straight past them and knelt down before the children, holding a spear of her own in the Mothers’ direction. “Don’t take one more step,” she snarled.

“Fionaaaa!” the children cried and embraced her from behind like a wave. The girl named Fiona, barely even sixteen, one could guess, offered the children a reassuring smile and softly pushed them back. “Don’t worry about me. Just head to the safehouse and wait there--!”

“Please, will you just LISTEN?!” Kelly shouted in a fit of frustration, one outraged enough to shake Fiona’s motherly determination. Lon, too, seemed uncharacteristically done with the whole shebang. 

“To what? Your demands?” It was evident that Fiona had practiced her posture for just such an occasion.

“We are here to -help-! Heeelp! Is that so hard to understand? Ugh, where’s Kaer Cwenn to say the greetings?”

“Right here, Mother Kelly,” came a voice behind her and the mothkin jumped.

“How long have you been here?!”

“A short while.” The warriors all exchanged amused smirks while the druids Myvon and Semble both went to tend to the sleeping defenders. 

“Don’t touch them!” shouted Fiona and brandished her spear menacingly, but Kaer Cwenn approached slowly and put down her tree branch staff on the way.

“Be calm, my daughter, we come in the gods’ peace. I am Kaer Cwenn, and these are the Mothers Kelly and Lon, champions of Gibbou and Artafax. We have come to rally support against the Sigeran onslaught, and to bring any refugees to safety back in Scawick. Please, are there any adults we can talk to?”

Fiona’s expression hardened. “Speaking.” Kaer Cwenn blinked.

“Are you the oldest one here?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, no! It’s just that…” The Dûnans looked at the villagers’ small faces, aged everywhere between three and fourteen, the majority being younger than ten. “... Where are all your parents?”

Many of the children resumed their sobs, and the older ones tried to soothe them while suppressing their own sorrow. They failed miserably. Fiona glared daggers at Kaer Cwenn, who backed away slowly behind Kelly. “Where do you think?” She rose to her feet and patted a small boy clutching her thigh on the head. “It happened a month ago. A band of bandits came and took everything. All those who resisted, were killed without mercy. We, the youngest, were hidden away inside a safehouse until the raiders disappeared. When we came out, we--...” It looked like it demanded her every fibre not to break down. The Dûnans looked on in admiration as she held her ground without shedding so much as a tear, although she was shaking. “... We were all that’s left.”

“That’s…” Kelly and Lon felt like they had to cry for her. “That’s so awful,” sobbed Lon. Kelly nodded and wiped her own tears. Fiona looked somewhat more at ease upon seeing their reaction, before eyeing the sleeping five.

“I hope for your sakes that they will wake up again…” she threatened bitterly. Both Lon and Kelly waved in surrender. 

“Oh yeah, oh yeah! We just needed them to stop for a bit! They’ll be back up soon, don’t worry.”

Fiona scowled, but untensed herself. “... Alright. You said you’re here to help us escape?”

Kelly nodded. “Yeah, yeah, that’s why we’re here. Is this all of you? We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

Fiona shook her head. “No, there’s more of us.” She eyed Kaer Cwenn, who ducked a little further behind Kelly’s wing. “You, you’re a druid, right?”

Kaer Cwenn immediately jumped out of cover, and was quickly flanked by both Myvon and Semble. “Oh! Yes! Kaer Cwenn, at your service, my daughter.”

“Kaer Myvon.”

“Kaer Semble.”

Fiona bowed politely at the three of them. Kelly nodded approvingly at her manners. “I choose to trust you all, even though you are outsiders. The safehouse is just over here. That’s where we have our youngest and… And the sick.” 

The druids’ optimism faded. “Understood. Take us there.” The Dûnans assisted the villagers in carrying the sleeping defenders and shepherding the children through the ruins until they reached a door in the mountain. Fiona gave the door a cryptic knock - three bangs followed by four taps, and a scrape of wood hinted that a great object was being moved. The door swung open to reveal a fourteen year old boy, hair blonde as wheat and one eye scarred blind by some old cut. He immediately froze upon seeing Fiona’s escort, but the girl knelt down and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Kyartan, they’re here to help us.”

The boy gaped slightly, upon which movement one could see that he had lost his tongue, too. The Dûnans cringed with anger - the Sigerans would pay for this. The young boy gestured for them to enter, and the group continued into a dark room lit only by the light of the doorway and a small crack in the cave ceiling. Lon gasped quietly.

“Do you sit here in complete darkness all day?”

“What choice to we have? If we light a fire, the smoke will reveal that there are people in here.” There came a series of weak coughs from the other end of the cave and Fiona hurried over, followed by the druids. With the light of the sun, Kaer Myvon conjured forth a smokeless flame in his palm with which he lit up the cave. It was small - much too small for the Dûnan party to stay here; however, for children, it was just the right size. Now, however, it was quite crowded. Fiona and the druids knelt down over a group of three babies, all of them wrapped cozily into animal pelts. One of them coughed weakly into Fiona’s face as she lifted her up motherly. “This is Dina, my cousin. She was my father’s sister’s daughter, before the raids… We have tried to care for her since, but it’s been hard to find food for her, for any of them. And now that winter’s coming…” She sniffed a little louder than she had expected to.

Kaer Cwenn nodded slowly. “I understand. Kaer Semble, if you would.”

Kaer Semble nodded slowly and started untying the knots around the neck of her robe. Kaer Cwenn gestured for Fiona to hand her Dina. “Kaer Semble had a daughter of her own not too many moons ago. She should still be able to feed the little ones.” 

Fiona blinked and did as she was told. “You, you mean your child is at home without its mother?”

Kaer Semble scoffed. “You’re making it sound like it’s the end of the world. Don’t worry, her father’s at home - as are her brother and sister.”

“Then, then who’s feeding her?”

“Oh, my cousin takes care of that,” smiled the druid. “My duty comes first, after all. It’s the will of the gods. Ow! Don’t bite now!” She patted Dina softly on the head. Fiona blinked again, her frown hardening.

“As for the coughing…” mumbled Kaer Myvon and rummaged through his pouches. He eventually extracted a root and put it in his mouth, chewing it to paste while he cringed at the flavour.

“Lungweed,” explained Kaer Cwenn. “It helps with the coughing around this time of year. It’s incredibly bitter, though, so Dina better offer Myvon her thanks when she grows up.”

“This, ugh, this isn’t worthy of anything, Cwenn,” muttered her companion as he spat the paste into a wooden bowl and mixed it with some water from a skin, stirring it with his finger until it took on a soupy consistency. He then took a moment while the baby rested between eating to feed it to her. The flavour made her cry, and there came groans from the older children.

“There… We’ll have to keep feeding her on the way, but this should stave off the worst of it. Anyone else?”

“Here,” Fiona spoke softly, having shuffled over to a young boy who had been wrapped in several animal pelts. He looked to be sweating and his breathing was incredibly weak, barely noticeable. The druids’ expressions grimmed and Fiona’s paled as she saw them. “Is, is something wrong?”

Kaer Cwenn knelt down next to the boy and cupped her hand on his forehead. It burned, and the skin appeared almost scaly. She eyed Fiona and whispered, “Has he been acting strangely lately? Any sudden movements or tossing in his sleep?”

Fiona swallowed. “H-he, he was kicking and convulsing this morning… When he stopped, he seemed calmer.”

“Too calm, perhaps?”

Fiona held her breath and then nodded slowly. Kaer Cwenn nodded somberly. “I see. What’s his name?”

“Hama, son of Hasu and Kaer Fryd.”

“A druid’s son? Was his mother the village’s only druid?”

“Yes, Kaer Cwenn… She was part of the Circle of the Tall Stone. My cousin was her apprentice.”

The druid nodded. “Fiona, I’m… I’m sorry to say this, but…” She eyed Hama again. “... This young boy will not last the night.” Fiona drew a hacking breath, but her stone-hard demeanour kept her from breaking into tears.

“I…” She sniffed quitely. “... I understand.”

“If only we can come earlier, we--...”

“No, no… It’s not your fault. None of this would have happened if not for, for…” The girl grit her teeth and stood up, turning to Kelly. “Did you say you need warriors to fight the Sigerans?”

“That, we do,” nodded the Mother. “Do you wish to join us?”

“Yes. What they did to my people is unforgiveable - I hate them.”

“Now, now, Fiona, you mustn’t--”

“Then you’re welcome to come with us, newblood!” came a salute from the warriors in the back. Fiona nodded harshly and then returned to guiding the druids around to aid the sick. By nightfall, they had packed up and left the ruined village, carrying between them stretchers and pulling sleds and carts topped with babies, children and what supplies they had left. Ha-Saune’s chapter had ended, but its children would grow up to become warriors of Ha-Dûna.

[hr]

[hider=Summary!]
Some short stories for your enjoyment! 

First: Takes place in the Dûnan stronghold of Scawick, where half the Dûnans are stationed while they plan the attack on HD. Scawicks hate Dûnans, and Dûnans look down on Scawicks. It’s not a good time, and only Boudicca prevents it from becoming an all-out war (again).

Second: Neiyari come to take the Sigerans as slaves. They are convinced to help defend HD in exchange for the people’s loyalty.

Third: Yamat’s boi, the Wendigo, comes to help the Dûnans hunt for “food”. This’ll be fun.

Four: Kaer Pier and his warrior companion Valix travel to Kirin’s Rest to get the support of the Constellars. Upon learning that the Constellars don’t have a centralised power structure like the Long Strides do with archdruids, they give up and go to the queen of Kirin’s Rest instead to ask for help. Problem is - the queen is of a people who predate the Dûnans in the region, and has quite a number of bones to pick with Kaer Pier over HD’s very right to even exist. While the queen eventually says she’ll help them kill Sigerans, it’s pretty evident that this merely is because the Sigerans somehow are worse than the Dûnans.

Five: The Mothers Kelly and Lon, along with a party of druids and warriors, find a village inhabited only by children. They learn what happened and offer to take the children home with them, recruiting one of the oldest girls there for their forces in the meantime.
[/hider]

[hider=Prestigios!]
The Stone Boars: 45k chars. 5 + 5 = 10
The Mothers: 10 + 5 = 10.
Circle of the Long Stride: 31 + 5 = 36
[/hider]