[color=A9A9A9][h1][u]Act Two: Scattered to the Winds[/u]____ __ _ _[/h1] [h2][u]Chapter Three: Pillar of Death[/u]______ __ _ _[/h2][/color] [hr][hr] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/CU3YhCS.png[/img][/center] [hr][hr][h3][color=A9A9A9]North of Relouse, Parrence[/color] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1W1uDR9EOx0&list=PLPJny5xpzQqS0uk4bb_Q5wPjnsQRaFKgW&index=7][color=696969]𝅗𝅥[/color][/url] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FU8gSz8EZNw&list=PLPJny5xpzQqS0uk4bb_Q5wPjnsQRaFKgW&index=8][color=8B4513]𝅘𝅥[/color][/url] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C7xBEsLmklc&list=PLPJny5xpzQqS0uk4bb_Q5wPjnsQRaFKgW&index=6][color=B22222]𝅘𝅥𝅮[/color][/url] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5lZwy_yGVeM&list=PLPJny5xpzQqS0uk4bb_Q5wPjnsQRaFKgW&index=9][color=FF4500]𝅘𝅥𝅯[/color][/url] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LffSZfRSwTI&list=PLPJny5xpzQqS0uk4bb_Q5wPjnsQRaFKgW&index=11][color=FFA500]𝅘𝅥𝅰[/color][/url][/h3] [hr][hr] [color=A9A9A9]An old man sat by a fire. He could feel the bodies approaching them, for that was all they were: living bodies while his business these days seemed the making of dead ones. The essences inside of them burned with caution, and he paid them no notice. Perhaps they would try to kill him. He neither knew nor cared. [color=gold]"Old man, why are you here?"[/color] Sweyn did not move. Perhaps, had he mind enough, he would've noted that the questioner's Eskandr, while good, was not perfect. [color=fff79a]"Bringing glory to my king and my people,"[/color] he responded after a long moment. [color=fff79a]"Can't you see?"[/color] He was working a twig over in his hands, breaking it up and plucking bits off. [color=fff79a]"So-"[/color] he twisted and glanced up. The man was young, fair, and looked like a fighter. [color=fff79a]"-have you come to bring glory to [i]yours?[/i]"[/color] Arsene was the newcomer's name, unbeknownst to Sweyn, and he listened to the older man as he spoke in a somber tone. It seemed to hold a deep sadness, as he spoke to his hands before raising his head to look towards Arsene and questioning his purpose here. The Drudgunzean scoffed and glanced towards the fires before looking back down at the wizard who seemed to almost wait for something, [color=gold]"Myself? I'm here to protect. To do some good..."[/color] Arsene threw a light gesture across the village and turned as he lightly kicked a rock as he seemed to think a moment before turning back to the older man and continuing, [color=gold]"...obviously doing a crack up job on that"[/color]. As Arsene sighed, he looked down towards Sweyn and said, [color=gold]"So with that glory you are bringing, have you found it yet?"[/color]. He made a gesture towards the village that still lay softly burning. Sweyn Thunderspear knew the plan, of course, but he could not simply spill it out to one whom the gods had ordained his enemy. Its execution would bring him yet another line in the sagas. He was not elderly, but old enough that he had a good deal more life behind him than ahead. Would the retellings fashion him as clever or wise? Would he be simply a magician who was loyal to his king? A mentor to heroes? A hero himself? A footnote? If the Parrench were to win and their culture consume the continent, he would be painted a murderer, and he found himself fighting, these days, simply to avoid that infamy in death. [i][color=fff79a]Yet, here I am, a murderer anyhow, and I know it truly.[/color][/i] He did not raise his eyes toward the village. Instead, he shrugged weakly. [color=fff79a]“Perhaps I might, someday.”[/color] He glanced the young man’s way. [color=fff79a]“But why do you fight for a foreign country that looks down on you? That occupies good land your people could use? That, as recently as the year of your birth, would’ve named you barbarian?”[/color] Arsene looked towards the plains of Parrence as he spoke about why he chose to fight, [color=gold]"Myself? I fight not for the country that looks down on me. I fight for those who cry out to find peace-"[/color]. Arsene shifted on his feet as he looked towards the men who’d followed him here. Many seemed almost ready to charge at any moment, wishing to either find glory or to kill the great Sweyn Thunderspear before he decided to wipe them all out. Arsene sighed as he continued, [color=gold]"I am here wishing to give those who I can a life better than I. For I lost my home to raiding, my mentor to injustice, and my mother to my negligence"[/color]. Arsene sighed as he shifted once more on his feet, now to face the old man before him. He considered why he was even talking to this man: a murderer who killed innocent people in the name of glory, yet even that was an excuse to maybe give himself some absolution. Arsene thought of what more to say as he sighed and spoke out, [color=gold]"What of you, why do you do such things for your king? Is it to give a better life to your people? Or is it to please the greed of a King?"[/color] Sweyn rose, then, and was now a bit more like the legends said he was. At the very least he was tall. [color=fff79a]“For the greed of a king?”[/color] he remarked. [color=fff79a]“Perhaps the Black King is greedy.”[/color] He shrugged, calling his mighty spear to hand, and continued. [color=fff79a]“It is not my place to judge anyhow. What I know is that his greed pales in comparison to that of Parrence. How much of the richest, greenest land do they keep for themselves? How much more do they covet?”[/color] He rolled his neck back and forth, as if limbering up, and took notice of the thirty or so other men at the edge of the forest. He could kill them all within seconds, should he have so desired. Yet, he currently did not. [color=fff79a]“When the Avincians, who had uplifted those people, would not cede control of the empire to them, did Avince not burn for daring to refuse?”[/color] He hardened his mouth, switching to Parrench so that all could understand. [color=fff79a]“When they came to found a new town on the coast not so far from here, they named it Relouse and built it right beside the nest of a mother Silverscale. Did not a monk named Defrois kill that creature as it defended its young and receive a sainthood for it?”[/color] Sweyn rapped the ground with his staff, voice rising. [color=fff79a]“When the yasoi of Loriindton established for themselves an independent spirit some twenty years ago and wished to uplift their own people instead of paying tribute to us humans, pray tell did not Loriindton - that thousand-year city - burn for daring to defy good Parrence?”[/color] Sweyn began to gather energy to himself and the power of thunder fizzed and snapped in the air about him. [color=fff79a]“You do not know it, boy, for though your people were once mine, you were raised in a garden that the Parrench have cultivated and that they will continue to grow. Oh,”[/color] he relented, [color=fff79a]“they will usually try some method other than the sword first.”[/color] He smiled bitterly. [color=fff79a]“Their herbs and spices are legendary, their trinkets and wares quite pretty, their cloth the envy of every foreign woman, and these, they pair with their false gods, their language, and their way of life as if what they replace is lesser or does not matter.”[/color] He had found himself again: his resolve. [color=fff79a]“Make no mistake, though-”[/color] Sweyn Thunderspear’s eyes narrowed. [color=fff79a]“-in the end, it all comes down to force of arms. Those who resist the Parrench have always died for it, and everything they stood for with them. In truth,”[/color] he concluded, stepping forward, [color=fff79a]“Parrence is a blight upon this land and we are your last, best hope for rooting it out.”[/color] Arsene witnessed the old man rise to his feet to stand and face him, looking more like someone befitting the legend that preceded him. However, the Drudgunzean was not one to fold to anything, be it man or beast. As Sweyn spoke, Arsene checked himself, lightly rolling his wrists and ankles as if in preparation for what was to come. He knew when a fight was coming, and he knew why he had come here. Sweyn spoke very clearly of things that Arsene would have never known in his life. The Parrench were greedy, they were the ones who trampled those they cared not for, it was them versus everyone. They would destroy and dominate everything they saw fit so that they might rule over it. This was something he’d had to deal with as had his mentor before him, yet as much as Sweyn spoke some sense, Arsene cared not for it. He looked the Eskandr in the face as he spoke his last bit, [color=gold]"They are a blight, you are correct; the people who rule are quite often terrible"[/color]. Arsene lightly tossed his hand to the side as he continued, [color=gold]"They trample on those under them to make themselves richer or more powerful. They will play nice, using tricks so that they may later do what they wish, yet they hide things to allow them to fulfill agendas."[/color] As Arsene continued to look Sweyn dead in the eyes, his message evolved, [color=gold]"Yet I am not here for them. I am here for the men and women who are trampled upon by your people. I am here to stop this from happening."[/color] Arsene gestured at the girl who lay upon the ground next to the burgeoning confrontation, before continuing, [color=gold]"So you may be the ones to destroy Parrence. Yet, with that, you will destroy many more lives, all in the hope of maybe ‘rooting out’ this blight. And so what if you succeed? Wouldn't it come back? After all, to destroy a nation and its pride and sense of self, you need to destroy its people. Will you do that?"[/color] The die was cast and Sweyn knew it. His heart still heavy with regret, but also buoyed by a grim and worthy purpose, he glanced at the small corpse before looking back at the Drudgunzean. [color=fff79a]“Every last one,”[/color] he replied unflinchingly, and his body now surged and sparked with energy. His eyes began to glow with Father’s chosen power and thunder crackled in the bellies of storm clouds that had drawn in overhead. [color=fff79a]“Now, boy, it is time for you to either live up to those lofty ideals you lay claim to or go to your gods having tried.”[/color] In the very moment before he unleashed his wrath, however, before Arsene of Avalona could either go bravely to Eschiran or commence a legend of his own, there echoed in the distance a [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=29yUiAZEGiY]phenomenal sound[/url]. Great and low, it seemed to shake the very ground that they stood upon. It rose into a bone-shuddering shriek that lingered and reverberated through the near-night sky. Vast black wings beat over the forests and fields of green Parrence and the petty fires of human war seemed a small thing in comparison to the brilliant pillar of death that spilled from the dragon’s throat. With its baleful breath, it tore furrows in the land and left roaring walls of flame where had been whispering seas of wheat and gently chirping crickets. That the inferno was yet distant only made it more terrifying. One could perhaps countenance flight and escape. One could understand the great and desolate scale of it. Like black blood pouring from wounded earth, smoke billowed into the sky, first seizing the stars in a hazy grasp and then blotting them out entirely. More than one soldier made the sign of the Pentad. Others cried out for Echeran’s mercy or strength, and their choices said much about them. After a moment, some made the unenviable choice of turning their attention back to the far lesser but far more immediate threat of Sweyn Thunderspear. Yet, when they searched for him, they found that he was gone. [hr][hr] Far closer to the epicentre were Ulfhild of Ulven, Hildr the Red, and the Nashorn. A Fiery Mountain Dragon - a Tyrannus Monsigneus - had arisen from Mont Errant in a towering rage and it now circled above the plains spewing doom in the twilight. They had tried to blunt the beast’s attack but even the efforts of dragonslayer and Æresvaktr alike had done precious little against its impossible power. Again and again, the maddened beast made passes over the region, breathing death upon what little remained alive. Hundreds of brave Eskandr fled before it, for there was no honour in death as prey. Crying out to their heathen gods, they scattered as vermin at the appearance of a boot. Like the panicked creatures that they were, most failed to take heed of the approaching army of Queen Eleanor de Parrence. They ran up against it, in full flight, either waves to be broken upon the shore, people to be shown mercy, or allies of convenience in an unexpected struggle for survival against an enemy far more fearsome. Whatever the state of given individuals, the arrival on the Fields of Fire of Sweyn Thunderspear rallied them to a man. Massive black clouds rolled in with terrifying speed and brought lightning that writhed, snaked, and shook the very earth. Beside them, even the dragon was not so great, and it disappeared into their depths, consumed for the time being. From within echoed roars and howls and thunder. Brilliant flashes illuminated a vast draconic shape and running figures slowed and craned their necks in awe and terror. The sorcerer himself seemed more a personification, an [i]avatar[/i] of human hope, pain, and rage. Tangles of long white hair and beard whipping behind him, he charged in on an ivory-white stallion, glowing incandescent. Unto the Fiery Mountain he called forth a colossal bolt of lightning, and then a second, then a third, then a [i]fourth[/i] that split the sky in sheets. Common soldiers staggered and blinked. The sheer energy was so intense that some dropped to their knees. Eyes wild and bloodshot, veins pulsing and bulging, Sweyn Thunderspear drove a fifth thunderous lance into the creature’s back and, illuminated momentarily within its shroud of black, it shrieked and contorted in pain. Wings flapping erratically, it fell out the bottom of the clouds and they cheered. How great a noise went up, from Parrench and Eskandr alike, from human and yasoi, from enemies and allies of the man who had delivered them from this demon of myth made flesh! Queen Eleanor, racing in to provide either aid or else capture the terror known as Sweyn in his weakened state, witnessed a man who had devastated entire armies collapse to the ground, utterly drained and defeated in victory. A decision now fell to her. Here was arguably her greatest enemy laid low before her and a fresh, powerful army at her command. She knew well Eskandr practice: the prisoners of war would be sealed safely in one of the mountainside caves, unharmed and potentially hers to ransom back. Yet, the Thunderspear had given his all to save her people as well as his. She could sense the staggering, [i]inhuman[/i] levels of power that had coursed through him and how close to death he had pushed himself. He lay helpless before her and one who could singlehandedly slay a Tyrannus Monsigneus… she still struggled to fathom it. Could she really let this opportunity - [color=0076a3]“What [i]is[/i] that!?”[/color] [color=ed145b]“My Queen!”[/color] [color=1a7b30]“There!”[/color] [color=ed1c24]“Oh my [i]Gods![/i]”[/color] [color=a187be]“How is it [i]possible!?[/i]”[/color] [color=82ca9d]“Echeran have mercy!”[/color] [color=a36209]“My Queen!”[/color] [color=000000]“Gods [i]no![/i]”[/color] A cold dark roar raised tremors from the earth and hairs on the back of Eleanor’s neck. Gargantuan black wings beat with a vengeance and the [i]beast[/i] hurtled towards them. It opened its mouth and fire glowed in the back of its throat. All at once, the Queen of Parrence both called upon her gods and made peace with them.[/color] [hr][hr] [hider=Afterword][color=A9A9A9]The fire had scorched her in slight measure, but it had not been intended to kill. That was the only explanation Eleanor could think of for why she was still alive. Perhaps the leviathan had been wary after Sweyn had struck it so strongly. Maybe it had only intended to impress upon them its intent to continue the fight and kill them all. It may have simply missed due to its wounds. Whatever its reasons, it had blasted the area with indistinct and undirected flames and flown on. They had all watched it consume the remains of the village, eagerly scooping back great mouthfuls of wood, brick, livestock, and corpses. Now, so said their scouts, the Fiery Mountain rested, half-submerged in a small nearby lake, the water around it steaming. Eleanor had Sweyn Thunderspear and a small group of Eskandr soldiers at her mercy and that of her larger army, but most of their force remained at large. She had called another of her famous 'three minute councils' and was presently soliciting opinions from those she regarded well. There were dangers and opportunities, both, from different angles, and she was under little illusion that an unwise choice could have disastrous consequences.[/color][/hider] [hr][hr] [hider=Action Opportunities]This chapter should provide numerous action opportunities. A few are listed below for players' convenience. 1) Eskandr-aligned players (Hildr and Ulfhild) may detail their earlier fight against the dragon, how they continued to try to handle it following that fight, the effect of Sweyn's re-emergence, any brief clashes that they had with Parrench forces, and the conundrum they now find themselves in. They have no orders from Sweyn and it looks as if he is about to be captured. Here are some things to consider: [list][*]Should they try to break him out or wait to see what the Parrench do? [*]Maybe they might argue for his release since he fought and nearly died for all of them? [*]Perhaps, they'd best carry out what might've been his likely orders to ride on to Chamonix and let the Parrench bleed their strength against the beast. [*]They could choose to hold the prisoners hostage to guarantee his release. [*]In the end, should they temporarily ally with the Parrench against a potentially larger threat?[/list] 2) Parrench-aligned players (Arsene, Camille, Maerec, and Caelum) may detail their first notice of the dragon, their race towards the danger (or not!), any encounters or skirmishes with Eskandr fleeing the scene or otherwise, impressions of the brief combat itself, and their 'three minute council' with the Queen. Similarly, they also find themselves in a tricky spot. Here are some things to consider: [list][*]Should they imprison Sweyn, who was powerful enough to face down a Fiery Mountain one on one and injure it while he's weakened? [*]Might they use him as leverage to have all of their prisoners returned? How far are they willing to go? What does honour dictate? [*]Should they take the opportunity, while they have it, to cut down the Eskandr forces? [*]Should they instead risk allying with their enemies against this greater threat? [*]Would it be wise to send word to Arcel and ask for reinforcements? Might the Eskandr be using them?[/list][/hider] [hr][hr]