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~Part 2~


~~~ 2 Days later ~~~


The snow crunched beneath Aleksi’s feet as he tracked his quarry. He hadn’t sought out Ivor after the assembly; he needed time to process his feelings, to guide his people as they adjusted to their new routines. The latter had been far easier to manage than the turmoil of emotions wracking at his heart.

On one side he was happy to see his friend, his brother alive, hale and whole, thriving in this new community.

On the other he bore resentment for the man who abandoned them when they needed him most.

Regardless of his feelings Aleksi entirely understood the reason for both; Ivor had become a blightborn. He saw it on that night, the bear had thrown the giant against a tree, the crack of bone was as loud as thunder. The monster was quick to turn on the rest of the tribe and Aleksi was ready to die as his brother did. Yet as miraculous as it was horrifying, that was the night Aleksi bore witness to the reborn Ivor, his strength unmatched as he wrestled the monster into its grave.

What happened next was far more traumatic as his friend turned into the very monster he had slain. Another fight did not come though, the monster fled.

Ivor. Fled.

Could Aleksi blame him?

The answer was far closer than he was prepared for as he approached the Hunter’s hut at the edge of the woods. A rugged shack that he surmised from the giant foot tracks belonged to Ivor. It also took time to figure out where he was housed, for as large a man as he was, he could disappear when he wanted to. When word of the expedition mission reached Aleksi’s ears, he knew he needed to speak with Ivor before he fled from Aleksi’s sight once more. There were some things that needed to be said, things that had waited a long time to be said.

“Ivor!” Aleksi shouted at the shack, “Come out and bear witness to your kin!” He invoked the old tongue.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then came the creaking of wood followed by heavy, large footfalls. As the curtain drew back, the giant blightborn emerged forth, allowing the pale moonlight to fall upon his features. Aleksi’s gaze looked the giant up and down; even in the pallid light the form was undeniably that of his friend, yet there were stark differences. The giant did not speak, he merely waited, bearing witness to the words Aleksi would speak…good at least he has not forgotten the old ways.

“I understand you know…why you left that night. I saw the beast you had become, the very thing you killed and choked on and swallowed whole. I saw the fear and the realization in your eyes as you fled into the forest. I made peace with the fact that you were probably dead or long gone…”

Aleksi’s fists clenched, “Yet here I find you in this village, thriving and surviving and I cannot help but feel anger at your abandonment. You left us to suffer with the wrath of the blight, and as the night claimed more of our kin, those left of us had to scatter in the dark like rats, with terrors nipping at our heels.”

His hands slackened, “I want to be angry with you, to blame the loss of our people on your cowardice…but you were probably the bravest of us all. You made the most difficult decision to leave knowing we would have killed you if you otherwise stayed.” The wind felt bitter against his scalp, his head turning to the side, “We all should have left long ago…now we are few when we were once so many.”

“I fear we are dying…my brother…” He approached the giant, “We came here looking for sanctuary, as have you, and it seems destiny has woven our fates together once more.” Aleksi reached his hand to the giant, “Can we work together, as we did once before?”

Ivor’s eyes lingered on Aleksi’s hand for a long time, he wasn’t sure what to expect when his friend had found him, but an open hand of friendship was the last thing on his mind. He looked deep into the man’s eyes, “Are you sure? Even as I am?”

Aleksi didn’t answer for a long moment, “I know who the man is before me…evidently based on who I’ve heard about you from around town, that hasn’t changed much.”

Ivor looked at Aleksi’s hand again before reaching out and clasping onto his arm. The two gripped each other’s arm tightly, before releasing. “What would you have me do?”

“Nothing right now, you have a mission coming soon from my understanding.” Ivor’s brows furrowed, but Aleksi picked up on the concern, “I won’t ask you to lead us again, that ship I think has long sailed my friend, I would only ask that you help us keep the peace in your spare time. I frankly do not trust my people to not start a fight, they are still bitter, wounded, some lost people very close to them and most blame it on the blightborn. They weren’t happy about coming here, knowing that the very nightmare they fought against is sleeping in beds nearby. Times are different however, survival requires change and sacrifice…I can only hope that they can see the necessity in that change…”

Ivor went to speak, but Aleksi held up a hand and cut him off, “It doesn’t matter right now, I have responsibilities here and your duties lie elsewhere. I only wish…that I could aid you on this journey, fight by your side, just like old times.” Aleksi unslung a cloth covered tool from his back, carefully unwrapping the linen before presenting the tool to Ivor, “Even if I can’t be there, at least your father and the will of the ancients will be a boon at your back.”

Ivor received the item, a worn, but well cared for bearded axe. The shaft made of durable and hearty ashwood, the blade made of heavy and sharpened iron. Etched on the blade was the name of his father ‘Victor, The Unyielding’. “Pater…” Ivor whispered to the blade, gripping the handle tightly, “You kept this with you…and you would return this family treasure back to me?”

Aleksi nodded once, “The tribe and the ancients are with you my brother. When you return, we shall speak more, I still need…time to process everything that is happening here. Do not mistake me though, I am…glad you are alive.” He then turned back towards the village, leaving a confused Ivor to wonder and appreciate the gift he had been given.


~~~ Present Day ~~~

Aleksi’s thoughts were torn away from the past as the front door opened and in poured four..five…no six of his tribesmen. They were already being far too loud this early in the morning, with demands of food and drink to the flustered barkeep. He sighed deeply, rubbing his temples, “too early for this shit…”

Standing up he made his way to the bar and slammed his open palm on the counter, gathering the loud group’s attention, “Let’s lower our voices…people are still trying to sleep…have I made myself clear?” He spoke at them, eyes flared, their voices lowered and some peace had finally returned. His gaze met with the bar maid, his words speaking the common tongue, “My apologies, they will behave more appropriately.” One final glare at his men and he turned towards a table in the far back where a rather innocuous looking old man was snoring. “Be sure to send a runner if any of those idiots gets themselves into trouble, I’ll be around.” The old man snorted, a response, before resuming his slumberly duties.

One final scan around the tavern, not much had changed though it looks like that guard with the purple man had left. He wondered if something had happened, or if perhaps duty had called the woman away, something about the man though, he seemed almost…nervous. Regardless of the circumstances, Aleksi’s gaze probably lingered longer than it should have, disdain reflecting back at the mutated blightborn. Still he managed to rip his eyes away and ignore the man long enough to leave the building. He emerged into the open streets, just as the denizens and their immigrants now began to fill it as well. Picking a direction he started walking, his only duty right now was to make sure he could account for all of his people and that they were performing their daily duties. The last thing he wanted was for someone to go hungry all because of entirely accountable laziness.

It wasn’t long down the street where less people were that he caught a familiar sight. The guard from earlier duty it seems had called her away, and yet something felt off about her. The way she held her head, the awkwardness in her steps like a newborn foal. He hadn’t seen a drink around her, yet she seemed like she was drunk or…did that purple man? NO. Now wasn’t the time to cast speculations, but there definitely was something out of the ordinary here. Catching up with the guard, he spoke to her in the common tongue, his accent heavy, “Are you alright? Do you require aid?”



Mentions: Aldrick. Interacts with: Ivor and Hawthorne @SpicyMeatball

~Part 1~



Two weeks… Two weeks had gone by since his tribe found sanctuary amongst the home of those they once called ‘enemy’. Aleksi absentmindedly swirled the frothy ale in his cup, idly chewing on a feast of hard bread roll and a bit of dried goat. His eyes mirrored the flicker of the tavern flames as the barbarian leader warmed himself by the hearth. He looked around the bar, taking in the few faces that were there, before briefly settling on the two conversing at a nearby table, namely the purple man. The sight of a Blightborn sitting at the same table as a human was something he wasn't sure he could get used to, but could he be blamed? For so long fighting and survival were all his people knew, to finally know some comfort and peace felt surreal. This was not a fairy tale though, and the transition to this new life presented its own challenges.

For the most part, people got straight to work, assisting wherever they were needed as laborers and hands. Food had been rationed as promised and housing had been offered to them within a few days. While there was some initial skepticism, his people accepted that it would be far safer to migrate within the town walls. The difficulty itself lay in the social and cultural norms between his people and Dawnhaven’s denizens. Words and actions that might be meaningless to one group could just as easily offend another. For now Aleksi and his more trusted members have been able to keep the tribe in line, making it very clear that any aggressive actions would be met with punishment. Only one had attempted to cross the line Aleksi had drawn and he cut their finger for it.

Aleksi knew he could not subvert decades of hatred within a few short weeks, but he had to try, and for the sake of the tribe he had to succeed. The barbarian closed his eyes, feeling the weight of leadership upon his breast, the worry of banishment for even one slip-up on his shoulders. He couldn't afford to be soft with them, not right now, not when so much was at stake and yet lately he found himself asking, what would Ivor do?
~~~ 2 Weeks Earlier ~~~

Aleksi’s eyes opened, the cacophony had grown to raucous conditions as everyone arrived at the town center. The masses had been segregated between a wall of guardsmen for safety; on one side the denizens of Dawnhaven, on the other his people. It was a wise decision as tension weighed heavily in the air and the only things standing between the two groups were steel and a promise.

Aleksi stood before them all, Orion at his side along with several other key figures from both groups. The prince and his wife had so graciously made an appearance along with their guards and commanders. As promised Orion had both priestesses attend to act as divine witnesses to his oaths. From his entourage, his most trusted warriors, Fífill and Björn along with the village shaman would bear witness to his words. Finally the translator stood nearby, though her posture seemed off and he couldn’t quite tell where her legs ended.

The advisor beckoned him forward and the two approached a hastily erected platform. As Orion addressed the citizens and his tribe, Aleksi took a moment to observe the people around him, his eyes quickly scanning the crowds. Looking at the general public, it wasn't hard to determine that people were scared and confused.

The priestesses mirrored their goddesses, where one appeared frail and feeble, the other appeared powerful and ever present.

The translator he determined to be a Blightborn as there were no visible footprints in the smooth trail she left in her wake.

Aleksi caught the Prince’s gaze only once; steely, determined and very much like his own.

Finally his eyes wandered over something he hadn’t expected to see, someone who he had already seen die once before. A tall and unmistakable figure stood off in the distance, watching from afar. In this moment, Aleksi was one ghost bearing witness to another, his gaze narrowing as he locked onto the giant form of Ivor, The Wild. A flood of emotions welled within him, relief, anger, joy and grief, but they were quashed the moment Orion grabbed his attention.

The moment was brief, but it was enough and as soon as Aleksi turned his head back the giant had vanished. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and turned his attention back to the matter at hand, finding Ivor could come later. Answers to long awaited questions could come later; right now, the tribe needed Aleksi, not Ivor. The barbarian stepped forwards and addressed the crowd, “My name is Aleksi," he enunciated clearly "My tribe and I, we come in peace…”. He then recited the same oaths he’d given to the blightborn advisor behind closed doors.


Mentions: Orion @Qia, Flynn, Eris @The Muse, Sya @PrinceAlexus, Amaya, Tia @c3p-0h, Charlotte, Aldrick, & Kat @SpicyMeatball

Location: Blighted Lands → Nearby Town


Amongst the field of dead trees, a lone redwood stood out amongst them, trudging through the snowy wasteland. As soon as the expedition arrived and started setting up camp, Ivor pressed onward, volunteering himself to verify the safety of the surrounding woodlands. For all his years of expertise, hunting, tracking, and environmental awareness, even he felt outside of his scope entering the blighted area. The air felt heavy, almost thick, even the ground felt more akin to ash than snow. The vibrant sounds of nature had long fallen behind their troupe some miles ago, but here the silence felt more stark and present amongst the barren wastes. Ancient husks, erect from the earth were the only evidence of nature, now monuments to the once verdant growth that dotted the landscape. Ivor’s hand traced over wood, thick ridges leading to deep gaps between the dry, brittle bark. The tree almost appeared shriveled, as if the very life force within it had been sucked away. Ivor winced at the thought, before pressing onward to the town proper.

Like the surrounding wastes, the town itself was quiet and devoid of life. Buildings creaked as Ivor walked through the streets, corpses littered the ground, some in tattered clothes, others in rusted armor. The giant knelt down to examine one of the bodies, the sigil of the moon present on all Lunarian soldiers was covered in a thick patina; the darkened armor of night rife with rust. Ivor stood and continued closer to the town center, but stopped short to examine markings on a nearby building. Claw marks, meters long, were deeply embedded into a storefront, stopping short of a hole where a door used to be. He briefly stood at the entrance, scanning inside, furniture overturned or smashed completely, more claw marks, no blood, no bodies.

Ivor, deciding he had seen enough, opted to turn back and go towards the camp, not wanting to stay longer than he should. The town itself did not seem to present an immediate threat and whatever had happened here, whether there was an attack or not, happened long before they got there, and perhaps long after the blight itself had arrived. Just as he was about to leave something in the air caught his attention, raising his head he sniffed. A faint smell was coming from the town center, had he not lingered he might have missed it entirely. Taking in the scent, it smelt almost earthy, wet, distinct, yet being unfamiliar with it, he could not entirely place what it might have been.

The sound of wood cracking, pulled Ivor from his stupor. Alert he drew his bearded axe, ready to strike down whatever creature may come; but nothing came. Adrenaline high, he breathed deeply to calm his nerves, gripping the axe handle tightly he raised it to gaze at the worn, etched metal. A single word, carved in the old tongue, was writ upon the axe head, “Unyielding”. The giant brought the metal to his head, cold steel to pallid flesh, “Pater, give me strength,” he spoke fluidly, invoking the will of his ancestors as he journeyed back to the forward camp and report back to Orion.

Location: Walking back towards town



Elara held onto the question for contemplation, almost similarly to how Orion had on the walk to the temple. However, unlike the man whose emotions felt invisible, there was something rippling beneath the surface of the snow haired woman. Céline hadn’t enough time to fully understand the emotions before Elara’s answer came as sharp as glass. It wasn’t the tone that the woman had employed, but the residual feelings associated with it. Céline had unintentionally touched a nerve and the subconscious, like a porcupine, flexed its quills in self-defense.

Initially she had assumed that her door to a conversation had closed and that the remainder of the walk would be left to their chorus of crunching snow. The quills, however, receded as Elara shared her mind, her words carefully chosen, telling a tale of spirit, resolve and determination. In an odd way Céline found her mind wandering back to her youth, back to that arid desert. Living in her caravan meant food and water were scarce, and homemade crafts had to be traded for meager scraps and copper pieces. They never stayed in one place for long, prayer was mandatory, and anything deemed ‘sinful’ was met with a twisted sense of discipline. It was a difficult and harsh way of life, but the elders would say, ‘Every hardship brings us closer to the goddess’.

Most would probably claim those people…her people to be mad for choosing to live the way they do, Céline certainly felt that way at one time. It already was a difficult life to live and the way she and others in the caravan had been treated only made her time there more arduous. That chapter in her life had long been closed, and while she could never forgive the monsters or their crimes, she could respect the way they lived, regardless of their moral ambiguity

A subtle warm feeling brought Céline out of her thoughts, her eyes scanning for the source. She found it between the two handmaidens. Elara had reached out to connect with her companion before pulling away. The moment had been brief, but Céline hoped that it maybe would put the other young woman more at ease. If nothing else she could continue to talk with Elara in the hopes that maybe Ramona would come out of her shell. The blightborn made eye contact with the snow haired handmaiden and gave an apologetic smile.

“There are probably a thousand other words I could have used to ask how you felt about Dawnhaven, and in my infinite wisdom, I chose ‘enjoy’.” It was ridiculous, enough to turn her smile into laughter. The realization had caught her off guard, not enough to send her into a raucous fit, but a hearty chortle.

“Where I come from, home was never the same place for long,” Céline mused to Elara as she regained her composure. “No more than a few days of fasting, of worship before we all continued the grueling trek through the desert.” The wind picked up briefly, the cold air lashing at her face as snow mimicked the sands she was so familiar with. If she had not become a blightborn, Céline wondered how she would have fared against these arctic gales. “It is a strange feeling to me, to be in a place so eerily similar, yet vastly different.”

She looked ahead, the buildings slowly cresting over the horizon. “It really does seem like on the surface that it’s just some barren, half-built town, but deep down there is something building itself up stronger.” Celine hadn’t noticed it before, not when she initially arrived in Dawnhaven and had barricaded herself in. It wasn’t until sometime after that she felt it, a soft hum that seemed to come from the very town itself; almost like a heart beat. “Theres a will to survive here, a defiance to not go quietly, almost like a tree has taken root on a great boulder and refuses to die.” She smiled, “and if I do my job right as a doctor, hopefully no one else will have to and something beautiful can grow here.”



Interacting with: Elara @Qia and Ramona @enmuni

Location: Outside the Seluna Temple → Walking back towards town



Then go with them. Until our next meeting. Ensure you remain safe.
Céline watched as the man departed, almost gliding along the snow with each footfall. The way he left felt almost eerily similar to how he had arrived. Silent, like a wraith, making his presence known only when necessary, then vanishing without. Orion was no specter, however, ghosts did not take the time to show where life was being built, did not worry about the safety of the living, nor offer endorsements to live in their community. Yet the others around her now seemed to be wary and apprehensive while he remained, was there another side to the calm and collected man she had experienced?

Then it seems you’re with us now,

Elara’s voice cut through Céline’s thoughts, suddenly realizing she’d been staring off for far too long. Her eyes found the handmaidens, “so it would seem,” she nodded, smiling. Upon mentioning the guards Céline turned towards them, a pair that seemed neutral towards her, at least enough to not register her as a threat. Céline made a point to bow her head towards them both, “I know I’m not your intended recipient, but I want to thank you for your vigilance and protection as we journey back.” Both the guards outwardly remained hard and on edge, but inside she could tell they had softened a little.

All words said, all pacts made, the group began to move off in formation. Elara led them, with Céline herself and the other handmaiden, Ramona, flanking on either side. The guards fell in a few paces behind them, close enough to respond to threats, while giving ample space so as not to cluster the women. The path they had chosen was different from the one she had arrived on, and though she would have loved the opportunity to witness the moon-kissed lake again, she wondered if the others would have been able to appreciate it as she could?

She looked at Elara first, somewhat similarly composed to Orion, careful with her emotions, but there was pain embedded within cracks. Given her recent trauma involving the knight Sir Abel, it was only a wonder that she hadn’t completely broken down yet. Then again, if she was a handmaiden to the princess herself, maybe Elara didn’t have a choice. Ramona on the other hand, her apprehension remained, almost intensified in a way. Céline had wondered if it was just Orion causing stress, but maybe there was something else on her mind?

In an attempt to distract and maybe even connect, she started conversing, more addressing the group as a whole rather than any one person. “Orion was very kind in showing me your developing town. I can see it being a thriving community, with all kinds of people living in it.” She paused letting the thought linger a moment, “I’ve only been here a..short time now and don’t really know much of Dawnhaven. You’ve lived here for some time now, yes?” Her eyes fell on Elara first, “What do you enjoy about the town, about living here?” Then Céline’s gaze went to Ramona, “What have you experienced here that you wouldn’t have dreamed of having back home?”

The other handmaiden almost seemed to shift back slightly, hiding herself behind the white haired woman. Céline smiled softly, somewhat remorsefully, she couldn’t help how people felt about her; how afraid they felt. The emotions were palpable, and they sent her stomach turning as she put a hand to her mouth, covering it. She hadn’t noticed it before, but this fear somehow felt different from what she was normally accustomed to. Most people often felt afraid for their lives, a raw emotion of self-survival, to get away from the monster, the corruption. However, it almost felt like she was afraid of being discovered, like someone guarding a well kept secret.

Regardless of the intent or reason behind the fear, she wanted to just ease the people around her, so she could go a few steps without feeling the need to regurgitate. “It might be unusual to ask, but if I am going to be living here, helping people, I want to know more about this place, about the people living in it, and the lives they lead. I want to know them all, the commoners, the nobles, the servants and the soldiers,” she glanced back, a small smirk, “I’m open to your opinions as well, good sirs!”



Interacting with: Elara @Qia and Ramona @enmuni




Location: Forests outside Dawnhaven
Interacting with: Valthyr @Fetzen
Mentions: Sya



The walk into the forest had taken longer than expected, for while the giant’s supernatural strength made his quarry light enough to carry, the direwolf was still large enough as to be cumbersome. The walk was made even longer as the beast squirmed under his grip, but eventually he calmed enough to allow Ivor to change stance from a side straddle. Once he felt they were both far enough away he released the wolf. Though he didn’t bite the giant, the fierce eyes, brimming fangs and harsh growl were enough to convey the druid’s disapproval of Ivor's actions.

The verbal tsunami that followed may as well have been garbled gibberish as Ivor stared blankly as the beast turned back into a man. Most folks Ivor conversed with either spoke the same language as him, spoke slowly and deliberately, or at least knew not to use too many big words at once around him. The man was clearly upset and cold, neither making him any easier to understand as he shivered, body beginning to blue as he set about to work in the snow.

Whatever words made it to the blightborn at least left the intended message. Clearly the man was upset at Ivor for interfering in whatever action or prank he was attempting to get Marcus to leave everyone alone. On top of that, Ivor’s interference could cause the situation to escalate, with the consequences being severe. Given Marcus’ reaction to dead animal fur, Ivor could only imagine what would have happened if live animal fur had touched him. Still a wolf suddenly appearing out of nowhere, given Ivor’s personal experience with his own creature, he wasn’t sure what to make of this unknown. Had he misjudged, who was to say that the consequences wouldn’t have been just as severe for all involved?

Still, all being said and done, he felt bad for the man before him and in an effort to help placate some of his anger, Ivor doffed his clothes, draping the boar furs around the druid. “You seem like man who would be liking this more than Mr. Marcus did,” Ivor then dropped his trousers, leaving only a loincloth to remain, “pants maybe little too big on you, but will be better than bare skin out here.” The giant crouched low, cheeks hovering inches above the pristine snow as he watched the magic unfold before him, “It is good you have the spellings like this, Ivor forgot to bring axe from hot spring too.”

Ivor stared at the tree a little longer before turning to the man, “Ivor has not seen you before, what is your name, friend?”

Valthyr reached for the pants with a rather obvious amount of eagerness. The cold was beyond biting and what there was in terms of Ivor's clothes being too large could be turned into a second layer on top of the first one by some folding.

"Thanks, Ivor. My name's Valthyr." the druid stuttered. "Valthyr Naffron if you'd like to know the whole thing. Didn't know that Ayel's family name is Marcus." The idea of just tagging all of them as idiots was tempting enough that Valthyr had to remind himself of how inappropriate that potentially was as well.

“It is good to be meeting you Mr. Valthyr, but did you not hear him yelling his name?” Ivor puffed his chest up a little, his voice pitching up as he mimicked, “Marcus Ale Rainfort!” The blightborn’s laughter echoed through the tree tops, “Ivor understand that you are worried, but I be thinking that Mr. Marcus is little more than chittering squirrel who cannot find nuts.”

The tree started to emit some suspicious sounds. A faint noise of splintering wood at first, the tearing of bark soon joined in until the whole trunk delivered an opera of imminent structural failure. The part above the line of runic carvings began to slide on the part below it, shearing off those bits of wood still holding on. Once the center point was over the edge, there was no return for the giant plant. The tree toppled over away from where the druid and Ivor were and fell down onto the bushes on the other side.

"It's a little on the slow side compared to an axe, especially with you swinging it I imagine, but it works." Valthyr tried to explain. "A very thin layer inside the tree trunk has basically rotten away at an accelerated speed. It is a more common woodcutting technique among my people, at least when the tree is particularly large."

The man tried to huddle inside Ivor's giant pants as much as possible, still freezing but at least no more of the biting cold was coming in. "Sadly though there's not much I can do about the common cold I am going to get. Just arrived here yesterday and..." How should he put it ? "There's already been plenty of death and decay."

The giant watched in amazement as the tree fell away without any obvious interaction beyond the druid’s words. His explanation of the spells’ mechanics were a little wordy again, but Ivor got the gist of it, though it was hard not to understand ‘magic makes tree fall down’. Admittedly the man’s modesty of his magic vs Ivor’s might made him feel a little sheepish. Given how often the giant went out of his way to cut trees slowly and methodically, just to feel a little normal. He could admit that to Kira, on that cold hunting eve, but not to this stranger, not yet anyway. “Sometimes my friend, is not how fast you take the road, just so long as you get to where you go in the end.”

Ivor walked alongside the trunk and inspected it, “How are you proposing to make the chair for Syraea? Do you have some magic that turns wood into chairs?” The giant sized up the tree, “I could also carry this back to town, bring it to woodcutters,” he turned to look at Valthyr, “It would be easier to drag, but Ivor got in lot of trouble last time he made ditch in road.” He shrugged, “Funny enough, was also when Ivor was making a new door for Syraea…”

Ivor’s hands ran alongside the wood when something clicked in his head, something the druid had been saying during their conversation. “Wait…did you say somebody die?”

Valthyr had been about to start answering the giant’s first question when the second one came in. It was a surprise, had really nobody in town told Ivor about what had happened yet ?

”Yes. I don’t know the man’s name, but there was a murder. If one decides to call it that, because to me it looked more like somebody tried to… feed on the victim ? I think I’ve heard the name ‘Abel’ at some point, but I’m not entirely sure.” He considered briefly not to mention anything going further than that, but then convinced himself that Ivor would, at some point, probably find out anyway. ”A wolf is not the only shape I can take. I watched it as a cat, which also is the reason why I couldn’t do much about it as it happened far too quickly.”

The druid’s tone was somewhat saddened now. ‘Tumultous’ was not enough of a word to describe his first day in Dawnhaven, but the scene with the two women, Sir Abel and the blightborn had really topped it off in the worst possible way.

”There was a manhunt afterwards with me, the prince and some others, but all we found was a blightborn squirrel I got this from.” Valthyr presented his elbow which still bore clear marks of injury from the day before. ”The attacker was clearly walking on two legs and had two hands however. Couldn’t pick up the scent in the woods anymore.”

As the battle wound was presented to Ivor, he turned his eyes towards it, but his gaze reached far beyond it. His mind processed this new information quickly, the words ‘murder’ and ‘feed’ repeating themselves over and over in his mind. Did one of his own kind do this? Was it someone from the village? Was it someone from the outside? Suddenly the murderous gaze from the champion made much more sense; her charge had been spelunking with him and Zeph while a killer was on the loose.

The giant wondered if there was more he could do in this moment, but with how much time had passed tracking would be useless at this point given the snow. His eyes fixated themselves back on the druid, bearer of the news, witness to some of the events that unfolded. It seemed the situation was under control for now and that, perhaps, it was for the best that he had taken the priestess far away in the meantime.

He turned his head slightly to look at the fallen tree, letting his right arm rest on it. ”That thing ? I can cut away coarsely what’s not needed using the magic I’ve already shown, for all the finer details I will resort to traditional woodcutting tools. Which I still have to find somewhere, that is…”

Ivor blinked and smiled, “If you can cut away big pieces,” Ivor let go of the tree, the wood falling again with a crash, shuddering the earth around them, “Then perhaps you will do that here, yes? Ivor may be strong, but carrying all the tree all the way…oof,” the blightborn demonstrated by stretching and flexing his shoulder, “Even we have our limits, yes?” Ivor laughed, “When we are done, we can bring to the wood cutters, they may have the tools you need to be using.”

Once Valthyr got to work cutting the tree down to size Ivor stood next to him watching him work, “Thank you, my friend, for telling Ivor of what happened. Since coming back everyone seemed a little down, a little…strange, yes? Now Ivor understand why.” The blightborn folded his arms and lowered his head as if deep in thought, “What the people need is hope, but how do we give them something there is so little of, when there is no light in the dark…” Ivor stared at the tree, the rotting bark cutting another perfect line down the trunk. He mused that he’d have to come back later for the rest of the tree, he did promise Sya firewood after all.

Still staring at the remaining tree an epiphany began to take shape, “What if…we light a torch…one the whole of Dawnhaven can see? Your magic can go up the tree yes? Not just through the tree?”

Valthyr wasn’t entirely sure whether he should be delighted about even giant Ivor having his limits because that had the potential of making blightborn at least a tad less scary, or be disappointed by having to separate the tree into smaller bits right on the spot due to these limits. Anyway, the quicker he got to work, the earlier he’d be able to return to a more comfortable place even though the fur slowly started to warm him up again.

”The magic is tied to the runes I am carving, so while it has some range, I can’t carve down here and expect something to happen at the very top of a huge tree. I am pretty good at climbing though!” the druid laughed. ”A torch large enough to illuminate the town ? We could certainly use the wood I don’t need for the chair for that and pile it up.” Burning so much wood for the sake of a symbol had the touch of waste to it, yet at the same time the druid could understand. Also he could regrow trees if needed, he just… didn’t want to mention that yet. Otherwise maybe more people would come. They might figure it out once his tree-house was finished anyway.

Valthyr picked up another stone from where the tree’s fall had blown the snow away and continued carving. Soon, the first large bits of tree broke off, each one sending a jolt through the remaining trunk upon separation as the balance shifted. If they weren’t careful, some of it might end up slapping their faces.

“Hmm, you may be right. Ivor had been thinking that maybe it would be like, a really big torch, but bonfire may be more…prac..er easier.” As he mused a chunk of wood splintered off towards them, the giant effortlessly swatting it away as it closed the distance, “We will need to keep some wood for Sya and the eye though, keep the hearth hot.”

Ivor continued to watch as Valthyr worked, eyes scanning, ever vigilant for any errant pieces of wood that strayed too close to them. “Do you remember what the sun felt like, Mr. Val?” The blightborn asked, “Ivor does not remember so much, but he remembers how warm it felt, like a warm hug. I think the people need that hug right now, even if it is a fake hug.” He laughed, “It must be sounding silly to be hearing a big man like me talking about the hugs and the fuzzes with feelings.”

The question came a bit unexpected and it made the druid take a brief, but visible break from the task of breaking down the tree. He exhaled deeply with a plume of white mist exiting his mouth, then drew in the air to respond: ”Yes, I do. The memory is… fading however. I can’t even guarantee that I wouldn’t feel uncomfortably hot if the deeply red rays of an early morning’s sunrise were to touch me by now. As a Lunarian, it probably doesn’t hit me as hard as it does the Aurelians, but still… We have to go to greater and greater lengths to maintain our forests and still there is so much silent suffering.”

Valthyr turned around, leaning slightly against the fallen trunk now behind him. ”Let’s prepare that hug!” The piece intended for Sya’s chair was already almost separated from the rest and something told the druid that the giant in front of him would not have that much of an issue to get a literal crack at the rest.

Ivor clenched his fists, his body unable to contain the unparalleled excitement within, exploded with a victorious cheer that echoed through the treeline, “JABOOL!” The giant rushed forward and embraced his new druid companion with back-breaking strength. Valthyr’s feet briefly left the ground before unceremoniously landing back down to the earth. Ivor then rifled through the furs’ inner linings for lengths of rope before rushing to the remaining logs to tie them down.

“There is much to work to be done, friend! Ivor is so excited! Last one back to the town is a jerked beef!” With that Ivor bolted forward, a rope in each hand, towing huge stacks of logs behind him. In his excitement, Ivor had completely forgotten that he was going to carry the wood home, opting instead to create twice as many trenches as before.

Location: Outside the Temple of Seluna (Before the tree of remembrance)



Even as Orion approached her, Céline’s eyes remained fixated on the freshly carved name. Her ear was the only acknowledgement, twitching outward reflexively to the crunching snow. His footsteps fell just a few paces short behind her as he resumed his place as her vigilant steward. She wondered if others felt his presence to be an omen with how stoic his demeanor was. How his eyes, almost gargoyle-like, pierced through the very soul. Even now, still feeling as little from him as she did, Céline felt no doubts about the enigmatic soul who took her under his cloak. His words, however, did give her pause.

As he finished speaking, she turned her head towards him, truly looking at the man and considering him. What had Orion been before he became a lightborn? Was he of nobility and always had been an advisor? A leader? Did he make enemies and if so, who would want him to disappear? Before she could speak, Elara began to approach from the other side and requested Céline’s knife to add another name. WIthout hesitation and an encouraging nod, Céline respectively over the blade and watched as the name Lena was carved into the bark.

Unfortunately there was little time to appreciate it as another disturbance nearby caught everyone’s attention. A red-headed woman had fallen nearby, more than likely slipped on the ice. Instinct directed Céline to help this woman, but Orion was on her faster, ready to render her aid. Fortunately to her relief, upon inspecting the woman from a distance, her pride seemed far more damaged than her body. This was only made more evident as the maiden quickly rose to her feet only to lower herself back into prostration.

The anxiety emanating from this woman was palpable, strong enough to make Céline wonder if Orion could feel it too as he seemed to shift uncomfortably. The whole situation reminded her of what he had said to her earlier that morning about titles and polishing egos. It was ridiculous enough to elicit a light-hearted laugh, one she tried to stifle behind a gloved hand; rather poorly. She didn’t feel alone though, she could almost hear laughter beside her, and as she turned her gaze towards Elara, she realized the voice was not her own.

The blightborn processed Elara’s emotions, somewhere between happiness and melancholy; not quite bittersweet, but fragile as a rose. It seemed whatever was there was too much for the young woman though as she stuffed the memory down with abandon. It felt like the equivalent of packing a bedtrunk haphazardly, unsure of where to put the memory, just so long as it was out of mind. Who had caused her such pain? Was it related to the name carved on the tree or were they still here?

Céline wasn’t left to ponder it for long as the sound of two more pairs of boots began to approach their entire group. Two soldiers, one from each nation, first approached Orion, undoubtedly with some kind of important business. Then the two made their way towards the rest of them, directing their attention towards Elara and announcing they were to be her new chaperones. Given the severity of everything that happened yesterday, it was warranted, even the stares Céline was receiving from the guards. Fortunately her guide doubled back to save her one last time before saying his farewells.

As Orion’s crimson eyes fell on her, Céline smiled and nodded, “I imagine we will as well.” she paused, staring at him, she confirmed she still felt no doubt about him, no hesitation that he wouldn’t offer recourse. “Thank you, for being such an amiable and informative guide, I look forward to our next meeting.” Turning her attention towards the two handmaidens she asked, “If you’re heading back to town, perhaps I could join you, seeing as my guide has been whisked away,” her gaze wandered over the two guards, “Assuming your guardians hold no objections of course.”


Interacting with: Orion, Elara @Qia

Location: Aelios Temple Hot Springs


Ivor’s eyes shot open in surprise as he saw a ball of fur fly at the man he was addressing. With barely a moment to turn, let alone process, the little man he’d just given his clothing to was now back in the water. Aurelians were certainly still strange to the blightborn, it left him scratching his head, wondering if the little man was just too cold that furs were not warm enough. Having grown up in the snowy and treacherous terrain all his life, Ivor felt no discomfort, regardless of his transformation. When the first Aurelians came, it amused the giant to no end how weak to the cold everyone was; now it was just concerning.

Other voices stirred Ivor from his thoughts as he turned to look at both the little man and sudden newcomer. Ivor beamed as he instantly recognized the face of Rider, though to his credit it was difficult to forget someone who once needed his aid. “Rider! Good to be seeing-”

"This is a crone-free area! No witches are allowed! Purse-phony Coarse-Swine!"

“...do you need a blanky… or a pop of shine for your sore gums?”

Ivor’s eyes narrowed as he watched the verbal exchange between the two. The giant knew he was rather large in both presence and voice, but this little man- Marcus Ale Rainfort, despite his size, took loud to a whole new and rather derogatory level. In an oddly adorable way, this Marcus reminded Ivor of an old goat he once tended to in his youth. Loud, obnoxiously so, would spit up often, but he’d startle at the sight of his own shadow. Ivor wondered briefly at what it would take to have the little goat braying all the way home.

"You. Igor! You find priestess. Bring me her towel! Understood?!

The little guy could certainly project…did he say something about a life debt? Who was he even yelling at now? Before Ivor had a chance to think, the answer presented itself in the form of Syraea. The blightborn woman was being as kind and sociable as ever, although something seemed different about her interaction with Marcus. She seemed interested in him and also not at the same time…even as blightborn he didn’t fully understand the wiles of women.

The snow crunched beside him as the tall Lunarian approached. The man returned Ivor’s furs before taking a moment to apologize in advance. Ivor raised a brow as the man turned away and began walking towards the pool of water, doffing his gear and smallclothes as he gave an impassioned diatribe. As he spread himself in glory for all to see, Ivor couldn’t help but burst out laughing, clapping in applause, “Yessss! Very Good! Let it all hang out!”

Quickly the tone shifted from devious fun to deathly anxious and Ivor witnessed something he thought he only experienced. The man’s shape began to morph, muscle and bone shifted, hair turned into dense fur. Ivor watched entranced, envious, knowing that whatever magicks was involved here made the transformation look more natural and seem to feel far less painful than anything he endured. The tonal shift in the wolf-man’s voice snapped the giant out of it and within a few large strides he was on the creature.

Before allowing it to pounce in the water Ivor’s mitt shot out and clenched at the direwolf’s scruff, a dense thicket of fur and loose skin. With all his might he hoisted the wolf up in one motion, managing to break high enough to wrap both his arms around the body of the beast. The wolf was heavy, a writhing mass of muscle that was bigger than Ivor and just as strong as he was. Whatever grip the blightborn had on the creature wasn’t going to last long, but ideally long enough to at least get him out of the springs.

“Ivor think that is enough for today,” his body turned the wolf away as his head turned towards Ayel, “Mr. Marcus, it was good to be meeting you today, I believe this,” he hoisted the wolf up to get a better grip, “should cover Ivor’s life debt, but he is needed elsewhere and Ivor needs to cut wood for fire.” The snarling man…wolf…wolf man clearly did not like Ivor’s manhandling at all, “Argh, easy, easy now! Ivor has to go, but be safe, stay warm, good to be seeing you Rider! Say hello to Agnar!” He briefly turned and nodded to Persephone, then shouted in his native tongue, his voice echoing off the rocks, “Syraea! I’m off to get the wood! See you back at the Eye!” All the while he began to walk away, struggling to hold the Lunarian direwolf still long enough as the two disappeared through the mist and into the woods.


Interacting with: Ayel @Dezuel, Valthyr @Fetzen, Sya & Persephone @PrinceAlexus

Location: Aelios Temple Hot Springs


As the giant stared at the tattered cloth wondering who it might have belonged to, the answer came to him more swiftly than he could have anticipated. Startled by a sudden and shrill screech, Ivor whipped his head around to find its source. At first he’d been expecting a woman from the pitch alone, what instead he found was a man…woman?

Ivor stared rather dumbfounded through the verbal tirade he was receiving. Clearly this was a man in front of him, were he not on full display Ivor might have thought otherwise from how delicate and fragile his physique was. Realizing he was still being yelled at, Ivor tried listening to the words directed towards him. Unfortunately they were speaking far too quickly and with too much spittle, Ivor couldn’t really understand until the very end.

"What have you to say for yourself APE?!"

Ivor blinked, ape…where had he heard that before. Thinking back, Miss Eris told him about apes once, having described them as massive, hairy creatures with incredible strength and an intimidating presence. She had said he was kind of like an ape himself, a compliment from a comparison. Given the tone this man was giving him though, Ivor did not think the same thing was happening right now. That being said, Ivor did not know this man, so it was possible this man did not know him either and thus made the first honest comparison he could make.

Ivor nodded, “Ah yes, Ape! Very good! I am very much like the ape aren’t I, friend?” The giant laughed deep from his belly, giving the man a toothy grin. “I am Ivor! What is your name?”

"Is there a problem ?" A third figure emerged from behind Ivor, this time he had no trouble discerning that this was indeed a man. This new man’s height was on par with Ivor’s though he wasn’t as built he was still cut enough to be intimidating.

The man nodded his way, and Ivor nodded back before shaking his head to answer the question, “No no, there is no trouble here. Ivor simply found this thing,” he held up the tattered cloth, turning his body away from the fragile man, “Ivor thought, what kind of creature this must be? Hopefully is tasty, will fill up many bellies, yes? So, Ivor take axe and kill the creature, except, is not creature, is nonsense clothes! And…” the giant suddenly paused as if realizing something important.

He turned back to the naked and delicate one, shaking and shivering in the cold; or perhaps in anger? Ivor then looked down at the cloth in his hands, then at the man, back at the cloth, then slowly back at the man, “Ivor has made a mistake…Ivor…apologize,” he bowed slightly to the offended one, then sprung back up, “Ivor must make this up to little man, yes!” Dropping the shreds unceremoniously Ivor quickly doffed his fur vest, kneeling down to hastily drape it around the man’s shoulders. “There! Much better now,” he clapped his shoulders, “is a little big on you, but it will keep you very warm, yes?! This fur comes from dire boar, Ivor tracked for many days and killed with bare hands.” The giant stood back up, “now it belongs to you and I think will be much better than silly feathered thing.”

Ivor turned around to face the other tall man, “See, there is no problem, none at all!”


Interacting with Ayel @Dezuel, Valthyr @Fetzen

Location: Outside the Temple of Seluna



Céline watched as the young woman seemed to assess her response, a contemplative look on her face. The air was quiet around them, her ears twitched at every subtle sound that permeated the treeline. Patiently, intently, she waited; all the while her amethyst orbs reflected the visage of the handmaiden back at her.

You handled yourself just fine.

For the second time today, Céline found herself caught off guard by unwarranted commentary, her eyes widening. It wasn’t the comment itself that took Céline by surprise, even without reaching out she could tell it was not an insipid platitude. She had only met a few people since coming here, but each of them held a genuine forthrightness and a willingness to lay bare their truths, just as she shared hers with them.

The blightborn didn’t expect the treatment to last forever, not every encounter would begin with pleasantries nor truths. To be treated though as if she was someone, not just some monster, it filled her with hope and a determination that she’d made the right decision to pursue a life here. The thought made her smile, “Thank you,” she nodded in return, “I’m just trying my best.”

Her ear twitched again as Orion shifted position, causing the snow to softly crunch beneath his boot. A subtle reminder of his presence here, but one that found her drawing parallels between himself and the white haired maiden before her. Both carried themselves with an air of poise and grace befitting their station; rather they carried their burdens well. While Elara was far less stoic than her guide, she also seemed to hold the wellspring of her emotions together; at least on the outside. There was a turmoil bubbling within, loss and regret, the source made all the more apparent as she revealed to have witnessed the murder.

Céline’s hand had made its way to the strap of her satchel, gripping onto the aged leather tightly as her thumb absentmindedly stuttered over the tacky material. Her mind raced with the new revelation, finally understanding Orion’s hesitancy upon revealing the death. This wasn’t just about the wrong person almost getting killed or potentially a full coffer being left unattended. The attack yesterday was on one of the very minds and visions behind Dawnhaven itself. A man died to protect that vision, to protect the woman in front of her and for the briefest of moments Céline thought she heard a scream. She didn’t even want to think of what the potential repercussions towards her could have been had the princess fallen.

Céline pushed the thoughts away as Elara continued to speak, it wasn’t long after that Orion broke the silence behind her and voiced his opinions. Each one had their own strong view points on Abel’s death, each one struck their own chord within Céline. “I think…both of you are right in your own ways.” She turned herself so as to look at Orion, a soft, sympathetic smile on her face before turning back to Elara. “Death is always too much, even for me and no matter how many times I see it, I’m never prepared for it.”

Céline’s hands clasped together, her fingers interlocking as she processed what she wanted to say, “I won’t say I know what’s going through your head, but I think I somewhat understand how you’re feeling. You say you never got the chance to know him, but I think…instead he gave you that chance to know him.” Céline started walking forward slowly, “what I mean is…you could have just written his death off, another number in service to another noble…but you didn’t.” She stopped a few feet in front of the two of them, “Even if you might never really know him, the fact you want to speak more volumes than I think you realize.”

Close enough like this now she felt Elara’s emotions a little more vividly; there was a sorrow at the man’s loss of life, but that wasn’t the only loss there. More importantly she felt the tether between Elara and the raven haired handmaiden, a shared grief that bound them together. Céline’s eyes met the other woman’s behind the veil and she proffered a friendly smile to her.

“This place…doesn’t have to be one where people are forgotten,” She turned partway around to face Orion, “What if Dawnhaven is a place where all who come can be remembered, where it doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor, human or blightborn, whether you sacrificed something or simply existed.” She turned some more, eyeing a nearby and wide tree she started walking towards it. Once in front of its trunk she lowered herself down, unsheathing a small knife from her boot she stood at full height and started carving into the wood. Slowly the words took shape, line after painful dragging line.



Stepping back away from the tree where Céline examined her work and spoke up, “We can start it here, a monument to the fallen…a reminder to those who remain.” She stared at the freshly carved wood, blade absentmindedly twirling in her hands. “A place where anyone can be remembered…no matter what,” she whispered to herself.


Interacting with: Elara, Orion @Qia, Ramnoa @enmuni
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