- The Morkt -8- Cetera-Matris -
The Morkt - Helios
Cetera-Matris - DracoLunaris
Beneath the Bay of Lights
Within the depths of the ocean, six-hundred meters below the surface, lay the temple city of Primus, home to the Rayneids, aquatic guardians of the resting place of the primordial know as the Burning Moon. The city started on the seabed, a ring of small stone structures that were littered around a series of large stepped pyramids. Several of the structures there and deeper down were coated in pykrete, a resilient alloy of ice and plant pulp that had the durability of concrete and was often referred to as true ice. All of the structures where interconnected or pressed wall to wall, resulting in few streets and giving the impression that the entire thing was one massive temple complex, as entrances were often found on the building's roofs. At the center of the city was a deep crevasse, from which at night a warm blue glow would emanate, like blue blood weeping from a gash in the earth. It was currently day however, and so the blue light filter down from above instead, smothering the city in a dull gloom that paled in comparison to the night’s light.
Down the crevasse structures were carved into or built out from the walls, forming what were effectively bunkers and pillboxes in which the sacred guards of the Burning moon lived and might one day fight if someone were so foolish as to challenge the divine gauntlet. Mounted atop these structures, gazing surfaceward, where statues of a six armed woman with a serpentine body. Other than this basic anatomy no two sculptures looked alike, particularly when it came to their faces. Generations of architects having drawn from their predecessor had resulted in a large amount of drift in how their primordial progenitor’s appearance was depicted. Though they loathed to admit it, none remembered which statues were the oldest or most accurate.
Finally at the bottom there was a massive temple that took up a whole third of the carvases three-hundred meter depth, a massive temple/labyrinth that had been slowly consuming the defensive fortifications as the Rayneids obsessively expanded the defenses of the gateway to the Burning Moon’s resting chamber. It featured a singular entrance bared by a massive gate of pure bronze that was surrounded by several dozen enormous serpentine statues, all staring and pointing their weapons upwards as if daring any intruder to come face them. The inside of the main temple was a mystery to all but the the moon kissed daughters who had painstakingly constructed it over the generations and a small number of high ranking military personnel who were privileged enough to either man the gateway or act as guards for the daughters. At the depths was a single chamber, the doors of which had remained shut tight since the Burning Moon had sealed herself inside thousands of years ago. The depths where only visited rarely by renowned Daughters seeking guidance and by lesser daughters performing maintenance.
Within one of the temples back up in the seafloor city surrounding the divine gauntlet a foreign delegation awaited the arrival of their hosts. The room they were in was made of finely carved stone, which had small holes in its ceilings and floors to allow the passage of light while still providing privacy to the occupants and protection from buffeting currents. Several small windows/doors on the far side of the room lead out to the craves, if any of the occupants looked out they could see down into the depths of the city as well as the guards and fortifications that existed to prevent any foreigners from ever going there. The room itself was large and featured a large central table, upon small bowls of various appetizers sat, and small fainting couches used instead of chairs. Several armored guards were posted around the room, centered around the doors and windows. They wore bronze armor that covered their chests and shoulders, while the rest of their body was coated in a thick shark skin leather. They were armed with partisans, spears with short sword length blades which had 2 prongs at the base that acted like a crossguard. They had been a permanent fixture for their entire visit, ensuring that the guests did not go anywhere or touch anything they were not supposed to.
In this room, a small party of Morj waited. They gingerly admired the room and helped themselves to hors d'oeuvres. One of them, however, stood at the window peering unceasingly at the sight of the holy city beneath. Her tendrils shimmered in metallic tattoos, her chest clasped in diamond studded platinum, a black laced shawl licked over her shoulders, and atop her head sat a cold iron crown finely smithed in gothic fashion. The crown extended down along the right cheek in a half masquerade mask. Around her neck and upper arms coiled a brilliant blue coral snake. She caressed its scales gingerly as she waited for her host.
The Queen of Morkt soon caught sight of those she would be speaking with. Deep down below a gate opened in the false bottom of the crevasse, allowing a small knot of Rayneids to exit the temple fortress. They ascended past the many fortifications and primordial statues that lined the sides of the cravess, heading for the room the Morj where in. After two minutes of ascending the leader of the group came level with the queen’s post. The lead figure was a warrior clad entirely in bronze, her face hidden behind a helmet. Not an inch of her scaly skin was visible, only her semi translucent fins free from plate or chain mail. The armor was coated in a thin skin of True Ice, the resilient material both protecting the precious metal with its easily replaceable durability and providing a carefully calculated buoyancy that allowed the warrior to fight as if she was unencumbered by her metal skin. At her side was a sword, a rarity underwater, its construction featuring amber runes along its hilt and blade.
“Please take a seat your majesty”
The Mistress, Queen and High Dictator of the Morj gave a gracefully flowing curtsey before she took her perch.
Entering behind the warrior where two others like dressed like her, armed with claw like piercing weapons instead of swords, and seven priestesses, all of whom took up positions opposite the Morj delegation. It might have come to the attention of the Morj that until now they had not seen a Rayneid’s face, followed and watched as they had been by anonymous helmeted warriors. The priestesses did not change that state of ignorance, for they all wore masks of various kinds, made in the likeness of the statues the queen had seen below, that covered their entire face. On their bodies they wore tight, form fitting robes of seasilk dyed a bright crimson. The priestesses took seats in the fainting chairs, their serpentine bodies resting against the long base while they propped their upper bodies against the armrest and back.
One priestess in particular took up position opposite the queen. She had two silver bands the size of shackles around her wrists and her mask was relatively plain compared to her peers, akin to a bleach white opera mask which featured on its forehead a stylized eye with a sun as its iris drawn in pale blue. White mesh covering the eye slits, making them almost invisible. Two long, thin, dark red goat horns curved up from the top of the mask. Her pale ghostly hair spooled out from behind her mask and was immaculately braided into a long ponytail.
The Morj retinue that mirrored the Reighneads in stance and disposition wore solid black armor forged from cold steel. It was a rare ore mined from the heart of Morkt’s matron volcano. They were covered in lamed plates with a similarly forged great helm. Each of their tentacles were bare save for the tips which were sheathed in short blades. These appendages stood coiled upwards so as to not damage the flooring beneath. Each guard clutched a long trident whose tips housed curious pale green crystals which seemed to smoke even in the sea’s depths.
The Mistress of Morkt smiled gently at the serpentine figure before her. “I am honored to finally make pilgrimage to this place. It is regrettably rare that I have such grand occasion to leave my waters, and it is a weight on my heart that our two peoples are so distant in this large sea. I beg you, tell me what name I may call a friend?” The coral snake slithered down her arm in a trancing motion.
Hidden though her face was, the reaction of the priestess to the queens greeting was still distinctly impassive. Silence hung in the air for a few moments after, just long enough become uncomfortable, before she replied.
“I am Daughter Alexix. Pray tell, for what reason, other than pilgrimage, do you enter the resting place of the Burning Moon, she who made us, she who now sleeps and she who shall awaken when this world is in its death throes.”
Her tone was passive, calm, serene, yet she managed to inject a fair amount of indignation into the world pilgrimage regardless.
“I will not play coy with you, sister. My journey is twofold, yet with both of these ends I endeavor to honor the Primordials of the deep. A blight perches itself on the edge of our world. It is a cancer which you have watched grow and suffocate the land of men. And yet still it grows. And like that vile curse which affects the bodies of mortals, it has molded itself to grow still further, still faster. Now it chokes at that which is of the deep. It swims amongst us and threatens to spread itself into the heart of your waters and next it will come to mine.” She spoke directly and with emphasis, yet her voice still tinkled in the water with a melodic tone. The movements of the snake seemed to mirror this curious inflection.
“The tumefaction of Yaval has cast itself into our holy sea. Thinking trees swim not only above our homeland, but among it. I will not see you bare the same fate as Shenra, nor will I see both land and sea fall to their scourge. That which is of the land must stay of the land lest we desecrate the sea and the deep primordials which have blessed it. As you are charged to protect the holy resting place below, I am charged with maintaining the balance of all waters. That scale is set when the ilk of land stay on that land. Penance for their exile from the sea.
“And so I move a great host to protect us both. A cure to this cancer of trees has emerged in the East. They seek to cut a path through the empire of Yaval. And once they have torn that menace to ash, they will scour its fields by restoring Shenra. The weak breaths of mortal men will once again be the only devil which haunts our shores. The Burning Moon will once again be safe from the shadow casting itself ever closer." She paused smiling gingerly as the snake smoothly weaved between her fingers.
“And yet I know your plight." the Mistress of Morj continued. "You have sworn yourselves to monastic isolation in order to protect your holy keep. Your pledge and purpose is admired by both my heart and my kins’. To engage in war against this looming threat cannot be asked of those with such a charge. And that is why I [/i]do not[/i] ask it of you. I ask only that you allow my forces passage, neither under safety of your arms nor led by your banner. But that we may take this necessary burden upon our own shoulders for the security of our shared generations.
“We seek to temporarily restore the Bay of Lights to the fear it once held in the hearts of men, yet by the banner of Morkt. To tear asunder those who would impeded the march of the Eastfolk’s crusade. The vassals of Morkt, who have been chained in fealty to our gods, will take the fight to the shores and draw the Emerald forces away from your holy waters. It is imperative that we act now. The Primordial spirit of the sky punishes Yavals allies to the West. The Eastfolk have massacred Yaval’s forces in their opening bought. The vestige of Shenra has left its mountain perch and taken to the marshes. The tide of Yaval’s fate crashes at every border. Now is the time to act. If these forces of men are defeated, there will be no one left to root the tumor and once again it will regrow.
“And so I beseech you. Give us your blessing in this endeavour. Let us once again restore balance to the two realms of land and sea.”
After the queen's speech there was a flurry of muttered conversation between the six other priestesses: advice, speculation, and suspicions were all fed to Alexix who after a few moments raised her hand for them to stop.
“You have, it is clear, made some assumptions about the state of affairs in our lands. We have no hatred or fear of the Dreaming Forest, they are the children of a god like us, and have been nothing but respectful for our noble task and borders since we first met. The kingdom of Shenra meanwhile were a thorn in our side before hey were expelled, the restoration of their lands, along with the presence of their oathbreaker allies on our shores would not be the positive change you suggest it is. Do not assume your hopes and fears align with our own simply because we both dwell beneath the waves.”
There was a tense pause, the Rayneid warriors incase either the Morj reacted violently to this vitriol or the priestesses where about to order them to expel them. Alexix however quickly started speaking again at the sight of this, wishing only to let her displeasure to be known with words, rather than blades.
“That said, as you have noted, we do not meddle with the affairs of those beyond our sacred realm unless there is a dire, imminent, threat to us or our allies that must be quashed. The trees may fall as quickly as they rose, it is ultimately of little concern to us, our ancestors handled the threat of Shenra for hundreds of years and we to shall do the same. What is of concern is that you wish to camp an entire army in our waters. Small groups of pilgrims we can manage, but hundreds, thousands of outsiders? They all need to be watched lest they interfere” for the first time Alexix’s tranquil speech became unhinged slightly at the thought of the logistical and spiritual nightmare such a presence would bring “...and they all need to eat. An army swims on its stomach and any sizable force would need to forage from our waters. To have them do so risks inviting famine to our realm, which would be a tragedy for us both.”
The Mistress remained in eerily pleasant disposition, a soft smile drawn across her face. She nodded in approval almost as if to agree with the arguments against her. “I appreciate your concerns, and you are a just advocate to have them. I can promise you that not a single fin under my banner shall enter the holy circle of your temple mounts. The landbreathers cling to their shores, and so we will take to them as well. I assure you the grave priority my kin hold on these sacred waters and on the boudoir of the Burning Moon. I would invite your clergy among my throngs, to educate their souls and guide them from insult of your holy waters. What sustenance we cannot harvest from the northern channel, you will find compensation for. It is my word. Not only will fresh hauls be brought to all mouths, but also metals, jewels, protection, even a great gift which it pains me to part with. The bones of Moorrkut, the great wailord, first son of his primordial heir, Moojllikk. The legend, as you know, slain by land dwellers and a martyr of our waters. His remains have been painstakingly brought across the vast expanse of sea as an offering to your holy court. A divine reliquary to do with as you wish. I trust his sacrifice and his corpse will be honored here.
“But I pray these martyr’s bones will remind the devote of heart. Though the agents of Yaval have lulled you into pacification, their noose still tightens. Just like a lobster is cooked on land, they are slowly boiling sea from which you sit. Their plot is sinister. I cannot wait idly for this window of opportunity to be cast once more into shadow. I cannot swim by as they threaten all we hold dear. Yet perhaps your point of Shenra is valid. With time their slights against you have fallen to rust in the memories of my kin, and for that I apologize. Perhaps their ilk could be withered still more by the heavy hand of this great and murky war. Perhaps a new order, which rightfully reveres the seas and its kinfolk could find a home in that old empire’s footprint. I cannot temper my hand which must swing at the cancer of Yaval. But in that fell swoop, I can also smite those who oppose you and your holy charge, Daughter Alexix.”
“It is not our job to educate you, for we are caretakers not preachers.” Daughter Alexix responded. “To travel with your forces would take our sisters from their vital posts, put them at risk and could potentially violate our pact.” Who this pact was with was left unclear.
“As for the bones of Moojllikk: we guardians of the living, not the dead, yet we appreciate the weight of the gesture, the significance of this trust. Know that the martyr, if delivered, will be intomed with all due honers near our northernmost temple, where visitors can still come to pay respect without having to breach the circle.” it was as much a burden as it was a gift, but not one that could be rejected. “Your promise to both control the movement of your warriors and to reimburse us for hunting done in our waters are also appreciated, however we insist that you pay for the privilege when it is procured rather than with promises of spoils. If you win, the spoils implicate us with your war and make us oathbreakers. Should you fail then we will be left uncompensated. Engaging in a temporary trade agreement avoids our implication in your war, while still solving the issue of your peoples hunger.”
“Our greatest concern that remains then, is in what you cannot control. From our research in the records it is known that your kind are not as in control of your people as might be desired, you are the Queen of various factions who dance a turbulent ballet of allegiances and tolerances. You may order that your people stay away, that they respect our dominion, yet we can't be sure that they will all obey. Anyone who does not heed your words will be treated as intruders rather than guests. Please ensure that your subjects are aware of this so as to ensure they do not start conflict at the sight of our doling out of justice to those who betray you. Finally, there are these eastern forces who's form we do not know. You invite a devil to our borders, a devil we do not know. We know the treefolk, and are quite certain that your fears regarding them are unfounded, we know the Shenrans and shall deal with them if them come, yet we do not know your new ally, whose name you have not even spoken. Surely you do not speak of the threat from the east the ignorant Argenists believe is coming?“
The Mistress answered smoothly after a cooling pause. “The mystic threat you speak of has never been seen or heard of by my kin. As you say, it is likely a fable. The men under the banner of Andromache, which I make union with, are mere mortals. They treat their own land dwellers with whip and chain as they are rightfully due. They are malleable. You speak of the devil you know replaced by the one you don’t. Yet it is perhaps more fitting to choose the wolf with a leash than the two with bared fangs. The nation of which I speak has never felt the breeze of the sea, naive to its wants and needs. Their port will be singular along the shore and thus chokable should they choose to betray their oath.” This oath too was left unspoken.
“But as the High Queen of the Morj, I give you my word that riches and trade will proceed any armed body in your holy waters. Though the nobles of Morkt may be as tumultuous in their vices as you say, my control over my people's military is absolute. Their fealty is sworn to me alone. And I should hope you punish their deceit in your waters justly, less they bare a far worse fate at my hand.”
The priestess took a few moments to consider her options. It was not as if they could truly resist the Morj incursion even if they desired too, their warriors alone could not stand alone against the tentacled merfolk on an open ocean as they would be outnumbered. They had what they needed, the ability to punish trespassers and thieves without fear of retaliation.
“In light of your willingness to negotiate and the respect you have shown for our realm and duty I believe that…” Alexix briley looked away from the Queen to her sisters, the six other priestess and the armored warrior who had entered first, to ensure she was not making a decision that was against their will. Each of them, with various levels of certainty or hesitation, responded to her gaze with the gesture of their faith, a flat palm facing her with their clasped fingers pointing downwards and wrist exposed. The offering of blood to her righteous cause, be it spilled in the temples or in battle. “We shall welcome your forces into the Bay, to visit war upon her shores and to purchase our food to sustain your conquest.”
The Mistress rose from her seat in regal delight. A wide smile betrayed her crystal white fangs. “Blessed is the spirit which guides these beautiful words.” She propelled herself gracefully to Daughter Alexix and took her hand gingerly, careful to present this as a gesture of affection and nothing more. “A deal is struck between our two holy kingdoms. I hope more will come of this friendship, and I pray victory seals our fates in riches.” The blue coral snake, who shared the arm embracing Daughter Alexix’s hand, gave the Reighnead’s knuckle a fleeting lick as if to pay its respects in turn.
At this linking of hands the mood in the room seemed to calm a little, tension draining out as the real meat of the negotiations were completed, the threat of conflict put to rest for the time being.
“There are of course logistical concerns to discuss, the hows, wheres and whens of your arrival and subsequent trade. However I would like to suggest they be discussed during or after dinner? You have traveled far from home and are no doubt famished. Perhaps over the meal you could also tell us more about your chained... Wolf was it?”
