It was predicted. Foretold. Inevitable. Mortalkind was moving too slow. Especially now. Their knowledge of the world was fledgling at best, non-existent at worst. The portents predicted by the great designs had come through at last. The milestone was not reached. Even with the challenges Qael’Naath had enacted. The god sat in his middle island. The only island he had found that didn’t move an inch. Even though the blue sun was the center of his realm, this island refused to move for it. His eyes did not glimmer. The winds of magic were shrieking somewhere on Galbar. Uncontrolled power with no consciousness, no direction.
Its ruler was meditating upon a flat stone amidst a great, emerald and topaz waterfall. With all his eyes closed. The colored mist flowed around him. Forming constructs. Spells that had no reason to exist in a realm that didn’t need them. The second the vapor moved away from the god, it crumbled out of existence again. The schemes and diagrams vanished. Qael, as he opened his eyes after his rumination noticed this. His own subconsciousness was shaping the mana in his close presence. In fact only now did he realize he was sitting on a rock marked with lines, geometry and strange symbols. But the second he rose up, it vanished again. None the less, he realized something important. Mortalkind was not the only one who could forge spells. For two millenia and three decades nearly he had sworn to never so directly aid mortals. He would be the teacher. Not anymore. All six of his eyes flicked with rainbow light.
The shrieking entity in the sky calmed in a moments notice. Then the sky around it lit up with a million specks of light, as if a thousand stars flickered into existence and were extinguished again. In truth, the god of magic was working hard. Harder than ever. He felt his own power being consumed. After this, he would have to rest. None the less he pushed on. It was a great work not seen since the age of creation. The very power of divinity was working the world as if it was wet clay. A million spells, forged at the hands of a god, were flowing across Galbar. Settling in woodland regions, great wastes and mighty mountains. They were spells of ice, shadows, grass, air, cloth, bronze, iron and many more things.
When he was finally done, trillions of new spells had been birthed. These were not the meek and meager things mortals created and that were only sustained by the god of magic’s constant attention. No these were well defined creations. Though they were made by a god, thus understood by a god. Making them dangerously undecipherable for any mortal. It was a challenge. One greater than the puzzleboxes. One that would cost lives, this time around. Qael watched as the golden flecks covered Galbar. To his own surprise, he felt remorse grow in his heart. Remorse. Such a mortal feeling. None the less he knew that he felt it. There was nothing more he could do though. There was wisdom to what Cadien had said. He couldn’t just give mortals so much power. They had to earn it. Learn from it. Now though, he at least gave them an almost tangible goal
Qael ruminates on the shortcomings of mortal magic. As he does, the pure mana of his realm interacts with his subconscious. Spells momentarily form in his presence, only to fizzle out of existence immediately. They don’t matter, because spells don’t matter in his realm, where there is no-one to use them. None the less he notices this and realizes that he too can craft spells. So he sets forth to create trillions of new spells. They flow across Galbar and settle in their themed regions for mortals to find and study. But the god of magic feels remorse. Some will die while researching these spells and he knows this. None the less he cannot do more. Simply giving them the spells would be too dangerous. They had to learn and earn them.
In the far off distance she could see the yellow glow amid the trees. It illuminated the grand column of smoke rising above it. Before the blackness of the night sky consumed it. Then, it only blocked the stars from sight. Still you could smell the smoke even where she was. Her men had sacked the unruly village of Bul’Gadin some time ago. Maybe it was too much for their disobedience. Auriëlle wasn’t a judge. The only thing she knew was that Nalla had send her here to teach them a lesson. In the same clearing as her stood some of her most trusted warriors. Not the ones Nalla had indoctrinated. No, these were hers. Even if she didn’t know their names. They were wretched men. Who enjoyed violence almost as much as she did. Yet here they were, away from the destruction. Bearing witness to it only. It was a strangely spiritual moment. Something Auriëlle thought she was incapable of feeling, until she sat down upon the altar that was surrounded by the raised stones.
Behind her several men began to hum. It was a strange, droning sound that quickly spread. Auriëlle wasn’t certain what song it was. Yet she basked in its sound with her eyes closed. Even up here on the hill, she could feel the slight amount of heat radiating from below in the vale. From the burning village. The humming wasn’t so much as interrupted as added to by the sudden sound of struggle and screams. “Please!” A voice from the path behind Auriëlle said. “Please! No!” Even from the way his voice was trembling, Auriëlle knew the man had cried in hysteric fits. The noise became louder. It approached her. When it was close enough, Auriëlle hopped off the flat stone. Right after her a fat man was thrown over the stone.
“My lady! I beg of you! Mercy! Mercy of Salavar. You spared them. Surely you can spare us.” The bald, fat man pleaded.
Auriëlle knew exactly what he meant with ‘spare us’. The village was already burning. People were already running or burning. They couldn’t be spared. What he meant was ‘spare me’. Spare him and his family. The groveling disgusted Auriëlle, who quickly kicked him in the face. “Be quiet.” She ordered. Before she began to make the rounds of the stones. They paled with the memory she had of the megaliths in Ha-Dûna. Even the carvings were lesser. Yet their meaning was clear. This was a small gathering for the druids. Druids that had advised the village of Bul’Gadin for ages now. Perhaps luckily for herself, they were gone now. Or perhaps luckily for them. She would’ve preferred a druid. As they had some sort of connection to the gods. Or so they claimed. Still, her fingers trailed the stones with a strange fascination. She would let them stand. For now.
Then she turned her focus upon the altar. “You know why you’re here?” She asked, softly as she approached him. “Do you know what I have in store for you?” She trailed his cheek gingerly with a finger.
“I beg of you, my lady. I’m just a humble-“ The man was interrupted.
Because Auriëlle had reached out with her powers, drawing out the air of his lungs. As if he was suffocating. “Stop talking now.” She said, again with a soft, almost caring voice .”You’re not here to talk.” She released him from her magical grip. The man cough violently. His lungs drew in as much air as they could. His heartbeat, desperate for the air, skyrocketed. She gave the order with a single nod. A moment later the man’s throat was slit. Blood poured over the altar. Coating it surface thoroughly before it dripped off the sides.
Breaking Altars had become a delight for Auriëlle. Especially with druidic ones. They, somehow, always managed to get the smoothed chunks of stone. The humming around her got louder as Auriëlle traced her finger along the bloodied stone. Something quickened in her heart. The sense of…something more. Was this how most felt in the presence of their god? How could she know. She had never been in the presence of a god she would’ve prayed for.
Nonetheless, the moves she made around the altar were driven not entirely by herself. The corpse of the chieftain slipped off the slab of stone. A moment later, Auriëlle put both her hands on it. The humming grew even louder now. She heard the word ‘Neiya’ and suddenly something clicked. They weren’t humming. They were softly chanting to their goddess. She couldn’t help but close her eyes and as a sense of more-ness flowed over her. She channeled that sense of greatness into the stone. Bidding it break and fracture for her. Her magic pulsed together with the chant sang with her.
“Can you even see this, Neiya?” Auriëlle asked in a whispered prayer. Still she doubted the gods. Neiya favored Nalla. That much was sure. But did she favor Nallan? Did she favor Auriëlle? The prayer mixed with the droning chanting. The pulses of her magic became stronger and bored deeper. Even into the ground. She felt a need to destroy. The grass along the altar began to blacken and die. Yet the strange sickness did not touch her own men. Suddenly just breaking the altar wasn’t enough. She needed to utterly destroy it.
”My dear, you should really improve your destructive capabilities, I grow bored of just watching you slowly destroy an altar, just crack it in two already.” A sudden voice spoke, it was incredibly strange, jaunty yet harsh, and the gender was nigh-indistinguishable, and, it came from the depths of her mind, not beyond it.
She had felt this before. The voice in her head. Now it was different though. This wasn’t Oraelia speaking. It mocked her. She broke the pulsing power but the humming continued. Instead she raised her right arm and then came down upon the stone altar with the edge of her hand. It broke in two in an instant but the force pushed on. A wave of invisible energy travelled across the ground. Blackening and killing every plant within the stone circle. “Happy now!” She spat into the skies, as she assumed that’s where the gods were. In their neat little heavens.
”Now that is destruction, that was so much more entertaining!” the voice continued, becoming a lot more jaunty than before ”I’ve been watching you for a while my dear and I must say, you hold yourself back too much, you really need to let go and just, destroy willy nilly.”
The humming stopped as her warriors looked up with Auriëlle up into the starless sky. “I’m not here for your entertainment.” She continued as she rested her hands upon the two sides of the altar, hunched over it and let out an exasperated sigh. Truth was that the more she destroyed, the more she killed, the more she liked it. She could still see the yellow glow off into the distance and the smoke plume it illuminated. For a second she thought she could hear the same symphony as she had heard in Teperia. But then she wretched herself free of those feelings. “And I still have a queen to serve. One that can hardly reign over ashes.” She looked up into the skies again. “So which one of the useless gods are you? One of the druid’s? Neiya? Cadien?”
There came an incredibly loud laugh, it echoed through her mind and seemingly bounced around in her mind, she could feel the sadistic joy within it as it did. ”My dear, everything in this world is for my entertainment, if they know it or not, as for, who I am, I am none of those gods, the ‘useless’ ones as you call them, my name is rarely spoken by your kind, but, my control extends over you all nonetheless.”
Auriëlle let out a cruel laugh. She laughed and laughed. For a second her warriors thought she had gone insane. For just a split second she believed she had met something akin to a kindred spirit. That sadistic joy was a little too familiar. Then she realized she was dealing with divinity. “So what am I to you then, oh nameless one? A puppet whose strings you pull? Or have I been dancing alone, for an audience that doesn’t care?”
”Well, not alone mind you, I would put you as one of the more, interesting, actors, that while they don’t take center stage, they show their importance throughout the scenes, your actions furthering the Great Play, and beautifully so if I do say so myself.”
For a second she felt insulted. For the better part of a year now she had been rampaging around Nallan. Olwar was killed by her hands. Teperia was woven into a tapestry of fire. Even now she was making sure even the druids got the message written in blood. How could she not take center stage? Then, for a second, things switched up. She had done all those things and she was only and interesting actor? The world was, ultimately, doomed then. “So that’s what you want from me? To keep doing…this?”
”Oh of course!” The voice loudly proclaimed ”Your destruction is a beautiful thing, though, I think you might want to rework your technique here and there, you still hold back, letting go and just razing the earth beneath you can be fun every now and then.”
She crossed her arms. “Nalla won’t like that.” She was just waiting to get chewed out already for what she did in Teperia. What was happening here and now in Bul’Gadin was just a cherry on top. Then again, Nalla had brought in a blood hound. She didn’t really expect her to just play fetch? “There are lines I can’t cross.” She said out loud before she turned into herself and thought: ‘Gods will be angry. Neiya… will be angry if Nallan doesn’t grow.’ The thoughts had an echo of fear.
”Oh nonsense! I'm sure Neiya won’t mind a bit of destruction here and there! In fact, let me go grab her, think it's about time she actually talked to you.” The voice faded from her mind, yet she still felt the haze over her, almost as if the owner had just walked away for a brief moment. For a few moments she was alone, it was almost blissful. ”Come on Neiya at least acknowledge her!” And it was gone.
The silence dragged out for a few moments more, dragged into uncertainty whether anything more would even occur. Then, as though a heat wave rushed through the area, the air around her seemed to grow thick and cloying. The wind rushed around Auriëlle and her men, a soft gust of wind whirling about each of them. In the rush of wind she felt something brush against her clothes, tussle her hair, and breathe in her ear. A presence lodged in the back of her mind, sighing invitingly before a smooth voice rang through her mind. "Oh, my sweet. So worried of what gods and rulers desire. Are you doing this for me, Auriëlle, daughter of Frankert and Elliénne? For Nalla?"
The rustling of the wind made the men step back. From their reaction, Auriëlle knew that she wasn’t the only one who had felt the touch of divinity. No matter how fleeting it was. The men looked wide-eyed at her now though. She saw the sudden sense of understanding in their eyes: she really was talking to at least one god. Then that voice echoed in her mind. Was this Neiya then? For a moment Auriëlle wanted to just be drawn into the voice. But she shook herself loose. “For myself.” Her tone carried defiance. The destruction she wrought was entirely for herself. Even though she prayed to Neiya before, it was only to garner favor amongst Nallan’s troops. “But I hold back for Nallan.” She then admitted. The words had already been out there.
"Disappointing," the voice crooned softly. An invisible sensation of touch pressed against her skin, and ran up along her chin. "You have seen what one can accomplish with my affection - felt it. Do you think Nalla holds back, my dearest?"
“We are not the same!” Auriëlle sneered. “Nalla is queen and I am-“ What was she? A commander? A warlord? Her gaze turned to the broken altar. Maybe she would become something more. A force of nature. Wrath and destruction manifest. It was an ambitious goal, but perhaps not entirely beyond her reach. “I am whatever I am but I am not a queen. I don’t rule.” She said. Her gaze then turned to the men around her. Her most loyal… followers. “I just destroy.”
"Mrhm. No wonder Yamat couldn't stop gushing about you," the voice continued. "You certainly dance well to the tune of others, but those who dare not reach beyond the will of others may find themselves forgotten. Are you more than a leashed pet, my darling?"
The question felt barbed to Auriëlle. “The queen cannot rule over ashes yet I burned Teperia.” She looked off towards the great yellow glow. “Down their Bul’Gadin burns as well. More ashes the queen will hate me for. Nalla’s collar is already off.”
“But don’t pretend like I have any other choice when it comes to yours.” She sneered now, with even more malice now. Not in the local Ketrefian dialect. Instead she lost her façade and spoke in Cadic: “None of you care if we live or die. Until we don’t walk the damned path you and your kind define.” Her voice flared in rage. The people around her became uneasy now. She was talking to a goddess, the goddess, with a terrible tone. In a language they didn’t understand. Auriëlle knew it as well but brushed the thought away. “Not upholding your oath might see your life destroyed. Sleep at night or you risk being knocked out by the moon. You talk as if we aren’t forced to dance to your tunes but we are.”
She walked up to the megalith of the water god. In Acadia they named his Klaar but right here, he looked different. His megalith was adorned not by tentacles but by fishes. She rested her hand on the stone and continued her rant: “See this stone!? If I destroy it, will I not be drowned in the next year?” She then passed onto the next stone. The only one that was left completely unadorned. “The great boar’s rock. See it? If I destroy it won’t his sons, the trolls, come? His wrath manifest?” She moved away from the stone, not willing to summon any of the other druidic gods their attention. Though she looked up again towards the heavens where the gods she was talking to should be. “We can never reach beyond the will of even a single god. Never for long.”
"Nor should you, my sweet," the voice continued with an amused breath. "Your existence is a simple one, but it need not be as stale as Cadien's statuary. You called for me in the past - I saw then, as I see now. What will you do with my attention, now that you have it?"
The other voice, Yamat, as Neiya called them, spoke softly, almost whispering to her ”Be careful with your answer here, I enjoy your performance and don’t want to see any harm come to you.”
A sane, balanced, humble mortal would take and heed Neiya’s message. Do not attempt to reach beyond even a single god’s will. Not Auriëlle though. It was a challenge. A taunt. One she would’ve created upon. If the first god hadn’t whispered in her mind. Was Neiya vengeful? Auriëlle had no idea. She had ranted and raged so far with seemingly no consequences. Nonetheless, the first god seemed somehow more sincere than most others. Perhaps it was the shared sense of sadistic joy that made her trust him. “I only called upon you…to honor you.” She admitted as she sat down on the broken altar. Her rage and anger had ebbed away somewhat now. “Teperia, the temple. I did it to honor you.” She wore her mask again though, as she spoke in Ketrefian.
Silence reigned once more as she spoke, leaving her to watch her surroundings and allow uncertainty to creep in. Soon after, a soft snicker rang out in her mind, elegant and amused. "How sweetly you bow, my one and only,” the sultry voice returned, inviting and mocking in the same tone. The wind began to pick up around her once more, dirt and debris swept up to whirl around her and the altar with building force. Invisible hands stretched around her throat, and the sensation of long nails dragged over her skin, over and around her neck. They met at the back, and something weighed her down - a new sensation of cold metal clinging to her throat. "Honor me always, my love, and none shall leash you ever again. No god will love you as I do.” the voice demanded and promised in equal measure, releasing a heavy sigh filled with that same promise. In that instant, a singular image - the silhouette of a horned woman - imprinted itself in her mind, like a seed sown to fester. The whirlwind ceased, and the sensations stopped just as swiftly. At once, the air grew lighter, and the subtle pressure in the back of her mind grew distant and eventually vanished. It seemed at least one deity had left.
Her blood ran cold when the invisible fingers crawled around her neck. Would she die like this? By a god’s hand? Doing nothing as it happened. Her muscles drew taunt as the nails scraped along her skin. She didn’t even dare to breathe. Then the weight came. It was small, yet it came out of nowhere. Then the image flashed before her eyes. All fear vanished, like ice before fire. The horned woman, it wasn’t someone else. It was her! How she understood that was beyond her. When Neiya’s presence receded, the warriors around her let out a deep sigh. Many of them kneeled down and ushered a quick prayer of thanks to the goddess. Auriëlle, on the other hand, held the piece of metal in her hand to look at it. It was a periapt of horns. A lovely looking thing. It felt both lighter and heavier than it should be. It reminded her of the small disc she had found that she wore on her belt.
As soon as one left, the other came back in, ”That went, about how I expected, but, no matter, she has given you something which means, you at least have her favor.” The voice had lost a good deal of its jaunty nature, sounding more, drained than before.
“At least I have her favor.” She echoed the remaining god’s words as she traced along the metal with a finger. “And with it… I will burn the world.” She then said as she looked up with a smirk. As she hadn’t forgotten this god of destruction and ruin yet.
"Now that's what I was hoping to hear." The god replied, the jauntyness of their voice returning. "And don't worry about a gift from me, you've already gotten it, I'll be sure to, enhance it once I get the time."
The god’s gift would manifest itself in due course no doubt. Auriëlle was certain of it. For now, she regaled some of the things the gods told her about. Her warriors consumed every word she said. None of them were literate but they would remember. This great moment would be etched in their mind. Here, amid the broken druid circle, all of them shared in something greater. Something spiritual. As they had in Teperia, in the temple of the Light. Many began to see Auriëlle as the chosen one. Not just by one god, but by many. With her as the vanguard, the world would one day burn. They all agreed upon that. Away from Auriëlle though. The warriors were well aware that the sorceress did not want to be a true leader. None the less they would serve her.
But another god had been watching as well. He had been watching before Yamat and Neiya came and he would watch Auriëlle for long after they left her. He watched now not his daughter but the zealots around her. Who saw her as some sort of prophet of destruction. He had heard her rant against the tyranny of the gods. She was right, even if only a few of his siblings could dare admit it. For but a moment, the shadow of the zealots arched towards each other. Sharing a power. Above them, they felt the skies turn dark. A light they couldn’t see vanished.
Auriëlle gave orders to burn the village of Bul’Gadin for its unruliness. Though sadly she cannot join the purge. She prepares a ritual with her most trusted warriors to destroy a druidic altar that is soaked in the blood of the chieftain. To send a message to the druids that refused to bend the knee to Nallan. As she slowly destroys the altar, Yamat comes in and taunts her skill. Saying he finds her slow method boring.
Giving in to the taunt, Auriëlle destroys the altar in one savage clap. Yamat enjoys the show and tells her he has been watching her for some time and finds her entertaining. Auriëlle sneers that she is not entertainment and says she can’t just destroy everything she wants because Nalla can’t reign over ashes. But Yamat rebuts her and tells her everything is his entertainment and in his control. Auriëlle asks if she’s a puppet or just a lonely dancer. Yamat says she is but an “interesting actor”. For a second the sorceress feels insulted, until she realizes that this means that something even more destructive and evil as her is out there. She realizes the world is doomed. Still, she ask what he wants from her.
Yamat implores her to let go more and not bother with what people would think. She still refuses as the queen wouldn’t like that. Perhaps more dangerously, the queen’s patron – Neiya – wouldn’t like that. Yamat picks up on this fear and decides to bring Neiya in. Who decides to ask if she is doing what she is doing for Neiya. She does it for herself, she responds. Which disappoints Neiya. The goddess then tells the sorceress that one can achieve much with her help and asks if she thinks Nalla holds back.
But Auriëlle sneers back and says she is not Nalla. Nalla is queen and she’s just what she is. Neiya taunts her then by telling her she sure does dance along the tune of others. Which pushes Auriëlle to go on a rant about free will that is punished at every impasse. She says that she can never be fully unleashed as long as the gods keep mortals chained. Neiya agrees and warns her not to attempt to reach beyond the will of even one god. Finally Neiya asks what Auriëlle wants with her attention. Yamat warns the sorceress not to offend the goddess, so Auriëlle offers up the basest of reasons: to honor Neiya. As a reward for doing so, she is offered a gift. Then the goddess leaves. Yamat soon leaves as well, but not before telling her she was gifted by him as well.
Finally, another god watched from the distance and decides Auriëlle is right about the gods keeping a leash on mortalkind. He blesses the cult that is forming around Auriëlle’s awesome power, so their concentrated presence may turn the gods blind.
Qael’Naath Start: 5MP/5DP -3 MP >> Consecrate the Cult of the Destroyer with title: Nirrtians III Qael’Naath End: 3MP/5DP
Yamat Start 2mp/5dp 1dp-Gift Auriëlle a title: Azhi Dahakiath I – Auriëlle’s magics become altered. Corrupted, a pious mortal would call it. Normally mana quickly dissipates after being used. Rendering it temporary inert. Not when Auriëlle uses it. Then it becomes temporary agitated and aggressive. Lashing out to the still life in the area. This corrupting effect is only minor now. Only massive magic usage would make the effects apparent. Which are only minor now: grass withers and leaves turn pale for a while. It has no effect on fauna, only flora. End: 2mp/4dp
Neiya Start: 5MP/5DP Periapt of Horns Loyalty's Reward II: (By invoking Neiya's aid, the periapt restores the wearers stamina and breaks them out of mind-altering effects. This effect has to be manually recharged by praising and honoring Neiya.) 2 DP Hornsinger III: (When the wearer uses magic, their appearance changes in the eyes of viewers and takes on an increasingly terrifying and horned visage through continued use. This extends to the area around the wearer, and inspires supernatural fear.) 3 DP
End: 5MP/0DP
Post Length: +10K Words +5 Prestige >> Auriëlle -1 Prestige >> Auriëlle: Deadening the grass
It was a disaster. Qael’Naath had lost the synchronicity with his realm. Some glades floated in opposite orbits. Some clashed, either molding together or shattering apart. Leaving nothing but a nebulous, glittering cloud. Some of the gardens were tilted upside down. Sometimes together with their gravity. To those with a limited mind, it would look like chaos. The antithesis of the god of Magic. It wasn’t. At the center, Qael’Naath was working hard. Observing every alignment and equinoctial point with his central, blue sun. It conveyed meaning and understanding. In the past, they would’ve served as signals for Qael to enact the next phase of his designs. Now they were holdfasts. Points of recognition, so he may discern the new design. The new design his own subconscious had made, in response to the revelation of his daughters. Even though this seemingly disorderly situation was made by his own mind, he could not access its greater meaning. No, he had to find the patterns.
He moved through his realm. Two eyes were open and affixed upon his plane. To observe everything from every possible point of view. Two more eyes were closed. That part of his consciousness was ruminating over memories that weren’t his. But he could see their faces and learn their names: Auriëlle and Soleira. His daughters. Sadly, those memories were chained to another. His final two eyes were shimmering. Through his avatar he was still observing all the spells form in the mana streams. Gauging the world’s magical advances. He had to actively fight a new strange sensation as well. A sensation that wanted him to speed off towards either of his children. The new plan had clearly added them to itself as well. One glade was barren and scorching hot. There was only sand, stone and harsh, punishing winds upon it. Its sole, defining feature was the black obelisk standing at the center of it. Another garden was lush and full of life. It was a complete and faithful recreation of Soleira’s cave.
His mind was too divided though. Oftentimes he found himself just floating through his own realm. Motionless. Having forgotten to move or indeed, pay any attention to his physical body. Only his senses really mattered now. Several times he floated through his own portal and fell into Antiquity. Looking dazed and surprised before he got up and jumped back into his realm to continue the tasks at hand.
Then, he could sense a visitor arriving, as Cadien stepped through the portal. “Oh dear,” the God of Perfection said, clad in his golden armour. “What’s going on here?”
“A catastrophe.” An upside down floating Qael’Naath said. It almost felt like he had just been drowning and the presence of Cadien made him realize that there really was such a thing as breathing. His mind emerged from the depths of his own thoughts, memories and the senses of the Winds on Galbar to peer at Cadien. “It’s a cataclysmic, apocalyptic calamity Cadien. I might not overstate it when I say that I have made two grave and ruinous errors. Look what it has done to my realm!” He exclaimed as he gestured to everything behind him, the perceived chaos.
“What sort of errors?” Cadien asked, inclining his head slightly.
“Children, Cadien! Sapient offspring!” He said as he turned around. As on cue, both the sandstorm torn glade symbolling Auriëlle passed nearby. And then the floating island filled with light and life signifying Soleira passed as well. “Well… not really children. The closest thing I should ever have. Singular mortals given a seed of my power that will sprout within them. You cannot imagine my dread right now, brother. Galbar is not ready. The designs weren’t ready.” For a moment he paused as he tried to calm down slightly. “I am not ready.” He said with a crushing sense of resignation. “They weren’t supposed to be created for another millennia or so. Instead, somehow, an inkling of my power fled me. Not once but twice.”
“Children?” Cadien blinked. “Oh, you mean like that Auriëlle girl?”
Qael, once more, turned an unhealthy shade of blue as he turned around to face his brother. “You know of her!?”
“I do,” Cadien nodded. “For quite some time, actually. I have children of my own, you see. Well, technically they’re my avatar’s. There’s four of them - wait, no, it’s six now. Anyhow, she met one of them.”
For a moment Qael wasn’t sure if he was relieved or horrified. In the end, his obsession won it from both. “You must tell me everything you know, Cadien. I beg of you! Who is she? How is she? W-Why is she talking to one of yours? What is happening in her life?”
Cadien blinked. “Friend, please calm down,” he spoke in a reassuring tone. “She comes from Acadia. Ran from home around the same time you gave them that training site. Her mother wouldn’t stop praying for her return. Some time later, she met my eldest, a man by the name of Carn. She helped him fight some bandits, but then she lured him away from the path I had in mind for him. Rather irritating, that.”
“Anyhow, they spent about three years travelling the Highlands. They started a mercenary band and grew uh… quite fond of each other. Then she left him, to go find out more about her connection to you. He was quite distraught. Now, I don’t know what she found - if she found anything, that is - but last I heard she was serving some vampire queen in the southern Highlands,” he spoke the word ‘vampire’ with clear disgust. “I’ve been listening to prayers from that kingdom - Nallan, it’s called - and there’s something not quite right about the people there.”
“The obelisk.” Qael said. Of course, that’s the reason why it was on her glade. He felt a void growing in his chest. Normally he would not have cared at all for a vampire queen. What else could she be but a small pawn in the grand designs. Yet now he did care. Vampires were amongst the more dangerous of mortals. If this Auriëlle was serving it, she was amongst the wrong people. His panic turned into cold but calm despair. “What do I do now?” What was there even to do? “She came looking for me and I never answered her. What could I possibly still do?”
Cadien shrugged. “When I guide my own children, I tend to do so indirectly, and only speak to them personally in exceptional circumstances. Sometimes, they have carried out my will without even realizing it. So, if you’re concerned for this Auriëlle, but you don’t believe she will welcome your aid or guidance, then try to offer it without making it clear that it’s you. But first, spend some time observing her. Learn her habits, her opinions, her prejudices. Her strengths, and her weaknesses. If you try to guide her without knowing her, then she might not react the way you expect.”
“That would require me to know where to guide her towards.” Qael’Naath said. Deep down though, he knew what direction she should be taking. If only he didn’t feel this strange, almost vile, mortal need to protect her. Like how mothers will protect their cubs. He knew he couldn’t do that. Not with Auriëlle. The truth was that in his grand design, she already had her place. He just had to admit it.
“She’s not the least of my problems though.” He then continued. “Soleira. Oh sweet Soleira. My four winged angel. She loves all, Cadien. You cannot imagine it. Such love. She wouldn’t dare hurt a fly. They will hurt her. Galbar can be a cruel place. They will harm her and scar her.” A strange new fire rose up in Qael’s chest. Even though he couldn’t talk to her “I might do as you say. Watch her. Observe her. Try to-“ Yet he had no idea what to do with her. The presence of her glade assured him she was part of the plan though. “-protect her.” He added when he found the appropriate word. The thought gained resolve though.
“They’re your children,” said Cadien. “It is up to you what you use them for. My own children, I’m trying to get to stabilize the Highlands. A difficult task, all things considered. Carn is preparing to take Ketrefa, but fixing Ketrefa is just the first step. There’s Nallan in the south, Ha-Duna in the west, the Iskrill in the north, trolls and vampires everywhere… and who knows what else?” He shook his head. “The other gods and their meddling…”
Qael’s focus shifted. “I know what you mean. Though sometimes their meddling is what makes Galbar such an interesting place.” Then his mind went to the Highlands. It was such a small region. Yet it had seen an almost unfair share of attention from all the gods now. Even though he did not share Cadien’s distaste for all things Iskrill, troll or vampire, even he had to admit that things were slipping in that land. “But the Highlands require attention. It’s a staggering task, brother. So what’s your plan? Beyond this Carn taking the city of Ketrefa?”
“If he takes it,” Cadien corrected. “But I have a plan in place should he fail. Either way, what I do next will depend on what state the city and the surrounding regions are in.”
“Why not simply make sure that he succeeds?” Qael asked.
“I have given a great deal of aid, but the act must still require some effort and skill on his part. It must appear as if a mortal has solved a mortal problem. Otherwise, they will learn nothing from the incident, and may try to revert back to their old ways at a later date. If I simply forced them to change, then they would do it only because I demand it, not because they understand why.”
“I see. Well, it would seem I will have to keep my eye out for Ketrefa then.” Qael said, before two of his eyes glimmered again. “Forgive me brother. My duty demands my attention. I must leave you. But I am grateful for the information you have brought me about my daughter. Know that I owe you a favor.” With those words, and a small bow, Qael flew up again. Only to seemingly freeze up mid-air. His body floated motionless through his realm as he returned his attention to the matters of his realm, his family and magic itself.
“Hm...” responded Cadien, not entirely sure what to make of Qael’s odd behaviour, but it was clear the God of Magic’s attention had gone elsewhere. So with a final shrug, Cadien turned and left.
Qael’Naath’s realm is in a state of perceived chaos. He has lost sight and understanding of the great plan his own subconscious creates and shows through the orbit of his glades. A she tries to perceive the new plan, he is also ruminating over Oraelia’s memories and observing Galbar through the Winds of Magic. Cadien arrives in his realm, asking what’s going on. Qael’Naath explains that he made a mistake in the form of children. Daughters, to be specific. Their existence destroyed the old plan and forced his subconsciousness to formulate a new one. Cadien says he knows about one of Qael’s daughters, Auriëlle, and tells him about her.
The god of perfection then offers some advice on how to handle and guide kids. As he has six of his own. Qael, though, isn’t sure towards what he should guide them. Or at least, for Auriëlle, he isn’t certain if, as a father, he can accept her role in the designs. He then raves on about Soleira, how she is too good for Galbar. Vowing he will protect her.
The conversation shifts towards the activity of their siblings in the highland and then Carn’s quest to take Ketrefa. Cadien offers some more insight into why a mortal must take and fix the great city and why he, as a god, cannot help more. Then Qael says he must return to his work and Cadien leaves.
The scream echoed through the forest. But Auriëlle’s men, all sitting around the campfire, were well used to it by now. A man was bound to a tree. His body was limp, bruised and beaten. There wasn’t much life left in his body but there was a fire in his eyes. A fire Auriëlle hated. “Just tell me what I want to know and we finish this.” She said, seated on a fallen log in front of the beaten prisoner.
He just spat out blood towards her. There was not enough strength left in him to spit that far though. Instead, it looked more like red drool flowed down to his own feet. She let out an exasperated sigh as she gave a signal to the man beside her. With the tip of the oaken branch, he touched the man’s chest. He groaned as the bruises faded and the lacerations healed. When the wounds was gone, the prisoner was only severely out of breath. “The Light protects.” He said.
Earning him another deep sigh from Auriëlle, who got up and grabbed him by the cheeks with one hand and squeezed his mouth. “I’m getting tired of this play. You know what that means? It means that if you don’t start talking soon, I will forge a fate for you worse than death.”
The man just groaned, but she saw the answer in his eyes. ‘The Light protects.’ He had repeated it all night now. She pushed him back up against the tree and gave the signal to the two men beside her. With heavy clubs they began beating him up again. They were pretty good. Broken bones took much longer to heal with the staff. Instead they kept it to bruises and cuts. According to his frequent involuntary screams, that was painful enough.
“Ready to talk?” She asked in between fists hitting his once again deeply bruised face.
He just stared at her. With that same, zealous fire in his eyes.
“You know, I cannot imagine what makes you so fervent.” Auriëlle said, with a wave of her hand her brutalizers took a step back. Allowing the man to take a breath and recover his thoughts. “Have you ever talked to your god?” It wasn’t Oraelia, he made sure to make that clear when he was caught and first questioned. “Shown favor by your god? I’d ask if you were given any power but that’s out of the question. Your god didn’t particularly look down upon you and smile three days ago. When I beat you and your army.”
“The Light… speaks through the saints. It favors us with grain and luck.” He managed to get out between violent coughing fits. “The Light protects.”
“You’re sure about that? Even when I burn you here, you’re certain that your Light will protect you?” She raised her hand. Fire formed in her palm. It was a small flame. Only slightly bigger than a candleflame.
“It protects my soul. It will protect Teperia.” The man managed to get out.
Auriëlle just returned to her place and gave the signal. The two guards continued the beating but Auriëlle herself had long since lost interest. Instead her attention turned to the disk hanging off her neck. It was a strange object, with an eye at its center. Its weighted less than it should, or so Auriëlle thought. There was a weight to it she just couldn’t explain. She even checked it with scales. Aside from the weight it also felt like the air was constantly moving towards it, in a light breeze. Another thing that was utterly impossible in the windless night.
The man never gave in. His conviction, his faith, it was just too strong. Countless times she had him beaten up. Countless times she had him healed up again. In the Auriëlle was pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration as he was healed again and the sun was peeking up from beyond the horizon. “Alright. I’m done. Get him up. Let’s go.”
“You’re just going to give up like that?” One soldier asked.
Auriëlle stopped dead in her tracks. “What did you just ask?” She said, as she turned around. “You think I’m giving up?” She stared down the offending soldier, who took a step back and didn’t dare to speak. “He had a choice!” She continued as she pointed at the chief. “He breaks or else.”
“Or else what!?” The bound chieftain spat out with all the disrespecting strength he had. “You are nothing, Auriëlle. I heard your story. You think those bards you send made any difference? None of us were afraid! None! You think you’ve won but you’ve lost. I’ll never bend to Nalla. Nor will my people. You’ve lost, Auriëlle.”
She threw him a vile grin. “You’ll never bend the knee?” She asked.
“Not in a thousand years! If Nalla wants to rule us, she’ll have to come to us. She’ll have to pray like us.” The chieftain said.
“Not in a thousand years.” Auriëlle pretended like she pondered the words. “Very well then. If you won’t bend then you are useless to us.”
“What?” The man said in surprise.
“I said you will be useless. It means you will burn. You and your people and your city. I send the bards to warn you. I’ve beaten you in battle. I’ve been beating you throughout the night. My patience is not endless.”
“You would murder a city!? Even by your own faith that must be a great sin!”
“Maybe.” She said. “But I’ll live with that.” Her official command soon followed. They marched upon Teperia, after they had so brutally destroyed the opposing army before. Between the healing capabilities of the staff, Auriëlle’s ever increasing power and Teperia’s lack of any hero, the battle had been a very, almost boring victory. Now though, her army marched upon a city. The army was marked well. Behind her various Leon-pelt banners were held high. As proof of the stories. When she arrived at Teperia, she had a crude battering fashioned in a day.
The citizens of Teperia sat huddled together in their houses. Their windows were boarded up and the doors barred. The militia was compromised of some veteran warriors who managed to flee the first battle combined with those too young or too old to fight before. They were armed with kitchen knives and pitchforks. It wasn’t quiet. There was too much yelling, crying and shouting going around inside the walled city for that. Yet somehow all that noise was drowned out by the rhythmic thumping of the battering ram upon the gate. Every hit reverberated along the walls. Shaking off dust and dirt from it. The wooden beam holding the gate closed began to crack slowly. But the splinters became more and more pronounced the more hits went through the wall.
Then it happened. The beam broke. The gate swung open. The defenders held their weapons ready. Some had whipped themselves into a frenzy. Ready to charge. To take the fight to the enemy. They were stopped in their tracks. A strong gust of wind traveled with the opening gate. Billowing up smoke, dust, sand and dirt into a thick cloud around the entrance of the city. None could see through it. The defenders took a step back. Those with polearms held them in front of them. There was no shouting. No yelling. The world was quiet. Then she appeared.
Auriëlle marched from dust with her hands beside her. Between her fingers they could see the distortion of light. As if there was an invisible fire burning in her palms. At the sight of her, the most frenzied defenders charged. They shouted and screamed in primal tones with axe or knife held high. A crooked smile formed on the sorceress’ lips as she put her hands closed together, and then unleashed her power.
The translucent wave of power ripped through the first three attackers. It flung them up into the air as it turned their bodies into ashes. The distortion lost its absolute destructive abilities after it floored and disintegrated the third guy. After him, it turned into a wave of fire. The wave finally broke upon a house. Lighting its wall on fire. Some of the defenders turned pale, dropped their weapon and ran. Others managed to stave off fear as they readied for their assault. From behind her troops walked up from within the billowing dust. Each took a moment to observe the scene, then charged. Auriëlle stayed behind and watched. Watched as her soldiers cut down the supposed militia. The people of Teperia fought harder than she thought. Much harder. None the less, after half an hour of fighting, the defenders began to break. Several of Nallan’s veterans turned back to look at Auriëlle, who sat atop the plinth of a statue of Cadien. She knew the looks. It were the looks of hungry hounds begging for their leash to be taken off.
She simply raised her hands and let them go. The veterans almost howled as they broke their line. Suddenly half her army turned wild-eyed. There was no stopping them now. Soon the screams echoed through the streets. Doors were hacked down. Mothers and daughters were pulled out into the street, while the men were butchered. Torches were tossed upon houses. Everything that could be carried in someone’s arms was taken out and gathered at the square in front of the broken gate. That which was too heavy served as fuel for the fire that was growing within Teperia.
Auriëlle herself walked through the streets. All around her men were conducting the sweetest symphonies of primal growls. Mixed with screams and crying pleas or bitter curses. The flames were growing and roaring towards their crescendo. Filling the roads with a heat most would’ve found unbearable. She thrived in it though. With joyful moves of her hands she wove the flames together. Creating even greater infernos. Just like her famed ancestor had done. Unlike Simain though, she had long since lost any semblance of control over the fires. Instead she had released the reigns completely and just whipped the flames on. She let it all happen with a bright smile on her face. And so she walked through the city, weaving destruction as she ushered on her own men to soak the streets with blood. Eventually fate seemed to have guided her to a large plaza, at the center of which stood a sort of blocky temple and her men chopping down the door. “What’s happening?” She asked.
One of her men approached her. “People are holed up in this temple-thing.” He said, pointing with his spear at the big, solid building. “We want in.” The temple looked like it was built like a fortress. There were no windows and the walls were made of clay. The door was really the best possible way in.
“Stand back.” Auriëlle ordered. To her own surprise, most of the soldiers obeyed immediately. Some more fervent looters needed a second or five but even they got in line. Auriëlle approached the wooden gate and put the palm of her hand on it. Now she could feel the strange weight of the disk shifting. The weight moved from the eye to her hand, empowering her own magic. Smoldering veins carved through the wood. Slowly but surely. Weakening its already considerably weakened structure. It took some time and a lot of focus. But when the veins reached the outer edges of the doorway, Auriëlle took a step back and channeled a rush of wind into the door.
It broke in a hundred places. Pieces of smoldering wood were thrown inside the very dark temple. Women screamed for a moment, then huddled together in fear. Auriëlle walked through the archway where once a door was. She stopped inside, bathing in light coming through the entryway. At the far end was the reliquary. There was a chalice made of silver with a single emerald laid in it on the altar. Next to a disk the size of her hand, made of gold. “Ah.” She said, stepping out of the light and into the shadows of the temple. Inside only four torches affixed upon the temple’s central pillars and a few candles offered the only semblance of light. The people were huddled as far away from the entrance as they could. One man, dressed in brown robes approached her.
“Begone, fiend!” He snarled. “This place is holy. Protected by our God! Begone before I call upon the Light to smite you!”
“Do it.” Auriëlle calmly answered as she slowly walked closer to him. Behind her, the warriors were coming inside as well. They walked along the walls of the temple.
“You do not know what you call upon yourself. The Light will punish you all for what you did here today! Even your own gods must frown upon such display of cruelty and barbarism!” The shouted. He stopped in front of her, as if his body was enough to stop the slow but unrelenting approach of Auriëlle.
She pushed him away with ease. In fact, he didn’t particularly fight her. Instead she made her way towards the altar. It was a massive slab of some pristine stone Auriëlle didn’t bother to identify, drapped with fine-red painted cloth. She let her fingers trail upon the cold stone. “This altar is made for your god?” She asked.
“Yes.” The priest answered as he remained standing up amongst his people. Who were watching him with desperate eyes.
She walked up behind the altar and rested her hand on it. “It’s beautiful.” She remarked, as she took the silver chalice and tossed it away towards the priest. Then with the back of her hand she pushed away the disk of gold. “Faith as strong as stone.” The murmured. Then she closed her eyes and once more channeled her power into the stone. At first none could see the effect. Not really. Not until the first crack appeared on its surface. People began to gasp as more cracks appeared. Most of them looked on in shock. Even the priest’s brave facade began to crack now.
Then Auriëlle began her own prayer to the patron goddess of Nallan: “Oh Neiya. Hear these words I speak now to you. See as I desecrate this altar in the name of your love. Accept these sacrifices, whose blood will flow upon this broken edifice.” When she was finished, the altar broke. The stone just crumbled to gravel under her hand. She managed to stop ever the broken altar and pulled her copper knife. The priest began to walk backwards, but her own troops had gotten the signal. They smiled as they closed in on the terrified population as well, mumbling their own prayers to Neiya’s eternal love as they grabbed their victims. Auriëlle managed to grab the priest by his collar.
“You cannot do this! This is desecration! Sacrilege! Even your own gods must frown upon this! It is madness!” He exclaimed.
“I don’t care.” Auriëlle whispered at him, as she began to drag him towards the altar. He slumped down on the floor, but soon one of her soldiers was upon him and helped him be dragged to the altar. “The gods don’t care and nor do I.” She said, as she pulled him in front of her, pushed him down on his knees and held him by his hair. “Say your last prayer.” She said as she pushed him down, with his face into the gravel. Her sharp, cold copper knife touched his throat. She could hear him mumble something. But halfway through what she assumed was a plea of vengeance she slit his throat. He began to gurgle and grasp at his throat as the blood sprayed out. Then the crimson slowly flowered across the gravel. It didn’t take long before he was completely motionless. Behind her, the soldiers were already busying themselves in doing the same.
After everyone was sacrificed in the temple, its walls were clad with blood. The dust of the broken altar, mixed with the blood had turned into a vile mud. Bodies were piled high. Auriëlle had set fire to the place herself. When she and her group got out of the city, many of them suffered burns. What did it matter? They had a way of healing back in the camp. Auriëlle had entrusted healing staff to some guards who were enthralled by Nalla herself. They wouldn’t run away with such a valuable item. Luckily she herself wasn’t in such a bad shape. She had a small cut under her left eye. Blood smeared her cheek slightly. The other half of her face was black with soot, hiding some burns under her cheek. It tinged but that was about it. The staff would take care of it in time. As she marched out the broken gate she saw people impaled upon stakes. Some still moved. She could only smile at the sight as she moved towards the imprisoned chieftain.
“You like the view?” She asked. He was bound to the tree. Forced to watch his city burn. He had trashed, cried, trashed some more and cried some more. Now he looked like a hollow husk of a man.
“You’re a monster.” He managed to get out in between sobs. “A monster. All the Emissaries will cast you down. The Light beyond all! You are an adversaries’ pawn.”
She grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back. “I am no-one’s pawn. Nor am I a monster.” She then looked on at the city itself. There was a strange beauty to the pillar. It was her own monument. Even though she had said a prayer and given Neiya a sacrifice, she claimed the pillar of smoke as her own. Because she had taken the city. She had released her hounds that gathered gold, blood and silver. She had woven the city’s fires. The burning city, the black pillar of smoke, they were a testament of her own power. “I did that.” She finally said a she sat down next to the chieftain with a big smile on her face.
“Not a god.” She continued. For a second she wondered if the gods in their high heavens could see it as well. Maybe not. Maybe something bigger needed to burn. ”Not some supernatural beast. Just me and my men. We laid waste to a city. Gutted it like it was an animal.” Then she let silence reign as she took in the view. If she had been an artist, this is what she would’ve painted. If she was a poet, this is what she would’ve written about. But she was neither of those things. She was a sorceress and she wove magic that sundered cities. “I’m going to make the bards sing about this for a hundred years.”
Auriëlle has crushed another allied army. This time of the city of Teperia. She is forcing its leader to surrender and bend the knee to Nalla by torturing him and then healing him with the Oaken Branch. But his faith in the Light keeps him from breaking. Finally she has enough and decides that if Teperia won’t break, she will destroy it.
As promised, she arrived at Teperia and besieges it. The city’s defences are weakened from the battle and she quickly breaks through. After a short skirmish at the broken gate, she is once again victorious. But this time she lets her army lose upon the city. The plunder begins, as Auriëlle weaves fires together in an inferno. She comes upon a temple which her men try to break into. With the help of Auriëlle the manage to get through. Inside, Auriëlle decides to desecrate the temple by breaking the altar and sacrificing it to Nallan’s patron goddess, Neiya. After the razing, she goes to the captured chieftain and ruminates over her achievement.
Post Length: 10K+ characters +5 Prestige >> Auriëlle -3 Prestige >> Auriëlle, for using the disintegration wave
“I have to get some sleep.” A smiling Authorius said. The name itself was strange in these lands. His parents said it came from a place far away called Acadia. They told him he was named after the god of magic due to his colorful eyes. Well, the god of magic certainly has blessed him. He got up from the wooden stump that was acting as his chair.
“Nonsense! Play another round! C’mon.” Chieftain Doug said as he put the small wooden pieces back on the board. The grey in his beard betrayed his age. Yet despite his adventurous youth, he had grown up to be a wise man for the village. Wise enough to realize he would need magic and druids alike. “I’ll let you win this time.” He said with a smile.
“That’s a lie.” Authorius said. “The day I win from you is the day your people will barge in here demanding your son to take the throne.” Despite that, Authorius sat back down again and rearranged his own board pieces. The king held the darkest pieces, so he was to start. According to the rules. “Gibbou will punish us.” The Servant said as he made his own move.
“Then she shouldn’t have made the night so beautiful.” The chief said as he moved his own piece again. “I will pray for forgiveness in the morning. Surely she’ll understand that talking with old friends requires time.”
Authorius was rubbing his black beard as he pondered his next move. “Gods can be fickle. The druids lost their supremacy over Ha-Dûna, a place we thought protected by no less than nine gods. Now they worship Sigeran.” Authorius noted casually as he moved his pawn again.
“Not just them.” The king remarked with a sullen voice as he moved his piece without much time to think. “My own men have been giving me sideway looks. The farmers are afraid to upset Lyd and Reiya while my own sons have begun whispering his name. I do pity the druids.”
“Any idea what they will do?” Authorius’ response was faster now, both in conversation and on the board.
“No. I think they’re too shaken by what happened. Many of them lost an important place: home.” The king said as he was now rubbing his bare chin. “You wouldn’t understand that as a wanderer. But home is an important place. Especially if you’re part of something. To have it taken from under you. I can’t imagine how it would feel.” The king finally made his move.
“Then why not offer the druids shelter?” Authorius asked after which he moved his pawn.
“And draw the ire of those who rule Ha-Dûna now? I’ll let them pass and let some stay as is customary. The people love it when a druid stays for a bit. It’s good for the fields as well. But how long is that going to last? I’ve been expecting someone from Ha-Dûna for some days now. To tell me to turn to the one true god.” The king made his move again.
“Will you?” Authorius asked as he put his pawn in a very vexing place for the chieftain.
“Publicly, I might. There’s no arguing with these fanatics. I want my village to stay in one piece. If that means I need to kneel to some new god, I will.” His pawn took that of Authorius.
“And then what about the druids that pass? They won’t like it.” Authorius moved another pawn in a vexing position.
“It’s a balancing act. I might shift at any point. For as long as I can keep the peace.” The king moved his own pawn out of danger. “Always got to shift.”
“What if war comes again?” Authorius asked as he moved a second pawn in a vexing position. Boxing the king in on the board. “Sometimes there’s no balance. You just have to throw your lot in with one side or another.”
The king rubbed his chin. Pondering more upon his current situation than the board. “The druids have been almost my life long ally but those Sigerans… they’re dangerous. Zealous. Nothing scares me more than a zealous man.” He took one hard look over the board again and then, finally tipped his king piece over. “I don’t have an answer for you.” He said with a faint smile.
Both men rose and took each other’s wrists. “Authorius. Rest some in the guest bed, then get out of here and don’t come back until all of this is cleared up. The druids might’ve disliked you but there’s not telling what Sigeran thinks.” The Servant merely nodded and moved to one of the side doors of the hall.
The mage slept restlessly. He was well aware the place was dangerous. He preferred to stay on the move. Be nobody in particular. Here and now, his entire body was on guard. For a second he thought he felt a rush. He got up immediately with a knife in his hand. There was nothing. Wooden boards had kept the windows shut. No wind could enter. Yet he swore he had heard something. With three hand signs, a skill he learned from his parent’s homeland of Acadia, he lit the candles in his room. Light banished the darkness. On a table beside Authorius sat a strange thing. An orb made of several fragmented pieces. He frowned when he picked it up. It wasn’t heavy nor light but fitted perfectly in his hand.
For weeks Authorius had been trying to solve the puzzle. He had gotten through four layers already. Every time he had to recite a certain spell. One he knew he had learned but was so far back in his mind, he barely remembered it. None the less, every time the fragments of a layer peeled away from what he assumed was the center. Now, on the road, he was looking at the orb as he was reciting a spell to make water. That was the only clue he could deduce from the strange shapes on the last fragmented layer. It had something to do with water. Sadly a small bit of mist formed around the orb but nothing else happened.
A bit exhausted from his travels, Authorius decided to rest a bit near a pond in which he was dangling his legs. Though he was still trying to read more clues off of the puzzle. Until he accidentally dropped it into the pond. He quickly grabbed it again, but felt the fragments shift and move under his grip. When he fished it out again, all layers were pulled back. Revealing a glowing pearl-like object within it. Slowly Authorius pulled it out. It gave off a soft light that somehow didn’t blind him. Nor felt hot to his fingers. Then the pearl’s light flashed. In that flash, it gained weight and shape. When Authorius’ eyes could open up again, he wasn’t holding a pearl in the palm of his hand. Instead, a wooden staff balanced in his hand, with a gnarled top embracing a crystal. “I always wanted a wanderer’s staff.” He said with a faint smile. Though he closed his eyes and reached out to his brothers and sisters. Many of them had received the same strange puzzle in the last few weeks. He had to share with them the joyous news of what happens when you manage to solve a puzzle. When he opened his eyes again, he looked around him to try and find the opened puzzle. Yet it was gone. As if it had never existed in the first place. The only thing that remained as proof was the staff in his hand.
Authorius, a Servant, has a boardgame match with a village chief near Ha-Dûna at night. They play a game while the Servant asks the chief about the recent events that took place in Ha-Dûna. The chieftain is somewhat dismayed as he simply wants peace and prosperity for his village. Eventually he is asked whether he would support the Sigerans or the druids in a war. A question he cannot answer.
That night Authorius receives a gift of the god of magic. A small orb puzzle. It takes him weeks to solve it but when he solves it, he receives his focus: a staff. The puzzle itself vanished though.
Qael’Naath Start: 2MP/2DP - 2MP: Creating a magical phenomenon >> These small objects can appears as orbs, pyramids and cubes. They can always be held in one hand of the subject who is given one. These puzzleknots appear when they cannot be perceived (often while the subject is asleep). They appear as trials for certain magic users that reached a milestone. The milestone can be reached through many ways: creating new spells, mastering existing ones, mastering an elemental aspect of sorcery and so forth. These trails are all designed to be tests of the mind and are unique to each magician. Their surfaces are filled with riddles and clues for what has to be done. Sometimes it’s as simple as moving a small piece to get to a deeper layer. While other times it might require one to cast a very specific spell that they have learned. It might demand to be thrown into a fire or plunged into deep water. Either way, after all five layers of the puzzle are unlocked, they will find a glowing pearl inside. If they take the pearl out of it, it will transform into a focus. Then the puzzle will vanish again. - 2DP: Creating a magical phenomenon >> A familiar focus is unique for every magician, be they mage or sorcerer. It proves that they passed the great milestone. It also acts as a sign of their place in Qael’Naath’s great plan. The Foci take the shape of their given role within the designs: a staff denotes wanderers and loremasters. Their role is to gather and then spread magical knowledge across the lands they follow. Clear crystals denote observers. Those who examine the world around them. Empty slates, books and scrolls mark one as a scholar. Those who do not study the world but magic itself. They device the new spells and chronicle existing knowledge. Crowns are perhaps the rarest of the Foci. For a crown denotes a leader. Someone under which all other roles, if possible, should unite. Crowns are expect to lead magic on a great scale. Directing resources between the roles and scrutinizing results. Each focus can remember a single spell. Allowing its wielder to cast said spell without chant, move or carved sign. This will not work in the hands of anyone but the original owner of this focus. Should a focus be away from its original owner, or should the owner perish, the focus will crumble out of existence. This focus can be destroyed by a solid hit from a hammer (which will break it, and then the focus while phase out of existence). Qael’Naath End: 0MP/0DP
Post Length: 6.7K Characters +3 Prestige >> The Servants
It had taken two days before Soleira had summoned the courage. Today, in the light of Oraeliara, she stood before an utterly unremarkable hut. For some reason she expected it to be darker. Instead the hut was made of the same colorful woods all other huts were made. She knocked and a moment later Leihoha opened the door. “Leihoha.” She greeted him with a genuine smile but with a small heart. Maybe he had forgotten the clash in the woods?
“Oh, Soleira.” He said with a disappointed tone. Soleira guessed he expected the girl, Keilai.
“Do you think we can talk?” She asked.
In response he opened the door for her and let her in. He then motioned towards a bench she could sit on while he walked over the kitchen side of his small hut. “I only have some mead and fresh water from the well. Oh and some radishes I gathered this morning.” He said.
“Water would be fine, thank you.” Soleira replied. The hut was a little too small for her. Especially with her wings. The back of the bench made it impossible for her to sit down as well. So she just settled for a nearby stool. The tips of her wings, even folded in as much as she could, just about touched the wall of the hut. On a small table stood a vase filled with beautiful, colorful flowers. They were hanging low though. “These are beautiful.” Soleira said.
Leihoha looked back at her. “Yeah.” He didn’t sound nearly as happy with them as Soleira thought he ought. Then it became clear why: “They were for Keilai.” He offered her a wooden cup filled with water as she sat down. He also put a bowl with wild radishes on a nearby table. “I just want to say, I’m sorry of how I appeared back then.” He began, his head hung low in cold shame. “Gods I behaved like an idiot. That’s not who I am. Or at least that’s what I thought. Still, I hope you can forgive me.” He slumped in his own chair.
For a second Soleira was stunned. His apology sounded stunningly sincere and filled with regret. Which made it all the stranger. Had he realized he did something wrong? “I forgive you.” She said. Because who would she be if she couldn’t forgive someone? “I just wanted to talk about you and Keilai, to make sure what happened in the woods never happens again.”
Leihoha formed a slight, broken smile on his lips. “I don’t want it to happen again either. Keilai deserves someone better than me.”
“Do you think you an talk about it?” Soleira asked. “About any or all of it? I’d like to understand. So maybe I can help?”
After a minute Leihoha looked up. “Alright.” He said, after which he took a deep breath. Choking back his own growing sadness. “Keilai and I… we were friends. For a very long time. She had always been at my side and I at hers. We told each other everything. Even when we fought we got close again. Eventually. Then… I don’t know. One day she wasn’t a little girl anymore. I saw her in the forest, with the light falling between the trees and I just… I think I lost it. I wanted her to be something more than my friend. Apparently I wasn’t the only one though.” He whipped away a tear that was growing in his eye. “When she said she loved another I just…broke. I confessed my love and then – well you know what happened in the forest. I acted like an idiot and now I probably killed our friendship as well.”
Soleira had leaned in during the story. “What do you mean you broke?”
Leihoha looked up at Soleira. Something clicked in his mind. “You’ve never been in love with someone yet, have you?” He asked.
“I- No. No not yet.” Soleira answered.
“Love itself feels wonderful. You feel light and happy and good about yourself. A strange, sharp energy goes through you. But when your heart breaks, that all changes. You feel heavy. Slothful. Your chest hurts. Like you broke your bones there. Everything feels terrible.” He let out a deep sigh. “I was weak though. Some can fight that feeling. Work through it on the spot. I couldn’t. I’m still working through it.”
Soleira never knew such an awful thing could come from love. How quickly it could turn from pure happiness into a pit of despair. It was terrible and it shouldn’t be. “Pain shouldn’t be a part of love.” He mumbled as she was sunken in her own thoughts.
“No. It should.” Leihoha said. Soleira perked up. “I’ll get over this heartbreak. Everyone keeps telling me that. ‘Just give it time’. And I believe them. Because there are still happy people walking around. The only way I can feel this bad is because I felt something so good before. It makes me feel alive. I’ll be alright. Someday. The only thing I now hope for is that Keilai still want me as a friend.”
Soleira offered him a small smile. “You can always pray to Lahoha. If you care about Kailai, if you really want her to be happy, I think you guys will make up.”
She left Leihoha’s hut with a smile and a wave. Yet she did so absent mindedly. For her mind was wandering away, pondering over the explanation. She flew up and sat in a tree overlooking the entire village. “Love isn’t all good, is it?” She asked herself. Slowly but surely she began to realize she had missed an entire depth to love. How intense it could. Leihoha had loved and it broke him.
Soleira decides to confront Leihoha hoping what happened in the forest would never happen again. To her own surprise she finds a sorrowful Leihoha who is well aware of his own failings. He asks for forgiveness and Soleira gives it to him. But also asks what exactly happened. Leihoha explained his backstory with the girl, Keilai. He also offers a lesson on the depth of love to Soleira. They part on amicable terms.
Post Length: 5.1K Characters +3 Prestige >> Soleira
He had screamed for much longer than Auriëlle expected. The chieftain chosen in her tent had to be put down and restrained. Something frantic happens when a man is condemned to death. Civility is stripped away with every pleading word. Until he was nothing but a yelling, frothing animal that had to be carried by four guards. He was kept away from everywhere until the night fell. Auriëlle made sure the bonfire would be massive enough to burn him. When he was pulled towards the heap of wood, the man was screaming, pleading and kicking again. It all fell on deaf ears. Not even the chieftains who were forced to attend the ‘ceremony’ didn’t say anything as he was bound around the central pole. Then, with a snap of Auriëlle’s fingers, the first fires lit up.
The flames kept roaring until dawn. Even then they were still burning high. Auriëlle had her men pull open the bonfire with spears and sticks. The flames quickly faded into embers. Auriëlle crawled up the pile to the burned corpse with a bowl. She just had to grip the carbonized flesh tight for it to crumble into the bowl. It didn’t take long until her promise of ash was fulfilled. The chieftains, meanwhile, looked hollow eyed and shocked. None said a word as they were lifted off the ground. A day later the camp was broken down and the march back to Nallan began. With Auriëlle at its head. Behind her Hyl marched with the head of Olwar on a spike, acting like her bannerman.
In Nallan, she was received with cheers and glory. Olwar’s head was marched behind her and then came the three remaining chieftains with their hands bound. The street was lined with people to see the soldiers return. The warriors were embraced by parents, wives and children alike. One woman came rushing from the street and handed Auriëlle some flowers. Which she graciously accepted. But atop her highland stag she did not wave or smile. She was single handedly focused on the palace on the far off distance. “Tell the queen I’m coming.” She told one of the guards who had remained. He quickly ran off.
Nalla and her retinue awaited her outside the Palace’s walls. The Queen sat underneath a cloth palanquin, wearing a red dress that covered every part of her skin except her face and head. Her retinue mostly consisted of white clothed servants, but for once, the two Blood Sylphi children sat beside her. One rested it’s head upon her lap, eyes shut in peaceful sleep. The other child played with a toy quietly.
When Auriëlle approached, Nalla smiled as she gazed upon the pike. “Very well done.” she mused. “I knew you would be capable, and you have proven my suspicions correct, Auriëlle. We shall have a feast in your honor tonight.”
She smiled as she dismounted. It was a confident smile. “A feast.” She said dryly. Just more dancing in a court. One night she’d have to go through it. Then she could go out again. At least she hoped. For everyone’s sake. “But right now I have something else.” With a hand signal the three remaining chieftains were pulled up until they appeared before Nalla. “I bring ash-” She said, dropping a small, opened bag next to the other chieftains. A soft wind let some of the ash rise up. Then she walked up behind the three chieftains. Kicking each in the back of their knee. Dropping them. “-and kneeling men.” Then she turned her attention towards the men. “Swear it. Now.”
The three men spoke in perfect unison: “Queen Nalla. Our eternal gratitude for your mercy. We hereby swear loyalty to you. Forever.” Auriëlle had forced them to repeat the words over and over again. Until they could say it both at the same time with their eyes closed. It had to be done. In sight of everyone in Nallan.
“Let this be a lesson,” Nalla began, “That disobedience, rejection and rebellion will cause needless pain and suffering. My trust in your leadership of the villages of Telegar, Moirjun, Balinol, Valigar and that fledgling city of Salavar, has been destroyed. As such, I am gifting you a regional ruler, who answers to only my authority.” Her eyes fell upon Hyl and his son. “Hyl, you are familiar with the southern reaches are you not? I give you this position, ensure that your son and his sons after, keep the peace. Take these men back with you and pray that they do not rebel again, or the consequences shall be much worse.”
The two men bowed deeply, with Hyl saying, “Yes your grace.” and no more. Nalla then looked upon Auriëlle again and said, “You must be exhausted and in need of a bath no doubt, come, come.” she said, clapping her hands. Four burly guards grabbed the palanquin and began walking up the path, her retinue behind her.
As the dutiful commander Auriëlle pretended to be, she remained quiet as the queen spoke. Though she smirked when Nalla mentioned consequences. She silently begged the region to revolt again now. Despite her years with Carn, she never actually had the chance to raze a village. It would send a very clear message though. She’d have to tell Hyl that he could always count on her support should it ever be required.
She just gave the queen a small nod when she was invited to a bath. More dancing. She thought. Of course Nalla didn’t tire of it. There was no doubt, she loved the exchanges, the diplomacy and the stewardship of her lands. It almost felt as if she did it effortlessly. As effortlessly as Auriëlle waged war. In truth Auriëlle just wanted to go on the warpath again. Instead she quietly followed the queen’s palanquin inside.
In the twilight of day did they finally eat. The dining hall was lit dimly, as always. The table was littered with foods and drinks, from honeyed duck, to cooked stag, there was anything and everything. Far off in the corner, there was also a group of three people using instruments to create a strange tune, one that accompanied the atmosphere.
Nalla sat in her usual spot, this time however, Hyl sat next to her on the right, and his son sat to the left of her. All along down the table, most of the spots were filled with regal looking people, or at least, people trying to look regal. Even the Slyphi had joined them, sitting across from one another right next to where Auriëlle sat. Aurinia and Chio were their names, and they hardly took their eyes off from each other.
Nall rose suddenly, holding her cup high as she looked to Auriëlle. “Here’s to you, Auriëlle. For putting down that rebellion and ushering in a new age of peace within my lands. You have my thanks.” She drank, the rest of the table followed and Nalla sat back down.
Auriêlle raised her cup as well. She offered the queen a small nod and a smile in response. Inside, just below her skin, she winced when she heard Nalla talk about peace. ‘Whatever god of war is real, I truly hope you won’t let it happen.’ She thought on her prayer, hoping it would be enough. Unlike most, Auriëlle didn’t make an attempt to dress regal. Or even as a woman. She was clothed in a comfortable tunic and trousers. It clashed terribly with the form fitting, silver and gold embroidered dresses many of the other women wore. The women leered at her with sharp eyes. It was the one small delight she got from the evening: watching the others squirm and feel uncomfortable simply by her presence. They preferred the impeccably dressed queen no doubt. Much to Auriëlle’s surprise, not that many men had any attention spare for her. All of them either had their eyes either on their plate, battling their inner demons, or had resigned themselves and were openly admiring the queen.
Auriëlle tried to keep her eyes off Nalla for now and focused on a piece of honeyed duck. Which she devoured in such a fashion that betrayed a decent upbringing. Once the piece of meat was eaten, she turned next to her, to one of the Slyphi. “Where did you two come from?” She asked, blunt but clearly interested in the strange beings.
Chio, the male turned his gaze towards her. “We came from a land down south. Ever heard of Arborea?”
“The world tree!” chimed Aurinia. “I haven’t seen a single tree to compare.” she leaned on her hand as she stared at Auriêlle with large eyes.
“Arborea? never heard of it.” Auriëlle said. “So it’s a big tree then?” There were big trees everywhere. Some druids revered big trees. As if trees were ever more useful for anything else but wood.
“The biggest tree!” Aurinia smiled.
“Well, yes and no. Aborea is the place that surrounds the tree. The Tree of Genesis. The first tree, or so they say. The Sylphi have a thriving community there, with humans that live alongside us.” Chio said.
The sorceress took it all in as she took another sip from her wine. “You must’ve travelled a long way to reach Nallan then. Or not?” She couldn’t know, the furthest she had ever gone south was Salavar. Aurinia nodded her head quickly. “Yep! We travelled through the forests of Yandor, then the Gardens, then the gap, then we saw those elk riders and then Nalla took us in!”
A big smile formed on her lips. “So many places.” She droned as Aurinia summed them up. “Tell me everything. And I do mean everything. Where is this gap? What are the gardens? Who lives there? Where’s the forest of Yandor? How big is it?”
Aurinia giggled and took a bite of some stag meat. Chio took a drink before saying, “Well… The Gap is in the Mountains. Where the great boar lived. You have to be careful though, for there are creatures in the night. The dwarves are friendly enough though, they protect travelers.”
“Before that is the Gardens, lands so fertile that anything can grow. The people that live there are kind and happy.” Aurinia chattered excitedly.
“But before the gardens exists the forest of Yandor.” Chio lowered his voice, “Endless trees as old as Genesis. Things walk there that no one even knows about. It is eerie as it is beautiful.”
“It all sounds wonderful. Truly wonderful.” She said. Hoping one day she could travel to those places as well. Perhaps Nalla’s ambitions truly would be limitless. She cast a sideway glance towards the queen. Yes, someday she would march her armies through the gap for sure. Just not when Auriëlle was still alive. Her attention returned to the Sylphi. “So what brought you to the shithole that is the highlands?”
The two Sylphi shared a look with each other before they shrugged. “Can’t remember really. Something about… Umm…” Aurinia’s voice became lost in thought.
“It wasn’t important. Nalla takes care of us now. We both like it here, after all.” Chio smiled.
“Well yes… Nallan is perhaps the least terrible place.” Auriëlle mused. “But honestly, anything beyond these walls? I’d burn it in a heartbeat if I could. Really there’s nothing out there but dumb farmers, creeps on thrones and zealots most call druids. You did well sticking with Nalla.” She leaned back in her chair, taking a big gulp of her wine to swallow down the memories of most of the high lands. Only Nalla could make it tolerable. Nalla and Carn. Gods she was starting to miss him. “So you two. In love?” She asked, bluntly with a big smirk before taking another sip of her cup and realizing it was empty.
Aurinia blushed, if you could call it that. Her leaves seemed to twitch faintly as she looked at Chio. “We are mated for life.” Chio said, never moving his gaze from her. “We will have many children together, for it is what the Queen wants. Her simply wish for us to stay prim and proper. Besides… I do love my Auri.”
“Oh stop you.” She giggled.
“Hey! More wine here!” Auriëlle yelled at one of the servants as she raised her cup and shook it. Then she set it down again, not caring who would look with what kind of scowls. If they had a problem with her, they could come tell her that in her face. She wasn’t about to start reading faces. Then she turned back to the Sylphi with complete focus. “So… how does that feel? You know, being in love?”
Aurinia tilted her head at Auriëlle. “Have you never…? It’s like… It’s like… A really wonderful feeling. You would do anything for them, knowing they would love you no matter what. And you can be anyone, because they’ll always accept you. Your dreams, desires, motivations- shared with your best friend. Who could ask for more?” She said, turning her head back to Chio.
“So you’re always together then? No matter what?” She asked, a slight tone of regret in her voice. Maybe she should’ve taken time to say goodbye. At the time it had seemed obvious. They weren’t serious. Nothing was serious. Right? No, leaving so suddenly was clean. It was quick. No lengthy farewells or pleas to stay. It was the best thing she could’ve done. Yet, then why did her heart begin to ache now?
"Of course! We share our chambers with the kids but sometimes I go to the market while he stays, or he leaves to go out." Aurinia cooed.
"But," Chio began, "We always come back to each other."
“Always back…” She droned as a servant filled her cup again. She drank half of it in one gulp. “You think, if you left for like… five years. And then you came back” She said, pointing at Aurinia. Then she moved her finger to Chio. “Would you take her back?”
He squinted at her. "Oddly specific date but yeah, depending on the circumstances. I would."
Aurinia giggled. "Five years! He'd probably think I died or left him. That'd be terrible. I'd never do that to you Chioooo." She said with a soft smile.
Auriëlle fell back into her chair again as she uttered something obscene. Suddenly the sight before her disgusted and hurt her. Like it was a knife being jammed in her heart. Without saying anything she shoved her chair back and got up to march away. On her way to one of the side doors she took a pitcher of wine from one of the servants. Who was wise enough to immediately let go of it. Even still in the hall, in sight of all, she put the pitcher to her lips for all to see and drank. After which she finally left the hall.
Auriëlle burns one of the chieftains that surrendered as punishment and then leaves for Nallan. Where she is received with cheers and glory. She offers up the chieftains and a sack of ashes. They swear loyalty to Nalla, who’s trust in the villages is destroyed. She installs Hyl and his son as the new regional rulers and then goes back inside the palace.
That evening there is a feast in honor of the victory. Auriëlle, dressed not even as a woman, is seated near the two Sylphi of Nallan’s court. Who tell her about the fantastical lands in the south. Auriëlle hopes she can visit them sometimes. Perhaps as part of the conquest. She believes Nalla will probably conquer it some day but not in her own lifetime. She then asks if the two are in love. The answer is yes and they talk at length on how that feels. Prompting Auriëlle to ask if one of them left for five years, would the other take them back. They answer that five years is a long time and the other would most likely believe the person who left is forever gone. Which prompts Auriëlle to feel guilty. Something she attempts to drown in wine as she leaves the feast.
“So they see me hunched over this grave. With spade in hand. Well, I suppose I cannot fault them.” Iben el-Qahhar, or simply, was hands deep in a corpse. Delicately feeling his way up the intestines. “None the less they attack me! I had to run for my life then. Pleading for wisdom wouldn’t have worked then. And that is the story of how I was banished from the fair city of Hayik. Ah, such a wonderful city it is! Almost as beautiful as Karay they say. I hope I can go back some day. When they see the light. My light. They will, of course. When they see what my magic can bring to them. Oh imagine the prosperity and freedom I could offer if only they let me study a little bit longer! Then again, I will admit that some parts of my study are a bit unorthodox.” He said with a smile as he pulled one of his bloodied hands free to show. Before he plunged it in again. “I’m happy to have found this ruined place though. I wonder who build it. It looks old. Very old. Do you think the gods made it? Maybe this was their throne room. Oh, in that case I should give a sacrifice. Wouldn’t want to offend the gods, oh no! Anyway, be a dear and hand me that knife.” He outstretched his hand out towards the skull he was talking to. Which remained unmoving for a moment.
“Oh right, silly me. You can’t speak yet.” He said, as he leaned over and grabbed the knife himself. “You know, you do spout a lot of silent wisdom despite being an unliving, unmoving skull.” He said to his boney assistant while he cut the intestine and pull it out. “I wonder who you were when you were alive. Maybe you were like me. Oh, what would that say about me? Do you think I’ll die here too? I hope not. I’ve got a lot of things to do. Oh this poor fellow?” He pulled out the stomach and observed it. The organ had some strange coloration on it. “Probably a toxin from the berries. There were no scratch marks on him so it wasn’t wild animals. Ah, a sad fate but it happens. I’m just happy he decided to donate his body to my research.” The second he lost interest in the stomach he tossed it in the big bin behind him.
“Flesh can be so annoying to work with sometimes. I mean look at this fellow.” He pulled up the arm. It was stiff as wood. “Unbendable! Arms are supposed to bend! The maggots will fix you right up though friend. Don’t you worry.” There was still a great deal of work to be done and Iben diligently continued to remove all the organs in the body. None of them were any use for him though. He even managed to scrape away almost all the skin and flesh. It wasn’t enough though. It wasn’t clean. That had been his first mistake. He hadn’t worked with a clean skeleton. So he just threw the bones in a large box with some other human flesh and a lot of maggots inside it. “See you in about a week sweeties!” He said, before he closed the lid and then walked over to the next stone table.
Upon it laid the skeleton in humanoid formation. Spread out so he could observe each bone. He pulled up a few clay tablets with runes of his own design. They were a relic from a previous life. The part of his study that transcended the metaphorical death he had experienced. None the less they were a testament to his own ingenuity and creativity. Or so he liked to brag. It was perhaps his only vice. Well no, it was just his greatest vice. “Right.” He said as he traced his fingers over the lines he had made in the clay so long ago. “Ah, here it is.” He said as he picked up one tablet of clay and set it in some sort of lectern facing towards the body. He crawled on top and lowered his hammer and chisel to the skull. But before he began, he saw his skull assistant sit there, watching him. “Ah, apologies good friend. I didn’t mean for you to see this. Here, let me help you.” He said as he got up and turned the skull around. So it would face away from the skull that was about to be carved.
It took an obsessive few hours before Iben had finalized the first rune. After that he chose to eat and sleep. What was, after all, a genius if he was exhausted? Dangerous. So after a good nights sleep and a wonderful dawn, for which he praised Mâh and Cyru respectively, he went about to carve the rest of the skeleton. All around the joints and the connection points. Only by midday did he finalize the carvings upon the skeleton.
The second he was done he grabbed his gold-tipped staff, another relic of his previous life. He raised his arms to cast the spell and spoke the words he had made up himself. For a second the runes glowed with soft, blue light. When the glow vanished, the bones began to move. Joints bend. The ribs remained attached. “Yes! Yes, rise! Rise my dear! Rise!” Iben yelled in his excitement. The skeleton managed to sit upright without crumbling. Which had been more of a success than He had managed before.
Then it tried to stand up. The second it got up, the weight of the bone shifted. It lacked the human ability to quickly move its feet or shift its weight. Instead the imbalance only got worse. In a second, the entire body came tumbling down. The crash broke the connections between the joints. Making the skeleton fall apart.
Iben just crouched down. “Hmmm.” He said as he was rubbing his chin. Others his age would’ve had a respectable black beard going but not him. he couldn’t grow a beard to save his life. “Balance still seems to be an issue. But we’ve made progress, dear old friend. Lots of progress. The laws and guidelines seem to hold though. It stood up on its own. Yes, yes I think we are making good progress.” He gathered the bones again. Luckily none of them were broken or fractured. Carefully he rearranged them on the slab of stone. How much longer could it take until he figured it out?
How much time had passed now? A year? More than a year? Perhaps. Maybe. Iben’s research had hit a ceiling with making a skeleton walk. It would appear that bipedal walking was a far more delicate and precise act than he had previously assumed. Sadly it only left him with a new appreciation for his own ability to move around.
“Okay. Okay, come on now. Just one… step… at a time.” He carefully said as he held the moving skeleton up like a lover trying to walk again. “Yes, yes, just- wait no! No no no no!” After three steps the skeleton once more fell apart. “Gods damn it!” He yelled out into the morning sky. “Damn you all! Damn you! I have worked for weeks! Tirelessly! I have prayed to all of you! All of you! Not one came here to help me! Not one! Here I am, trying to help the world and there you are doing nothing to help me!” In his rage he even threw a femur away with a frustrated shouted. Suddenly the warmth of the sun was muddled. He looked up and saw a myriad of colors.
“Wha-“
When Iben woke up, night had already fallen. Had he slept through the day? No, no not slept. Something had hit him. Not a rock. Something else. He scrambled up. The moon hung high in the sky. “Again…I suppose.” He let out a resigned sigh as he gathered the bones. The femur was broken so he had to loan one from another cleaned skeleton. Once more he arrayed the skeleton upon the slab of stone. The carved skull was useless now. He would have to tweak the runes again.
The next morning he continued his work. But as he began to carve the runes into the skull, he found something else in his mind as well. After so many years of carving the same sort of runes he could do them with his eyes closed. Yet now the runes came out tweaked. Thinking nothing of it, he continued the work, cast the spell and slowly guided the skeleton to stand up. “Yes. Careful now. First step. Yes, good. Good. Second step. Excellent! Third step… Good! Wonderful! Do you think we can go for a fourth step?” He carefully guided the skeleton forward. The fourth step worked out as well. In fact, as he watched the hips of the skeleton, its movement seemed less stiff and more fluid. Still it was nothing like a human but it was much, much closer. “Do you think I could… release you?” The skeleton didn’t answer. So Iben, slowly, released it and bid it to continue on. When the skeleton took its first step alone, he held his breath. Then the next step came. Something crept up Iben but cautiousness refused to make him believe. Not until the next step. He watched as it took its next step. Its foot came down and… nothing happened. It didn’t crumble or fall. “Oh heavens be praised! Heavens be praised! What a blessing!”
Iben is a joyful led rummaging inside a corpse to clean it out while talking to a skull. Then he tries to raise a skeleton and make it walk. The second it stands up it crumbles. Turns out bipedal walking isn’t that easy. But he preservers.
For years. Until he snaps and shouts at the gods that he is trying to help the world and nobody is helping him. Until a multi-colored miasma knocks him out. When he wakes up, he feels like he has no other choice than to proceed with his research in the meager hope that it will work now. He ends up carving a slightly different set of runes into the skull and commands it to move. To his own surprise it manages to do so without issues. The breakthrough makes him insanely happy.
Qael’Naath Start: 5MP/5DP - 1DP >> Create Holy Order with title: Motive-Runes I – These specialized runes are required to be carved into a skull. The skeleton is then able to walk (on two or four legs, depending on the design of the skeleton) and use any other limbs without falling over or crumbling. These skeletons do not move very fast nor are they able to traverse bad terrain.
(Upgrades for future titles: able to move upper chest and arms (so it can hold things and do various other motions with its arms), allow the skeleton to traverse tougher terrain and/or move ) Qael’Naath Stop: 5MP/4DP
“So…I think they just don’t understand what love really is, you know.” Soleira ended her long, and rather winded explanation to a squirrel eating a nut she had cracked open for him. Squirrels, however, had no concept of lying. So he told the truth: he didn’t understand a word of what she had been saying. With a small smile, she dropped her head and pulled her knees up to her chin. “I know, I barely understand what I’m talking about myself.” She had gone over what the Neiyari, especially the saint, had said. How the land was sick, decaying, and chaotic. The four-winged angel couldn’t see it though. Before her stretched the Luminant in its wonderful, vibrant light. She looked at the squirrel beside her. “Do you think you’re blind to Neiyara?” She asked.
The squirrel looked up as if she just said an insulting word. It turned its head a bit sideways. He was confused. “What is a Neiyara?” It simply asked.
“Well... She’s like Oraeliara. But not. She’s…mean. I think.” Was she? She never met her. Yet somehow she knew she was mean. Dangerous. “She’s a goddess, you know. Like you have a goddess of light and then you have Gibboura, who is the goddess of the moon. They help us.”
The squirrel took another moment to process it all. Then asked: “What’s a goddess?”
“Right.” Soleira realized there was just no point in discussing divinity with an animal like a squirrel. She gently petted her friend as she crushed another walnut with her hands and offered it to him. The tiny animal quickly continued eating. “It’s not important. Not to you at least.” She gently said. And it wasn’t. An animal had other worries: to eat and survive. “You’re not blind. Nobody made you to see in the first place.” She mused. Knowing full well the squirrel wouldn’t understand.
The only problem with all of that was that it meant that everything about what the Neiyari said was wrong. Which she found impossible. There had to be a side to them. A side that was right. A point that was just reality. Something that was undeniable to them. She laid down on her back and closed her eyes. Her mind wandered to the black, corrupting mass she has felt within the Saint. Her body shuddered in response but she closed her eyes, willing herself to delve deeper into it. It wasn’t wrath or anger. It was an obsessive thing. Claws that would take and never let go. Something so tight and so binding that it left room for nothing else. There was only the possessive grip.
She shot up. Gasping for air like she had been underwater too long. Her fingers were still shivering. A coldness ran through her spine as she gripped her own arms. She wasn’t fond of the memory. No, no she hated it. Her own natural urge to survive wanted her to forget it all. To just forget the entire day. That would never happen though. She would never let it happen. It was the only thing close to an answer she had. The closest she had ever been to Neiyara and her reasons. None the less it all made her feel pale.
It took a moment in the sun to recuperate her strength. No matter what, Oraeliara’s sun managed to make her smile again. But she had wasted enough time in the morning. She should be tending to the land! So once more she began to gather some berries from the nearby bushes. She helped squirrels break open nuts to eat and offered some roots to a handful of deer passing through. Both were grateful, in their own ways.
As she was digging some holes to plant some roots in again, she suddenly heard something move in the bushes. She turned around and a tiny wingless one came running at her, giggling and laughing and looking behind her until she bumped into Soleira and fell back. For a moment she looked up with a face Soleira knew meant either awe or fear. Depending on what would happen next, she’d know which one it was.
Instead of crying though, the child giggled continued on giggling. Soleira, with her own smile, squatted down in an attempt to be face to face with the child that was getting up now. However, she was still a bit larger than her. “Hello, little one.” She said as she held out her finger. The child took it with her entire hand. It said something that sounded like gibberish. Then Soleira realized she was speaking another language.
She pointed at herself and said. “Soleira.” Then she pointed at the child.
It didn’t understand what Soleira expected. So the four-winged angel repeated the exercise. The child said only: “Mahaka.”
“Mahaka.” Soleira repeated with a bright smile. Which only made the child jump a little and laugh as full as only a child could. Though then she heard “Mahaka.” Being yelled from somewhere else. Soleira looked up. From the bushes the child had come, a wingless woman had come now as well. Yelling: “Mahaka!” The moment she saw her child with Soleira she pulled her knife and yelled something.
Soleira held her hands up. “No! No! I’m good. I’m good. Soleira.” She said, pointing at herself. Trying to explain it. The women kept yelling something in a language she didn’t understand. She held out her hand at Mahaka, the girl. Who quickly realized things were wrong and ran to her mother. Soleira, meanwhile, slowly backed away. The woman kept getting closer until Mahaka held her hand. She then looked at her girl. She didn’t seem hurt.
Soleira, afraid but still trying to talk, just kept repeating her name. The woman pointed her knife at herself and said: “Tenerifé.” Soleira, realizing she was introducing herself, pointed at her and said: “Tenerifé!” and then she pointed at the child and said: “Mahaka!”
The woman seemed to relax a bit. Soleira took a few steps forward. Though she kept her distance from the woman named “Tenerifé.” She held her hand out, willing to transfer her own intentions of peace and aid. Tenerifé, for her part, seemed brave enough to get closer and touch Soleira’s hand. The four-winged angel didn’t overwhelm the human. Instead, she slowly radiated her intentions. The more Tenerifé felt, the more she dropped her guard.
For half a day Soleira was busy learning words from Mahaka, who herself was still learning many new words, and Tenerifé. She learned her own kind were called ‘Lasa Whei.’ Which apparently meant wingless ones with wings. The little Mahaka was a playful child though. She constantly ran around and sniffed the flowers. Soleira managed to stop her from eating a berry that would make her tummy ache. She herself had been laying in her cave for half a day before she had to heal herself. Instead she offered the little one several roots and berries she could eat without getting sick.
~
“You mustn’t help us so much, Soleira. You are Lahoha’s daughter. We are blessed even with your presence.” The old lady of the tribe said to Soleira, who was sitting in front of a heap of clay she had desperately tried to shape like a pot. Sadly the result was an uneven blow with a hole in the middle. Yet she was still trying her hardest to push the clay into the right shape. Stains of clay covered her upper body. Even her cheeks and forehead. Eventually, she let go.
“I’m sorry Opaka.” She said to the man sitting beside her, who was comfortably coiling one layer of clay over the next one.
“Not a problem.” He said, as he got up and took her clay and threw it back on the pile. It probably wasn’t worth salvaging but Soleira had hoped that at least some part of it could be kept. Alas, if the master decided it should return to the pile, she wasn’t about to question it.
“I’ll gather berries then.” Soleira said to the elder of the tribe. Before the old lady could tell her it wasn’t necessary, Soleira had already grabbed her basket and ran into the forest. There was simply no stopping her these days. She had grown happy around the wingless ones. Though she still chose to return to her cave from time to time. Spending a week or so to help the animals. She made sure nobody felt abandoned. It was daunting at first but she managed it. Now she even managed to convince the predators in the forest not to attack the wingless ones. While she convinced the wingless ones not to hurt any of the predators or their younglings. It was a tentative peace but it held. And it made Soleira happy.
In the forest she was in her element again. Clay wouldn’t bend or be formed by her fingers but she knew which berries were the most tasteful. During her stroll through the forest she said hi to just about every animal she met. Some stopped for a chat. Others were too busy. It wasn’t a problem to her. Not until a bird, slightly in distress, came at her and told her to follow him. The bird led her to a small clearing the forest. Where a man and a woman were yelling at each other.
“I love you!” The man yelled. He was enraged. How was he in love when he was so angry?
“But I don’t love you!” The woman looked like she was pleading with him. “I’m sorry Leihoha but I don’t! I like you but I don’t love you.”
“I can’t just let you go!” Soleira recognized the sudden forcefulness in his voice. She had heard it before. He took a step forward. Soleira reached out with her hand. The crystalline barrier formed in front of the woman, who took a step back and looked at the man with wide eyes. The man slammed his fist into the barrier. Soleira winced for a moment.
“What’s going on?” She asked carefully. Was the wingless one secretly one of her siblings? Maybe he was one of their followers? What if he was? What would she do? She didn’t want to fight him but she also didn’t want anyone to get hurt.
“It’s nothing.” The woman sheepishly said. Soleira didn’t believe her but she looked a lot more clear of mind and heart right now than the man.
“I will show you my love!” The man called Leihoha said.
Which prompted Soleira to turn towards him. “Move away from the girl.” Memories of her darker siblings flooded in. She sounded more forceful than she wanted to. Still, the man did so. “Thank you. Walk away now. There’s nothing more left to say.” Her voice was calmer now. He huffed but then walked away. The moment he was out of sight, Soleira dropped the barrier. The girl began to sob in her own hands.
“Hey no, everything is okay.” Soleira moved in and hugged the girl. Who return the hug.
“I’m sorry. He’s a good person but sometimes he’s just…” The girl said.
Soleira patted her on the back. “It’s okay. It’s okay. He doesn’t love you. That wasn’t love.” That wasn’t love. Not to Soleira. It was anger and possessiveness. The same things she had seen in the eyes of her brother a year ago. They were vile and evil and mean. Love was none of those things. Love didn’t hurt.
“No I- He does love me. He just…wants me to return that love and I can’t.” The girl released her and rubbed a tear off her cheek. “I’m sorry. Really, he means well. He just wants me so badly and… I love someone else.”
It was wrong. It felt wrong. Did this wingless one also not understand love? If Leihoha loved her, he should be letting her go. Let her be with the one she herself loves. Instead of hoping and forcing her to be with him. Yet she couldn’t shake the thought. Like it was somehow lodged inside of the back of her brain. She tried to shake it away but it wouldn’t go. For now though, she stepped next to the girl and took her by the shoulders. The two wings on her side wrapped around the girl for extra protection. “Let’s get you back to the village, shall we?”
Soleira talks to a squirrel about the Neiyari and how they seem to perceive the world. The squirrel, because it’s a squirrel, doesn’t understand anything about love or divinety and just wants to eat the nuts Soleira cracks for him. After her contemplation, a wingless one child bumps into her. Soon the mother finds them as well. After a moment of tension, the two calm down and the mother teaches Soleira the local language.
Aftera year Soleira is busy helping the tribe now. Though she still works in the forest for the animals as well. As she strolls through a forest a bird brings her to a couple fighting in the woods. The man is in love with the woman but she doesn’t love him back. He’s going full obsessive but Soleira manages to stop him and get him away. Then the girl explains what happened. That he loves her but she loves another. Soleira learns of another side of love which she doesn’t totally agree with.
Post Length: +10K Characters +5 Prestige >> Soleira
The sun was bright and warm. The green vale stretched out before Auriëlle. It’s slope down was gentle. In the distance she saw all sorts of tiny life run around. Behind her the camp was being raised. They had just entered the land of the southern village alliance. It would take at least a day before any scout would find them and report back. Then it would take another three days for them to properly gather their armies and finally one more day to march here. The moment she realized that, the peaceful image before her became eerie and wrong. Auriëlle could swear that there was a smell of storm on the winds. Even though she knew well enough that it was her imagination. Still, in five days the green, tranquil vale would be drenched in blood and ash.
She turned away from the sight and made her way towards the central tent. Where her advisors had gathered for the first time. As she walked, she wondered what sorts of men they would be. Because they would be men. Always. That would be the first challenge: to be taken seriously as a woman. Then they would try to tell her how to wage her war. What positions to take. What preparations to make. Some of it would make sense. Some of it would be condescending. None of it would fully account for who, or what, she actually was. Still, she would listen.
So with a gentle, endearing smile she walked into the tent and approached the table. “Talk to me.”
The men who had been chatting amongst themselves and laughing lightly all gazed upon Auriëlle. Some with disdain, others with hardened looks, as if to intimidate her. No one said anything for a few moments and then a man with grey in his beard and sharp blue eyes spoke up in a gruff voice. "Our Queen spoke highly of you… Auriëlle, was it? But some words never really proved much behind the cleverness of the tongue, if you catch my meaning. We have bled with the Queen, but not you. You, we know only stories of. So tell me girl, when you look a man in the eyes upon the field of battle, what do you see?"
She turned towards whoever spoke. Good, the strongest of the group revealed himself. A small smile formed on her lips. “Nothing important.” She let the answer hang in the air for a moment. “Now I’m betting you, with your clever tongue, wanted some poetic answer like ‘fire’ or ‘hatred’ or ‘desperation’.” Because that was the man she knew he was. A man of glory and long marches. A man of loyalty who suffered for his queen and had to frame that. That’s the only reason someone his age still wielded a sword. “The fact is I see nothing that matters in their eyes. That probably offends you and whatever old warrior tradition you believe in. I don’t care. We’re not in Nallan and we don’t need to dance.”
Her attention shifted towards those behind the veteran now. Time to swallow her pride. “Now someone tell me about our army. How many spears. How many shields. How many arrows.” She began to walk around the tent. Locking eyes with every veteran around. “I also need to know who I’m going up against. How many men they have. Who are these chieftains who banded together.” She ended up in front of the table, where she had first arrived as she had entered the tent. “Help me understand this war so we may win it.” Her voice had softened now.
The grey bearded man said nothing but gave a grim nod. A short cropped man then spoke up next, "We've several dozen fighting men, carrying a spear and shield each, a handful of arrow men and a capable force of full time guardsmen. Warriors as we say."
A younger man with wavy brown hair and hazel eyes spoke next, "We know not how many men they have, only that we should assume they have more than us. They've banded together you see, to fight against our Queen's authority. She tried a peaceful negotiation to bring them into the fold first, but now she will rule them through right of conquest. Olwar is the one behind all of this, he blames Queen Nalla for the death of his father. Foolish accusations and he will be killed for his defiance."
“He will.” Auriëlle said resolutely. “First I need to know more about Olwar. What sort of a man, or boy, is he?”
The grey haired man who first spoke, looked at Auriëlle and said, "Forgive my son. He speaks without knowing." He said at first. "Olwar the Hammer Spring. They say he killed a winged demon in his youth, that he raised a Leon cub to be his mount, that he never gets wounded and that he eats the hearts of those he fells… All rumors of course, but the man is a local legend and should not be underestimated." He said, looking to his son. The boy as it were, glanced away angrily.
Slain a demon? Raised a Leon cub? Eats the hearts of those he kills? Some were exaggerations, no doubt. Still, he sounded very formidable. The sort of person she shouldn’t allow to get close. “We won’t.” She said towards the grizzled veteran. He will think he has the upper hand. A greater army. The home advantage. With a stroke of luck he wouldn’t know about Auriëlle until he was on the battlefield.
“So what’s the plan?”
"Olwar won't stand for an army on his doorstep. He sounds more warrior then chief. I've a feeling they'll come to us." The gray bearded man said. "The Queen does not want a prolonged battle, but a quick and decisive victory. I suggest we fortify this location before they arrive." Many around the table mumbled in agreement.
Auriëlle joined in that agreement with a single nod. Looking around the tent she wondered whether or not Carn did these things as well. Probably. And he had been a smart man to keep her out of it. Back then, she would’ve hated everyone who even opened their mouth. Now, to her own surprise, she found herself enjoying the wise council. When she’d return, maybe she could ask him if she could join any future councils. Her eyes fell down to the table for a moment. She took a deep breath. Just a year and then she could go back to him. Gods she was starting to miss him.
“Alright.” She said, gathering her thoughts again. “We reinforce our position. I don’t want to be caught unaware so keep the scouts patrolling. Get to your tasks, men.” The old man would’ve said the same things as she had. The problem was that, even though they were allies, she couldn’t let him. She was the commander now.
Most of the council exited the tent in brisk jogs, calling for others and barking orders. In the quiet of the tent however the old man and his son remained. "Auriëlle." He said looking at her, "My name is Hyl and this is my son, Daert." Who gave her a nod if nothing more. "You'll do well, least I hope." He grunted, before exiting the tent. Daert stayed for a moment longer, before he hastily left as well. There was much to do after all.
The sun stood high again. It hadn’t rained. For the entire day, Auriëlle had been sitting away from the camp. Watching the horizon while sunken in thoughts. She bathed in the sun’s warmth. How ironic it was, that Oraelia’s sun shone so bright right now. For a minute she wanted to taunt the sun goddess again with a mock prayer. She would laugh at her and ask her why she won’t make a choice for once, on this day. Though that want quickly vanished. There was ill luck in taunting any god on the eve of battle.
Then, somewhere around mid-afternoon, one of the scouts approached her. “Olwar has been spotted on the other side of the valley. He’ll be here in an hour.” He said. She nodded in response and marched back to the camp. Where she donned her clothes and armor. She kept her lonethrone vambrace hidden under a sleeve. Her bronze plate felt heavy and clunky. The first time she wore the chest plate she quickly realized it would hamper her movement. She preferred to be fast and agile. If the enemy got close enough that a bronze plate would come in useful, she had already failed. Still, she put it on now. Keeping the straps loose so she could toss it off in a moment's notice. So far, it would seem Olwar marched thinking he would encounter a mere army. Not sorcery.
Soon she joined her troops on the line of battle. Stakes had been dug into the ground and barricades of simple wooden logs and stones were raised as well for the archers to seek shelter in. The last of the arrows were planted in the dirt before their feet. An uneasy silence reigned upon the soon to be battlefield. Hyl was beside her, scanning the horizon with his grim eyes, spear in hand and a sword at his hip. He wore a bronze plate as well, a trophy from battle she thought.
All was quiet before the sounds of singing became louder and louder. War chants and battle songs, meant to drive morale down and strike fear into hearts. From the sound of such voices, the enemy was many. They came from the other side of the vale, men brandishing all sorts of weapons and farming tools. Axes, spears, hoes and all sorts of other things. Most wore normal clothing but a few had leathers and shields as well. All together, it was a very rag tag army of common folk and farmers.
They did not march in a line but rather came to a stopping point down the slope. There was no sign of Olwar but then again she had no idea what he actually looked like. That was until the army before them parted, letting through a tight formation of spearmon wearing fine leather armor and tall shields. Behind them, riding upon Stag came a dozen or so more men who came to a stop at the center of the formation. Yet no one came forth and the singing had stopped.
"Look!" Someone cried out, pointing up into the clouds. A hushed whisper came up through the ranks, turning to fear and excitement. There coming down from the heavens was an actual Leon, carrying a man wearing black furs and a helmet of antlers. He landed before his army, Leon roaring in their direction. The man then shouted in a loud voice, "Nallan! You piss poor lads! Why have you come to die so far from home!"
Auriëlle was impressed. Though unafraid. She walked through her lines. Carefully putting her hand on every shoulder of the men she passed. “Steady men.” She said as she reached the front line. Where she stood amongst some spearmen of her own. There would be no big speech coming from her though.
Olwar looked fierce but he was a fool. He was showing her his entire army in an effort to intimidate them. Now she needed to lure him close. “I’ve come for your mother!” She shouted back. “At least she’ll have the guts to face me while you sit on your overgrown cat!”
There came some snickering from her own lines and quiet from the others. Olwar then boomed, "Look men! It seems the Queen has sent a bitch in her place! Come on then, pup, if you want to die then so be it! Archers!" A row of men rushed forward holding bows, they knocked arrows and then loosed.
“Shields!” Auriëlle responded. At her order, those with shields raised them. Some brave sap even held his shield in front of her. Lucky for her, perhaps. As one arrow did land with a hollow thud. She kept her steely demeanor. Though inside she once again came to the realization that she had almost died. Around her, one or two had some ill fortune. They fell back with blood pouring from their wounds. Others grabbed them and dragged them away. When the arrows had fallen, the shields moved out of the way again. She wondered if she could strike him with a lightning bolt. Not yet. He had to get closer. “I’m not here to dance.” She said. He wouldn’t hear it.
“At least have the fucking honor to come do the job yourself!” She spat back at him as she took a step forward. Breaking from her own front line. She now stood in front of her own men. “C’mon! I’m right here you big oaf!” She slammed her fist on her bronze chest plate. Letting the hollow metal sound echo across her line. There was pure fire in her voice. A familiar hatred boiled up in her. A hatred that brought power.
There seemed to be a heated discussion going on between Olwar and a stag rider before Olwar struck the man and then took a horn from his belt and blew. It was loud and deep and before her eyes, the enemy began to advance in rank. Shields were brought forth and a line was made, with several of the more regal looking spearmen, leading. Another volley of arrows fired as Olwar himself took to the sky upon his Leon, while the stag riders seemingly pulled back to retreat.
A faint smile appeared on Auriëlle’s lips. “Tell Hyl to keep an eye out for those stags.” She said. One of the lighter troops was dispatched to the back line. The shields were put up again. One arrow came just short of its target and fell before her feet in the ground. This time, no arrow hit the shield that was protecting her. Meanwhile she slowly loosened the leather straps of her bronze plate. When the shields were lifted again, the chest plate was off and Olwar’s army had gotten closer.
She pointed two right hand fingers at Olwar. Arcs of lightning traveled across her arm. Burning and cutting her sleeve to wisps of smoldering cloth. Then, at the last minute, she turned away from the flying menace, pointed at the frontline of spearmen and released the bolt of lightning.
Lighting arced towards them with a tremendous clap of thunder- No, the sound of an explosion, following. Men screamed in agony, others dropped dead and most immediately halted. The blow took everyone by surprise it seemed. The smell of charred skin and smoke blew back into them. Some of her men gagged as the grim reality of death set in. The enemy in the meantime, wanted no part of it and most of the farmers began to retreat, shouting as they went, "Run! Magician! The gods are against us!"
Up above, Olwar had vanished but his more stalwart men still pressed on with angrier war cries.
“You should’ve knelt when you had the chance!” Auriëlle screamed. “Now I’ll bring you back as ash.” She pointed again, not at the front line this time. Instead she unleashed her power at the fleeing farmers. They were spread out, so one bolt wouldn’t kill as many. That wasn’t the point. Then she turned to the front line again. She lobbed a small orb of fire, which began to fall apart in a wave of flames mid-air that fell upon the enemy. “Come and march to your death!” She shouted at the army. Almost forgetting Olwar and his stag riders in her rage.
It was someone in the back who sounded the alarm. The stag riders were on a collision course on their right flank and Olwar himself led the charge. More arrows began to rain down on her position as the riders approached, brandishing hammers and clubs. Olwar wielded a bronze hammer in one hand and a staff in the other.
Auriëlle knew those damned stags would cause trouble. She stepped back into the frontline. They’d have to hold for now. Arrows kept falling like a drizzle. It didn’t matter. She grabbed one of the lighter troops by the shoulder. “Tell Hyl to take out those stags!” She shouted her order. Right then one of the arrows struck the man in the chest. She threw his corpse forward. “Do I have to win this whole goddamn battle myself?”
She pushed her way towards the right flank. Meanwhile the lines clashed. Shields were pushed against shields as both sides tried to make an opening. The right flank was already unraveling. “The first who runs I’ll kill myself!” She shouted to her own troops. Then, one stag rider noticed her and started to charge her. Auriëlle had spotted it. The rider had gotten close. Just not close enough when suddenly the earth opened up underneath him. His stag tripped. Sending the rider tumbling from his steed. “Kill him.” Auriëlle gave the order and three warriors jumped the dazed rider in an instant. Smashing his face and body with their clubs, axes and even stones found around. There would be nothing left but a bloody pulp. His steed wasn’t spared either.
Then she turned to Olwar whose Leon was wreaking havoc amongst her troops. Without hesitation she raised her arm. Arcs of lightning traveled over her arm. With a clap of thunder she unleashed the bolt at the Leon.
The Leon was hit in the center of it’s chest, it howled in pain as the lightning arced and blew Olwar off its back. He went flying in the air and landed out of sight. The Leon then took a few steps before collapsing on it’s side. It was hard to be sure if it was dead or not.
As the strag riders ran amok, the enemies on the frontline crossed the threshold of no return. They were on their doorstep now, riddled with arrows in their shields and hatred in their eyes. They came upon the defenses and broke free, running with mad fervor at the enemies before them- Her own troops.
The right flank would collapse under the pressure. Auriëlle knew it. “Hold your ground!” She shouted as she trapped another stag rider in the ground. The Leon was at least down. Either the enemy’s moral would take a hit or it would whip them into a frenzy. Several archers were turning their attention at the stag riders. Another fell, though it took three arrows to get his stag low as well. Inside, Auriëlle knew Olwar wasn’t dead yet. “C’mon you pompous bastard. Get here so I can mount your head on a spear.” She mumbled under her breath as she prepared a bolt of fire to take out another rider.
The two forces upon the hill collided together, fighting neck in neck and blood for blood. The enemy was relentless in their charge. Fighting for home and country brought them together, made them fight strong.
Strong.
Olwar returned, looking as if he had barely been hurt by her blast. He waded through her troops like an unstoppable force. Each man who came to him, was battered down with his hammer until he arrived at the Leon. He howled in rage, and did something strange. He touched his Leon with the staff, and before her eyes, the creature rebounded. It lashed out at her forces and before she could get a clear shot at Olwar, he began to traverse the field, touching the staff to his broken comrades. Some rose, others did not and the fight continued on.
Nobody had told her about the staff. Nobody told her he could heal things. If she ever found Hyl, she would tear his eyes out. That was for sure. Punishment was for after a battle though. Right now, she had an incredible nuisance to kill. He had gotten close to her now as he healed his own troops. One man received the healing touch and was getting up before Olwar. He smiled, happy to be alive and fight for his tribe again. Then he turned pale. His veins became visible under his skin. He grasped at his throat as blood began to drip from his lips. He dropped down to the ground and curled up, spitting out blood as it filled his lungs up. A few meters behind him stood Auriëlle with her fist clenched and pointed at her victim. Her eyes were trained on Olwar. Fire burned in her left hand. Ready to be thrown at the hero.
Olwar grabbed the man, lifting him up as a shield. He then ran towards Auriëlle with a war cry.
He was getting closer. She threw the fire. It hit the first man. Not Olwar behind him. Auriëlle felt the panic creeping up. With every step, control slipped. She threw more fire. The back of the corpse was ablaze. Olwar didn’t stop. When he was close enough, he pushed the corpse of the man at her. Then the power came. Like an unholy savior. Uncontrolled. A wave of pure annihilation ripped from her hands. The translucent surge reduced the corpse to ash.
Olwar rolled to the right in the nick of time, but his furs caught fire and another unfortunate soul died. This did not stop him however, from hefting his hammer and throwing it at her as he used his momentum to jump back up. It hit her on the left arm. There was a nasty crack. She fell back. Her arm went limp entirely. For a second, the pain was overwhelming. It forced her to scream. Then she pushed back at it. Pain, fear, she would use it. With her right hand she reached out at Olwar, forming a half-closed fist. She poured all her vitriol, malice and pain into the hex. Slowly she clenched down. Attacking the very innards of her enemy.
His mouth twisted and his eyes went wide as he clutched his neck. Blood began to pour from his mouth and his breathing ceased. There was a panic in his eyes but acute awareness. He dropped to his knees, clutching the staff with one hand and slowly touching the tip to his chest. The change was immediate and he gasped for breath as his face curled into fury. He rose again and shambled closer to her with villainous intent.
“Dirty… Fucking… Mage…” he breathed.
It all vanished from her hex. The malice, the hatred. It went up in smoke. How!? She released her grip. The magic vanished. As he got up, she crawled backwards over the ground. He loomed over her, and fell to his knees on top of her, throwing the staff away. “Now… You’ll die.” he said, placing his hands on her throat and squeezing. She let it happen. There was no fighting. No kicking. She just waited, with a defiant gaze, as he got close and put his fingers around her neck. But with her right hand, she tapped the ground three times.
From Olwar’s right, a beast with black fur and burning red eyes lunged at Olwar’s throat. Blood sprayed across Auriëlle’s face. Olwar screamed as the demon dog dragged him down. Auriëlle managed to get from under him. Gasping for air as the pain of her arm was growing stronger. She bit down on her teeth as she crawled at the stick. When she finally grabbed it she put the tip of it on her chest, just like Olwar had done.
In an instant the pain in her neck and arm was gone. She could even flex her fingers again! Exhausted, but happy, she managed to get up with some help of the stick. In front of her, her demon was still biting down on Olwar throat. Bone cracked. “Release him.” She said. The demon did as commanded. The hero let out a ragged gasp for air. He wasn’t dead yet. Auriëlle turned towards one of the nearby soldiers. “Axe, now!”
It took a few hits, but after the fourth Olwar’s head was removed from his shoulders. She tossed it at one of the spearmen. Who gladly put the trophy on his spear to parade with. Meanwhile she tossed the staff at another soldier. “Heal everyone you can find.” She said, out of breath but still walking towards where she heard the Leon roaring.
It took another bolt of lightning to fell the great beast. Though any of the troops around weren’t taking chances this time. The sight of their leader’s head on a spear sent most of the troops routing. Half the stag riders managed to flee as well. Auriëlle gave the order to kill as many as they could but hold position. Meanwhile behind the front line more and more of her own men she had deemed dead were up and about again. The battle was won.
The great fire roared in the night. Her soldiers were drinking and feasting. Hyl would face her rage in the morning. Tonight she allowed everyone to party. Everyone but those who pulled guard duty that night. Her bronze armor was recovered and cleaned. Though it had suffered a few dents. Scraps and pieces of the Leon’s fur hung from various posts around the camp. Ready to be tanned and used. Auriëlle remained in her tent. Inside she kept cutting her own arm and then healing it with the branch. She never felt magic. Only something more powerful. No matter how many wounds she inflicted upon herself, they always closed the moment the tip touched her. “You’re a useful tool to have in war.” She remarked with a small smirk. Though she was contemplating on keeping it herself or giving it to Nallan.
Her pondering was interrupted by a guard entering her tent. “The village chieftains are here, my lady.” The guard said. She allowed them to enter with a motion of her hand. From the dried blood and wounds, she figured some had fought in the battle. Others hadn’t. Four of the six chieftains sat down on chairs spread out on the first half of the tent.
“My lady. We – “ One chieftain said as he motioned to the others. “ – have come to offer our surrender. You must understand. Olwar was so distraught about his father’s untimely death. Such a great tragedy. He shouldn’t have taken it out on Nallan. We should have stopped him when he called in the ancient oaths but Tekret would have taken great offense. Surely someone as ascended and powerful as you understand, don’t you?” The whimpering desperation was palpable. This was their version of begging.
Auriëlle felt strange. She felt as if she was on the battlefield again. Lobbing fire and releasing lighting while she remained untouchable. Was this how Nalla felt? Her thoughts returned to the chieftains standing in her tents. For some time she went over his words in her own head. Making sure she fully understood all of them. She thought back to what she had said in the throne room in Nallan. ‘Kneeling men or ash.’ For all intent and purposes, she was now an extension of Nalla’s will. Was the queen merciful or just?
“I accept your gracious surrender.” Auriëlle said with a small smile. “Rejoice! Queen Nalla is just. You can gather your dead to be buried and we will not come and raze your villages.” Even though she so thoroughly wanted to burn at least one of them. As a message. Still, Nalla needs people to reign over. Not ash.
The chieftains looked delighted as they released the tension they had felt. Some of them threw small praises to the gods. Auriëlle let them enjoy themselves for a minute. Until she raised her hand to silence them. “One of you will be burned at the stake here tonight until there is nothing left but ash.” The murmur dropped. “Then the rest will be brought to kneel before Nalla.”
The four sitting chieftains shot up. Ready to shout in protest. Auriëlle was a split second ahead of them as she rose from her seat. “Sit. Down!” She yelled at them. The candles in the tent flared up. Slowly, but surely, the chieftains took their seats again. Then she continued, with a softer voice but with the same intensity in her eyes: “You think you can defy us, insult us, bleed us and then come in here expecting nothing but mercy? I’ll let you choose amongst yourselves who dies tonight.”
Nallan prepares for war. Auriëlle brought her army to her chosen battlefield. Then joins her war council where she hears about Olwar, the chieftain leading the southern village alliance. The plan is to dig in and let them come for them. Auriëlle agrees.
On the day of the battle, Auriëlle wears her bronze plate amongst her troops. Olwar comes flying down from the heavens upon his Leon and lands in front of his army to insult the Nallan soldiers. Auriëlle returns in kind. Arrows begin to fly as Olwar and his stag riders run out of sight. Auriëlle, shoots lightning at the front line. Killing a few in a single clap and sending the less disciplined militia running. Though she kills some of the routing enemies as well.
Then the stag riders and Olwar are spotted charging her right flank. She decides to take matters into her own hands and heads that way. Letting the front line clash. She drops a stag rider and then fells the Leon with a single bolt of lightning, but then Olwar reappears from the bushes and puts the tip of his staff upon the Leon. Healing it completely. The beast starts fightning again and Auriëlle focuses on Olwar. A man he healed, she kills again. Olwar uses him as a human shield to block her firebolts. Auriëlle cannot manage to hit Olwar, who throws the corpse at her. In panic, she releases a wave of annihilation. Destroying the corpse. Olwar manages to dodge it and throws his hammer. Hitting and breaking her left arm. She falls on the ground. The pain she feels she uses to cast a hex and destroy Olwar’s insides. However he manages to heal himself again with the tip of the stick. Auriëlle, still on the ground, begins to crawl forward. Olwar looms over her and puts his hand on her neck to choke her out.
When Auriëlle gives the signal, a demon dog jumps up and bites down on Olwar’s neck. Blood spurts every. Auriëlle manages to get free and crawls to the staff. Which she uses to heal herself. Then she cuts off Olwar’s head and makes it her trophy.
Some people escaped but the Leon was slain. Nallan is victorious. That night the village chieftains come to offer their surrender. Auriëlle accepts it and assures them their villages are safe. However she demands one chieftain to be burned at the stake so she can bring his ashes. The others will also come to swear loyalty to Nalla.
Post Length: +10K Characters +5 Prestige >> Auriëlle - 3 Prestige >> Auriëlle: Annihilation spell - 3 Prestige >> Auriëlle: Hexing Olwar - 10 Prestige >> Give Auriëlle the Heliah title +5 Prestige >> Oaken Branch
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