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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Mar 8, 2019 13:51:18 GMT
[Order Brodar to kill Delian of Plainsbridge]
Wildling made a good point that the rest of the mercenaries would not be likely to just attack their leader. Also, if he could do it quickly and by surprise he might be able to succeed. Although, it might be safer to order to cover their retreat; I can't see Edmond not taking this chance. Man, if only we stayed in the town and rested. This was not an easy choice for me, and I still might possibly decide to change it later. Had you stayed in town, however, Korobar and Edmond wouldn't have had the chance to ambush Plainsbridge at all. The problem with Korobar is, he is highly recognizable. A tall, dark-clad figure with a wild beard (think Rasputin the Mad Monk), he is guaranteed to arouse heavy suspicion. A fight within the previous village would have been similarly messy. While Edmond wouldn't have depleted his arcane energies on the decoy unit, he would have had to fight not only against Delian's men, but against the villagers as well, who obviously would have sided against the evil necromancer. Delian is a clever opponent, there are few options that can properly outsmart him.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Mar 8, 2019 13:55:42 GMT
The Voting is closed! Edmond is going to order Brodar to kill Delian of Plainsbridge Well, that option will have consequences in some capacity, as you can likely imagine. For now, getting away from there should be crucial, but an attack on Delian might give them the necessary space to do just that. Edmond's next part will be quite something, this I can tell you already and I am excited for it! The next part will be out today. Sorry for the longer wait, but I am finally almost finished with the writing. The next part will be an Iiro part again, showing the aftermath of Yveshin's last part, where they arrived at a farmhouse, where they were "ambushed" by a little kid who played with a wooden sword. The kid pretended to be the infamous bandit baron Terkol of Beechmire and demanded coin to let them pass and Yveshin decided to give in to his demands, playing along and giving him a silver coin. The part will start right where Yveshin's ended.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Mar 9, 2019 2:24:10 GMT
Iiro The boy seemed stunned, as Yveshin leant forward and handed him a coin. “There you go, little one”, the elf said and the boy looked at him with awe. Of course, Iiro would have reacted the same in his age. Elves were rare, even in this part of the world and he doubted the boy had ever travelled beyond the borders of Treybirch. Finally, he pulled himself together, as good manners overcame the natural fear of strangers and elves in particular. “Thank you, m'lord”, he mumbled, as he stared at the ground to his feet. Then, he straightened his back, looking at the silver coin in his hands, then at the elf. “My ma always says that we should be kind to strangers”, he added. “And it is getting dark. Would you like to rest at our farm tonight? You and the ones in the carriage?” Yveshin raised an eyebrow, as he glanced at Iiro, who nodded with a smile. “It would be our pleasure”, he spoke. “I am Iiro and the elf is Yveshin” The boy smiled. “And I am Peldor Foxton”, he introduced himself. “Come! Bring your friends, Ma will cook for you and you can sleep near the fireplace” He clung to the coin as if it was an immeasurable treasure. While Iiro's family had never been poor, owning the only inn in the village, he knew that a whole silver coin was a lot. Most of the people who came to his uncle's inn were making that much in three days, some in a week. On their sign, Mother Linai stirred the carriage down the pathway that led to the small farm, while Iiro and Yveshin flanked it. Peldor ran up and just a moment later, a woman came out of the house. She was young, likely not even thirty, with brown hair, tied into a plain bun and a worried expression on her narrow face. “Ma!”, the boy yelled. “Those are my friends” He rose the coin and the woman's eyes widened, especially as she recognized the symbol on Mother Linai's carriage. “By the Twelve, we do not deserve such generosity”, she spoke, as she took a plump bow in front of them. “I am Marita Foxton, me and my husband own this farm” She took a step aside. “Please, come inside, travellers, be our welcome guests” A smirk flashed across Iiro's face, as he spotted Vittorio's surprise. “You haven't expected to find welcoming people here, have you?”, he asked and the mage could only shake his head. “Admittedly”, he replied. “But it is a welcome change. I was beginning to think the famous hospitality of Meadows is nothing but a rumour” The farmhouse was not particularly spacious and certainly not in good condition. It was maintained lovingly, but it oozed a distinct lack of wealth. The woodwork was old, the furniture even older, makeshift repairs here and there showing that the family lacked coin. Yveshin had done them an incredible kindness. It was likely that they could afford at least a new chair for this silver coin and looking at those present in the main room of the house, he knew they could use one. Aside from a large table, two chairs and two benches, the room wasn't particularly well-furnished. There was a large, empty space in the back of the room, close to the stony fireplace and Iiro presumed it would be where they would sleep this night. Well, it was warm and dry and he looked forward for it, instead of spending the night in the carriage. One open door led into a tiny bedroom and a second, closed door could only lead to the pantry. The farmer himself was a tall man, with finely toned muscled from his line of work, but more on the wiry side. His hard, weathered face cracked a confused smile as the unexpected guests entered. “You bring elves to my house, woman?”, he asked, not in an unfriendly tone, but genuinely surprised and quite a bit nervous, especially as he spied Iiro's sword. “Companions of the Church of Travia”, Mother Linai replied, having entered at last, behind Thea and Yveshin. Immediately, the man's expression changed and his smile grew wider. “Mother, I welcome you and your companions. My name is Peraidan”, he spoke, as he rose from the bench. “All of you, please, be our guests for the night. We don't have much, but it's still better than sleeping outside” Iiro gladly accepted the offer and sat down, next to Mother Linai, who introduced herself. “I am Mother Linai”, she spoke. “These are my companions. The humans are Iiro and Vittorio and the elves are Thea and Yveshin” The young Peldor flashed the latter a grin and Yveshin replied with a polite nod. “A pleasure”, Peraidan spoke. “We rarely get visitors around here. Most either stay in Treybirch or push on to Aelderwood, but we're always glad to help out travellers in need” He smiled kindly. “Would you like some soup? Marita makes the best in the region” The woman smirked, as she lovingly gazed at her husband. “I'll prepare some”, she offered, as she hurried to the small fireplace. “Apparently, the baron of Treybirch thinks differently”, he remarked and the farmer sighed. “Gero of Hollbrinck is a thief and a thug”, he claimed. “If not for him, we could keep cattle as well, but he doesn't accept rivals within these lands” He shook his head. “I am not surprised he turned you away. All sorts of strange people are travelling through here lately and Hollbrinck has always been the cautious kind. Just yesterday, two riders scared my boy half to death” “They were bad men”, Peldor agreed. “Not like you. You're nice!” He still clung to the coin and Iiro suspected it would be hard to convince him to ever part with it. “And then today, the Banray travels through the region. We're lucky they didn't come to our farm”, Peraidan added. “Nothing against them, but they are a small army. So many men, when they come to people like us, they always take food and drink and leave us with nothing in return” “Yeah, we had the pleasure”, Vittorio replied, though he had his eyes narrowed. Iiro could only suspect that the tale of the two riders had caught his curiosity. Hollbrinck had told them the same when he turned them away in Treybirch. More than ever, he knew something massive was happening in the eastern Meadows and they were travelling straight towards it. “So, what leads you on such a journey?”, Peraidan asked, looking at each of the unlikely companions. “You're not what we're used to in these lands” Vittorio smiled. “Strange times require strange companions”, he replied and the farmer nodded. Mother Linai was a bit more informative. “We wish to visit an old friend of mine, Sister Laniare of Drakesfield” “Drakesfield”, Peraidan spoke. “Didn't hear anything good from that region lately. People complain about nightmares. There's shadows at night, stalking the countryside and they say people have gone missing” Iiro raised an eyebrow. “It is the Black Sickle”, he replied. “People have always gone missing over there” To this, Peraidan shook his head. “It is worse than usual, good man”, he explained. “The people who grow missing, they're not the usual, not fools who wandered too far, but folk who knows the region. Hunters, farmers. Something wicked is preying on them, mark my words” He shivered. “I can only hope that it is not coming here. Maybe the Banray can stop it” By now, the stew's smell filled the farmhouse and Iiro's stomach growled. Luckily, it wasn't too long until Marita served the stew, a thin, yet surprisingly tasty meal that thoroughly warmed him. Peraidan and Peldor joined them after taking care of Mother Linai's horses and soon, they were freely talking to their guests. They were good people, there was no doubt of it, and Iiro was glad they had found such kindness in these troubling times. It was in this moment that Iiro heard something from outside. Tensing up, he noticed the sound of a horse, slowly riding up the path. The elves undoubtedly noticed it as well and Peraidan narrowed his eyes. “Another visitor?”, he asked, as the horse, now clearly audible, stopped in front of the house. “Hey there, good people!”, a female voice called out for them, her tone commanding and sharp, yet clearly tired. “My horse requires attention” Peraidan gave his son a nod and Peldor was quick to rush to the door. Iiro however tensed up, as the boy opened it, subtly placing a hand on the hilt of his sword, ready for anything. A young woman stood in front of the house. She was quite tall and exceptionally pretty, with lean, almost feline features, high cheekbones and green eyes. Her hair was a mane of blonde curls, cascading down to her shoulders and fittingly, her tabard depicted a red lioness on a field of white, which she wore above sturdy, well-maintained chainmail. His eyes widened, as he recognized the symbol. This woman was a priestess of Rondra. And upon second look, her beauty was tarnished by the stress of the journey that must have been behind her. Dark rings were visible beneath her eyes, her skin was pale and the white cloak around her shoulders was stained with dirt. Her left hand was resting on the hilt of a fine sword, the pommel forming a golden lion's head. “Rondra's blessings upon you”, she spoke, her gaze darting through the farmhouse with the expertise of a born warrior, taking in Iiro's sword, Yveshin's dagger, Vittorio's staff and finally, Mother Linai's amulet with the symbol of Travia on it. This last sight caused her to calm down slightly, though she was still tensed up. “My name is Ayla of Shadowsground, Dame of the Lioness, and I require food and shelter for one night” She took a deep breath. “Both of which I will appropriate refund, of course” She stepped inside, allowing Iiro to catch a glimpse of her horse, a magnificent destrier, chestnut brown, clad in the white and red tabard of the Church of Rondra. Peraidan Foxton rose from his chair, as he and his wife took a deep bow in front of the priestess. Clearly exhausted, she sank into the chair the farmer offered to her. By now, there was no space on the table for the family themselves, but they did not seem to mind this fact, if it meant being good hosts for their unexpected guests. “Of course, please”, Peraidan spoke. He took another bow in front of the young priestess. “We don't have much, but you shall receive a warm meal and a bed for the night” He and his wife exchanged a glance. “We shall sleep in the stables tonight, giving the main room to Mother Linai and her companions and granting you the bed room, m'lady”, he decided. Ayla nodded thankfully. "Blessings for you, good people", she spoke. "It has been a stressful journey and I am glad I can find rest in a decent household. “What leads a priestess of Rondra to these lands?”, Mother Linai asked and Ayla's green eyes narrowed just slightly. “I could ask you the same, Mother”, she replied. “What leads a priestess of Travia to these lands, especially in such unusual company?” Immediately as she had said this, she sighed. “Forgive me, Mother, it was a long, exhausting ride. I have been stationed in Tobria and I'm on my way to the Rhodestone, our fortress in the western parts of this duchy, close to the Darkencrest” She leant back, hesitating for a moment, unclear of how much she should reveal. “Dragosh of Sicklecourt has called for the church to gather there” “The Sword of Swords?”, Iiro asked in surprise. He wasn't too educated when it came to the churches and their leaders, but where he came from, everyone had heard of the new leader of the Church of Rondra, appointed just after the Orkenstorm ended. The Lioness' priests were deeply admired in the Valley of Svelt, where war and combat was ever present and Iiro knew, Dragosh was responsible for driving the last marauding bands of orks out of the Middenrealm. Ayla gave him a nod. “He has told nobody but his inner circle the reason for this meeting”, she admitted. “But it is something big. My guess is that he plans to take revenge on the orks, maybe even march on Khezzara. He suggested it before, when his predecessor was still alive” Hearing this, Iiro tensed up. The Church of Rondra, marching against the orks... “And... could you need the help of volunteers for that march?”, he asked. Though tired, Ayla gave him a thin smile, polite, yet a bit distanced. “Not the church, no. Our troops consist entirely of those who have dedicated their lives to the goddess and we work best alongside our sworn brothers and sisters”, she declined. “But if the Sword of Swords truly plans such a war, then Prince Brin and Marshall Haffax will undoubtedly support him. You are welcome to join their troops in this case” “War against the Orkland?”, Mother Linai asked. “This could backfire. It's like poking into a hornet's nest. What if it leads to another Orkenstorm in return? Assai will hardly remain idle while you slaughter his people like he did ours” Ayla gave her a nod. “This is what I fear as well”, she admitted. “Lord Dragosh's intentions are noble, but he will face heavy backlash once the church has gathered” The farmer couple looked at each other with concern and Iiro was glad that the young Peldor was still busy bringing the horse to the stables. The last thing the boy needed was to hear all these stories about war and orks, for they could be tempting. “Now, I think you owe me a reply”, Ayla spoke. “What leads you to these lands? The eastern baronies are not a good place to be lately” “Have you been to Drakesfield, Dame Ayla?”, Linai asked and the priestess of Rondra shook her head. “I heard bad news from that region”, she replied. “Usually, I would have investigated, but I am honour-bound to heed Lord Dragosh's call as quick as possible. As such, I've been riding for the better part of two days...” She paused, just long enough for Iiro to realize there was something she kept quiet about, before her smile returned. “I take it you travel to the region?”, she asked. “To visit a friend of mine, yes”, Mother Linai replied. “She serves in Drakesfield's temple of Tsa, maybe you have heard anything about it on your journey?” Ayla narrowed her eyes, though she shook her head. “I heard nothing in particular”, she spoke. “But the people I met, they didn't speak very highly of the Young Goddess. I don't know what led them to such drastic comments, but hopefully, your friend can bring light into this darkness” Linai nodded grimly, while Marita handed Ayla a bowl of stew. The priestess sighed with pleasure, as she smelled the meal. “No potatoes”, she mumbled. “That is something I noticed. For a week, all I had was some sort of potato, coming from the Black Sickle. Tastes bland, worse than anything I ever had” Potatoes... Iiro remembered his own encounter with them, not too long ago. “They had an unusual size, hadn't they?”, he remarked and Ayla nodded. “That's why the villagers bought them”, she replied. “Unfortunately, they soon realized they had been tricked. These things might be as large as three regular ones, but they taste horrible” “We met the man who sold them”, Peraidian confirmed. “Tried it with us as well, but I didn't trust him and sent him away. Glad to hear this was a good idea” He shook his head. “We have all we need here. We don't require some shady Tobrian merchant to sell us lies”, he spoke. “Though the people in the cities, they won't be as lucky” The evening continued quietly and not for too long. Ayla was exhausted from the journey and looking at her, it was clear she hadn't slept at all for two days. As such, she was not talkative, but what little she said fuelled Iiro's imagination. A march against Khezzara... revenge against the orks. It hadn't been on his mind yet, still focussing on coping with all these beasts had taken from him. But an idea had taken root in his mind, one that he found increasingly fascinating. Soon after she finished her meal, the priestess of Rondra retreated to the bedroom the farmer couple had generously given to her. They, in return, brought sacks of hay and warm blankets for the group to sleep on, before they themselves headed for the barn, where they insisted on spending the night. As expected, Iiro had worse beds in the past and with a satisfied smile on his face, he himself fell asleep. He stands on an endless red plain, which merges with the endless red sky by that unthinkable line on the horizon. The tower right next to him has the same red colour. It is his tower...Pain floods his body, twisting, dragging and tearing. The landscape around him fades into a swirl of colours, only to make room for a grey fog and a tingling that he barely feels over the pain...He stands on an endless grey plain, which merges with the endless grey sky by that unthinkable line on the horizon. Something is next to him. A presence, a being, a shape, seeking to destroy him. A wave of grey hatred meets him. He begins to run...He runs and runs, but over the centuries of his escape, IT comes closer, inch by inch. Ten thousand miles in front of him, he sees a spot of green, his salvation. He runs and runs, feeling relief...The spot grows larger. A green gate. But IT is behind him. He hears its breaths. IT comes closer. He jumps into the spot of green and begins to fall. The tearing pain fades. IT falls with him...He stands on an endless green plain, which merges with the endless green sky by that unthinkable line on the horizon. In this moment, IT reaches him...
Where was he? Slowly, Iiro opened his eyes, blinking and trying to shake off the feeling of dread. Where...? Of course, the farmhouse. The wind had pushed open one of the shutters, allowing pale moonlight to flood the room. Exhausted and covered in sweat, Iiro sunk back onto his makeshift bed. Despite taking a deep breath, the terrible feeling within his chest did not grow any better. And there, a shadow, creeping closer behind him. He knows he cannot escape IT, for IT cannot be stopped. IT cannot be run from, IT cannot be killed, IT is always in the corner of his eye and IT will catch up to him. A cold pain flares up in his back. And then, an unfathomably vile voice, hissing right next to his ear.
“Iiro!”, a familiar voice called out for him and at last, Iiro woke from the dream. With a gasp, he nearly jumped up, seeing Vittorio cowering above him. Pain, fear and confusion threatened to overcome him and his first instinct was indeed to punch Vittorio straight in the face. He managed to restrain himself only barely. “What...?”, he mumbled and the mage sighed. “You woke me up”, he spoke. “Panting, groaning, almost screaming in pain” He shook his head. “You were sweating, tossing yourself from one side to the other. I hope that is not a regular occurrence with you”, he added. “And when I saw your hands, I knew I had to wake you up” As Iiro rose his hands, he tensed up. There was blood on them and with that in mind, it wasn't too hard to realize where the pain was coming from. There was a scratch on his belly, just deep enough to draw blood, coming from his own fingernails. “What...”, he mumbled again, before he took a deep breath. Still, he felt watched, but this time there was no doubt that he was awake. The presence from his dream, he couldn't help but feel hunted by it. At the same time, he knew IT wasn't hunting him. No, this hunter was not looking for mortal prey. “I had a nightmare”, he stated, trying to calm down his shivering. Vittorio nodded. “Yeah, I came to the conclusion”, he replied dryly. “But a nightmare where the dreamer tries to hurt themselves? That is... highly unusual, to say the least. Do you have a history of nightmares?” Before Iiro could reply, he heard something and quickly tensed up. No, it was not the presence from his dream, no, not his dream. No, it was a quite real sound, a soft wailing... coming from the next room? Only a thin door separated the main room from the bedroom, where Ayla of Shadowsground was resting. And concentrating on it, it was clear that the sound came from her room... likely from her. Pained sighing, groaning, wailing... another nightmare? He glanced at Vittorio and the mage had heard it as well. “It seems Dame Ayla is suffering through a similar experience”, he spoke and Iiro nodded. There was only one thing that prevented him from jumping up and rushing into her room right now. She was a priestess of Rondra. People like him didn't just burst into the rooms of people like her. It would be inappropriate. “I... yeah, should we... I don't know, just get in there and wake her?”, he asked. Vittorio shrugged. “Why not?”, he replied, still in a low tone, so that they wouldn't wake the rest. Especially Thea seemed as if she could really need some sleep. “Because she's a woman? Pretty?”, he added. “Don't tell me that is a problem for you” Iiro shook his head, but Vittorio did not seem convinced. “You have to consider, she is not, first and foremost, a woman, but a Sword Lioness of Rondra. There are different rules for her”, he explained. “Besides, she's probably sleeping in her chainmail either way, if the rumours are true” Iiro raised an eyebrow. “Then why aren't you doing it?”, he hissed and the mage tilted his head. “Because it could be dangerous”, he spoke, slowly, as if he was talking to a lackwit. Briefly, Iiro's gaze fell upon Mother Linai and Thea. Both were sleeping soundly, the latter even looking strangely serene, especially compared to the nightmares that were plaguing him and the priestess of Rondra. Still, it did not feel right to just go and wake Ayla up, especially as there was no guarantee how she would react. Perhaps one of them should do it... [Enter Ayla's room] [Wake Thea and Mother Linai]
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Post by InGenNateKenny on Mar 9, 2019 2:41:03 GMT
[Wake Thea and Mother Linai] Well, Iiro punched the person who woke him up...who knows what this freaky priestess will do if we do the same. Besides, it's not our problem!
Thea! Sleeping! Rare elf occurrence. Although Yveshin wasn't with these two. That's strange. I wonder if we will learn where he is in his next part. Maybe he's having a funky dream too.
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Post by Tales93 on Mar 9, 2019 7:18:55 GMT
[Wake Thea and Mother Linai]
It may be safer if they handle it.
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Post by TheAPlegends on Mar 9, 2019 14:42:55 GMT
[Enter Ayla's room]
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Post by diversegnu on Mar 9, 2019 18:00:02 GMT
[Enter Ayla's room] Hmm, can't say I'm able to even begin to grasp the symbolism that is no doubt present in the nightmare. I wonder what IT is, certainly not some clown feeding off children's fear, right?
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Post by InGenNateKenny on Mar 9, 2019 20:23:53 GMT
[Enter Ayla's room] Hmm, can't say I'm able to even begin to grasp the symbolism that is no doubt present in the nightmare. I wonder what IT is, certainly not some clown feeding off children's fear, right? I am pretty sure it's a demented alien clown. It would make so much sense. "The landscape around him fades into a swirl of colours" are the colors of a clown's outfit. CONFIRMED!
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Post by WildlingKing on Mar 9, 2019 21:35:36 GMT
[Wake Thea and Mother Linai] Eh, I guess this would be the safer option here?
Nightmares continue to play a big role in this chapter, interesting. I'm gonna have to assume it'll only get more intense as they get closer to their destination... let's just hope no one claws themselves to death while asleep. Oh, and the big potatoes were brought up again, must be something more to those. Did Iiro eat those back in Baliho? Maybe they could somehow be causing the nightmares, idk XD
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Post by supersagig on Mar 10, 2019 2:35:24 GMT
[Enter Ayla's room]
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Post by diversegnu on Mar 10, 2019 15:05:34 GMT
[Enter Ayla's room] Hmm, can't say I'm able to even begin to grasp the symbolism that is no doubt present in the nightmare. I wonder what IT is, certainly not some clown feeding off children's fear, right? I am pretty sure it's a demented alien clown. It would make so much sense. "The landscape around him fades into a swirl of colours" are the colors of a clown's outfit. CONFIRMED! Woah! Did we just crack the dream sequence, and figured out the true villain of the story? I guess Liquid will have to change up his plans now.
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Post by GMS Freeman on Mar 11, 2019 7:39:07 GMT
[Enter Ayla's room]
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Mar 12, 2019 17:05:09 GMT
[Wake Thea and Mother Linai] Well, Iiro punched the person who woke him up...who knows what this freaky priestess will do if we do the same. Besides, it's not our problem!
Thea! Sleeping! Rare elf occurrence. Although Yveshin wasn't with these two. That's strange. I wonder if we will learn where he is in his next part. Maybe he's having a funky dream too. Hehe, you spotted correctly, Yveshin is not present during this scene. Iiro did not realize this yet, mostly because he just woke up from a terrifying nightmare, but Yveshin's whereabouts will be revealed in the next part. He's up to... something. And yeah, Thea is indeed sleeping and quite soundly as well. Being an elf who has trouble sleeping is a bad thing, because due to their already irregular sleeping schedule, when they are tired they absolutely should sleep, else they risk quick exhaustion or worse.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Mar 12, 2019 17:19:27 GMT
[Enter Ayla's room] Hmm, can't say I'm able to even begin to grasp the symbolism that is no doubt present in the nightmare. I wonder what IT is, certainly not some clown feeding off children's fear, right? Hnngh, damn it, it seems you and InGen uncovered the greatest twist of the story: It's actually set in the same universe as the novel IT and Pennywise is going to be the big bad. Jokes aside, that is an unfortunate translation issue. The dream is more or less directly taken from the German source material, where IT is written in caps to make it clear that it is not just something, such as, in the context of the dream, the grey wave, or the green gate, but an actually conscious being that is hunting the dreamer. In translation, the association with clowns is unfortunately inevitable ^^ That being said, I have no doubt these dreams are very confusing right now. A lot about them will make sense by the time this chapter ends, though some aspects of it are purposefully kept vague even in the original and some of it might remain a mystery for longer.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Mar 12, 2019 17:22:17 GMT
[Wake Thea and Mother Linai] Eh, I guess this would be the safer option here? Nightmares continue to play a big role in this chapter, interesting. I'm gonna have to assume it'll only get more intense as they get closer to their destination... let's just hope no one claws themselves to death while asleep. Oh, and the big potatoes were brought up again, must be something more to those. Did Iiro eat those back in Baliho? Maybe they could somehow be causing the nightmares, idk XD Aye, this is not the first time the potatoes were mentioned and Iiro indeed had some in Baliho. Same goes for most of the city and it was mentioned that Iiro is not the only one who had a strange nightmare lately. These potatoes come from the same region where the group is currently travelling to, so a connection between their unusual size (and lack of taste) and their location is not too far fetched. If there is a connection between them and the nightmares as well... that remains to be seen, likely once the source of the nightmares gets confirmed later in this chapter
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Mar 15, 2019 15:38:41 GMT
The Voting is closed! Iiro is going to enter Ayla's room It might be a good idea to give Thea some rest, a sleep-deprived elf is not of much use in the things to come. So, I'd say Iiro made the right decision there. Ayla's own nightmare will be described in the next part, but by now, it should be clear that this is a mass occurence, happening to several people at once. More about that hopefully today, when Yveshin's part will pick up right there, showing what he is up to right now and then some more. I'll try to get it done before tomorrow, so we'll see how it all works out.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Mar 16, 2019 22:28:09 GMT
Yveshin The sky was clear tonight, the moonlight illuminating the plains around the farmhouse. Yveshin looked skyward, taking a deep breath as he gazed at the moon, then at the landscape. It seemed peaceful, quiet and as empty as the icy mountain ranges of his home. And yet, there were villages, just a few miles in either direction, each of them larger than the palace of his tribe. The thought of just how many humans this land had was baffling. Even then, Meadows hadn't lost all of its natural beauty, the wonders he came to see. Though the lands of the cattle barons were mostly villages and plains, he had heard of wild forests to the south, where witches held their rituals, of the jagged mountains to the east and the untamed lands of the orcs to the west. In a way, it was almost baffling how much the humans had shaped this land, when surrounded by such archaic forces to all sides. He didn't even want to imagine how much the early settlers had to bleed for this. He wouldn't find any sleep tonight and though the people who took them in were very nice, he didn't particularly like it inside the farmhouse either. As such, he had left while all were sleeping, wandering the land on which the Foxton family lived and trying to make sense of all that had happened recently. Back when he had left the Eonaval mountains, he hadn't thought of what hardships his journey could hold. Actually, he hadn't thought much of what would await him at all. Freedom from the rigid lot in life his tribe had decided upon for him. His conversation with Thea had changed a lot, however. Bad days were ahead and he couldn't just ignore what was to come. It was in this moment that he sensed something. Stopping his walk in an instant, Yveshin tensed up. A cold chill ran down his back, as he felt something wicked, something unspeakably vile overcoming him. Not quite a presence, but more the semblance of a remnant of it and yet, it was enough to make him shiver. Narrowing his eyes, he spun around, to the farmhouse. Though he couldn't quite see in pitch black darkness, the moonlight was enough to make it as bright as day for him and he had no problem following the path ahead, even at his speed. Whatever he felt, it had come from the farmhouse and concern for his new friends threatened to overcome him. While running, he reached for his dagger, even if he had his doubts that it would be enough to fight off whatever caused this feeling, if it could be fought off at all. From afar, he listened carefully. No screams of terror, which was a relief, but there was something else. He narrowed his eyes, as he recognized the sound of pained groans. Muffled, not very loud, but unmistakably female. They came from the room closest to him, where, if he remembered correctly, the young priestess of Rondra was sleeping. He rushed towards the window. In the Bornland, he had seen many of them actually covered by glass, but here, in rural Meadows, there were merely wooden shutters to cover the hole. Opening them from the outside wasn't a problem and as he gazed inside, he noticed that he was not the only one checking up on her. Iiro had just entered the room. Briefly, he tensed up, his hand wandering to his side, where his sword would usually be, even if he was currently unarmed. Then, he narrowed his eyes. “Yveshin?”, he asked and the elf gave him a nod, as he climbed through the window. “What is going on?”, he asked in return, as he looked at the sleeping woman. Ayla of Shadowsground was pale, not just because of the moonlight flooding the room. Breathing rapidly, her fists were clenched over her belly. Yveshin took a deep breath and frowned as he recognized the unmistakable scent of blood. Her facial expression was pained, even in her sleep, though there was anger as well, as if she was fighting an enemy within her dream. She had shaken off the covers, only wearing her undergarments beneath, with armour and weaponry carefully placed in the corner of the room. “I don't know”, Iiro admitted. “I just woke up myself from.. from a pretty bad nightmare” Yveshin raised an eyebrow. More nightmares? First Thea, now Iiro and apparently Ayla as well. This was not beyond worrying. Not for the first time, he had to wonder if his people had any legend or story about what was going on here. Such a mass occurrence of nightmares was disturbing and he himself had no idea what it could mean. “Mylady Ayla?”, Iiro asked, as he reached out to the priestess. He hesitated for a second. “Dame Ayla, can you hear me?” When she did not reply, save for an unrelated and slightly louder groan, the human and the elf exchanged a glance. Iiro shrugged, before he placed a hand on Ayla's shoulder, shaking her gently. Yveshin took another deep breath. The smell of blood had grown stronger. He gazed down at the sleeping woman's belly and as he placed a hand on her wrist, he noticed that her nails were dug into her flesh, a downright unnatural power preventing him from moving them even just a bit. He had seen this kind of power within warriors in the heat of a fight, but within a sleeping human? Something was wrong here, something was very, very wrong. “You are having a nightmare, mylady, you need to wake up”, Iiro said, louder than before, but she still did not react. By now, the man noticed the blood on Ayla's belly as well. “She's clawing into her own flesh”, he mumbled, his eyes widened, as Yveshin looked around. This nightmare, it was arcane in nature, else she would have woken up, especially now that Iiro started to shake her a bit harder. His eyes darted across the room, until he spotted what he was looking for. “Of course!”, he exclaimed, as he hurried towards Ayla's belongings. He had heard a bit of the Lioness of Alveran and her faithful. Rondra was a goddess of fury and war, of lightning and thunder. And her priests were warriors. They weren't helpless, not even in a dream. “What are you doing?”, Iiro growled, as Yveshin reached for Ayla's sword. He did, however, not intervene as the elf held it towards the priestess, hilt first. Closer and closer to her clenched fists, who were now visibly stained with her blood. Only as it touched her fingers did the priestess open her eyes, immediately wide awake. She reached for the sword and Yveshin merely had time to jump back as she darted forward, taking a blind swing with the blade. Thanks to his elven instincts and Iiro's honed reflexes, neither was harmed and after taking a single swing, the anger on Ayla's face faded, replaced by confusion. One of her hands was pressed against her belly and as she gazed down at it, she saw the blood, then the sword in her hands. “What...”, she gasped. “By the goddess, what happened?” “You had a nightmare, mylady”, Iiro explained and after a brief moment of utter terror, Ayla gave him a nod. “That... makes sense”, she admitted. “I dreamt of a grey field, surrounding be to all sides, a thick, grey mist, all around me, pressing against me, making it impossible to move, breathe or even just think any thought aside from... from freeing myself” She glanced down at her blood-stained hands. “I tried to claw my way out of the mist... That is the only thing I remember” “That was no ordinary dream”, Yveshin replied and Ayla nodded. “Yeah, I thought that much”, the priestess confirmed. “Nightmares are the domain of Thargunitoth, the archdemonic counterpart to Boron. And yet, for a presence strong enough to infest my own dreams, despite the blessings of Rondra upon me” She shook her head and Yveshin could see how horrified she still was. If they hadn't managed to wake her up... could she have died? Could the dreams be that powerful? “I haven't sensed any of her taint”, Ayla continued. “And I doubt these lands are rotten enough to give root to her. No, this doesn't feel like a nightmare sent by Thargunitoth” She took a deep breath, as she and Iiro exchanged a glance. “But if it wasn't Thargunitoth”, the mercenary mumbled slowly, as his eyes widened. “What could be powerful enough to send such dreams?”
The next morning came, though not as soon as Yveshin had hoped. He remained within the house, though neither he, nor Iiro, nor Ayla found any sleep. Vittorio, Mother Linai and, thankfully, Thea did not wake up, however, as the three of them remained in Ayla's room. The priestess, who was remarkably quick with getting cleaned and dressed, appreciated the company and they talked casually until the morning came. Ayla remained tight-lipped about the Sword of Swords and his plan to march against the orks, but she was almost chatty when it came to other aspects of her journey and her duties to Rondra. Though the breakfast was brief and not much, Yveshin suspected that even this little strained the family's resources. Yet Peraidan and Marita gave it freely and little Peldor helped with the horses of both, Mother Linai and Ayla of Shadowsground. They parted with warm words and despite his obvious fear of elves, Peldor even gave Yveshin a hug, a gesture that was as strange as it was comforting for the elf. Then, the carriage and the destrier rode down the path to the main street, where Ayla turned west, while the carriage turned east. The priestess was still pale and shaken, though her injury had stopped bleeding and she seemed more determined than before. As she turned to the carriage, she drew her sword. Yveshin left the carriage, followed by Iiro and they approached the priestess. “Once more, you have my gratitude”, Ayla spoke and Yveshin gave her a smile. “Will you manage from here?”, he asked and she nodded grimly. “It will be another week on the road until I reach the Rhodestone”, she explained. “But once I am there, I will inform the Sword of Swords what happened tonight and what happened within the entire region. Lord Dragosh concentrates on our western borders, on the orkish threat, but maybe what happened here will convince him to keep an eye on this front as well” “And if you fight against the orks, make sure to let me know”, Iiro told her. “Me and them, we got a score to settle” This time, the young woman gave him a brief, genuine smile. “We'll see. In either way, I will carry your names to Lord Dragosh”, she stated. “I stand in your debt and through me, the Church of Rondra. This debt can only be increased if you manage to uncover the truth behind the darkness that is coming over Meadows” She raised her sword, before placing it briefly on Iiro's shoulder, the on Yveshin's. “However, I can assure you, the Church will repay you in full”, she promised. “Go now, with Rondra's courage and fear no evil” As she turned her horse around, Yveshin indeed felt a strange change within him. It was as if the priestess' words had taken what doubt tried to take root within him and snuffed it out. Instead, he felt ready to face whatever they would find on their journey. It was a sense of courage, of determination. Instinctively, he had to ask himself if this was how his sister felt when she took on the duty of keeping her tribe's lore. With a barked command, Ayla spurred her horse and the proud destrier dashed down the road, while Yveshin and Iiro returned to the carriage. With new hope in their hearts, they continued their journey, even if Yveshin couldn't stop thinking about what Ayla had told them. There was a darkness in these lands and it was powerful, more than what the Nether Hells could amass, enough to even corrupt the dreams of a priestess of Rondra, who slept under the lioness' watchful gaze. And there was only one threat in this world which Yveshin considered capable of such a feat. Despite the courage, he hoped that the Temptress was not involved in this. Even before noon, they had reached the village of Aelderwood, a small and unremarkable village and the last which was properly under the control of Duke Waldemar, as Mother Linai informed them. Beyond this point was the Dragongap, a road leading through a jagged canyon and beyond that, a territory nominally belonging to Meadows, but in fact, controlled by various and constantly changing self-appointed bandit barons. They were a menace, but often well-armed, so that rooting them out would take a small army, more than the duchy could afford at this point. That being said, while the people of Aelderwood did not leave their houses to greet the carriage, too afraid of the newcomers, the village had a temple devoted to the goddess Travia in it. While they had to wait within the carriage, Mother Linai had a talk with the local priest, a certain Father Bostell, whom Yveshin neither saw nor heard while he and the priestess were talking within the temple. However, once she left, Mother Linai brought rations and blessings with her and they continued their journey without any trouble, which was more than what he could say about what had happened in Treybirch. The Dragongap was, in short, magnificent. They had canyons where he came from, but never before had he seen a canyon forced under mankind's needs. They had built a road, a magnificent stone road, paving an even way at the side of the canyon, making it possible to travel through it via the carriage, or even just to ride on horseback without any problem. He had seen wonders of human technology on his journey, but this, comparably mundane as it was, fascinated him the most. He didn't even want to imagine how much work went into it. That being said, he wouldn't want to travel through it at night. The road was broad enough for the carriage, but just barely and a less experienced coachman wouldn't be able to keep the horses this calm, as they made their way through the gap, just a few inches away from a significant drop down into the river. There were sticks and stones, which hardly mattered for the carriage, but a horse at full speed, at night? He shivered at the thought of how many of the animals and their riders ended their lives with a single, careless step and a steep fall. Two significant stains of blood on the ground indicated that something similar happened not too long ago, yet strangely enough, despite the massive stains, no corpse was to be found. There was a tingling sensation as they passed the bloodstains, a strange chill running down his back. It was yet another piece in this grim puzzle, enough blood to easily kill a living creature, yet no corpse. Who or what would carry a corpse through this canyon? Even worse, for what reason? This thought affected his mood, even if Ayla's blessing remained within his heart. With steely resolve, he crossed his arms, staring out the window, as the sun slowly faded. It was the late afternoon, as they reached the next village, Broonsgorge, as Mother Linai introduced it. Soon, they'd have to rest, especially for the horse's sake. The old priestess herself also seemed tired, despite having slept a whole night without interruption. Broonsgorge itself was another of these human marvels he had come to appreciate so much. He was born and raised in a palace made of living crystal and ice, sung into existence, something he knew many humans had trouble even just understanding. In return, he found a house made of stone, shaped by strength of arms alone, to be a marvel beyond words. No Rime Elf had ever created something like this and why should they? He wasn't even sure his people were capable of doing so. And yet, the humans of Broonsgorge had done so. With determination and stubbornness alone, they had built they village not at the bottom or on top of the canyon, but along the edge, from the very top all the way to the bottom, several terrace's of stone, connected by stairways. As extraordinary as this was, the houses themselves were no different than the half-timber houses he had seen in Baliho, which made for a strange and endearing combination. A few people were out on the streets, eyeing the carriage with suspicion and curiosity. Yveshin leant forwards, so that he was able to speak with Mother Linai on the coachman's seat. “Are we going to rest here, Mother?”, he asked, to which the old woman shook her head. “I would like to”, she admitted. “These old bones need rest. But not in Broonsgorge, no” She paused for a moment and as she continued, she lowered her voice. “The people here have taken a stand against the lessons of the Twelve long ago”, she explained. “They have rejected order when they sided with Terkol of Beechmire. The man is wanted in the entire duchy and without the people of Broonsgorge, he would have been found long ago. I don't trust people who willingly shield a dangerous murderer from his just punishment” “So we'll push on?”, Iiro determined and she nodded. “If we hurry, we can reach the village of Balkey before sundown”, she explained. “They have a temple of Travia there, where we can sleep and the Charfire Trading Company has an outpost right next to it, with a dozen guardsmen to look after the village. I'll feel safer there” As such, it was settled. Even though Yveshin would have liked to learn more about this fascinating village, they pushed on, soon leaving it behind. It was there that he heard something odd. It was a concerning, cracking sound, as if old wood was slowly breaking. As he glanced out of the window, his eyes spotted something in the growing darkness, which Mother Linai likely hadn't even noticed yet. “Mother, stop!”, he yelled and she did so at once. “What...?”, she replied, as she saw the same thing. “By the gods...” There, on the ground, about a hundred metres in front of them, was a large, charred spot of land, the darkness concealing it somewhat, yet it was still that a hot fire had burned there. A bit behind it, close to the small river, there was a mill, the source of the unusual sound. An older man was standing there, groaning with frustration as he jammed a sturdy wooden pole into the water, close to the mill wheel. He was panting heavily, yet did not stop, even as Mother Linai slowed down the carriage. Only briefly did he look over his shoulder, letting out a loud sigh. “What are you looking at?”, he barked. “My mill is breaking apart and nobody is lifting a finger to help!” Mother Linai stirred the carriage closer and Iiro leant out of the window, with Yveshin next to him. “What is the problem, good man?”, he asked. “And what happened here? Looks like a fire” The old man rolled his eyes. “A fire, yes!”, he confirmed. “The villagers don't dare to get anywhere near my mill. Tell me I need a priest to bless it first, you know, because of the demons” He shook his head. “I tell you, those were no demons who did this, just humans, two assholes, to be precise!” “Two men...”, Vittorio mumbled. “Could it be magic? An Ignisphaero leaves marks such as that” The old man narrowed his eyes. “I don't know what they did. Tied me up, talked a lot of strange stuff and fought against some other assholes. They were the ones who freed me, alright, but they didn't explain a thing and quickly went on, down that way” He pointed down the road the group wanted to take either way. “That was hours ago. Half a day, I'd say”, he continued. “And ever since my mill makes these weird noises” It was in this moment, as if to proof it, that the mill made another creaking sound. Yveshin hadn't seen many mills yet, but he knew that something was wrong with the wheel. It wasn't turning as it should. “Either the two, or the ones they fought against did something to my wheel”, the man confirmed. “Something is blocking it. I'm trying to free it, have been doing for hours now, but whatever's down there, it just won't budge” He sighed. “My mill won't hold much longer”, he stated, now clearly exhausted and in despair. “I didn't even manage to tell the baron about what happened here and I doubt any of these no-good neighbours of mine did it either” “Baron”, Mother Linai repeated slowly. “You mean Terkol of Beechmire?” To this, the man nodded, impatiently. “Of course”, he stated. “Or is there anyone else in this region we folk could count on?” He paused, as he glanced past Iiro and straight at Yveshin. “Hey, you got elves with you”, he said. “You there, knife ear! I know your kind is fast and strong. I'm old and can't do it, but you can dive down there and free the wheel. See what blocks it, remove the obstacle and my mill will run as good as new” Yveshin's first impulse was to help. However, he had learned a lot about human customs and as such, he narrowed his eyes. “Why should I do that?”, he asked, to honour the human tradition of haggling. After all, he didn't want to leave a bad impression. The man gulped. “Well... I suppose it's not without risk, but I'm sure you can do it”, he admitted. “You're an elf, after all, you got magic and stuff. Listen, if you help me, I'll tell you all I know, about what happened here” The mill creaked again and his eyes widened. “And I'll throw in some coin!”, he offered. “Four... five silver coins! It's what I make in a day. Please, I need this mill to make a living. The people of Broonsgorge need this mill. It... I'm afraid it won't last much longer without permanent damage. You'd do a good thing and you'd get paid for it” [Agree to help] [Refuse]
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Post by InGenNateKenny on Mar 17, 2019 4:31:11 GMT
[Agree to help] Coins he says? I like coin. Let's get some coins. Sparing this guy was great because of COINS! I hope by making Yveshin interested in these coins, we can make our elf friend become a really, really greedy Wario-type. Or maybe if we refuse, someone else helps instead.
Good to see that our stories have really intersected. Exciting stuff. I wonder if Brodar is in the wheel mill...probably not. Still, this is an opportunity to learn some cool stuff.
Also, Liquid, I am curious, what area are you going to do a guide on next?
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Post by diversegnu on Mar 17, 2019 5:56:40 GMT
[Agree to help]
Time to make back the money we lost! What a perfect opportunity! Also, if Edmond and co. have already left, how come the windmill's still acting up. Unless they are still stuck up there, and all 3 POVs will converge?
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Post by GMS Freeman on Mar 17, 2019 10:34:45 GMT
[Agree to help]
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Post by TheAPlegends on Mar 17, 2019 17:54:31 GMT
[Agree to help]
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Post by Tales93 on Mar 17, 2019 19:22:14 GMT
[Agree to help]
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Post by WildlingKing on Mar 17, 2019 20:45:22 GMT
[Agree to help] Since we've been so eager to spend Yveshin's earlier coins we should probably take the opportunity to earn some back Besides, I'm pretty intrigued to see what is holding the wheel. I wonder if we'll see what exactly happened here in Edmond's next part.
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Post by supersagig on Mar 18, 2019 17:50:29 GMT
[Agree to help]
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Post by chaosjester on Mar 21, 2019 3:02:49 GMT
[Agree to help]
Yveshin is GAINING money? What his this vile sorcery?!
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Mar 25, 2019 15:49:25 GMT
[Agree to help] Coins he says? I like coin. Let's get some coins. Sparing this guy was great because of COINS! I hope by making Yveshin interested in these coins, we can make our elf friend become a really, really greedy Wario-type. Or maybe if we refuse, someone else helps instead. Good to see that our stories have really intersected. Exciting stuff. I wonder if Brodar is in the wheel mill...probably not. Still, this is an opportunity to learn some cool stuff. Also, Liquid, I am curious, what area are you going to do a guide on next? Hehe, indeed, had you chosen to kill the man in Edmond's earlier part, this choice would have been a different one and Yveshin wouldn't have gotten the chance to actually gain coin here. As for him getting interested in money, it is certainly not unthinkable. Elves have a really hard time understanding such concepts, but he is making progress in that direction. So far, he had no need for coin, but that might change in the future. Aye, there will be some very heavy intersections going forward. The two storylines are quite close, happening roughly half a day apart and they both have the same destination, so more is to be expected. Ah, I was thinking about this and will ask the rest of the readers as well. Basically, the next region would be the Salamander Stones, which I would take as an opportunity to explain the history and lives of elves a bit better. Furthermore, I would like to include a guide about the mountain kingdoms of the dwarves, because I want to have them all in one guide, instead of explaining more about them whenever focussing onto a region where one of these kingdoms is located. However, I could also write a more in-depth guide about demons and demon pacts, given that several people have voiced interest in creating a character who has made a pact, so perhaps explaining how they work could be quite useful. I'll let you decide in a moment!
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Mar 25, 2019 15:55:07 GMT
[Agree to help] Time to make back the money we lost! What a perfect opportunity! Also, if Edmond and co. have already left, how come the windmill's still acting up. Unless they are still stuck up there, and all 3 POVs will converge? Hehe, a meeting between all three of them could theoretically be on the table. This is happening hours after the confrontation at the windmill, but the next part will show what happened there and maybe give you a hint of what is going on with the mill itself. But even if the three PoV's won't meet right here, their journey goes into the same direction, so it certainly won't be the last chance.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Mar 25, 2019 16:06:06 GMT
The Voting is closed! Yveshin is going to help This was once again the outcome I expected you to choose and it will definitely make for an interesting next part. Otherwise, you would have missed some information, so this will definitely help with painting a more complete picture of the events. Also, Yveshin gets the chance to gain money, which will happen rarely enough ^^ The next part should be out today. I was not at home over the weekend, with very little opportunity to write, but I think I can reasonably expect to finish the part today. It will, of course, be an Edmond part, showing what happened at the mill, as he and Korobar have to make their escape, with the mind-controlled Brodar Landmarshed to protect them from Delian of Plainsbridge and the rest of his mercenaries. Also, it is something I mentioned to InGen already, I am currently thinking about the next region spotlight. Going from north to south and west to east, the next region to be described would be the Salamander Stones, followed by the Bornland. The Salamander Stones guide would include an overview of the elven culture and also, to make it more complete, I would include the kingdoms of the dwarves in Aventuria. However, if you are more interested in that topic, I could write a guide about the Nether Hells and the demons, including demon pacts. If you have a particular favourite, just let me know here and I will take it into consideration when writing the next region guide.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Mar 27, 2019 4:51:03 GMT
Edmond It was only a fragment of a second where Edmond had to think about what to do. But there he was, Delian of Plainsbridge. Though the two mages had to flee, Edmond would try everything in his power to make that man pay. Even with his last breath, he would still make sure that Liscom's murderer would not get away. “Brodar!”, he barked. “Kill Plainsbridge!” He only made sure that the dominated sellsword followed the order, staying just long enough to see the man charging towards Plainsbridge, whose eyes widened. “What are you doing?”, the agent yelled. “Fight it, Landmarshes! Snap out of it” Briefly, he locked eyes with Edmond, shooting him a glare, as he pointed his thin sword at the hulking mercenary, who was slowly approaching him. Indeed, Brodad Landmarshes was fighting from the inside, else he would have followed the order immediately. And yet, few had the will to resist this spell. He achieved more than most common brutes, but in the end, he was just that. “What are we suppose ta dae?”, the dwarf spat and Delian sighed. “Stop your friend”, he barked. “We can deal with the scum later, but see if Brodar can be restrained” By then, the other sellswords had left the mill, visibly uncertain on how to approach their leader. The pair of siblings though, they were quick to place themselves in the way between Landmarshes and Plainsbridge. And then, Edmond and Korobar had reached the horses. The undead animals were unsettlingly calm, one of them briefly looking at Edmond out of blank, dead eyes. Yet within them, there was a demonic intelligence. Lesser demons were barely more than animals, yet even animals had instincts. He had seen trapped predators trying to push against the boundaries of their confinement. A caged lion was still a lion. Meanwhile, a bound demon... well, there was a reason why Edmond prefered elementals over the denizens of the Nether Hells. Indeed, for a moment it seemed the creatures tried to test the limits of their prison, as the horses did not immediately start to rush. One of them, the one Korobar had dragged himself onto, even gave him a deep, knowing look. Their anatomy made it impossible for the horse to grin, but it got the message across and Edmond shivered. Morcans, the type of demon Korobar had bound into the dead horse bodies, were lesser demons. How much worse, how much more wicked and fiendishly cunning were the higher of their kind, the horned demons? No, there was a good reason why he never really got into the art of demon summoning. Then, the two horses began to run, swiftly and like the wind. As Edmond glanced over his shoulder, he saw Brodar Landmarshed in a hopeless stand-off against three of his companions. The pretty girl stood in the background, desperately begging him to stand down. Meanwhile, the grim dwarf calmly reloaded his crossbow and carefully took aim. A high-pitched, horrified scream echoed through the air, just as the two riders had reached the edge of the forest. Edmond frowned, trying to remain conscious. Korobar was clearly drifting in and out and he did not dare to imagine what would happen if neither of them was awake to control the horses. Could the demons break free in such a case? He had to admit, he didn't know, but now was a bad time to find out. Instead, he forced himself to remain awake. The exhaustion from the fight, the pain of the fall and worse of it all, the ride through the nightly Dragongap made it harder than anything he ever attempted in his life. Involuntarily, he let his mind wander. He remembered his childhood, the feeling of never belonging with the simple minds in his village. They were happy within their boundaries. A few houses, the surrounding hills and fields, that was all they ever had, all they ever wanted. Their families and the gods. And there was the young Edmond, who always wanted more. There was so much potential in all of them and yet they wasted it so freely. In a way, it was the only thing they were free to do. He remembered his education in Punin. The poor boy from the Meadows, studying under the brightest minds of his time. The first time he had seen the library, larger than his home village, he had cried tears of joy. Finally free of the small life the gods had in mind for him, it was in this moment that he knew, he would achieve greatness. His life would not be lived in vain. And he remembered the disappointment, as he slowly realized that he had merely traded one cage for another, larger and fancier, yet still with the same steel on the edges. All the raw power of a mage, the knowledge of thousands of years so close within the library. And yet all of his colleagues held back. All of those who taught him, they restrained themselves. They clung to tradition, to an order they never chose, but one that was imposed upon them. They had the power to make this world theirs, to make the rules, to show the world their light and yet, they refused. Liscom had shown him the way. His old mentor had never been the most powerful mage in terms of sheer, raw power. But he had a talent for seeing the truth and for making others see it. The day Edmond had sworn the oath on the statue of Borbarad had truly been the most happy of his life. He had gained true freedom and he was willing to give everything to grant it to the world. “Edmond!”, Korobar's sharp voice caused him to snap out of his daydream. He blinked, stifling a yawn, as his eyes adjusted to the setting sun. “What...”, he mumbled, as he realized that some time had passed since he had closed his eyes. “How long have I been out?” Korobar shrugged. “A few hours. Six, give or take”, the necromancer replied. His skin was even more pale than usual, the dark rings beneath his eyes giving him a sickly look. “But you needed the rest, so I let you sleep. The horses did all the marching, after all” There was pride in his voice and Edmond narrowed his eyes, quickly regretting it, as he realized it made it even harder to keep them open. “They followed your command even as we were both out?”, he asked, to which Korobar smirked. “This is hardly the first time I'm doing this”, he claimed. “I know how to bind a demon, until not even a fragment of agenda remains within them. Oh, they are aware of it and they hate me for it, but then again, they hate everything and everyone from our world and each other as well” Edmond frowned and he averted his gaze, looking down at the ground. It was in this moment that he realized they had left the imperial road. The perfectly constructed stone was gone, replaced by trampled dirt, a mere path through the wilderness of the eastern Meadows. Dark clouds had gathered in the distance, close to where the Black Sickle grew into the sky and despite the warm summer evening, Edmond felt a chill running down his spine. “Where are we?”, he asked. “Taking a detour”, Korobar replied cryptically. He himself seemed to realize how unsatisfying this reply was, so he sighed. “You are exhausted”, he spoke. “So am I. My pact allows me to push on, but I cannot possibly confront Agent Delian and his remaining underlings in my current state. This is why I chose to leave the main road just a few minutes ago” Edmond clenched his fists. “Plainsbridge is following us”, he growled. “We have to hurry, or else he will catch up to us” Korobar shook his head. “He will catch up to us regardless”, he spoke. “He is Nemrod's bloodhound. Never the most talented of his peers, but by far the most determined. He will chase us down and he will catch up to us. It will be for our own good if he does that before we reach Drakesfield” “And how is that any good?”, Edmond hissed. “He will cut us down if he catches up to us. We need to reach Drakesfield and...” He paused and Korobar raised an eyebrow. His smirk was brief, but quickly replaced by a stern glare. “And then do what?”, he asked. “Still being cut down by Plainsbridge, but this time, we'd also have lead him right to Hamid ben Seychaban and his ritual. Is that what you wish, Edmond?” It took the younger mage a second to swallow his pride, before he shook his head. “Of course not”, he admitted. “But dying is not an option. We have come too far. Maybe some opportunity will come up on the way, some way to delay or even stop him” He noticed the dangerous spark within Korobar's gaze. “The opportunity comes now”, he explained. “We do not know each other well, but do you think me a fool, who takes a detour just to appreciate the view?” “Of... of course not”, Edmond confirmed. “Then what is your plan?” Korobar chuckled darkly. “We need to refuel our arcane energies”, he spoke. “And neither of us has the time to properly rest. Our horses are fast, so we got maybe an hour before Delian will catch up to us... Can you tell me what to do then?” Edmond thought about it for a moment, before he shook his head, even though he had a bad feeling about this. “Oh, please”, Korobar replied, rolling his eyes. “I know you think your old master has been some sort of a saint, but do you truly mean to tell me he never taught you what to do in this case? Alone, chased by enemies, with no way to cast a teleport spell to get out of this mess, why, with no way to cast a spell at all” He leant forwards. “Then witness me and learn” By now, his intended goal had gotten closer. Edmond had no doubt that Korobar meant to approach the clearing nearby, at the end of the path. It was a near perfect circle, where the trees had made room for a small glade. Three crude pillars of stone stood there, barely shaped into a form at all, decorated with carvings and painted runes of a kind he had never personally studied. However, he had spent enough time within the library to recognize their nature and who had constructed them. “In my village, they feared the druids”, he spoke, remembering the only time he had ever met one of them. He had been a guardian of nature, exactly as the smallfolk imagined them, a white-bearded, quiet and utterly terrifying man, who demanded respect with every fibre of his body. The day he passed through the village, he had seemed almost a king, despite his brown rags and the filthy cap on his head. His word had been sharp, his judgement harsh and his wisdom and power undeniable. “We should not make an enemy of them”, he warned his companion. The necromancer chuckled, as he stopped his horse. Descending from it, he approached the centre stone. “They have become my enemies long ago”, he spoke. “When they rejected me, when they told me that there was a darkness within my heart” He shook his head, almost with bitterness. “There was no darkness until they made it”, he whispered. “They call themselves guardians of nature, mediators between mankind and the untamed wilds of this world. They call themselves wise and powerful, but I know they are charlatans” He narrowed his eyes. “And they already are my enemies” With this, he placed his hand on the stone, a menhir, as they were called. The rune he touched, painted in a bright, almost glowing red, quickly darkened, reacting to the foul presence within the demon cultist. Korobar removed his hand, as if he had burned himself, but there was a wicked smile on his face. Silently, he reached for the knife at his belt, dropping it in front of him, right into the grass, then taking a few steps back. “Watch and learn, guild mage”, he spoke. They didn't have to wait for long. Edmond knew, the druidic runes on the menhir were connected to the guardian of this clearing, the one who had painted them onto the rock. A druid was never far from their home. He tensed up, shivering slightly and beyond his will, as he knew that something was about to happen. Korobar was confident as always, but his confidence had misled him before. If anything, the encounter with Delian of Plainsbridge had crushed his trust in the necromancer. And messing with a druid... though he should have grown beyond such superstitions, he remembered the horror stories the people in his village told him about them. The woodcutter, who took too many fresh branches from young trees and had to remove three of his fingers on the druid's orders in retaliation, else nature's wrath would have consumed the whole village. The young mother who had to give one of her infant sons to serve as the druid's apprentice, not because she had done anything wrong, but because the old man had seen something within the child he deemed valuable for the incomprehensible ways of his cult. Yes, they helped and advised the poor folk, but they did it in a way that rarely left anyone satisfied. They were sometimes respected and always feared. For once, he would have preferred to wait for longer, but the druid didn't do him the favour. He approached them openly, but the way he walked through the dark woods made it hardly possible to notice him at all. His shadow mingled with those of the trees, concealing the tall, gaunt figure, that was patiently approaching. Sometimes, he was clearly visible, then not at all, blending in with the trees around him. As the druid stepped onto the clearing, Edmond gasped, as he spotted the horns on the man's head. He quickly realized that it was a cap, decorated with a stag's antlers, but for just a second, it had given him the appearance of a horned man. It would have been fitting. He was older, with a short, thin beard of dirty white and a gaunt, sharply cut face. A large, hooked nose protruded from his face and the eyes were a light grey, piercing the intruders. Behind him, a second figure entered the clearing, with at least some of the older man's gravitas. His long, dark beard failed to fully hide his youth and unlike the older druid, he seemed surprised. Not afraid, yet uncertain how to react, as it was clear to see within his green eyes. The older druid, however, oozed fury. “Intruder”, he growled. “You, how dare you bring the taint of the Nether Hells to this sacred clearing?” He took a step forwards and Edmond heard a creaking all around him. Alarmed, dozens of birds rose from the trees, as the wood itself seemed to twist, slightly into the direction of the clearing. The wind started to howl, heavily blowing against the two mages and even the demons grew uneasy for a moment. “Leave this place at once or fear my wrath!”, the druid hissed. Every man in Meadows would have fled now. It took Edmond all of his willpower to resist the vicious expression within the druid's glare. It was not hard to see where Korobar got the habit, but in the druid's case, there was actual magic within his gaze. That was half of it, the ability to instil fear within lesser hearts, to force their will upon lower minds. Domination magic, but twisted to the will of Sumu, the Mother Goddess, whose dying body made up this entire plane of existence. The rest, as Spectability Prishya had claimed in her dry and dull lessons back in Punin, was not as impressive as the peasants always claimed it to be, else the druids would have long since pushed back mankind from their sacred places. They had an archaic power to them, but they lacked the finesse of guild magic. If not for the fact that he was still born in the Meadows and therefore utterly terrified of this man in front of him. “Cut the tricks, old man”, Korobar hissed. “I know your true power is not even nearly as impressive” He grinned. “Your kind tries to look into the future by dissecting dead animals. Tell me, did you foresee my coming?” The older man narrowed his eyes. His young apprentice behind him tensed up, grabbing his staff more tightly. It was not the staff of a trained guild mage, but instead a severed branch, largely without any work done, with merely a handful of fine druidic runes carved into it. “I dreamt of a great evil”, the druid admitted. “It is coming from the mountains, a shadow in black and red. I dreamt of its power and of its pain, in the place between the spheres” He clenched his fists and Edmond spotted something. There, where the druid's greasy hair was visible beneath the cap, a large bruise was located, another one just at the edge of his long, brown sleeve. He was injured, as if someone had beaten him up. What was it that he just said, the dreams about someone's pain? “But that is not you”, the druid stated. “Look at you... vile and wicked. An unwanted intruder in our home and yet you can barely even stand on your feet. No, you are not what I dreamt of” He spread his arms, as he came closer, but it was not an inviting gesture. Instead, he seemed terrifying, more than ever. The wind picked up even more. “And this is why I do not fear you, servant of Thargunitoth”, he yelled loudly. “Leave this place at once. Don't drag us into your fight and maybe I will let you leave in peace” He smirked. “I see into the arcane. You can barely cast a spell, almost burned out. Just fresh from a fight, aren't you?” He shook his head. “Whatever you hope to accomplish here, you cannot hope to stand against a servant of Sumu!” “Maybe”, Korobar admitted, as he pointed his staff at the druid with one hand. The older druid and his young apprentice tensed up, the younger one readying his staff, while the old druid didn't even need the tool. He clenched his fists and Edmond saw fire glowing up in one of his palms. “But I still have enough for one little spell”, the necromancer whispered and with his free hand, the one he had been moving subtly, he made a slight movement. The knife he had dropped earlier bounced off the ground, back at its owner. However, this time, the old druid stood between the blade and the necromancer. He gasped, as the spell he was preparing fizzled out and died. The knife embedded itself deep within his back and with a turn of his hand, Korobar caused it to twist, forcing the old druid on his knees with an expression of pain on his weathered face. Instantly, the young druid prepared to attack, with Edmond readying his last arcane reserves to block the spell. The old druid's eyes widened, as he glanced at his apprentice. “No!”, he barked. “Naeem, run!” The young man paused, his eyes widening. “What... master!”, he replied as a grin shot across Korobar's face. “I said run!”, the druid ordered and this time, reluctantly, the young man followed. Instead of fighting and likely dying, he turned around and ran for his life, as his master ordered. “Don't pursue him, Edmond”, Korobar spoke. “The boy is not what we are after” He chuckled, as he looked down at the druid. “You saw correctly, old man. I am not at my full strength... but neither are you, aren't you?”, he deduced. “I can see that you are injured. Unusual bruises on your neck, on your arm and chest... Did you get into a fight up here?” The druid, in horrible agony, with Korobar's knife in his back, shook his head. “It was...”, he mumbled, as he rolled his eyes, until only the white remained visible. “The dreams...” And with this, mortally wounded, he used his power to cast a spell. Without warning, a gust of wind flared up, knocking Korobar and Edmond down. Thick, thorny vines grew from the ground, breaking it apart and wrapping around Edmond's ankle. The mage screamed, as the vines began to dig into the flesh, immediately drawing blood. With brutal might, they forced him onto the ground, pressing against his flesh and bones. The thorns themselves were hardly the worst there. No, it was the power of the vines themselves, fuelled by the druid's fury, threatening to grind his bone to dust. Helplessly, Edmond looked up, seeing the sheer hatred on the old druid's face. Sweat was running down the man's face, as he focussed on this last spell. He clenched his teeth, glaring at Edmond, raising his hand for another devastating spell, as suddenly, a knife hit him in the throat, slicing it open and ending his desperate assault as quick as it had started. Without the druid's power to nurture them, the vines lost their terrible grip. Though the deep cuts and the purple bruise remained, they withered immediately, turning brittle and brown. The druid fell forwards, on all fours, clenching the injury Korobar's throwing knife had caused, while the necromancer dragged himself back onto his feet. “Perhaps I should be thankful then that dreams have no power over me”, he spoke calmly, as he grabbed the old druid's chin. “A pathetic last attempt at taking us with you... you should have died with some dignity, old man” He shook his head, as the druid tried to say something out of his ruined throat. Instead of words, all Edmond heard was desperate gurgling. “Your goddess, Sumu, she is a whore and she cannot die soon enough”, the necromancer whispered, with malice in his voice. “I don't know if you meet her within the afterlife, but if you do... tell her that underestimating me was your last mistake” Then, he grabbed the knife from the man's back, pulling it out and opening the druid's throat yet again. Red blood poured out of it, running down the druid's brown robe and Korobar's black sleeves. Swiftly, the necromancer reached for the cap on the druid's head, pulling it off the corpse and using it to capture as much of the blood as possible. Edmond used the opportunity to drag himself back to his feet. His left ankle was burning in agony and he had to suppress the urge to scream. It was not broken, but still terribly injured. The druid's final attack had been swift and brutal. His problem had been that indeed, he had underestimated Korbar. Edmond didn't even want to think how things would have ended if not for the fact that the old man received a lethal injury even before unleashing his attack. Perhaps Prishya had been wrong about the extent of druidic power. “What now, Korobar?”, he growled, as he limped towards the necromancer, who had filled the entire cap with blood. The necromancer smirked. “This felt good”, he admitted. “Oh, the look on his face as he died. His kind, they saw me as weak and see how easily I dealt with one of them...” He sighed. “And now he is dead and we are still here...” “Korobar!”, Edmond hissed, forcing the man's attention back onto him. “What are we going to do now? You didn't come just to murder an old druid, did you? What is your plan?” He glared at the necromancer, then at the cap, filled with the druid's blood, soaked with red. Korobar shook his head. “If we had the time, I'd hunt down this Naeem, the old man's apprentice”, he admitted. “But we don't have the time... so this has to be enough” Noticing Edmond's increasingly shocked gaze, as the guild mage realized what Korobar was about to do, the necromancer laughed brightly. “Come on, your Liscom really never told you?”, he barked. “Of course, they don't teach you that at the academy. But a mage's lifeblood, collected in the moment of his dying, contains power. Raw arcane power. Consume the blood and you will take it in, using it to refuel your own energy” He placed the dirty cap at his lips and took a deep gulp, showing no sign of disgust. “I've had better, but it should do the trick”, he stated. “This will give us back our strength and by Borbarad, we will need it in the fight to come” “I...”, Edmond stuttered, as the necromancer held the blood-soaked cap into his direction. It was dirty and it stank, even without being filled by the dead man's blood. “You want me to drink from that... you want me to drink this man's blood? Korobar, you murdered him!” The necromancer nodded. “So that we can live another day”, he said, grinning and presenting his blood-stained teeth. “I can understand your hesitation, but we need to be strong in the fight to come. You know that!” He narrowed his eyes. “Now if the time to prove to me that you are willing to do what it takes so that we can have our revenge”, he growled. “Drink! Take in the druid's energy, refill your own, so that we can have another shot at Delian of Plainsbridge!” [Drink] [Refuse to drink]
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Post by GMS Freeman on Mar 28, 2019 4:38:08 GMT
[Drink]
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