Heroes of the Fall

[Erik Vale]

Malicious Idea's
"Yes, I have an idea. And don't worry, I... I'm just might need you for an Idea, I can provide much energy myself... To say I have some leftovers that I was planning to use for something else is the decades understatement.."
Kalandor hummed to himself.
But it was more than a hum. It was a call. To things of nature, oh so deep, the wild things of the world, confined to this continent. The ones that could help. The Travelling ones. The Hunting Ones. The Monsters.
And he felt a stirring in response.
"Can you feel that Silvar. Can you feel the call of nature, the call of the hunt? IF you can feel that, than you will be able to help me."

[Demidos]

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Malicious Idea's
"Yes, I have an idea. And don't worry, I... I'm just might need you for an Idea, I can provide much energy myself... To say I have some leftovers that I was planning to use for something else is the decades understatement.."
Kalandor hummed to himself.
But it was more than a hum. It was a call. To things of nature, oh so deep, the wild things of the world, confined to this continent. The ones that could help. The Travelling ones. The Hunting Ones. The Monsters.
And he felt a stirring in response.
"Can you feel that Silvar. Can you feel the call of nature, the call of the hunt? IF you can feel that, than you will be able to help me."

A call to the dark, the vicious predators of the night? Hunters, killers? Silvar smiled. Heard it? Yes.
Silvar's reddish eyes gleam in the morning light. He had not felt this alive since he had split from what was now Aramar.
Perhaps we have a chance. How quickly will they arrive? And what do you need me to do?
The merest glimmer of fangs appeared as Silvar smiled.

[THEChanger]

Dreams of Chaos
"Kraken is what they call it. The mortals, I mean. I see their dreams too. They've named it Kraken." The Weaver extended his hand and the clouds came together, solidified, and formed a door, in the center of the sky. Motioning to his sibling, The Weaver stepped through, and into the Dream-Time proper. The ever-shifting limbo of his world, where everything and anything was possible. Wandering through the landscape, The Weaver gently nudged dreams out of the way. Normally, he would stop and glance within, but for now, The Weaver was focused on what he wanted-no, needed-his eldest sibling to see. Through the hills and valleys the two walked, small bubbles of dreams floating past. Then, it rose. Suddenly, as though having burrowed up from the ground. A huge castle, made of gleaming sapphire and burning ruby, Across the walls more dreams glanced and flitted, images surfacing and being drowned again by the ever-present light of the stone. "This is my home, such as it is. Castle Rhudfir."

Then they were inside. No doors, just inside. That was how one traveled in the Dream-Time, after all. You thought about it, and then there you were. A grand entrance hall, though without an entrance. A beautifully carved double staircase made of solid sapphire traveled upwards, into the castle's towers. Beneath it, a door, made of ruby, locked with a huge iron chain. The iron was old, rusted, contrasting with the bright gleam of the rest of the castle. It felt out of place indeed. "Castle Rhudfir is part of my dream, Jongo. It is made out of bits and pieces of every dream that has ever been dreamed. The ground floor is when we first came to the Great Disk, and as I traveled upwards, I found dreams from then onward. The castle grows every night, as mortals sleep and dream." The Weaver took a few steps forward, and gingerly touched the chain. "I've not openned this door. But I think it leads down, into the dungeons of the castle. To be honest, I'm a little afraid of what is down there."

[Gengy]

Before the Chained Door of Castle Rhudfir

Jongo followed, curious about the place that Rodney was taking him. The castle was amazing. It was like everything that Jongo had ever wanted everything to be, all the time. Being able to LIVE here? Rodney sure was lucky.

Seeing the chained door, the red dolphin stopped swimming, and changed into that of the young human child again.

Looking at the chain, Jongo frowned.

"As you know, Father slept. It was rare. But He did. From His dreams, we got the Spirits. From His Nightmares, we got the Beasts of Chaos.

I watched many things - many many things - from the Crystal Ceiling. Sometimes I would spot the Nightmares. But the moment I did, Father would change the screen.

I don't know if He did it on purpose, or because He had something in mind and just wanted to get on with things... but I don't know as much as I would like to about some of the Beasts that spawned from His Nightmares." Jongo sighed, and looked up at her brother.

Or perhaps, behind The Weaver. Up towards something that Jongo dreams of seeing again, even just once. In a far away voice, the eldest speaks again, "If you brought me here to tell you whether you should open the door or not, I might be the wrong person to ask. My nature alone wants to open the door right now, and peek inside. Still... you are the Lord of Dreams here, Rodney. I think you could handle any mortal Nightmare.

But there are Nightmares with the spark of the Divine. Twisted dreams indeed; I am sure the more powerful of them walk among us, in the real world, like the Puppeteer. They never got our Father's love. Only His scorn."

Jongo's young childish face began to pout. Puffing up his cheeks, the young human form released a breath of air in a push of frustration. One hand reached towards the chains, and stopped. "But that doesn't mean I don't think we shouldn't look inside. Only that... I think we should talk to Faduck or Avyra (is scary) first."

Jongo turned away from the chained door, so as not to be tempted. Slyly, and with a huge grin on her face, he walked away from the Weaver, casually speaking over her shoulder.

"I got all of Father's good looks, you know. All of them. I've seen it in my mind. But with such great beauty - the likes of which only that Toucan's ego could dream of - I probably didn't get enough smarts. Duckie did, though. And there is no question that your and my eldest sister scares me sometimes with just how brilliant she can be. AND she's not too bad to stare at either, lucky one that she is. Pity that Duckie ended up looking so ugly! He really should get more sun, it would be good for his skin." Jongo laughed, letting the Weaver know he was kidding. Mostly.

"I think... I think I feel myself waking up now. Can I come here again? To this Castle? It's amazing."

[Kasanip]

Sonata and The Tower of Baal

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The trembling of the earth caused the Lightning Wolf to growl with alertness, but Sonata raised a hand and reassured him with a sweet word while she looked up at the colossal stone figure. Then she left him to stand guard and followed the golem.

The impressive but too formal council chamber brought her attention. Of course Sonata was focused on her mission, but her immediate anger and frustration had been replaced by hope. And of course, in her journey, she had met Llassar, and heard of Fayruz (many good and bad things), and Llassar had told her a little about the meeting before, but to meet another of her family of course was a good feeling.
But the room looked unwelcoming. To remember Khalen, Sonata wondered how he had changed since the fall.

But now the golem led Sonata up the steps. And there was a door with her name, and she stopped. Curious. Why was there such a door here? But she had to continue. Another time, she promised to herself.
Up the stairs, and into the Eye, Sonata was disoriented by the mists swirling and dancing. But there was a song here, in the center, and Sonata approached it. A smile came to her face, but the formal voice of Khalen caused it to become a grimace expression.
Sonata approached from behind and rested her hands on the throne to look down at Khalen's head.

"I'm daughter of Baz'Auran, not the Rains, dear brother. If you have forgotten that, then your suspicion is probably completely wrong." She said, though it was lightly said to not be more than a small punch.

"Was your hair always this silver? Ah, it brings back the memories! I am happy to see you again brother, even if you won't look at me." She stepped around gracefully to stand in front of the throne and look at Khalen, letting her hair dance behind her quick motion.

"But you are correct. I want to stay and talk, I want to share stories and spend idle time. Even if your desert is so dry and gloomy, perhaps with song and rain it would be made beautiful. And I would give you ten million jewels like raindrops to plant in this place.

But, my sister. My twin sister, Fayruz is missing. In fact, she is in terrible danger. And I'm going to rescue her." Sonata let her arms fall to her side, looking forlorn and worried for a minute. Always when she had fought or had an argument with Nieve or another sibling when they were young, she had come to complain and recover at Khalen's side. Even if it wasn't always advice she liked, or anything but to listen.
And now Sonata hoped it was the same Khalen that would listen.

"After I fell I was alone. My siblings had all disappeared. I had to struggle and learn and become strong, and suffer that loneliness. And then I felt Fayruz's song, and I flew all the night and day from the East across the great sea, with lightning and rainbow. And I met Llassar who comforted me in The Olm of Fayruz. I traveled half of this world to see my dearest sister, and she became lost in mist. These lands are unknown to me. I don't know Uluuvatar, I don't know the deserts. I don't know very much about what has happened since the fall.

I really don't like to be excluded from such things."

"I need help, brother. I don't know where to go. Her song was so close, and now it is far away and quiet, like a leaf's ripple on the lake. She is supposed to be at Uluuvatar, a place of terrible reputation. But I don't know where that is. How am I going to find her?" She sighed and looked up to meet Khalen's eyes.

[Erik Vale]

A call to the dark, the vicious predators of the night? Hunters, killers? Silvar smiled. Heard it? Yes.
Silvar's reddish eyes gleam in the morning light. He had not felt this alive since he had split from what was now Aramar.
Perhaps we have a chance. How quickly will they arrive? And what do you need me to do?
The merest glimmer of fangs appeared as Silvar smiled.

Kalandor smiled. Part of it was a nervous smile. But nontherless, it was a happy smile. "That is a good thing. I will just need for you to sing with me, it will be an underlying tone, and you will know the tune yourself, it will come from your being, a song of the land...."

Kalandor turned his gaze towards the horde, but it was strangely absent. "As for how long untill they arrive when we start. The first will probably arrive in 30 seconds. The latest by mayhap 1 and a half minutes later. I could hold it longer, but this minor ceromony will be a little exhausting with me carrying it, especially with what I plan when this is done....."

Kalandor returned his veiw to the present, his gaze lingering on Carolinus. "Just, begin when I begin. Which will probably be when they charge, or if they attack Carolinus.... I wonder what is taking so long....."

[THEChanger]

Dreams of Chaos

The Weaver smiled, and put his hand on Jongo's shoulder. Despite their actual ages, it was quite often that The Weaver felt like the older brother in their relationship. "Perhaps you are right. Faden and Avyra would both have unique ideas on that door. I might seek Faden out next, when he rests in his journeys. If he rests. I haven't seen him in my realm since his transformation." The Weaver turned Jongo around, and gave her a big hug. "And you are of course welcome at Castle Rhudfir anytime Jongo. Even if I'm not around. Just be sure to leave everything mostly as you found it. But for now, I think Haramhold needs to talk with you. The Weaver pulled away, and watched his sibling slowly fade away. When Jongo had finally woken, The Weaver turned back to the door. Extending his hand, The Weaver touched the heavy iron lock on the door, and jumped back as it burned his finger. Placing the finger in his mouth to will away the pain, The Weaver found his eyes traveling upward, towards the spot where Jongo had been looking when talking about Baz'Auran. "Just what are you hiding down there Father? And who are you hiding it from?"

But enough wondering. The Weaver could feel things changing in the world below. And it was high time that he set about the task that he had chosen. But it was an endeavour he could not complete himself. He needed someone to help him.

The Ceremony of Birth

Push and pull.
Push and pull.
In and out was the cycle. It was necessary, after all, to breathe during such a trial. If the mother didn't keep breathing, things became much more difficult. Especially with people. It was one thing to do this with animals. They breathed by instinct. With a human, there was the tendancy to lose the cycle. Start hyperventilation. It was dangerous for the mother and child.
Push and pull
Push and pull.
In and out was the cycle. The earth did not yield easily here, but the graves of the fallen must be dug on sacred ground. It fell to her, this task. It was hard, but someone had to do it. The shovel bit deep into the ground, and pulled out the dirt. A new grave for an old body.
Push and pull.
Push and pull.
In and out was the cycle. Thread dipped into weave, needle piercing the woven form. A weaver understands the cycle just as much as the midwife or the gravedigger. All artists draw their art from the cycle after all. Art stems from experience, and experience comes from either life or death. Dreamers come close to Avyra's grounds, because the subjects of their work are her works.
Push and pull.
Push and pull.
In and out was the cycle.
Handed her racous babe, the mother goes to thank the midwife, and finds herself alone.
The last bit of dirt falls, and so does the shovel. The wind blows through the sacred grounds, unimpeded.
A patron finally checks on their favorite artist, to find thread spilled on the ground and a half-finished tapestry on the loom.
The Weaver chuckled, and turned his attention to the people he was gathering. Artists all, all connected to the cycle. Avyra would miss them, but only for a time. Soon, however, The Weaver would show them wonders.
For now, they must enter sleep, and dream. When they woke, a new birth awaited them.

[Gengy]

Waking... Again

Jongo roused, thinking pleasant thoughts of being in a place formless and fantastic. The Band of Chaos trilled a greeting from Jongo's thumb. It seems that it had shrunk and wrapped itself around as a thumb ring, and Jongo could tell that it was partly thanks to the Band's power that he could keep taking such damage and only need a long rest afterwards to feel better.

Taking stock of herself, Jongo felt great. Better than great. The storm seems to trumpet inside him, and so too did the waves.

One step closer. Jongo grinned to herself, and looked around. The hut that he was in was unfamiliar. But if felt all right. Someone had painted the walls pink. And green. And blue.

It was otherwise a fairly simple hut, though it seemed strong, structurally.

"Butterfly." Grinning larger, Jongo stepped through the door, and looked at the bright blue sky outside. The sun lazily beat down on the neat buildings of the organized town. Salus looked much better, though many people seemed to be working to patch things up still.

Jongo shifted forms - oh Father that felt good - and walked into town as the tall thin figure, with it's pointed ears. Smiling broadly, Jongo stretched his senses out to try and find Haramhold.

Jongo wasn't expecting to be assailed by the feeling of her brother. It was everywhere. Salus was no longer a town that Haramhold was part of. Salus was now a town that Haramhold was. His every essence exited in this place. To be here, was to be with Haramhold.

People who were working soon stopped and stared as Jongo laughed with a mad sort of glee, and the Band of Chaos tooted along.

Crying from all the laughter, Jongo called out, "Butterfly, get out here, you shaggy beard! I can't find you with all the you that is here!"

[The Succubus]

The Eye of Khalen Opens

As Khalen listened to Sonata's gentle rebuke, he grimaced very slightly. Sonata shared more than a few traits with IT, including, it seemed, an urge to be silly with matters of grave importance. But then, Khalen never had been very good at greetings...

As he listened though, she heard the urgency and hurt in his sister's voice. It was news to him that Fayruz lived still after the Fall and she had always held a special place in Khalen's heart. She was so innocent and pure - the thought of her being defiled was an abomination.

"Sonata. Your coming here was not in vain, nor entirely by accident, I think. Before your arrival, I had another visitor - someone I long thought lost to me and mayhap still is." Khalen told her about Elanna's visit and the urge to follow her north. What he did not share with Sonata was the feelings he had experienced at Elanna's touch - joy, ecstacy and a empowering sense of freedom, nor the almost overwhelming urge to find her and have her caress him again....

Yet this was early in the days of the Children of Baz'Auran, long before Khalen fell a second time, and the Spark of Law still burned strong within him. He had resisted the urge to speed straight after her and instead had paused to gather his thoughts. It was fortunate for both Sonata and Khalen that he had.

"Thanks to the aid of our sibling of the Dreamtime, the Eye is now ready. Let us see if we can find Fayruz. Stand close to me, sister."

The shapeless mists that surround them in the crystal immediately came to life and spun as though in some great storm. Grey gave way to bursts of colour and light as they spun faster and faster, the walls of the sphere seeming to dissolve as the floor melted away beneath them...

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1 Major Act - Eye of Khalen: The Eye is a large crystal sphere on top of the Tower of Baal. It is essentially a scrying crystal ball, with a small amount of Dreamtime trapped within it. The Dreamtime reshapes itself depending on what Khalen is scrying and gives people inside the Eye the impression of actually being in the place currently being scryed (think along the lines of the Holodeck from Star Trek and you're halfway there). Images experienced in the sphere are insubstantial e.g nothing is solid and nothing seen can harm you physically. People sensitive to scrying may see ghostly images of the people in the Eye.

[shorewood]

Voyage from Salus to Wardstone from the perspective of Amanda

Escaping the storm was too easy, being able to get above the clouds before leaving the walls of Sanctuary kept the worst of the Kraken's wrath away from us. Which is good except I hoped that the storm would prevent our voyage I really didn't want to leave Salus. Why should we send aid to this Carolinus when he was to preoccupied to come to the beloved Fayruz's aid against the black sand? Haramhold just shook his head and gave me a sealed letter to present his brother. I hope this trip is worth it, or else we would have wasted good steel and good lives. Most of the soldiers on board had never seen battle and all but half a dozen hadn't ever been in anything larger than a skirmish. Haramhold's army was so green it oozed sap. Amanda snapped out of her memories to correct Green MorningStar's course it was a boring task but a vital one. Haramhold an his divine senses had only been able to give her vague directions to steer by and any variation off them would result in her getting lost. As a result she had not slept in the past two days but oddly enough I did not feel as weary as I expected. I still have to get used to being... what did Haramhold call it Exarch? It doesn't matter.

"That should do it." I told the closest Watchmen "If we veer off course come and get me right away. I'll be down in the mess hall."

The Watchmen nodded leaning on the railing once he thought I could no longer see him. But I saw him relax out of the corner of my eye. I quickly descended the stairs and walked down the hallway a bit and opened one of the doors. I had decided on the first day of the voyage I would never use the same door to get to where I wanted to go. It was a game Green MorningStar and I had started playing, I would open a door and she would guess where I wished to go. It was fun the ship usually got it right after two or three tries and was getting better. I made a mental note to start changing my scheduled to keep Green MorningStar on her proverbial toes.

Well this time the door lead to a small room no more than four feet by three feet. "I closet really?" I asked as a shut and reopened the door. But it still lead to the same place. Turning around I tried a different door but it lead to the same place. "Fine we will do it your way" I sighed as I stepped in closing the door behind me. I was about to exit through the door in front of me when I heard a pair of voices speaking.

"Jack doesn't pay us enough for this" The first voice said. It was low and gruff and hard.

"He pays us enough not to try and cross him" The second chipped in "I wouldn't cross that man if he wasn't paying me at all. Remember what he did to that demon?"

"He didn't do squat. It was the men on top of the wall who killed the damn thing."

"Yeah but it was Jack who planned the trap and then lured it to within range."

"Come on" the first voice wined "Its not like we need to steel much just a couple of gold coins perhaps a jewel or two, just enough to make this trip worth while."

"You know what the boss said no stealing until we know more about this god we are helping and the type of people who live there. You remember what happened to the last man who crossed the boss?"

"What? He get him sentenced to hard labor? Big deal. I've done time before its not that bad"

Suddenly a third voice a thin tenor began "The last man to cross Jack was named Mason. He was a clever enough guy thought he could get away with stealing from those who pay the protection fee Jack offers. Lets just say Jack didn't take all to kindly to this. He Flayed that man alive in his basement. I know I was one of the men standing watch outside. I could hear just the smallest trace of Mason's screams. Jack made it last for hours." a pause "If I see you as so much look at a man's purse the wrong way while we are there I'll kill you myself. There is no way I am getting on the king of Salus's bad side."

"Fine fine fine" the first said "I'll behave"

With that their conversation turned to much more innocent talk of whether or not there were whores where they were going. I turned around and left the way I came emerging into my room. I sat on my bed and thought about what I had just heard Who is this Jack?

"Green MorningStar, could you see to it that one of those men is assigned to night watch tonight?"

The ship groaned in agreement and all I had to do was wait. A groan from my stomach made me make a quick addition to that list, eat then wait.

That evening I was guiding the ship my starlight when the shift changed for night watch, one man emerged from below deck. He called out a friendly greeting to me. Recognizing his voice as the third man I leave the command orb and walk toward him.

"Whats your name?" I inquire trying to keep my voice innocent.

"Oak milady."

"Family from the guild of wood?"

"yup"

"Well Oak" I said as I leaned against the rail next to him "What can you tell me about Jack?" I have never seen the blood drain from a man's face as Oaks did. I'm glad to see that Fayruz's advice on the direct approach has many applications.

"You are going to have to be more specific there are lots of Jacks" Oak said almost keeping his voice calm and neutral, almost.

"I know more about Jack than you realize." I lied hoping to put the man off balance "I just want to know how much he tells his men."

"I don't know what..."

I didn't let him finish, bringing a bright light forth from Jewely the deck finds itself bathed in a deep blood red. "Don't mess with me Oak." I said doing my best to sound threatening and by the reaction on the man's face I was succeeding "Don't think for a moment that if you don't tell me everything you know; that there will be anything left for Jack to flay." That seemed to break him as Oak flung up his arms in surrender

"Fine fine fine, just don't tell anyone I told you anything"

What came next was extraordinary Oak went on for hours about Jack the thief, Jack the crime lord, Jack the king of Salus. Apparently this man had the entire council under his thumb. Before any plan or proposal came to Haramhold's attention it first went through this Jack character. There was not a secret that he was not privy to, not a thief, conman or honest craftsmen who did not directly or indirectly work for him. At first I didn't believe Oak, but as he kept on talking the level of detail he provided was uncanny Apparently this Jack had gone to extraordinary measures to keep his presence unknown to any and all divine entities.

After he had talked himself half to death I let Oak scramble off below and as he reached the stairs I called out "O Oak! If you tell anyone about this conversation Green MorningStar will crush you like a bug. Understand?" The ship bless her heart flexed the walls nearest to oak as I delivered my threat. Oak nodded swiftly, hesitating for a moment but went beneath deck anyway. I guess he figures that since he couldn't get off the ship he would get as far away from the one thing he could.

We are going to have to deal with this Jack I thought But first there is a war to fight.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, We did spot those flying lizard creatures but fifty men lined up with long bows dissuaded them from attacking. After a few more days we reached the wardstone. The vast fortress looming against the scenery like a monster ready to devour any who would be arrogant enough to try to assault it.

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Note that Green MorningStar should be visible at this point, and will be landing shortly.

[shorewood]

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Waking... Again

Jongo roused, thinking pleasant thoughts of being in a place formless and fantastic. The Band of Chaos trilled a greeting from Jongo's thumb. It seems that it had shrunk and wrapped itself around as a thumb ring, and Jongo could tell that it was partly thanks to the Band's power that he could keep taking such damage and only need a long rest afterwards to feel better.

Taking stock of herself, Jongo felt great. Better than great. The storm seems to trumpet inside him, and so too did the waves.

One step closer. Jongo grinned to herself, and looked around. The hut that he was in was unfamiliar. But if felt all right. Someone had painted the walls pink. And green. And blue.

It was otherwise a fairly simple hut, though it seemed strong, structurally.

"Butterfly." Grinning larger, Jongo stepped through the door, and looked at the bright blue sky outside. The sun lazily beat down on the neat buildings of the organized town. Salus looked much better, though many people seemed to be working to patch things up still.

Jongo shifted forms - oh Father that felt good - and walked into town as the tall thin figure, with it's pointed ears. Smiling broadly, Jongo stretched his senses out to try and find Haramhold.

Jongo wasn't expecting to be assailed by the feeling of her brother. It was everywhere. Salus was no longer a town that Haramhold was part of. Salus was now a town that Haramhold was. His every essence exited in this place. To be here, was to be with Haramhold.

People who were working soon stopped and stared as Jongo laughed with a mad sort of glee, and the Band of Chaos tooted along.

Crying from all the laughter, Jongo called out, "Butterfly, get out here, you shaggy beard! I can't find you with all the you that is here!"

It didn't take long for the news to spread for not even the gods can travel faster than gossip. The messenger reached Haramhold in his study where he was designing a new project a travel hub, one that would require more power and art at Haramhold's disposal.

The Smith left his modest abode and traveled quickly toward where the eldest's house lay. It was a short trip perhaps no more than a mile.

"Jongo!" Haramhold bellowed "Its good to see you up and about." Looking up at the sky Haramhold continued "Will you join me for lunch?"

[The_Snark]

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A Dream

The maddening restlessness of peace was enough to rob Nieve of what little sleep she required, yet on a moonless night, following a revel of sex and violence that had momentarily sated her, she slept. And she dreamed.

Nieve stood upon an endless, flat plain of mirrored glass, the dull grey of the horizon merging with it to become a slate void. All was silence, and stillness, before a twinkle in the distance caught Nieve's eye. To her right, barely more than a hundred paces away, stood a sword, the most marvelous sword Nieve had ever beheld. It's blade was the same mirrored sheen of the plain she stood upon, but instead of grey it blazed with a passionate red flame. An aching filled her heart and her hand, and she knew simply by looking that the sword had been made for her. She turned towards the blade, only for a cry to stop her in her tracks - behind her stood Fayruz, gloriously radiant upon the field, her inner light banishing the gloom and filling her horizon with a heavenly light.

"Nieve! We've found a way back to the White City! We can go home!"

Nieve's heart soared at the prospect of home, at the thought of seeing her siblings again. No longer would she be confined to the petty amusements of one small isle - soon, they would be back in the ever accommodating paradise of the White City! Yet...her gaze was drawn back to the sword. Surely, if they were attacked again they would need trueforged weapons like that...

She stepped towards the sword.

After the first dozen steps, Nieve heard Fayruz call out again.

"Nieve, what are you doing? There's no need for that brutish thing - Father will sort everything out!"

Nieve paused, but not for the reason the words were meant to convey. What would Baz'Auran think of her newfound freedom? True, he had allowed much, but the slaughter she reveled in...well, she would make him understand.

She continued towards the sword.

Passing the halfway mark, the glow behind Nieve seemed to fade, Fayruz's brilliance flickering ever so slightly.

"What are you doing, Nieve? Why won't you just come home!? What is wrong with you?"

The words stung, more than Nieve thought words could. Their return home was imminent, and Fayruz was questioning the need for a sword? Had she not seen the darkness that had caused the Fall? Was she so naive as to think them safe any more, even in Baz'Auran's presence? No, Nieve would not be so foolish as to go unprepared.

Another few steps, and the sword was in reach.

"Nieve, stop!"

Suddenly, Fayruz was on her arm, tugging her away from the sword.

"I knew you'd never listen to reason! Avyra wanted us to try, but we all know what a little fool she is! I'm not letting you drag your corruption back up to the White City, Nieve! You're going back, so you can face father's judgement!"

Nieve was shocked, not only by the words but by the disappearance of Fayruz's radiance. In a flash, Nieve saw that the purity had been a ruse, a base illusion intended to inspire trust - what stood before her now was a dim, pathetic thing, trying to cover her fear with the assumed authority of their father. And most pathetic of all, Fayrus was afraid of her. How weak and traitorous must she be to turn against her own sister, even after the fall. And who was she to judge? If she lacked the strength to impose her will on the world, she was even more of a useless waste! Yet she just kept talking.

"We're going to fix you, Nieve - father has it all arranged. It may take a few centuries, but he thinks you'll be able to control your wanton impulses with the proper restrictions. Of course, you'll never be allowed near anything corrupting ever again, but even you could never be so stupid as to defy-"

Fayruz stopped suddenly, her face frozen in surprise before she coughed up a dollop of black blood. The glass cracked as it landed, but Nieve gave it no mind as she stared dumbstruck at her arm, holding the sword which had run Fayruz through. Yet there was another blade, and as both withdrew Nieve saw herself standing before her, only it was not herself. Rather, it was her dark reflection, hair the color of freshly flowing blood streaming down her back, skin marked in arcane sigils of war and slaughter, black eyes gleaming with endless mirth. The two Nieve's circled each other slowly, as Fayruz lay gasping between them. Then, the dark twin spoke.

"You needn't look so surprised. She was a mewling fool, afraid of her own power. Death was the only thing she deserved."

Beneath the shock, beneath the sudden burst of horror, Nieve felt some part of herself agree with the dark reflection, and each lowered their swords as Fayruz breathed her last. Then, the dark reflection was before her, clasping her face between clawed hands, drowning Nieve in the black pools that were her eyes.

"It's not like you need them anyway, you've got me."

Another drop of blood, and the plain of glass shattered, revealing an onrushing horde of screaming berserkers. In that instant, the dark reflection disappeared, and Nieve was swept away in the tide of battle. At first, she struggled simply to regain her balance, but within moment was carving her way through the meaty opposition. A stream of crimson across her face set Nieve to laughing madly, enthralling her so totally that she gave it no mind when the reflection in the eyes of her victims was of black eyes.

Nieve clawed her way out of sleep, gasping and shuddering. Blood in her eyes, blood on her hands, a coppery tang in her mouth; they died so prettily, shattering like red glass, falling to earth like raindrops, tap-tap-tap with the beating of her heart, wildfire in her breast and in her hands — trapped —

Just a dream.

There really was blood on her hands, though. A few paces away crouched a woman, one hand clasped to her face where Nieve's fingernails had raked red furrows across it. Her stance was wary, ready to fight but not eager. Nieve vaguely recalled her from last night, though she did not know her name. Names didn't seem to matter much anymore. The faces that went with them came and went too quickly to be worth learning.

She breathed deeply, savoring the cold morning air. Her blankets and clothing were soaked with sweat and dew, clinging to her skin unpleasantly. It felt filthy. Nieve didn't miss the White City; that would be regret, and she'd sworn never to look back. Anyway, she suspected it would bore her to tears if she ever did return. So clean, so pure, so peaceful, so dull … but sometimes, when Nieve was feeling sick of the cold or the rain or the dirt, she wished for the perfection of home. It would feel nice to be clean for once, dammit. When was the last time she'd felt truly clean?

After a minute Nieve rose, throwing aside her blankets and ignoring the grunt of protest from the man sleeping on her other side. Most of the camp was still sleeping in the grey pre-dawn, and she stepped over tangled bodies as she made her way out of their small hollow and down towards the beach. She kicked off her crude leather shoes as she went, enjoying the feel of the wet sand beneath her feet. Rough. Gritty. You'd never find anything like it in the White City.

Water swirled up around her legs as she waded into the surf, shockingly cold. After the feverish heat of her dream, she welcomed that. The saltwater trickled into wounds both old and new, tracing lines of stinging pain across her back. Brymhide Isle had carved a thousand scars into the canvas of her flesh: thorns and jagged stones underfoot, spears and blades, the claws of beasts, all those and more had left their mark on her, and the ocean's touch reawakened the memory of those wounds. Nieve arched her back and shuddered, savoring that sensation. Yes. She was alive. She was awake. She was herself, here and now. Pain washed the lingering miasma of the dreams away.

Strange dreams. Troubling dreams, if she allowed herself to be troubled by them, which she didn't — and yet it was hard not to feel a flicker of doubt. Fayruz would never say such things... but would she think them? Nieve was not a fool.

She ducked her head beneath the waves, then stood up and shook her head, wet hair lashing through the air like a whip. The ocean pulled at her legs, and she was reminded again of how vast it was, deeper and stronger than anything else she had ever seen. Nieve loved that such a thing could exist. She longed to struggle against it, to strive and test herself against the fathomless deeps. She had no idea how to go about doing that, but the prospect was exciting.

It also reminded her of the boat. The wreck, rather; the useless, hole-ridden, gods-cursed wreck. Nieve found herself wishing — not for the first time — that they hadn't killed or driven off all of the fishermen. Nobody among those following her knew much about sailing a boat, much less fixing one.

She sighed, and left the ocean to trudge back up the beach, picking up her discarded clothes along the way. Time to wake people up and get them back to work. That bloody boat wasn't going to fix itself.

The messenger was waiting for her when she returned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

They say that when the first Mud Child came to them it was like a thing out of a dream.

The camp was stirring when the goddess returned, men and women rising wearily from their hollows to exchange the morning's greeting's over the bodies of the sleeping and the dead. The embers of last night's fire had been coaxed to life once more, a little tongue of flickering orange, and a group of bleary-eyed men and women sat around it watching their breakfast blacken. Among them stood an earthen figure, barely as high standing as they were sitting, its carved features smooth like wind-worn rock. Nobody remarked upon the mud child's presence. Nobody saw, save Nieve.

And as she approached, the mud child turned to face her and spoke: Avyra sends her greetings. She wishes you well.

"Avyra?" demanded Nieve, her anger evaporating like dew in sunlight. But she knew it for the truth, even as she leaned forward; the mud child felt like her sister. The stillness of a deep pool, the smell of wet earth after rain, the gentle whisper of silk: these things felt true. "Where is she? Near?"

No, came the answer. She is in the lands beyond.

"What does that mean? No, never mind. Don't tell me, show me. How do I find her?"

At this the mud child said nothing, only reached out to take Nieve's hand and lead her back the way she had come. The men and women who were awake and watching scrambled for their weapons and goods, following with nothing more than what they could find in moments. The child led them down to the shore; not to the half-wrecked ships on the beach, but into the sea.

They say the goddess nearly drowned there, that one of her followers pulled her from the sea. They say that she turned on him and slew him as soon as the seawater had passed from her body; but whether it was blind rage, or a punishment for snatching her away from her sister's realm, none can say. One cannot ask the Daughter of the Red Moon why she kills; as well question the sunrise. It merely is.

And as the blood soaked into the deck, the doorway to the lands beyond opened for the man's soul. He passed through, and driven by the Daughter's will, the ship followed.

In this manner Nieve and her followers first came to the Quiet Lands.

[Tectonic Robot]

Llassar and Sonata

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Sonata and Llassar


Sonata opened her eyes in the night, and looked over at the sleeping Shyreza. When it was obvious Shyreza was asleep, then Sonata began to move. Graceful and silent movement, it was a fox walk, to move from bed. And soon she was looking down at Shyreza with a serious expression.

Renard watched from the doorway, in the fox tongue he sang.

The white city princess likes coats to wear
fox and dragon rainbow, and wolf,
but what coat can the human give you?
Do not forget who you are, my lady!

Sonata laughed a silent fox laugh.

Do not be jealous, my faithful fox father
that I will wear another coat for a time!
It is right that a princess should have many gowns!
But for now, I will go to my brother
and such words are not for foxes. Sleep, faithful Renard.
We will talk of coats another time!

Renard bowed and disappeared in the shadows. Shyreza did not move, and so Sonata left the tent for now.

A night air that smells clean after rain, and a starry sky with a red moon. Such a night, to meet her brother again! Sonata was fast and silent like a fox, and a fox smile on her face as she opened the tent of Llassar. And the smile on her face was large as she saw her brother again.

"Brother, if you are awake, then open your eyes! Your sister has stolen into your tent tonight!" She said with a light laugh like raindrops on a fountain. "Let us tell stories by the fire until it is late! I have missed you, Llassar!" Sonata said, preparing to embrace her brother again.

She released the hug and spun gracefully, to send waves of black hair around, and to fall perfectly on her back, on robes of wool and colors of Feyheran. She fell down gracefully upon the pillows and poured the wine to give to Llassar.

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The sound of the night owls' hooting whispered through the sandy streets of the Olm, the wind a soft lullaby which beguiled the earthy Llassar into a peaceful slumber... until Sonata, the rainbow maiden, snuck into his tent like a single dancing ray of light shining exploring some dark recess of a deep cave. He awakened with all the grace of a three-toed sloth, spluttering in surprise and nearly falling out of his bed, suddenly wrapped in the sylphlike arms of his effervescent sister. "Ah! Oh, Sonata, what are you-" But when she spoke, and told him of her desire to speak and tell stories, his tanned face split into a huge smile. "There is nothing I would like to do more, sister. I haven't heard nearly as much from my siblings as I would have liked..." He took the plain cup in his expansive, tanned hand and sipped it, the taste of the wine dancing across his tongue. "Now, do you want to speak a story first, or shall I?"

The Olm, alternatively abandoned and not abandoned

The Olm, Abandoned

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In those days, the goddess did not return on the next day, but a runner who explained that the goddess had gone to dine at Uluuvatar. At this there was great weeping, and many of the Fayheran tore at their clothes and beat at their breast, and explained to the Maiden of Dawn and the Greenking that Uluuvatar was an accursed land from which came every perversion, and where those who betrayed their betrothed and those who betrayed the young were dragged in chains to become part of its dread host. It is said that Saven wept openly before the people, and Gamesha howled with such force that the sun trembled, and Shyreza who was under the tutelage of the Maiden of Dawn cast aside her golden ornaments and wore white in honor of her beloved goddess.

There was a great chaos at the assembly, and greater dread fell upon the hearts of the people when the rider Ul-Beca came out of the south with tidings of greater peril - the shadow over the sun that had five long fingers, that advanced from the south, and beneath it marched the bestial folk who had once battled against the Ma-Shen, the M'tuk and the Kz'kera and the Akhenalhaz and the Rakak, and the dog-headed demons of the sand who could not abide the touch of the sun. Beneath the hand of the Ghoulking, barbarian marched side-by-side with ghoul. They were coming, Ul-Beca declared, for the Olm, and for blessed Fayruz, and they would scatter the Fayheran apart.

And in those days stood forward the heroes of the Fayheran, to protect the people of the goddess while she languished, tricked by the Queen of Uluuvatar into deserting her people when they needed her most of all.

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Llassar stood, mouth open and eyes wide, the tales of the great, dark city whispering through his ears. "So what you're saying is... my older sister is in some sort of... giant... depraved... place... alone and unprotected, vulnerable and..." Llassar trailed off, swallowing deeply as he composed himself. "Where is the place that they have taken Fayruz, my sister, flower of the desert, your goddess? We must find her and bring her back- we won't allow the cloying stench of that place to beguile her nose and drag her into paths of the blackest darkness!" But before his hot words could be acted upon, another rider came, one who warned of the terrible Ghoul King and his savage army, of his numberless servants and mighty powers, and of the dark threat he had made against the people of the Olm.

Llassar was asked by the people to stay, for the Greenking was a brother of Fayruz, a sibling of their god- and hadn't the rest of her family displayed marvelous powers, great and terrible? Llassar shook with indecision, not knowing whether to listen to their call for aid or to run into the dark after his sister. And as he stood paralyzed with indecision, not knowing which way to turn, Sonata rose up and sang...

The Olm, not Abandoned

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The cries and woe of the Fayheran of course came to Sonata. Teaching the Ar Maen the night before, and sneaking out to meet her brother and talk, she had woken in the morning by Shyreza, to learn a lesson of exhaustion and mortal limits. So it was a tired human named Sonata followed Shyreza and listened dutifully about human things and old stories.

But the rider had come, and news had spread quickly, that Fayruz had gone somewhere she shouldn't. And a frustrated human named Sonata watched the assembly became crowded and news of the Ghoulking was given.
And a certain Renard sat next to Sonata as she listened beside the Lightning Wolf, who yawned with proud teeth. And Renard laughed a small fox laugh.

One twin has disappeared, and the other became a mortal!
Will the despair they feel
find your heart too?

"I'm not happy, Renard." Sonata replied sullenly. "Fayruz should have been here. I should have sensed something wrong. She should have sent a message! Did they not tell her I had come?!"

The fox laughed again and his fluffy tail danced on her shoulder.

You are spoiled, Lady Sonata.
like one of these Fayheran children!
You were too busy playing human to be responsible
and to listen to fox messengers or songs.
but a cunning fox listens to everything
before a song is made!

Sonata sighed. There was truth to Renard's words.

"Listening to the gloating of foxes, and the sounds of hopelessness, is not music for me. Prepare yourself Renard, because I order you to a difficult task. I order you to leave my side and stay here, to guard my sister's people. To send your fastest messengers on the rainbow paths I will guide them towards my brothers and sisters. At least the ones whom I can feel still."

Sonata stood up, and a glow began to return to her form, and a fierce look in her eyes.

Already this plan was considered by Renard!

The fox laughed.

Be careful my Lady Sonata! To become a human may mean to be less than a fox!
We are cunning, but even the Lady Sonata failed to notice these things!

"Maybe. But this isn't Ecchr, Renard. And even you didn't think Fayruz wouldn't return today." She said sharply.

Renard bowed his head with a little shame.

Yes, my apologies.

"Then already you know my plan. Enact it dutifully, Renard." She ordered. Then Sonata turned to the Fayheran and sang out a short note.

"Listen to me." Sonata said, bringing an order to the people, who gathered in the place of The Olm. the messenger foxes of white and gold sat around the square, to give a watchful order. And the voice of Sonata and her presence gave some peace to the hearts of the Fayheran. And Sonata made comforting words to strengthen their hearts. And she told them to defend themselves and their hope and love for their goddess.

"I will bring my sister back." She promised. And Sonata turned to Shyreza and put a finger on her lips.

"Your silver voice will ring truly to the people of the Fayheran. Together you will do great things. Your song will resonate and these people will listen. We will talk more soon. When I bring my twin back to her home here. I don't need to tell you anything else. But for the good faith and love you have shown me, the Foxes who are mine will listen and aid you. Believe."
And Sonata looked at Llassar and shared a glance and she kissed his cheek gently.

"I will go now and fine Fayruz, dear brother. Help these people! But we will not be far. Sorry, I want to talk so much more, but it has to wait now." Sonata sat gracefully on the back of the Lightning Wolf, and spoke praise into his ears, and like a rainbow and lightning, they went into the air, and soon couldn't be seen by the Fayheran.

When Shyreza looked back at her people, and concern returned, a certain fox named Renard sat beside her feet, and 36 foxes of silver and gold coats, and 80 foxes of the sandy coats in the desert. He smiled a friendly fox smile.

I am Renard, and these are the Ciela clan foxes and
the local clan foxes who have organized with us.
Nice to meet you!
Don't be nervous!
We know the stories you tell of our cousins!
And we know you are learning from Lady Sonata,
We want you to sing good songs about us.
Even Lady Sonata hasn't seen all the shadow nature of foxes
that your ancestors wisely told.
We are reliable for many purposes.
Let's have a good relationship.

A friendly fox smile revealed sharp teeth.

But this sun is very hot. It is best to rest in shade now.
But when you need us,
we will be here.
I will be in your shadow,
until our Lady returns.

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And Llassar's decision to leave or to go was taken from him- Sonata leaving to find their sibling, the fox, Renard, remaining in her stead. His face was pale all that day, save for when Sonata's kiss graced his cheek, turning him briefly to scarlet. But he was anxious and worried about his sisters- what would come of them? And he vowed that if they did not return in a two month's time, he would go and look for them himself.

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Shyreza

This is the story of the student of the first song-maiden, this is the story of the gazelle-kissed girl, this is the story of the woman who commanded foxes. Hear her words! These were the days when Fayruz was not yet kissed by the eldest of all birds, these were the days when the Greenking had first come to us. These were the days after the Maiden of Dusk banished the master of the black sand from her brother, the Traveler. These were the days when the Ghoulking rose from the south, fleeing the dark sands, and dared to attack we Fayheran once more.

One night of instruction Shyreza was given by the Singer in the mystical arts of the song, one night of instruction was given by Shyreza to the Singer in how to be human. That night they spent together, waiting for Fayruz to return to the Olm and embrace her sister. On the morning that came, word was carried by Eshelt of the Horn, from the east, that Fayruz had ridden to the City At The Edge Of Darkness.

The City! If you do not know if its reputation, think yourself lucky! It is the Nightmare City that haunts the dreams of young men, that awaits those souls who betray their husbands and their wives, who betray their family or slay a man for gain. And the thought that Fayruz could have been taken there was inconceivable! Words spread throughout the camps of the Fayheran, that Fayruz had married herself to one of her paramours, and then taken another to her bed - but these lies were not heeded by the truehearted, who knew that Fayruz was brave, and that Fayruz was at her strongest in weakness. Had not Gamesha been cured of his madness when Fayruz was a prisoner of his tent? Had not the Traveler been overcome, even though Fayruz carried neither spear nor sling? Fayruz would persevere, the wise knew.

The true despair came from the south, when Akhesh came on a swift horse with the news that the Ghoulking had come once more from the south, through the Valley of Teeth, past the camps of Erkham and Eshalya, and swiftly coming towards the Olm. He had with him tribes of the south, barbarians who had never seen the glory of the Maiden of Dusk, and the ghouls of the sands who feast on carrion and tear men apart.

There was council by the Riverfane; Llassar Greenking sat by the servants of the goddess, and Renard who served Sonata and commanded the scavenger-foxes of the desert. The Three Heroes sat there, banded together with staff and sword and hammer, and Seiman and Arejeh of the Kindly Ones, and Skullsplitter and Aret of the Laughing Ones, and Melzidel and Estrika of the Artful Ones. The chieftains of the tribes gathered together, as well, to plan battle.

This was declared: that the foxes under Renard's service would lead the elderly and the young to safety, and any who would not fight in the defense of the sacred Olm. That all who could carry spear or sling would take to the walls to defend the Olm, and that they would be led by the Smiling Ones who carried their hammers for war.

Three had to face the coming storm, rivals and friends all at once. The scarred warrior, once driven mad, hammer in hand and horns rising from his head. The weathered healer, wearing thick leathers beneath his robes, practicing songs that might drive back the ghouls. The storyteller, who could faintly hear the song all about, with her sword of glass and her robes of crimson and gold.

They stood together, on the walls built by the Smithlord, and watched the black stormcloud hand smother the sun, and night fall on the Olm. You know what comes next as well as I do.

Wait, and the rest of the tale will come.

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Llassar was not a god of battle- he was of the earth, of the soil, of the ground around them. Of friendship and fathers and mothers and family. And so he stood and spoke to the people of the Olm. "Fayheran, people of the Olm! A beast, a monster, a coward, a hungry foe approaches with his crawling armies, his foetid fingers reaching up to catch the very sun in its grip. But why fear him, people of Fayruz, of the desert? Why fear his sniveling, wretched swarm of carrion feeders, creatures who feed on the weak and alone? We are not alone- we are united in our love for Fayruz and in the defense of what she's built, united in the defense of our families and homes and the land we have struggled to make fertile! Why fear his barbarians, his thugs? Were you not once like them, but now are uplifted? There is no mystery in their brutality- no intrigue or veiled plots to their violence! The Fayheran have grown past them, grown into the people of the Olm, and by great Baz'Auran, they shall stay the people of the Olm!

There was a hush as he spoke, the people watching the thin, scarecrow figure of the god as he orated in front of them. As he made his last proclamation, a thundering cheer rose up from the men and women gathered there. Families gathered and spoke, old friends met with each other to boast of the battle, all proclaiming that they would not allow the corpulent masses of the Ghoul King to overcome their land. There was pride and honor and joy that day, begot by the words of Llassar Greenking.

Acts

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Expending one Major act to gain Divine Charm: Not as beauty or handsomeness, but taking on the appearance of a kind, trustworthy father, someone whos support and approval drive men to accomplish great things.

[Gengy]

It didn't take long for the news to spread for not even the gods can travel faster than gossip. The messenger reached Haramhold in his study where he was designing a new project a travel hub, one that would require more power and art at Haramhold's disposal.

The Smith left his modest abode and traveled quickly toward where the eldest's house lay. It was a short trip perhaps no more than a mile.

"Jongo!" Haramhold bellowed "Its good to see you up and about." Looking up at the sky Haramhold continued "Will you join me for lunch?"

"Lunch?" Jongo's belly growled something fierce. "Do you know, I think the last time I ate was the meal we had on Green Morningstar before that skunkfart of a Pupeteer. Pardon my language. That was what... a couple weeks ago now? A month? More? I do believe that, thinking about it now, I could eat an entire EVERYTHING."

The Band of Chaos laughed, and tugged upon Jongo's finger. Which was odd. It had never tugged before. Jongo looked in the direction the Band had indicated. Thinking about it, it was towards the Sea of Jongo.

Was now the best time? With so many things popping up... But no. The sooner the better.

"So yes, brother-mine. I'd love to have lunch. But... I'll be going after that, I think. The hut you've made for me is lovely and all... but I've a space of my own that has been calling to me, and an... idea I want to try. I'll still be close, of that you can be sure. But now that I know our siblings are all right for the moment, I want to try something I haven't done before.

But first! Food! Food sounds glorious. I hope Cookie is okie dokie. I want him to make a meal for me again soon. That aside... what's on the menu today? Ardvaark al mode? Stick on a Steak? Hamburgers? Wait. Hamburgers? What the Jongo are they?" Jongo looked down at the Band of Chaos. "I have no clue where in the Disk we'd even find a Bürgermeister, not to mention if they would taste any good."

[shorewood]

The wardstone from Amanda's perspective

The great fortress grew larger and larger with each passing moment. Steering the airship toward the highest of the walls I slowly brings the deck even with the wall.

"Hello, My name is Amanda emissary of Haramhold. The god of crafting sends aid." I shout waiting for a response. I do not think it would be wise to start landing troops without permission so I have Green MorningStar keep the crew below deck.

--------
Salus with Haramhold

Haramhold leads Jongo back to his house, where he brought out two large loaves of bread, a wedge of goat cheese the last of the apples and a pitcher of cool fresh water. While he served the food Haramhold told the question filled Jongo all about the creation of Sanctuary and the sending of Amanda to Carolinus's aid. After they had eaten their fill Haramhold asks "Do you need any help getting past the storm and the Kraken?"

[Gengy]

Jongo eats Lunch

Following Haramhold, Jongo was delighted by the simple meal of bread, water, and cheese. Now reminded that food was good, Jongo's stomach complained that it hadn't been fed in a while, and was surprisingly upset.

Consuming the small meal slowly, Jongo listened to how Haramhold made the Sanctuary around Salus, and Green Morningstar with Amanda on board now heading to Carolinus.

"Do you need any help getting past the storm and the Kraken?" Haramhold finally asked as the meal was finishing.

"What? No. No no no. The storm's gone. I took care of that. Me and it came to an understanding. There shouldn't be anything more than some regular weather outside your Sanctuary now. Well, not unless the... Kraken, was it? Funny thing to be called... not unless it started doing things again. But I'm pretty sure it had other things on it's mind. So both should be gone. Either way, now that I think about it, it only managed to smack me around because I was really really tired." Jongo began to explain to Haramhold what had happened since the Olm.

Animated and vibrant, Jongo laughed and described the winds that were fighting each other, and how they didn't want to be there, but didn't know which way to go. It felt good to talk to someone again.

"So, finally, when I realized that I didn't need to fight the storm, I joined it's team, and we both fought the tentacles. Then a great big one smacked me, I had a bad dream which turned into a good one because Rodney showed up and showed me his Castle - which is amazing, you should take a nap and see it sometime - and then... here I am! Ultimately... storm's gone. Big ugly tentacles probably gone too. And if they ARE there, if I fly high enough, I can avoid them, I think. Or just go around them for now."

[shorewood]

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Jongo eats Lunch

Following Haramhold, Jongo was delighted by the simple meal of bread, water, and cheese. Now reminded that food was good, Jongo's stomach complained that it hadn't been fed in a while, and was surprisingly upset.

Consuming the small meal slowly, Jongo listened to how Haramhold made the Sanctuary around Salus, and Green Morningstar with Amanda on board now heading to Carolinus.

"Do you need any help getting past the storm and the Kraken?" Haramhold finally asked as the meal was finishing.

"What? No. No no no. The storm's gone. I took care of that. Me and it came to an understanding. There shouldn't be anything more than some regular weather outside your Sanctuary now. Well, not unless the... Kraken, was it? Funny thing to be called... not unless it started doing things again. But I'm pretty sure it had other things on it's mind. So both should be gone. Either way, now that I think about it, it only managed to smack me around because I was really really tired." Jongo began to explain to Haramhold what had happened since the Olm.

Animated and vibrant, Jongo laughed and described the winds that were fighting each other, and how they didn't want to be there, but didn't know which way to go. It felt good to talk to someone again.

"So, finally, when I realized that I didn't need to fight the storm, I joined it's team, and we both fought the tentacles. Then a great big one smacked me, I had a bad dream which turned into a good one because Rodney showed up and showed me his Castle - which is amazing, you should take a nap and see it sometime - and then... here I am! Ultimately... storm's gone. Big ugly tentacles probably gone too. And if they ARE there, if I fly high enough, I can avoid them, I think. Or just go around them for now."

The storm was dissipated...

The storm was dissipated...

Haramhold pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger at the thought. How much energy, how much of his divine spark had he spent to create sanctuary to protect his people from the storm which is now just gone. I suppose I should have taken a look past the walls before sending Amanda off. I would have went in her stead had I known the storm was gone. he thought.

"I would recommend that you fly above the kraken. It is my understanding that it has surrounded this land thus making going around much more difficult I would imagine." Haramhold said as he tidied up after their meal "If you see Faden or one of his messenger wisps could you give these to him? I have a few designs of this nexus we talked about earlier that I would like his opinion on." Haramhold continued as he handed Jongo a copy of his preliminary designs for the nexus protected in a waterproof tube.

[Gengy]

"Nexus? What's that?" Jongo opened the tube, and looked over the plans. As usual, Haramhold's scrawling was neat and ordered in some places and wild and unusual in others, where a different idea had struck him.

Jongo stared, and began to grin. "Oh, I like this idea. Very neat. I think... I think I've been doing something like that already. I've got at least three spots that I can think of that I might be able to just... go to. Aboard Green Morningstar is one of them. So as long as you take care of her, I'll be able to visit quite quickly! And if you are not aboard, but back here... with your permission, I can probably just pop back to this nice hut that you've made me."

Jongo closed her eyes for a second, and concentrated, feeling for the Symbol of Chaos here in Salus. "Though I've got to go visit an outhouse first. Someone's put my Symbol there, probably for sh*ts and giggles. At the same time!"

[Kasanip]

Llassar and Sonata
[/SPOILER]

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The sound of the night owls' hooting whispered through the sandy streets of the Olm, the wind a soft lullaby which beguiled the earthy Llassar into a peaceful slumber... until Sonata, the rainbow maiden, snuck into his tent like a single dancing ray of light shining exploring some dark recess of a deep cave. He awakened with all the grace of a three-toed sloth, spluttering in surprise and nearly falling out of his bed, suddenly wrapped in the sylphlike arms of his effervescent sister. "Ah! Oh, Sonata, what are you-" But when she spoke, and told him of her desire to speak and tell stories, his tanned face split into a huge smile. "There is nothing I would like to do more, sister. I haven't heard nearly as much from my siblings as I would have liked..." He took the plain cup in his expansive, tanned hand and sipped it, the taste of the wine dancing across his tongue. "Now, do you want to speak a story first, or shall I?"

The Olm, alternatively abandoned and not abandoned

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Llassar stood, mouth open and eyes wide, the tales of the great, dark city whispering through his ears. "So what you're saying is... my older sister is in some sort of... giant... depraved... place... alone and unprotected, vulnerable and..." Llassar trailed off, swallowing deeply as he composed himself. "Where is the place that they have taken Fayruz, my sister, flower of the desert, your goddess? We must find her and bring her back- we won't allow the cloying stench of that place to beguile her nose and drag her into paths of the blackest darkness!" But before his hot words could be acted upon, another rider came, one who warned of the terrible Ghoul King and his savage army, of his numberless servants and mighty powers, and of the dark threat he had made against the people of the Olm.

Llassar was asked by the people to stay, for the Greenking was a brother of Fayruz, a sibling of their god- and hadn't the rest of her family displayed marvelous powers, great and terrible? Llassar shook with indecision, not knowing whether to listen to their call for aid or to run into the dark after his sister. And as he stood paralyzed with indecision, not knowing which way to turn, Sonata rose up and sang...

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And Llassar's decision to leave or to go was taken from him- Sonata leaving to find their sibling, the fox, Renard, remaining in her stead. His face was pale all that day, save for when Sonata's kiss graced his cheek, turning him briefly to scarlet. But he was anxious and worried about his sisters- what would come of them? And he vowed that if they did not return in a two month's time, he would go and look for them himself.

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Llassar was not a god of battle- he was of the earth, of the soil, of the ground around them. Of friendship and fathers and mothers and family. And so he stood and spoke to the people of the Olm. "Fayheran, people of the Olm! A beast, a monster, a coward, a hungry foe approaches with his crawling armies, his foetid fingers reaching up to catch the very sun in its grip. But why fear him, people of Fayruz, of the desert? Why fear his sniveling, wretched swarm of carrion feeders, creatures who feed on the weak and alone? We are not alone- we are united in our love for Fayruz and in the defense of what she's built, united in the defense of our families and homes and the land we have struggled to make fertile! Why fear his barbarians, his thugs? Were you not once like them, but now are uplifted? There is no mystery in their brutality- no intrigue or veiled plots to their violence! The Fayheran have grown past them, grown into the people of the Olm, and by great Baz'Auran, they shall stay the people of the Olm!

There was a hush as he spoke, the people watching the thin, scarecrow figure of the god as he orated in front of them. As he made his last proclamation, a thundering cheer rose up from the men and women gathered there. Families gathered and spoke, old friends met with each other to boast of the battle, all proclaiming that they would not allow the corpulent masses of the Ghoul King to overcome their land. There was pride and honor and joy that day, begot by the words of Llassar Greenking.

Acts

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Expending one Major act to gain Divine Charm: Not as beauty or handsomeness, but taking on the appearance of a kind, trustworthy father, someone whos support and approval drive men to accomplish great things.

Llassar and Sonata

The reaction of Llassar would have made many songs or stories, but for Sonata it was a nostalgic and wonderful feeling. Here alone in the tent with her brother, it was the first time since the fall she felt all of the old memories return, of a childhood in gardens in the White City. A safe feeling. A sweet song.

After Llassar had taken the wine, Sonata looked at the fire thoughtfully. And then she began to speak in the language of the White City again, the words no louder than a whisper. But for Sonata who had great art with words, each of them was perfectly made, so her words spoke of happy and peaceful days, nostalgic times and carefree childhood.

If any Feyheran, or Renard or fox had come to spy on such a meeting, of a princess of the rainbow and white city, and the earthly and bronze prince, then it was to hear the most beautiful words, whose sounds conjured up imagination and nostalgia for a past, but whose meaning wasn't understood.

Except for Llassar, to whom Sonata spoke of her fall.

"...And I was alone. I lost my voice in the fall. I wonder, how much did I lose? I despaired, was lonely. And was fortunate. To be taken by Renard, and so I traded my flute for a voice, and became a princess of foxes.

And I almost forgot who I was... But the red moon at night always reminded me. And finally Renard knew he couldn't win over me with his fox ways. He let me go, and together went to Madako to find my voice.

And I found my voice at Madako, but I traded it for a rainbow coat, to become a princess of the dragon king. And in the palace I learned and gathered great treasure and wealth. It was wonderful! I had the rain at my command, and wealth and power. But I didn't have my voice. I didn't have my family. And I had hurt a dragon princess who I had stolen treasure from.

And in the end, I returned to being [Sonata], and now I keep the sacred words and songs of the White City and the histories and past, with the Ar Maen. And I command the rain as I wear the rainbow crown and coat, and gained the love of the foxes and humans of Ecchr.
I created the Hymmnoi, whom are the only mortals who can truly sing and hold onto the memories of the White City, and tell the story of this world in song.

And I tamed the Lightning Wolf by beating him in a race through the storm, just so I could come to find my twin and my family again."

Sonata sighed. Her words like a song making the great picture for Llassar, who could see and feel the memories as the words passed the fire into his ears.

"I could sing many stories like that, perhaps selfishly or not." She said, to pour some wine for herself and let a peaceful smile come to her face.
"But I want to hear your words, dear brother. To learn your stories so I can sing of them sometime."

[TheDarkDM]

The Calm Before the Storm

Khar Eltraya smiled sadly at Carolinus' words, and though they shuffled nervously at the fervor of the god's words, the Titans' human servants remained in their ranks. As he impugned the courage of the Overlord, one of the other Khars made to draw his weapon, only for Eltraya to stay his hand with a glance. Returning her attention to Carolinus, she shook her head.

"Your loyalty to your progenitor does you credit, my lord Carolinus. Indeed, were one raised in the White City, bathed in his light, I can imagine it would seem absurd that he is anything but the sum total of perfection. But we Titans know better. You ask what crime we were banished for? A simple one, really - we dared to create life."

A murmur of reverence went through the assembled Khars, and Eltraya's voice rang through the great canyon.

"Our civilization spanned the entirety of the Great Disk itself, our law mastering the Beasts of Chaos, our allies among the First Ones mighty and just. And yet, it was not enough, for our Overlord did not feel we had honored Baz'Auran to the fullness of our potential. So, on a night long past the memory of any save our master, the greatest priests of the First People gathered in our holiest of temples, the great Khiras Olm, to produce a living testament to Baz'Auran's glory. Using ancient magics, our Overlord sculpted a perfect being from the living stone, a flawless child into which he placed a sliver of his divine blessing beneath the light of the White City. It was only moments, so it is said, before the great Baz"Auran noticed the ceremony and its result, and those were moments of pious glory. Then, the Skyfather descended."

Eltraya paused for a moment, and Carolinus realized that tears were gleaming in her eyes.

"It is said his rage shattered Khiras Olm to its foundations, and left the lands around a barren waste. He declared the creation of new life to be blasphemy of the blackest sort, and so he stripped all light from the one divine child of the Titans, and sent him to wander as a frail broken thing. But that, at least, you must know - you have him entrapped in your shield."

Eltraya motioned to Black Bulwark, and as she did Carolinus felt a tremor of recognition flow through the artifact, as iron when placed before a magnet.

"Our punishment was far worse. Baz'Auran proclaimed we had broken the sacred covenant to protect the Great Disk, that we Titans had disrupted the balance, and so he ensured we could disrupt it no longer. Slaying nine of every ten of our people in an instant, he banished us to the dark vaults beneath these mountains, and placed on us a terrible curse. Once we had adapted to the shock of the slaughter and begun to recover, he forbid us to advance. We were locked, by divine decree, into an eternal pattern of life and death, love and war, each son or daughter resigned to live and die the same way their parents had, and their parents parents before them."

The tears were flowing freely down Eltraya's face now, staining the parched ground with azure droplets.

"Do you know what it is like to live without hope, my lord Carolinus? To know that your family, your society, is doomed to stagnate until the end of time. To recoup our population, the Overlord had forbidden women to become warriors before Baz'Auran's delivered his sanction, and so women have lived for millenia as second class citizens. Any child that would push our population higher than the ancient number is stillborn, and any dip is met by a terrible, consuming need to procreate. Imagine my family's dread when I was born, a girl to a family that had for generations been relegated to being hunters. When my mother looked on me, she saw a curse, and in my father's eyes I was a failure. When I took up my family's duty, as was prescribed, I was cast out. In the grip of that great curse, my lord Carolinus, we were animals, compelled to rape, to murder, to brutal discrimination, all on the command of your perfect Baz'Auran."

All through her speech, Khar Eltraya's voice had risen, until it seemed to shake the walls of Wardstone with its stricken fury. But then, she quieted, and the tears stopped.

"But then, the moon became as blood, and the first child was born in a thousand generations that increased our numbers. For the first time in memory, man was not compelled to look down on woman, woman was not compelled to rut in the ground to fulfill some barbaric quota, and our Overlord felt the crushing weight of his lord's wroth lift from the First People. At first, we thought that mercy had finally moved Baz'Auran, but as we watched the moon weep stars we knew it was not so. And then we looked upon the world that had long forgotten us, and saw it had been given to creatures even weaker and less worthy than our bastard child. That is why we march, my lord Carolinus, that is why we come and act as the eyes for the Overlord that is the heart and soul of our very race. We are taking back the world that was stolen from us, and it is my honor to be at the vanguard. I am Eltraya, born an outcast hunter, first woman raised to the rank of Khar by the rites of combat, and I shall take your city. I swear it, on the lord that watches over me, and your lord that cursed us. Does that satisfy your...curiosity?"

The Shadows of Uluuvatar

Fayruz heard, or thought she heard, a slight gasp as she began to dance with the handsome mortal, the mists of Uluuvatar swirling around them as they cut through the air. For a moment, she was buoyant, radiant, a butterfly of gold and silk flying through the air. But then the dance ended, and as her partner drew away the spider of that vast web descended. A pale, lacquered hand entered her own, and Fayruz felt herself twirled around, no longer leading the dance but following as Elanna wove her way further into the shadows.

"I understand, sister. You are not ready yet to truly let yourself free, but you have taken a step - a marvelous step."

Elanna's bare feet darted along the floor, but Fayruz was divine, and followed unerringly. Yet as the dance progressed, she forgot the look of the boy's face, and wondered if he had been a dream. Smiling, Elanna pressed in close.

"But if you will not be free for me, my dear one, will you at least give me a song? You have such a transcendent voice - you must use it-"

The dance stopped abruptly, the silks swirling around them like leaves in a storm, as Elanna stared intently at the apex of the dome. They stayed that way for what must have been minutes, though it felt like hours, the air in the room suddenly electric with tension. Then the storm passed, and Elanna's smile was more predatory than ever.

"Yes, Fayruz, you must sing for me. Sing of the beauty of my home, of the wonder of safety and peace. Truly, you were lucky to have come here so quickly."

Elanna led Fayruz back, deep into the web, and for a moment Fayruz truly believed she had always dwelled in Uluuvatar, in the service of her mistress.

The Eye of Khalen-Het

As Khalen-Het peered into the great crystal atop the Tower of Baal, it seemed for a moment as if he were at the prow of a ship sailing through a thick fog. The smell of nightshade and jasmine wafted into his nostrils, sending his mind back to darker things, before he broke through the veil and saw two women dancing, one dark one light, long hair woven through sumptuous jewels, bodies clothed in baubles and diaphanous silk. Surely neither of these could possibly be Fayruz, gentle Fayruz who was so modest as to veil her face among her people and wear naught by simple robes, but before he could look closer the dark figure's head snapped up, eyes meeting his.

Instantly, the vision in the crystal was obscured, and from the mist came a hand that wrapped around Khalen-Het's throat with preternatural speed. Following was a woman's body sculpted from the mist, the face slowly fading into that of Elanna. Lips and eyes as red as blood flashed in the twilight of the misty veil, each spark revealing the essence of temptation itself. Khalen-Het and Sonata were mesmerized.

"Dearest Khalen-Het, why do you seek to spy on me?"

He felt himself dragged closer. Or...did he take a step?

"You should know it is not...polite, to peer into a lady's bower."

A laugh escaped her then, a tinkling of crystal that thundered through Khalen-Het's mind.

"If you wish to find me, my dear brother, you have only to follow your heart."

She drew him closer, so close their lips were almost touching, trembling in a fragile eternity. And then, she was gone, smoke upon the wind, and Khalen-Het was left shivering before his great crystal.

The Void

The chamber was empty, and cold despite the great fires burning in all six corners. For the woman who stood at the center could drink not her fill of wine or song or warmth. Black eyes raised to a crystalline ceiling, she spoke to the darkness, lips flushed red, platinum hair tumbling down from an iron crown.

"Yes, I felt his failure at the temple. He was always impatient - but it seems he has done little to damage our plans. The temptress has the healer, now, and the judge and siren may lose themselves in her web. That, or they will slay her...yes, yes you're right. The Breaking draws near, and we shall need the fullness of our strength."

Turning, she looked into the shadows where her knight awaited, grim and silent in the chill.

"I have a task for you, my knight."

[The Succubus]

Khalen and Sonata

Khalen staggered back, his mind reeling and he shuddered. What had happened to the sweet and lively young girl he had known in the White City? What was she doing with Fayruz, or doing *to* Fayruz? How had she managed to reach inside the Eye, his sanctuary, his home?

Yet the shudder was not just one of surprise. As she had held him, he had felt the full force of her sensuality against him and his body quaked with eagerness and desire.

He did not speak for several minutes. Slowly, he drew himself up to his full height and slowly turned towards Sonata. The expression on his face was terrible to behold and in his voice she could hear the thunder that heralds a dark and terrible storm.

"I do not know what devilry has possessed my dearest sister, nor what its intentions are with Fayruz. I will journey to Uluuvatar with you to seek the truth and when I am done I will send that cursed city crashing into the depths of the Abyss."

[Erik Vale]

Kalandor alone shuddered not, flinched not as he stood upon the walls. His ears changed and each word was, at whatever volume, as a word spoken to him from a person standing across from him.

And but a single tear reached his eyes. But one. And then they sat dry.
And then his voice echoed through the land, a whisper to the ears of all, but to that of Carolinus and Khar Eltraya, who heard as if Kalandor stood beside them.

"You have satisfied curiosities desire. You have told us of your pain, the pain of your kind, dnd yet you stand before us bearing the tools of war calling for surrender. I offer on behalf of mine breatheren the deepest sorrows, for, should truth stand, it is a horrible tale, but we will not surrender. I know for a fact, that any of these lands have spaces empty of the touch of any mortal. If you and yours wish to expand and grow, and heal as a culture, then go forth to the places that have not known the tread of another, and live amoungt those of men. I myself would be more than willing to show you the paths. But come to us with the beat of war pounding, and gleaming weapons baying for blood in your hands, and we will defend ourselves, your sorrow ignored as we prevent you forcing your pain on ourselves, and those that have given them unto us..."

Kalandor lowered his head, and while he was a moment before holding his spark in gentle restraint, almost hidden and yet ready to unleash wrath, his spark now glowed with the gentle light of a latern in the dark.

[Demidos]

The speech was a beautiful thing. It told of empires rising and empires falling. Of the destruction that came of the unwitting arrogance of a proud and noble people. Of the pain of a peoples unjustly served by their god. Of their power and might and beauty. It was moving, eloquent, and completely idiotic.

These proud warriors had been wronged, that was obvious. They had attempted to please their god with the very pinnacle of their power and learning, and, heartless, he had cast them down. He had not given them a chance to repent, nor warned them that their actions were wrong, though it must have been easy to sense, at the very core of the empire that spanned the world. Vengeance was a natural part of life -- indeed, it was ingrained into the very core of Silvar himself. Their need to have vengeance on a deity that had created them with free will and then destroyed them, flicking aside their accomplishments like a spoiled brat when they attempted to please him, was completely understandable. Indeed, at another time he might have even sympathized. But now -- they came with flame and sword to destroy Markien. Markien, who they acknowledged as having done them no wrong, an outpost which even the Titans described as glorious and honorable. The Titans felt the world had been taken from them by lesser beings, and now they must punish those beings if they could not rule them. But it had not been these creatures which had taken their world -- it was Baz'Auran. And now they were poised, on the brink of doing just what Baz'Auran had done to them. Perhaps. Perhaps it might have been justified had Baz'Auran been as hurt by this takeover as they had been before. But he was not, was, in fact, not even aware of what was happening. In their very actions they had seen Carolinus as a worthy foe, that offered only peace. What loss would it be to make an alliance? No, these Titans had no claim to honor, despite their mindless pride. They were like to Shirvan, but corrupted -- empty vessels devoid of their previous glory. They were not worthy of reverence nor pity.

All this ran through the head of the shadow that had become a god. All this, but he said nothing. Only the slightest, scornful curl of his lip betrayed the thoughts beneath that concealing cowl.

[Kasanip]

Khalen-Het and Sonata

Sonata watched the reactions of Khalen-Het as Khalen-Het looked into the crystal. His horror and reactions of course gave Sonata dark thoughts, and she was preparing to make him explain what was seen when the mist became like Elanna, and grabbed Khalen-Het.

Such a mesmerizing appearance of temptation and desire, it was a minute for Sonata to recognize Elanna. But the words Elanna spoke revealed her identity, in the style of her speech to Khalen-Het.

Elanna. Elanna had stolen Fayruz? It was unforgivable. Elanna had changed so much it seemed, but perhaps Sonata in the eyes of her family had changed too. But the way Elanna approached Khalen-Het made Sonata angry.
Jealous?

Something like this feeling. After Elanna disappeared, Sonata watched Khalen-Het coolly until he spoke. She didn't want to speak first this time. Her words would have been angry and something hurting. But it wasn't Khalen-Het's fault.

Sonata knew her brother liked Elanna. It was a very bad idea to bring him to Uluuvatar. Because Sonata knew that if she met Elanna...

She nodded to Khalen's words and offered her hand. Then she raised her hand and sang a note that echoed in the walls, and the Lightning Wolf descended with a howl, to land beside Sonata. Sonata led Khalen to the Lightning Wolf and praised it.

There is no faster wolf
I have seen him to run as fast as lightning
No wolf has run the rainbows and skies
like this wolf!
And across the sea we traveled once
A brother and sister together
will not slow him!
But now, my dearest, fastest Lightning Wolf,
I want you to run the sky paths
faster than my shout
Faster than my songs of praise
I want you to run faster than the wind,
carry our anger and outrun sound and song itself
And we will follow the heart of my brother
To the end of this earth!

And the lightning wolf howled to the sky it's song that shook the tower, and Sonata hugged him and sat upon his back. And she looked at Khalen-Het with a dangerous fox smile.

"Come sit beside me, dear brother.
Spiders and snakes are silent compared to the songs
of foxes and wolves!"

[The Succubus]

Fury

Once more outside the enterance to the Tower, Khalen spoke to Sonata.

"Let the will of Baz'Auran be done."

And with that, in a swirling vortex of sand and thunder, the wrath of the desert sands and the piercing howl of heaven's anger set off north to the forbidden city of Uluuvatar.

[Raz_Fox]

Three on the Wall

He could see it on the horizon now. It slowly moved forward, fingers outstretched across the sky, smoke-black. The hand of the Ghoulking was raised against the Fayheran.

The camps were half-empty behind Saven, and the Olm was quiet. He didn't like the quiet – it wasn't natural, it was the sound of men waiting and quietly sharpening their spears' tips, and of slingers choosing a few more stones, and of foxes grinning in the shadows. Llassar, who was tall and pale and had the heart of a chieftain in him, was prepared, but for everything he did, he was not quite as reassuring as Fayruz would have been. The Fayheran would do anything for her, Saven most of all; she would be their foundation, the staff that was the tent's center, and with her song raised against the Ghoulking's magic, there would be victory for sure. But all they had were the Council, and three bands of the Orders, and starving warriors, and a king who had never distinguished himself in battle.

"Well, my ruttin blood-brother," Gamesha said from behind him, his voice loud in the silence, "Here comes that ruttin scorpion's child, all thinking that we have no protection, that we have no goddess, that we don't have the gods on our side!" Saven turned, and saw both Gamesha and Shyreza striding towards him, resplendent. Gamesha looked almost like he did as a child, going to war by his father's side – the horns of his minotaur-helmet were sharp and pale-white, his breastplate was made of scarred leather, his robe was cut and tied down so that he could move with ease, his spear was tied to his back and his sling hung from his belt and his hammers were held in either hand, short-handled weapons with heavy stone heads. Shyreza, meanwhile, looked almost like a man, her own garments fitting her tightly, wearing leather armor-pieces handed down from some Kayanek warrior-maiden, a glass sword in her hand and a long glass knife strapped to her thigh, and a sling at her belt. Her face was veiled like a man's, and she wore no gold, but darkest red.

Gamesha clapped his hand on Saven's shoulder, his eyes bright and fierce. Saven returned the gesture, placing his hand gently on Gamesha's shoulder, nodding to his oldest friend. "For Fayruz," Saven said, quietly. "We will defend the Olm and keep her people safe."

"Her people are safe," Shyreza said, stepping forward and resting her hand on Saven's. "The foxes told me that our people are camped a day's march north of here, and that they will carry word to them if our battle goes poorly, to flee and find shelter elsewhere."

"That won't ruttin happen," Gamesha said, grinning. "Because we're going to kill every ruttin ghoul and wild-man that the King sends to fight us, and I'll break his neck myself! We're strong, now, and they don't have a chance against us!"

"We'll see." Shyreza sighed softly, looking out at the black hand that was already grasping at the sun. "The Wolf King has the run of the east, and Llassar and Estrika's band stand ready at the south, where the river runs beneath the wall. Shelkenezana is ready if they try and come around at the west, or the north. The slingers are ready on the walls, and the spear-carriers are ready to throw the ghouls from the walls. The extra supplies are ready on the second wall – I saw to that."

"Thank you, Shyreza." Saven thanked Fayruz, silently, that such a bold maiden had been chosen to stand next to him and Gamesha. He had no doubts that she would fight for the honor of the goddess as fervently as Gamesha would, and that he would not need to fear the enemy.

Even an enemy that could blot out the sun. The sky darkened, and too close to the Olm could be seen the vague, shadowy shapes of their enemies. The three quickly descended towards the walls, ready to fight for Fayruz's people.


Three on the Wall

Another ghoul made his way to the top, and Skullsplitter cracked its mangy, filth-covered head with one easy blow. Her muscles burned, but her heavy hammer was counting a happy toll. Again- again- again! Beside her, Seiman knelt with a weary groan, and touched the bloody skull of a young Iuneh slinger, red running down white skin. No song came from him; she was already dead, slain by an unlucky sling-stone from below. On the other side of her, all across the southern wall, Estrika danced, her swords invisible to her enemies. A ghoul clawed his way up, leaping on a spearman, only to have keen glass blades cut him into three pieces. She seemed to be everywhere, leaping and running and gracefully cutting open the rotten demons who climbed up the walls.

There were always more.

A great shudder ran through the wall. Men all around Skullsplitter trembled and cried out; the tremors came again, and the cry was passed down the wall- "He's come at the gate!" Skullsplitter snarled in fury, dashed another two ghouls from the wall, and turned to Seiman.

"Come along, little singer," Skullsplitter said, hefting her hammer. "Time to drive them back from the gate."
"No," Seiman said, quietly. He pointed, his other hand resting on the shattered shoulder of an elderly Ma-Shen spearman. "Saven is there." Skullsplitter followed his pointing finger, to where the white-clad figure was already moving towards the southern gate. Not alone, not alone! The bull-horns of Gamesha rose behind him, and the scarlet robes of Shyreza followed, and a score of long spears, and a dozen glass swords, and sling-shots came before them.

The gate groaned, the bars split, the gate opened, and the army of the Ghoulking met the defenders of the Olm. So many, club-men and spear-men and ghouls, all screaming and savage, until they could hardly be told apart! Already, Skullsplitter heard cries to pull back, to hold the second wall, as Saven and his warriors were lost in the thick of the fray, less than two-score against hundreds.

As Gamesha would say, she'd leave the ruttin wall when the ghouls were coming at her from all sides, and not a minute before.


Shadows and Silk

A song. Beautiful, wonderful mistress – of all the world of silk and lacquer and skin and ebony and marble, of chain and wall and lies – wanted a song. Beauty, safety, peace; a song. Where was beauty? What was safety? How was peace found? Here, here, here- too dark, needs white.

Pale white fingers, mute-green nails drinking in light, raking.

She looks at her sister and smiles under her veil, her mask that's not humble, that entices, smiles with lips painted and teeth bright, and her eyes are those of a lion, of gold under a ruin at a river's birthplace. They only shine for a moment, then dull again, as she breathes in the scent of her sister, feels her touch- but the song is already on her lips.

Are you coming to shadow and silk?
Climb the rock, reach now for the sun-
Remember light, remember the dawn
And dance, and dance, to soft silver bells-

Are you coming to kiss fair-haired boys?
Climb the rock, reach now for the sun-
Remember love, remember our sin
And dance, and dance, where twilight does dwell-

Are you coming all clad in star-silk?
Climb the rock, reach now for the sun-
Remember how we dressed oh-so-fair
And danced, and danced, to soft silver bells-

Are you coming all girded in chains?
Climb the rock, reach now for the sun-
Remember the bite of desert-men's rope
And dance, and dance, where twilight does dwell-

They were dancing, and she had the beat running through her, and she was a song. The song meant something, but she couldn't remember what, only that she wanted to sing it, that she had thought of it- last night, with the knights? The day before, at the banquets? She must have learned it somewhere. Or maybe it was for her sister.

Are you coming to touch pale skin?
Climb the rock, reach now for the sun-
Remember how to touch weak and strong
And dance, and dance, to soft silver bells-

Are you coming, o siblings of mine?
Climb the rock, reach now for the sun-
Your sister's bound, the other wears chains
And dances, and dances, where twilight does dwell-

Bring all your cares, and bring all your pains
Climb the rock, reach now for the sun-
She'll heal you all, not let you forget
And dance, and dance, to soft silver bells-

Do you remember o sister of mine?
Climb the rock, reach now for the sun-
We once lived bright, and now we live dark
And dance, and dance, where twilight does dwell-

Are you coming to shadow and silk?
Climb the rock, reach now for the sun-
Remember light, remember the dawn
And dance, and dance, to soft silver bells-

It was over. She was very weary, almost to the bone- she closed her eyes, leaned against sweet-smelling Elanna, breathed in deeply. "Do you like my song?" Tired, tired, tired-

She embraced Elanna, letting her curls run along skin so pale, and told her sister she loves her, and wants the best for her, and it is the truth. And yet, the song remained in her head, on her lips, and she wants to see the sun.

And the crystal on her pale breast, the color of ice and light and reflection, waited to be called upon.

[shorewood]

Amanda at the wardstone

The titan's army loomed in front of the wardstone menacing, strong and pitiable. If there story is true then they had a right to rage, but not at the expense of us humans. We had no part in their punishment so we should not suffer their vengeance. Amanda thought to herself atop Green Morningstar as it floated steadily even with the highest of the wardstone's walls.

-------
Haramhold at Salus

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"Nexus? What's that?" Jongo opened the tube, and looked over the plans. As usual, Haramhold's scrawling was neat and ordered in some places and wild and unusual in others, where a different idea had struck him.

Jongo stared, and began to grin. "Oh, I like this idea. Very neat. I think... I think I've been doing something like that already. I've got at least three spots that I can think of that I might be able to just... go to. Aboard Green Morningstar is one of them. So as long as you take care of her, I'll be able to visit quite quickly! And if you are not aboard, but back here... with your permission, I can probably just pop back to this nice hut that you've made me."

Jongo closed her eyes for a second, and concentrated, feeling for the Symbol of Chaos here in Salus. "Though I've got to go visit an outhouse first. Someone's put my Symbol there, probably for sh*ts and giggles. At the same time!"

Haramhold shock his head, sometimes Jongo made no sense whatso ever. "Don't let me stop you. If you wish to speak again some more before you leave you can find me in the center of the city. The stone masters are laying the foundations of a new tower today, the most important part of any structure. Must make sure it is done properly don't want the thing to lean. Goodbye." said Haramhold as he turned his back on the eldest. Heading to assist his people in the rebuilding of their city, to make it greater than it had been.

[Gengy]

Jongo Departs

"Goodbye? Goodbye? Ohhhh no you don't, brother-mine. No getting away with just a goodbye. I know you enough that once you get started on your little projects, there is no time for anything else." Jongo smirked, and with a leap, shifted into the form of the small human child that felt so comfortable. Coming down from the leap, Jongo's arms wrapped around Haramhold's neck in a great big tackling hug.

"Don't overwork yourself, brother-mine. And if you need me, just come to this hut and place your hand on the symbol that you'll find here. I'll come if you call." With that, Jongo squeezed, and dropped to the ground. "And don't... overwork... Amanda-dear."

Laughing at that cryptic statement, Jongo shifted forms to that of a small falcon, and was in the air around Salus before Haramhold could reply.

Jongo could feel it, and so could the Band of Chaos. The Symbol was close. Still, before he could stop in there, Jongo needed something. Dropping down near a working crew, Jongo shifted forms again, to the tall thin elfish figure that Salus knew her well as. With a wave to the foreman, Jongo grinned and walked over.

"Just need to borrow a clean scroll and your quill, my good man. Well, I say borrow, but really, I mean take. Sorry to trouble you. Thank you, thank you."

And with that, Jongo wrote a brief note:

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Outhouse was funny. Wasn't getting enough energy, though. Moved to Jongo's Hut on outskirts of town. Hope this isn't an emergency. Just visit the Hut.

-Jongo Everchanging

Walking through Salus once again - probably for the last time in a while - Jongo grinned at Haramhold's work. It had only been a short bit, but already, Haramhold's people were rebuilding and making the town - no, the city - of Salus better.

Feeling for the Symbol, Jongo found it easily enough. It was cleverly hidden, but not to Jongo's senses. Swapping the Symbol for the note, Jongo shifted forms again to a large eagle, and grasped the Symbol in his talons.

Flying carefully back to the hut, Jongo strutted inside, and became a porcupine. With a little focus, Jongo shot a sharp quill into the wall of the hut, right over the bed that she had been resting in. From there, and with another quick change, Jongo soon reached up with human hands and hung the scroll on the wall.

The hut began to glow.

It would change colors almost daily, Jongo could feel it. All the hustle and bustle of the city of Salus, all the unexpected last-minute changes to a design, all the carefully made plans that go awry; they would all be felt from here. Jongo could feel the power, and resolved to do whatever she could for his brother's people.

They only had to visit the hut that changed colors.

That settled, Jongo changed once more, and called for a tailwind. It answered her easily, and the people of Salus heard the comforting laughter of the purple Storm Bird as it flew up, up, and far into the sky, headed north and west, towards the ocean and the Sea of Jongo.

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Spending:

1 Minor Act

Blessing the people of Salus with Jongo's protection. They will find that ideas come to them more easily, when visiting the strange hut. Changes to their blueprints don't seem so big a deal. They will enjoy the little things in life more, and be more open to the unusual.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

???????

It was a dark time, when the army of the Ghoulking attacked. The Olm was usually a happy place. It was full of nooks and crannies that any child could easily get lost in and have an adventure. There were kind people here, people who loved their goddess.

Little Lors thought Fayruz was a nice lady.

But she didn't feel like Lors's goddess.

Oh, she was a goddess. No one was arguing that. But she wasn't the goddess for Lors.

His brown hair ruffled in the wind, and he looked outside from his hiding space. Momma and Poppa had tried to tell Lors to stay away from the windows tonight.

But that didn't feel right.

So Lors was having an adventure. Closing his right eyelid, his left eye - the grey one - glowed for a moment. This was private. Lors hadn't let anyone else know he could do this. Not even Momma.

When his eye glowed, Lors could see. It was different then normal seeing. It was like looking at the world, and watching it get painted over with new colors.

The gate, way far down below, where all the warriors gathered, became a dark rusty red. There would be many boo-boos and ouchies tonight. Lors didn't know if there were enough kisses in the whole Disk to be able to fix them, but if anyone could, it would be the healers of Fayruz.

Lors thought about going down there, but no, that didn't feel right either.

So he began to wander.

He knew the Olm like the back of his hand, and had found all the shortcuts through the city. He stayed out of the way of any healers, warriors, and pretty much anything that was an adult.

Adults didn't get it. They wouldn't. They would just see a strange young lad, eight years old (almost nine!) moving around when the city was in danger.

But Lors understood.

Something was happening, and he needed to help. He didn't know how or why he knew, but he did.

So he wandered the city, and followed the colors. Soon, a bright strange of the purest green started to call him. He followed it, dodging through alleys and ducking between tents. Lors heard a girl's gasp of surprise and he walked passed her while she was changing. He only smiled and waved, and moved on. She frowned at him, and threw a comb his way, but it only flew past him as he walked out of her tent.

Girls were weird.

Following the green, Lors found another tent - a large tent - surrounded by guards. He walked up to the guards, smiled and waved at them. One of them looked down, smiled, and waved back.

Only to give a startled look at Lors as the boy walked straight past the guard and into the tent. The green was calling the boy.

And there it was. The green. No. The king of green. Every green ever. It was all there in this person.

Lors looked up at the tall, thin scarecrow of a man, and walked forward to wrap his arms around the man's leg.

Hugging him, Lors looked up with his one green eye and one grey eye, and said, "You smell like a Cookie. I don't know what that is. But you smell like it."

[Ladorak]

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Sorry for messing with the space-time continuum here but I really wanted Carolinus to be there to welcome Amanda, and I don't want to keep my fellow gamers/writers waiting. I did some consider some sort of projection thing but gave it up as absurd. The idea of Carolinus being anywhere near smart/unemotional enough to warmly welcome amanda while simultaneously speaking to the Titans is so contrary to his character.

Oh, btw. It's Black Buttress. Normally I wouldn't mention it but here it gives me an excuse for a history lesson The Black Buttress is the narrowest part of the pass at thermopylae

Carolinus stared upward at the Khar, her sorrow mirrored on his face. The emotion was real, yet it was muted for Carolinus, his attention was elsewhere. Below him dozens of Stoneward 'swum,' he could feel their thoughts seeping upward, the distinct psychic buzz of the hivemind. He caught hold of it and pulsed a message. It consisted of an image image of grizzled old man on a horse. He was armed for war but only tools hung from his belt. There were also words Warmaster Thrakka, I speak for Carolinus. Bring the catapults to fifth positions and begin the heating. As we rehearsed for the first night, the humans change everything.
Carolinus' sluggish message then shot from the Stoneward below to those on Wall one instantly, at what could reasonably be called the speed of thought. It was like watching a gently thrown ball be stuck into the distance almost too fast to see. A Stoneward appeared before the Warmaster and repeated the words. Meanwhile Carolinus shifted his attention back to Eltraya
'Your words weigh heavily on my heart, Khar Eltraya. Had we known of this my sister-wife and I would have petitioned Baz'Auran everyday until your curse was lifted. Children are the most wonderful things. I shall never have any, I once greatly wished to.' He stepped forward, raising his hand imploringly 'I tell you this to show you that all, even a son of Baz'Auran, pay a price to our creator. He made us, so no matter how greatly we are pained by the trials put before us we cannot question, for we are as he made us. I am as he made me, I cannot be overwise. I will never hold my love again. I knew from the very start that the day would come when we would be separated. He told me himself, when first he made Cireo and I, in exchange for life I gave him eternal service, knowing the separation would come. Children are a great gift Khar Eltraya, one I shall not know. But life is a gift without equal, and it is one we are all given.'

Carolinus paused, carefully assessing the Khars around him 'Yet it is also a gift easily stolen. We all have but one life Khars of the First People. Why end yours? I was separated from my love to come here, to protect the people of the Disk. I was sent to help the First People. You need only ask succour of me and it shall be granted. But I cannot allow bloodshed and slavery. We all know how this ends. But I shall say once again before this begins. I say this because I respected Khar Melkar and I respect you Khar Eltraya. I say this because the curse of your people is a blight on my heart that I almost wish I never asked to know.
Swear peace and you may enter. Why herald this wonderful blessing with a mass extermination of all fit parents? Why create a world of Titan orphans? '

**********

There was a short delay before a reply came giving permission to land.
As soon as Green Morningstar touched down Carolinus was the first to come welcoming the strange craft. It had already seemed odd when he first sighted it, up close he quickly realised the ship was alive on some level. He eyed it warily, suddenly thinking of Jongo for some reason. There was also a spark, not unlike Haramhold, yet clearly not Haramhold. He had been aware of the spark for a long time now, over the decades it had become an intense curiosity that stabbed at him during moments of quiet. Finally he would know.
'Greetings Amanda. I am Carolinus, brother to Haramhold. I cannot begin to express my gratitude to my brother and to you and your crew. You have my thanks, and those of Markien.' All around them his men bellowed in agreement 'Amanda, I must ask. You bear a divine mark, yet I know you not. Who are you?'

[THEChanger]

The Olm
An old man lay dying on his cot. He was once a weaver of cloth, a maker of clothing. Not as glamorous a calling as the soldiers who now defended the Olm's walls, but it was what he was good at. His daughter cooled his head with a wet rag, making his passing as peaceful as possible. A chill wind blew through the tent, and the man looked skyward, smiling. The daughter felt herself grow tired, and despite herself, she fell asleep.
When she woke, her father had disappeared.

Salus
A stone mason was running for his life. A group of ruffians had chosen him for their night's fun, and with knives flashing, were chasing after him, intent on securing some funds. But the mason knew this part of the city like the back of his hand, and with some careful maneuvering, had pulled ahead of his assailants. He turned a corner, and cursed. A dead end. The theives followed, sure they had their prey.
The look on their faces when there was no one there must have been priceless.

Hajika tribe lands
Outside of one of the many tent-cities of the Hajika, a lone musician sat, staring at the night sky. She thought about the many things which had happened to her people as of late. Their songs had once more grown proud and happy. With the two demons gone and frozen, they once more were the rulers of the desert, thanks to Faden. She plucked at a couple of strings on her lyre, and began thinking of a new song of magic to share with her family. Thus were her thoughts as she drifted off into sleep.
The sun glanced off of the dune where she had fallen, highlighting the empty imprint of her resting body.

Hastings
A man worked feverishly to save his patient, cold and clammy to the touch. Just as he had been saved from posion by Brandeis' drink long ago, so he now worked to protect and heal his fellow man. He felt he was living on borrowed time, so he did his best to turn his art to help others. He wasn't nearly as good as the song-healers of the Fayheran to the south, but his herbal remedies did what they were supposed to.
A patient woke up on a table, once more healthy, but alone.

Markien
Sometimes it got lonely, working on the painting. But the painter sitting at his easel, putting the finishing touches on his work, was happy. This was his joy, his life's work. A painting of the battle of Black Buttress, to honor all those who had fallen. It was perhaps fitting that the painting should be finished even as a new army threatened Carolinus' lands. But the painter knew nothing of the Titans, only that his long work was finally finished. Now he could rest, and sleep.
Hopefully, someone will come to check on the painter, or his masterpiece will lie unseen in his apparentment forever.


The Dream-Time, outside of Castle Rhudfir

Beauty is not a physical thing.

Oh, to be sure, beauty can be found in physical things. It most often is. But beauty itself is not a part of the physical world. It is ultimately in the mind, in dreams. Stone, sound, paint, cloth, health, all these things by themselves are not beautiful. They require the touch of an artist, of a dreamer, to release their beauty.

Beauty is in the collective soul of mankind, something Brandeis discovered when he slew the Serpent, a beauty that Faden unconsciously tapped into when he imprisioned the Brothers, and continues to tap into every time he works his magic, a beauty that both Carolinus and Fayruz found worthy of divine protection each in their own way, and a beauty that Haramhold is learning to embrace.

As long as humanity lives on, so to will beauty. Why then should the makers of beauty be any different?

My children, accept this small gift I give you. You shall make your beauty here, in the world of dreams, for as long as you desire. You shall be the shapers of dreams, and so shall be more powerful than even I, more powerful than any of the children of the White City. You shall work the future.

Now, rise.

The Weaver ended his speech, and watched, as five hundred and twenty five coccoons of softest silk began to crack open. Each contained a single mortal artist, infused now with the brilliant light of the Dream-Time. Each body was shaped in such ways as the bearer found most pleasing-and most useful. Each was unique, and each was the same.
They were the Breuddwydirhodiwr, the Dreamwalkers. And the songsmiths among them began to sing and play.

Come, come, artists all.
Come to dance at The Weaver’s Ball.
Come, come, artists all.
Free are we from Avyra’s shawl.

First are the healers, strong at birth.
Giving their art to those most ill.
For their call is one of mirth.
Blessings, songs, and good will.
Next are the painters, with eyes quite keen.
They make worlds with paint and brush.
From their worlds we shall glean,
The secret power of life’s rush.

Come, come, artists all.
Come to dance at The Weaver’s Ball.
Come, come, artists all.
Free are we from Avyra’s shawl.

Third are the songsmiths with golden voice.
Learned have they from the twins of joy.
Let their words make all rejoice,
And bring soul’s warmth that all enjoy.
Fourth are the masons, Haramhold’s sons.
Workers of stone and creators of walls.
Though they lack knowledge of fun,
Their art keeps us safe from squalls.

Come, come, artists all.
Come to dance at The Weaver’s Ball.
Come, come artists all.
We are free from Avyra’s shawl.

Last are the weavers, with fingers lean.
Favorites of The Dreamer’s land.
For the future their eyes have seen,
And wonders made by their own hand.
Thus are artists all assembled
In this endless dream of light.
And though old forms they resemble,
True shape is given to souls so bright.

Come, come, artists all.
Come to dance at The Weaver’s Ball.
Come, come, dreamers all.
Till once more we see Avyra’s shawl.

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And so the Breuddwydirhodiwr are born. Spending two Major Acts to create them. Sometime soon, I will be creating the Loom of Fate. But for now, other deities tied to the Dream-Time, as well as those mentioned, may or may not sense a disturbance in the force as five hundred and twenty five mortals are lifted from all around the Great Disk and transformed into something...other.