Myth Begins - Phase 2 (IC thread)

GrimmyTOA

Mostada sat low on his small, wiry horse and scanned the horizon. Behind him, he heard Gesh cough, and he gestured irritably over his shoulder. They could not afford for the element of surprise to be lost. Their band had been detached from the main Solarian army -- in reality little more than a temporary aggregation of bands anyway -- as soon as the news of the orcs had come. There were only forty men with him. The number had been judged sufficient to sting and confuse the orcs if used properly, but it was painfully obvious that if it came down to a fair fight Mostada's men would die, and quickly.

They had ridden in a wide circle, and were now somewhere to the south-west of the main orc force. Nobody moved in the desert with more speed or more stealth than a Solarian warband.

And so now they waited, arrows nocked on horsebow strings, and tried not to think of home. Tried not to think of the destruction that had eviscerated their city. Tried not to think of the curse that had stolen their children. Tried to think only of the orcs massed a quarter-mile to the northeast.

When the signal came, Mostada would be ready. His eyes scanned the horizon.


***

Miles to the north, Ojah sat in the tiny tent that currently served as the Temple of Solar and brooded. He was no military man, and he'd quickly handed over command to more capable people. Now he wished that he hadn't. He was getting too old for this. Between the devastation of the city, the challenge of finding a permanently dark home for the unfortunate children of Cable, the twin challenges of finding supplies of goat weed (whatever that was) and iron, and the shadow of the Preservari hanging over everyone, a nice simple war would have been an almost pleasant distraction.

He waved the scribe over.

"Please," he sighed, "please tell me that you've figured out what goat weed is and where we can get some."

Shamus

Death was all but certain for the doomed sons of Primal, fated to die on foreign shores. Human hatred would leave orc warriors unprepare for the afterlife, without the proper rites attended to. They would greet Primal dishonored.

Yet fate has a subtle way of changing things.

The Solarian warband would not be awake for the battle to come, nor would they be found by prying eyes. Sleep overtook them in a wave, weapons dropping uselessly in the hot sands. Illusion hid them from the warbands below.

The sons of Aesher were not known to the Taibreamh. In the eyes of the legionairres, orcs began to appear all around them. The caravan had doubled in size before their eyes. They seemed almost appear out of thin air, grim and battle ready. The odds suddenly did not favor the proud Legion of the Broken Sword.

Abysmal Lynx

General Davus and his men walked deep into the forest and approached an odd structure. The fortress before them truly was made of living trees, and it filled the Agrins with awe. Suddenly a small girl of around ten years of age immerged from behind a tree. The girl’s skin was the color of bark and her hair was a deep green, but as she stood there her skin continued to lighten o a deep tan and her hair shifted to a brownish color.

“Hello there, what brings you here to Ydalir?” asked the little girl.

All but three of the soldiers and the General stared at the little girl in shock. The greater majority of the proud soldiers of Agrin had never before had to deal with a little girl who changed color and was dressed in nothing more then an elaborate tattoo.

Captain Horace stepped forward to address her, “Sister Nell, it is I, Captain Horace of 4th Division Elite Scouting Unit 2, as promised I have brought an envoy for your father to converse with involving the state of Agrin and the people who border it.”

Nell looked at the soldiers who stood before her, after thinking for several seconds she finally responded, “Okay then, you and Davus will be allowed entrance along with you, you, you, you, you, and… you,” she said as she pointed to several different soldiers.

A few of the branches that made up the outer wall of Ydalir unwound themselves and began to form the entrance. After a minute or so passed, a hole big enough for an average man to walk through alone comfortably had appeared in the side of the structure.

“Follow me!” Shouted Nell as she dashed off through the hole.

“Only the men who where selected are to follow me into the structure.” Said General Davus to his troops.

If any of the soldiers doubted this was the best course of action they did not show it. The soldiers who were to follow their leader into the fortress hesitated only slightly before marching entrance that had been made for them.

The soldiers of Agrin looked their surroundings over and became nervous when they noticed how suspicious the trees within the grove they had entered where. Although beautiful, at the same time the trees held a striking resemblance to humans. As they approached the center of Ydalir they saw an old tree on a hill start to shrink and twist until an old man stood there instead.

“I am Van, and I have been expecting you,” said the old man.

General Davus stepped forward and saluted, “I am General Altair Davus, leader of Division 2 and Fort Mecharsta. How is it that you still live? You should have died over a century ago.”

Van smiled then spoke, “Primal grants great power to his most devote servants, but this power comes at a heavy price; maybe someday you to will achieve this, but I would advise against it.”

“Really? I’ve never seen a Druid with any power like that,” said Davus.

A stony gleam formed in Van’s eyes, “That is because they have forsaken the teachings of Primal. Primal teaches us to fight and to struggle until we our are own masters; he rewards those who help themselves, but he is not a cruel god; he hates suffering for suffering’s sake and those who inflict pain on other living beings without any care for their lives should die before they drag everyone else down with them. Your ‘Druids’ do not teach this, they teach you that Agrin is Primal’s farmer and other nations are nothing more then plants to be harvested or animals to be broken; but what does it earn them? Famine and disease, that’s what.”

Davus was conflicted, this man was a legend, the founder of their religion and their empire, but he was talking ill of those very things he had sworn to serve.

“This is why I have summoned you Davus,” said Van, “You are a good man, and I need you to take control of Agrin for the glory of Primal.”

At this moment, General Davus knew what he was being told was true and that he must find some way to accomplish this goal, “How am I supposed to achieve this? I am one of the greatest Generals in the land, I above all others know how impossible of an achievement that is.”

A slight smile formed on Van’s lips, “Do not worry, many of your men are loyal and will follow you to their deaths. The free people who live out here and those who where conquered by Agrin would also be willing to rise up and join you. Finally, I can provide you backup with the Druids and warriors who followed me to this place.”

As Van said this the trees in the grove shifted into tattooed individuals. Van raised a hand and focused, his tattoos glowing green and his brow dripping with sweat. After several long minutes, the branches and vines that littered the floor formed powerful bows and armor as tough as the strongest leather.

“Now go, your people need you,” said Van as he turned back into a twisted and gnarled tree.

Davus and the soldiers marched out of Ydalir with Nell in tow. Once they where outside Nell spoke, “It was nice meeting you all, but I have to stay hear and watch the gate,” The hole in the wall shut and Nell changed into a young sapling, indistinguishable from the other trees in the woods.

Plans where made, Davus and his men marched off to their destinies.

***

“Are you threatening us human?” said Vagoth, the leader of the orcs as all but the leader of the Asherites fell into a deep slumber, “We are here under the orders of the gods themselves. We are here to help, not raid the lands and pick at the corpse of a burning city. If we must we will slaughter you just as we slaughtered the human settlers who tried to take our territory.”

That last remark irked the armored man; the settlers had not known it was orcish land at the time. He reluctantly let the orcs through; what was he to do with his entire forces sleeping and surrounded? The only thing he could hope for was that the orcs were telling the truth and not a local band trying to score some easy loot from the ruins of Solaris.

“May Saint Asher have mercy on my soul.”

***

As the legions of Agrin stood before the once proud city of Solaris, their leader finished up a speech to get their blood boiling for the battle that was about to be waged.

“For the glory of Agrin!” shouted General Nicus, the cheers of the crowed washed over him.

“For the glory of Primal!” More cheers followed.

“Forward March!” yelled the General, and the troops did march.

GrimmyTOA

The scout finished his breathless report, and Ojah frowned. Entire bands vanished into the desert sands. The iron-clad strangers melting away before the green horde. It looked, to Ojah, like he was going to get that war he had asked for.

He shook his head at the world. His bravest warriors, fallen without firing an arrow. The city's newfound allies, swept away into a dream by the power of some Orcish magic. This was why the people of the desert had placed their trust in the divine instead of the mortal. This was why the people had begged their Lord to stand in perfect judgement over the wicked. This was why Ojah must turn to the Sundered God once again.

Ojah thanked the scout. "Send everyone to the north walls. Be prepared to flee. If the city falls, remember to keep the children covered at all times once you are clear of the great shadow. Good luck."

Once he was again alone, Ojah fell to his knees and began to pray.

---

Between the Orcs and the tattered walls of Solaris, a patch of sand began to hiss and stir. From the gates of the city emerged a single bent figure -- an old man in the charred robes of a priest. A thin and wavering voice reached the front ranks of the massive, slavering orcs.

"Solaris is battered, but stands yet. Turn and leave, or stay and help, but for your own sake I say to you Go no further under arms!"

The last five words rang against the sinuous dunes of the desert. The patch of hissing sand began to glow a sullen red.

Abysmal Lynx

A Shamanka stepped forward, “We have not come to fight you priest of The Solar. Signs from Primal and The Taibreamh have shown us the way to this place. We have come to help you fight; another human nation is coming to destroy you.”

“If this is true, then what happened to the Legions of the Broken Sword?” asked the old priest.

The Shamanka smiled, “Do not worry about them, they are just sleeping and should awaken momentarily.”

A faint rumbling manifested in the distance, the sounds of battle could be heard. Vagoth smiled, “Well boys, looks like we got here just in time. Come on, lets show these humans what where made of!”

Orcish warriors prepared themselves for war while the scouts and berserkers charged ahead. The Legions of the Broken Sword awoke from their slumber; the fight for Solaris had begun.

GrimmyTOA

Ojah held on as tightly as he could. He had impressed upon the gate guard the necessity of speed, and apparently his words had carried some weight. Now, he was clinging to the man's back -- and the horse's -- while they careened through the perpetual twilight which had fallen over Solaris.

It was a mark of the urgency of the past days that Ojah hadn't even had time to think about an eerie supernatural darkness blocking out the sun. He'd have rolled his eyes if they weren't clamped shut in terror.

Finally, the south gate came into view down Dinar Tarik. For the sake of the invading army, Ojah hoped that he was not too late.

INeedNoSalt

First, they started to burn, explode pop sizzle, and then die. All over the world, and as the world spun, all of them, they all died.

Some of them, they became trees, but robbed of their imagination and their thought, they were dead, too.

And Oberon had gone? He had gone, and taken so many with him.

Cable, she was not happy. She was not pleased, not at all, not with her brothers or her sisters, and she fumed. No, she thought, No, if the veneration of hope and imagination will be a crime worthy of deathm then there will be no hope or imagination to venerate.

From her place in the wasting Solaris, she spoke; to the gods and to the people. She did not speak long.

Imagine, she said, a world without imagination.

And she was gone, then, to the Cradle, perhaps to await her peers, perhaps just to brood, alone. When she stepped away from the world, with her she took her gifts.

Shamus

In the endless infinity of the Cradle, The Taibreamh in the guise of a desert fox found the brooding Cable. From it's throne at the edge, they had heard the declaration of the Faerie Queen.

"Faerie Queen, you make my dreams crumble.." Codail spoke. "Return your gifts. The world needs them to complete it's task.."

Horseshoe

Argus and his men awoke in Solaris, with Ojal nowhere to be seen and its denizens still in slumber. The city was still and quiet.

"Some accursed magic from those who would seek to assail Solaris and slay its people while sleeping! I shall suffer not this devious transgression." he growled.

It took time, much precious time for Argus to assemble his troops. He had heard the sounds of battle, and prepared to charge the enemy from their flank. He hoped he would arrive before it was too late, and what little that must have remained of the Solarians would hold before the city walls could be reached.

Argus took a spot of advantage behind the dunes facing the battle. His rangers had done well... but they gave him a confusing report... a force of Orcs from the north were doing battle with a group of humans to the south... it made no sense to him.

But a new arrival made things clearer... the force he had sent to ride out against the Orc's initial attack had returned, though without the Solarians.

"What became of your party... and where is your captain?"

"We were afflicted with some Orcish Magic and fell unconscious to the ground... and we awoke to find his body hewn and broken."

Argus spit on the ground. "So, these beasts think they can scare us away with their tricks? Apparently, they cannot even align themselves with evil men and conspire to lay siege to Solaris without resorting to infighting. Never will they forget this day, when they are crushed beneath the hooves and lances of the Legions of the Broken Sword!"

Indeed, Argus and his cavaliers had arrived late... which is of course when the cavalry tends to arrive. They found the enemy still engaged in battle with many of them already fallen, though seemingly confused... he could only think it must be the blaze of sun overhead, or the fatigue of conflict that made them swoon... never he would have expected that a this strange Goddess named "Cable" had taken hope from them.

And with conviction unwavering in the Exalted Faith, the cavalry shouted in unison, their hearts filled with the unflagging spirit of Asher, their thundering host clad in steel, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake like a whirlwind.

The cavalrymen drove straight into the flank of the battle, with Argus at their front, his sword held high. The orcs and the men of Agrin looked on in confusion as a wall of lances, hooves and steel ripped through their ranks. Their speed and ferocity was shocking in its force, fueled by the warcries of Argus and the Warpriests.

"Adsum, Asherati! Vigthor et Mordar!"

GrimmyTOA

A moment in Time

On the pebble, the swords paused in their descent. The horses' hooves ground to a halt. The gigantic Firefish which was even now rocketing upwards from the molten heart of the planet hung suspended in its red sea. The screams of the dying lapsed into silence as the soundwaves were drawn out into infinity. Or perhaps not. Words cannot express the speed with which the Divine can act if they choose to, and the human mind cannot fathom it.

Solar stepped onto the cradle. And spoke.

Brothers. Sisters. We must have words.

Horseshoe

Asher appeared in the Cradle in a flash of flaming light, his golden skin wreathed in battered armor and silver fabrics. He rested his sword, spattered with the black blood of Skraelings (as was the rest of him), and tossed his hair from his eyes.

Something troubles you, cousin? Please be plain and swift with your words. As you can see, I am busy.

GrimmyTOA

Solar nodded at Asher in greeting. He continued speaking, aware that the other Gods would hear him regardless of the location of their physical forms.

Cable has left the pebble, and taken Her gifts with Her. Consequently, my servant Ojah has lost the hope which sustained him after the destruction of My City. Rage is the only gift of the soul that I can offer him, alone, and he will succumb to it. This will result in the deaths of many thousands of humans and orcs. Ar's power must be tempered with mercy -- and mercy is beyond Ojah's reach right now.

All of the armies at Solaris. The city. The tattered remains of My People. They will be utterly destroyed if Cable does not return. I am unwilling to see my people suffer further this day.

Horseshoe

Asher scowled.

Hope lies in the hearts of all Men, Cousin. Though I am perhaps the least of all Gods I am wise enough to see it. Have you so little faith in Men? I should think you would know better, having lived among them in flesh for a time. Cable claims to have taken something that she believes to be hers... but this is not an external thing. Thanks to her, hope is in their heart at their very birth... it is why they are creatures capable of such great and foul things. Look upon my followers, cousin... look upon them and know Hope. It cannot be taught with cruelty and punishment, not with a heavy hand nor burning flames... it is a seed in all men, its fruit borne by freedom.

Denying them this freedom is the death of Hope. The world does not belong to you nor I, continued Asher, then shouting out to the Gods beyond: Nor does it belong to any of you! Below us is a place where all is transient. Where all things arise then die. It is the beyond the true understanding of an immortal.

It is through your own meddling in this world that it is now brought to terrible days. Your feuds against each other you have seen fit to satisfy by toying with the lives below. This is why they suffer, Solar... and yet you still insist upon blaming Cable for that which you have had a hand in as well. Your complaint with her is not my business. Yet my followers have still seen fit to help yours without any word from me. Do you understand why?

You do not know the pain of men. You have not walked the earth, nearly dying to bring retribution upon the behalf of those who are too self-absorbed with their own powers to show gratitude... I wouldn't be surprised if your bretheren have forgotten the accursed Natterlings entirely. You have not known the love of wife and child and the bitterness upon holding one who has died after he swore to follow you to the ends of the earth. And were it not for the grace of Verweren, I would have died as one of them, and never learned this lesson.

Nor do you know the joy of men. My sons are down there. My beloved flesh and blood, of whom I am so proud. Can any of you say the same? No. And will I go to earth to save that which I treasure the most? No. They have a will of their own. Argus is the hot-headed one... yes, I could intervene and try to teach him. But he must act of his own accord and find out for himself... for I remember a time when I was much like him. And had my father Daevak interfered to help me, I would never have learned the folly of my ways. I could even descend and wrestle your reckless creation that fumes beneath the sands... but would it accomplish anything? Did it accomplish anything when I slew the Natterlings? Apparently not, for strife still lives. I would only bring more suffering to men if I used my power to directly aid them.

Do you wish to see your people be saved from suffering? Withdraw, then... and let them find their way. Trust their hearts. Lend them your words, listen to their prayers and grant them what grace you can without extending your hand to the ground. With knowledge they will only wait for you to save them... with Faith they accomplish it in your name, all by themselves.

The God of Paladins turned and walked away from the Solar.

I must return to Aesho, the land of the dead where the living would suffer even more torment after their passing from the mortal world. And there I shall defend them against the armies of Daevak, in hopes that they might find a little peace after a lifetime of being the unfortunate playthings of the Gods. As for my son... though in your eyes he is some lowly half-man... he may surprise you.

...and in another flash of light, he was gone.

KrataLightblade

The Saint Asher's words did not go unheard. As His voice echoed across creation, the God of Guardians stirred, and as he passionately defended the inherent divinity of mortality, Verweren awoke. And in that instant, Verweren knew all that had transpired in his absence.

And as the Saint Asher disappeared from the Cradle, gone to tend His own needs, Verweren took His place. At first, His image was that of a shining body of light, no more, but in moments, this body had begun to melt away, revealing beneath it the guise of a Man, tall, broad of shoulder and strong of body, bearing no weapons but clad in simple armor, and with a massive shield across His back. This was his guise as the Protector, the Guardian, Verweren the Forever Standing.

"Man's affairs are Man's to tend. It is Mine to defend them, but not Mine to guide them. I have set them upon the Path, but the Path is theirs to walk... This is why I, of all of Us, chose to rest first. My people can tend the flock of humanity without My Word to guide their every step. My Preserveri remain, and their work they shall continue to do, but must I keep My touch upon this rock? Must any of us remain to tend the flock? I defend the All, brothers, sisters. It is Mine to prevent the All from failing in its sole duty: existence."

He turned then, lifting an arm to indicate the world that They had crafted from the chaff of the universe.

"Is this to be My sole concern, brothers, sisters? Is this rock to be My sole reason for being? I do not accept this. I will stand for all eternity, guarding this world and all upon it for as long as I exist, but this cannot be My sole purpose. Nor can it be thine."

He turned back now, His eyes fixing each of his brothers and sisters that had chosen to attend in turn.

"The Saint's words have merit, Brothers, Sisters. The Saint speaks truth when He tells you that Man is more than a plaything for Our desires. I have Chosen My champions, My Warderi, My Salveri. These people will be My hands in this world. Have You not done the same, many of You? Will Your peoples not grow, spread, become more? I say unto Thee, allow them their freedoms, and You will find truth and worth in their choices. This world is not Ours; We did not truly create it. We shaped it, We guided its evolution, but We did not form it from Void and give it to the universe. Indeed, this race that We contend for now, this Humanity, they were not Our creation at all! Should We then strip from them the sole thing that allows them to exist as they are? Their existence is defined by a single characteristic, My Brothers and Sisters: Freedom of Will. And I ask each of You in turn... Allow them this single truth. Give them that Will. No longer should We force Our power upon this world. Listen to the Saint Asher's words, and hear His truths. I have already withdrawn My power, leaving only My Preserveri upon this world. And they have done their work well. Will You do the same?"

And the God of Guardians fell silent, allowing His brothers and sisters now to speak. What would they say?

Shamus

"Forget not, Gaurdian, that man is not the only race of the world." The Taibream had twisted his shape until he resembled a coiled snake. Tromlu continued. "Faidh, Orc, and the sleeping children of Tara'lar also inherit the earth."

"The Thief's withdrawl endangers them all."

Abysmal Lynx

Primal swam to the Cradle in the form of a turtle and addressed his fellow gods.

We must leave all the races of the world to do as they will. Can any living thing truly become strong when they are coddled? If we keep on meddling in the affairs of mortals they will never learn. We have touched them with our religions, that should be enough.

If we let the world grow as it wishes to, more Agrins shall spring up, but if we had not interfered with the world in the first place this war would never have turned out this way. Without the interference of gods, Solaris would have fought Agrin back to it’s mountain strongholds and Van, who has been working autonomously, would have been able to take it from behind and cured it of it’s blasphemous religion. As one godly work begot another it grew to the point where Solaris would have fallen without divine intervention and could have possibly threatened the world.

Primal then turned to Cable.

Cable, please return your gifts to the world, do not deny the beasts that became the orcs the gifts that they worked so hard to achieve. Cable, I ask you to imagine a world where the races of the world fall to two extremes, a world where the races are but beasts who squabble over pathetic morsels of food or land, a world where the races replace their hope and their will with faith so that they are like bees in a hive.

Cable, you should be proud of Oberon, for he chose his own path, one that can only be braved with hope and imagination. Oberon is free, is his disobedience not a form of worship? Do not worry about your followers Cable, although so many of them died, more will soon bloom like wildflowers in the spring.

Please Cable, return to the world.

INeedNoSalt

Cable, ethereal, ephemeral maybe, and prismatic as ever, she gave her response even as Primal spoke, simultaneous but with no overlap, and such is the way with gods; and on the world below, still the mortals awaited the return of the gods, still waited in one still moment.

Begging, dear brother, is unbecoming of a god; and I will deny what I see fit to deny. The world I see, and the faces upon it, and I do not see men and women deserving of my gift; let them live forever miserable, and ... hopeless ...

And Cable, in a manner much unlike that of a god, questioned herself and paused, steeled herself, spoke;

Withdraw the curse, she spat, and see to it that the mortals carry themselves. To see imagination cast aside in favor of faith, that disgusts me, and to see the veneration of imagination, of hope, as crimes, that makes me weep.

So come not to me, but to the Solar; and see him such that he calms his great form and gives gaze evenly to all men and beasts upon the Pebble. When this is done, then I will give my gift to all men, to the orcs and the fae and the faidh and all of them, and it will be theirs to keep, but not before.

Not when imagination is a threat to the mortal soul.

Silence, then, long in the quiet instant, before the faerie queen took on her own form, as bright and glamerous as any sprite but cast in darkness, shadowed, the form of the sidhe, and she struck the turtle, a harsh slap across his face, and hissed: Speak not to me of Oberon; it is not your place.

Horseshoe

Time still passed, however slowly it seemed to the Dieties, embroiled as they were in the debate. If they were to have looked down, they would have seen, ever so slowly...

Ojah had made his way within sight of the battlefield on horseback, cringing at the spectacle of the Asherite Cavalry destroying the ranks where clashed the Orcs and men of Agrin... his mind was frozen in the though that perhaps they sought to drive through the fray, confusing and scattering the combatants... this thought spurred him on, though his steed moved only so fast.

It seemed Ojah was right... for Argus, as he shouted incantations, his sword Aethafang, forged from one of the original shards of Asher's sword, surrounded its wielder in a wide nimbus of light. Argus hoped not to slay the entire force, but drive through them and scatter them to the winds, wheeling his cavalry between the battle and Solaris as soon as they were clear from the fray.

Frightening indeed was the spectacle of Argus and Aethafang, for it was an otherworldly sight, that blade made from the cold steel of Aesho, it's wielder the son of a God... and many of the orcs and the Agrin had already begun to flee from the sight.

And beneath the earth, however slowly, one of the agents of Solar burned ever toward the surface, its very presence like a blazing needle in Ojah's mind.

However slowly... time was running out for the Gods to settle their differences.

Abysmal Lynx

As hope fled from the world, the battle for Solaris took a strange turn. Upon seeing Argus’ mighty blade many of Agrin’s soldiers deserted, a small number of them even went so far as to fall on their own blades. As the battle seemed all but lost for the forces of Agrin, a strange change seemed to sweep over them. The greater majority of soldiers fighting for Agrin seemed to have come to the conclusion that the only thing in the world that had any worth at all was Agrin.

There where also many who deserted among the orcs and the Solarites, but a large amount of them became enraged and started fighting with reckless abandon. The orcs turned against the Asherites and Vagoth himself stepped forward to challenge Argus.

“Human! You think I’ll let you get away with this treachery? I swear my blade shall not rest until all followers of Asher are wiped from the planet.”

Vagoth charged Argus and was immediately cut down, but some say that a group of orcs who witnessed this event where the founders of a secret society known as the Blade of Vagoth, a group dedicated to the dominance of orcs over all life and to destroying the religion of Saint Asher.

GrimmyTOA

Solar regarded his sister -- her form small, her demeanour vulnerable, her gift a splinter in the mind. All conscious choices on her part, of course.

Ask me to give my gift of heat and light evenly, Cable, when you gave my gift so very liberally to the now charred husk of Solaris? Ask me not to burn your worshippers, when you burned mine? When you stole part of me and used it against my own? I think not. You have been too liberal with the gifts of others, and too stinting with your own.

I shall, in the spirit of compromise, offer two concessions: Your people shall be able to use small fires of the sort that warm cold homes and cook meals. No longer shall they stumble alone in darkness or perish in the cold. Also, I shall hold the main part of the curse in abeyance for three months out of every year, to allow them to experience the world that your actions have denied them.

But evenness? Acceptance of the crime you committed against my people? Never.

Solar waited.

INeedNoSalt

You meet a crime with a far greater crime, Solar, and that makes you a criminal as much as I.

Mortals are only mortals, and to me, they mean so very much but their lives mean very little. I would see them all faded into animalistic obscurity before I let your cruelty reach them.

No, this is unacceptable. You will rescind the curse wholesale, that those mortals who would idolize or idealize myself and mine would not live in fear; in return, I will bear your curse myself, and my children will bear your curse with me...

That is to say, dearest Solar, that your grievance is with myself and those who serve with me, and it us who will suffer your anger; the mortals are no more responsible for my actions than they are for yours, and I will not let them suffer for it.

Cable sighed. She wasn't enjoying this, didn't like where this was going.

GrimmyTOA

Solar thought for a moment. Cable was right, of course -- much as it burned him up to admit it.

In exchange for this concession you will allow your gifts to return to the world? If that is the case, then DONE. As a gesture of conciliation, I will also allow the three month abeyance to remain, and apply to both your servants and you yourself. A final word: please, little sister, hear me when I ask you to not test me so again. Twice is quite enough, and my forbearance has been strained almost to the breaking point.

For now, though, I am assuaged. Unless any of my kin have further words for me, I shall return to my observatory...

Solar left the unspoken question hanging in that shattered, shattering second.

INeedNoSalt

And Cable agreed.

And Hope, Imagination returned to the Pebble.

KrataLightblade

And the Voice of Verweren rang forth like the peal of a thousand bells ringing in unison.

"So it is done, so it Shall Be."

And with that said, Verweren fell silent.

* * *

As Above, so Below.

The accord reached Above echoed throughout the universe, as Cable and Solar's twin power flashed to life everywhere and nowhere at once. Gifts, freely given once, now given at a cost, returned to those they had been intended for.

And the Preserveri rose into the sky, their voices chiming as one with the Voice of the God of Guardians.

"So it is done, So it Shall Be. Let there be Light once more."

And a brilliant, blazing, burning Light shone once more over the battered city of Solaris. The light of Solar, the light of the Sun, shone with brilliance enhanced by the days of shadow that led up to this very moment. All who beheld it were struck momentarily blind, and in this one second, with the Light of Solar and the Hope of Cable returning, time stood still once again, though this time for no divine mandate, as every living being on the field stood transfixed by the might of Solar, flooded with the renewed Hope of the Thief God, and bound by the booming voices of the Nine.

"'Til Night next falls, may no mortal blood be spilt."

Shamus

The shape of the Taibreamh again shifted as scales gave way to black feathers. Faistine preened his feathers, listening with interest as Solar and Cable laid down the groundwork of their compromise. When it reached an accord, the Sleeper was pleased. He could feel imagination return to the words, and the dreams of the mortals once again shape his realm. All was as it should.

"Perhaps in dreams, I can offer solace to the damned.." Faistine murmured.

"Something must be done.." Faistine paused a moment in thought. "To prevent a similar catastrophe from affecting the Egg again."

Horseshoe

The clash between the Asherites and the other armies at Solaris was brutal... and short. Never had the Orcs or the Agrin seen the full power of heavy cavalry, and the second charge of the Asherites had been ruinous. The men of Agrin fled, but the Orcs fought back with ferocity. Vagoth rallied his berserkers and charged towards the advancing Asherites on foot.

“Human!" he bellowed at Argus in challenge, "You think I’ll let you get away with this treachery? I swear my blade shall not rest until all followers of Asher are wiped from the planet.”

Vagoth's powerful frame propelled his weapon with ferocity at Argus' horse, and cut the white steed out from underneath it's leader. Argus rolled away and picked himself up from the ground, drawing his greatsword. The Son of Asher still shone with a brilliant light, the silver holy symbol around his neck blazing as if with a white flame.

You are a lawless beast who speaks of my treachery and swears to destroy me in the same breath? snarled Argus, Your savagery betrays your true intent, Orc!

Vagoth reeled as Argus attacked, a flurry of blows striking the mighty Orc down in the blink of an eye. The Orcs looked on in horror as their powerful leader fell before this shining enemy... it was too terrible to behold. And, as if in answer, the great shadow lifted from Solaris as Vagoth spit his last breath.

The cries of victory rang out among the Asherites as the Orcs began to scatter, fleeing in many directions at once. Argus, battered and stained in blood, raised his sword to the heavens.

"The Light of Saint Asher shines clear and true this day, men! Victory belongs to the righteous, for Solaris has been cleansed of the shadow and is safe once again!"

Hi I'm Vee!

Deep within the confines of the Cavern, Vizana plotted. A boon, indeed, that such conflict had been stirred without any prodding from her, for it was from the dissonance of violent death that she drew her power.

For far too long has the Cavern remained barren. It is time that I filled it with souls of evil and avarice.

And Vizana flew to Solaris, and though the truce had momentarily stilled the cries of battle, she walked among the souls of warriors killed in the days before, and whispered sweet temptations to them. She spoke of power and wealth, of eternal life and carnal pleasure. There were many noble souls who refused, eventually taking their place in the realm of the dead in Aesho, but there were a great many more who fell victim to Vizana's promises. It was not long before the Cavern was noisy with the sound of vicious and arguing souls, awaiting the day when Vizana would call them to once again march upon the lands from which they had been so violently torn.

And Vizana waited.

Horseshoe

In the Battlefields of Aesho, the God of Paladins felt the a great disturbance.

It rang out through the cosmos as new troops came to his ranks... for many of them were missing. A new force had arisen, and across the gulf of the ethers he could hear its voice. It was seductive, and sang to the dead souls of the earth of wonderful things, only to pull them into darkness and demise.

Asher grimaced.

Preparing for yet another battle against the Hordes of Daevak, he addressed his men.

My soldiers, my sons of valor... though we fight in this afterlife for glory, and for the protection of innocent souls, there is a greater conflict for which your skills in battle are honed. No longer do all souls pass here to Aesho, where they may choose to join the ranks of Asher or Daevak.

There is an Enemy. One who seduces men with their words and subjects them to great torment upon capturing them. One who seeks to undo Glory, Valor, Law, and even Mercy itself.

Though across the Infinite Divide, even I can divine little of her intentions... but of this much I am certain. She is amassing and army, and one day she will attack. Her wrath will be terrible, her chaotic fury swift and without mercy or honor. And on this day, I will lead you, the Host of Aesho, against her and defend the world of the Mortals.

Whom shall go with me? And whom shall I send to defeat her on that day?

The host shouted back, in the tongue of Aesho:

ADSUM! MITTIS!

ADSUM! MITTIS!

ADSUM! MITTIS!

The Host of Aesho roared and cheered. They and their leader had a new purpose... to one day save the world of the mortals.

((for the record, "Adsum, Mittis" = "Here am I! Send me!"))

Horseshoe

In the aftermath of the battle for Solaris, Argus and his Commanders gathered upon the field.

"The battle is not yet won, men. Though we have scattered the enemy, there is much to be done.

"Captain Mathias, you will take cavalry and footmen back to Solaris, and you will make sure the city is secure. I am certain what remains of these Orcs will muster their warbands and raid this place one day to seek vengeance for this battle. All heard the voice of Vagoth, even among the din of battle... and if they have even a fraction of man's conviction, they would see his desire be fulfilled.

"I and the Warpriests, with a small contingent of Cavalry and Footmen, shall remain here to see to the dead. Morganus, I shall need your wisdom most of all. See that the wounded who yet lived are healed. All of the wounded Morganus, for we shall show mercy to all mortal lives, whether they be Asherites, these men of the south, Solarians or Orcs. Friend and foe alike must know the mercy of Asher.

"I shall take a small number of priests to see to the dead. We shall help shepherd them to the next life, and see that the corpses are properly burned upon the field so that they may go to the afterlife upon the winds of smoke.

"After we have tended to the wounded and the dead, we will meet you in Solaris with haste. Go, and may the Light of Asher guide you."

Argus' men complied, and immediately followed his orders. Matthias led the greatest force back to Solaris, to secure its fortifications against any further attack.

***

Morgannus and the priests who were most skilled in healing searched for the living and tended to their wounds, making a makeshift infirmary to be guarded by the footmen, mostly swordsmen and halberdiers. He was impressed by the orcs, for many of those that still could be saved had taken wounds that would have slain a man. One stirred as he tended to its wounds, its eyes fluttering open.

"Be still, Orc." said Morganus in his deep and gentle voice, "You shall come to no harm under my hand. The battle is over, and you must allow yourself to heal. You yet live, and shall become strong again under the Mercy of the Asherites. Rest."

***

Elsewhere, upon the field, Argus and his men tended to the dead, sorting them by race and faction so that they could go to the afterlife in ranks, as proper soldiers.

But something was amiss as he and the Warpriests gave their prayers... something dark and unseen crept about the battlefield. He could feel it calling to the dead... an Evil and seductive presence that sought to pull them to somewhere other than Aesho, somewhere not in the firmament but deep and dark. It made him shiver, and brought a shiver to his body.

"Be quick!" he shouted to the priests, "Some fell presence is in this place that seeks to gather the souls and damn them... we must save them!"

The prayers of the Asherites grew louder in unison as they tried to push back this evil tide...

Asher, Rex gloriæ, libera animas omnium fidelium defunctorum de pœnis inferni et de profundo lacu.
Libera eas de ore leonis, ne cadant in obscurum; sed signifer sanctus Asher repræsentet eas in lucem sanctam.
Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus, Dominus Deus Sabaoth; pleni sunt coeli et terra gloria tua.
Benedictus qui venit in nomine Asher. Adsum, Mittis!

Though their powers were great and summoned the light of their patron, the Asherites could not save all the fallen souls of the battlefield... Men and Orcs alike had been seduced by this call.

"This is a foul portent indeed", thought Argus, "Our battles must not only be fought in the names of Good and Law... but all men must be saved... all mortals must be given Asher's mercy lest they fall to this Enemy."

Abysmal Lynx

As Verweren’s order took hold of the world and the fighting ceased, the Asherites claimed victory. The orcs fled the battle, the majority of them fled back to their ships or to the newly sprung forest in the desert, a few orcs rushed off to the south, plotting their revenge on the Asherites; the rest, mostly Shaman and Shamanka, fled to the city of Solaris.

Vaki, the eldest Shamanka of the remnant orcs said to Ugabuz, the second eldest Shaman, “Ugabuz, this unnatural peace must be the work of the gods. I will confront the leader of the Asherites and see why he attacked. I can only hope this peace holds until my goal is accomplished or I must retreat.”

Grimfaced Ugabuz only nodded before Vaki went off in the direction of the Asherite camp.

The orcs soon reached the gates of Solaris. Ugabuz approached Ojah and asked him, “Ojah, great priest of Solaris, we ask you for sanctuary from the Asherites who assaulted us during the battle with no provocation, at least until our leader gets back from speaking with them.”

Under the setting sun of Solaris, Ugabuz awaited his reply.

Shamus

"Father, have you heard the Taist tribe trade with men?"

Draiodoir, of course, had seen the first fateful meeting between man and the Fáidh tribe that made their home in the northern grasslands. But it was not the first time he humored his son, as they sat overlooking the western seas. Behind him, he could hear the echo of the Farria tribe's songs, and the rumble of their drums. The sang to the Svedre, giving thanks for the bounties of his ocean. "No, I haven't."

A smile spread across the boy's face. "North of Beithulir's Haunt, in the forest that the Taist obtain their wood from."

"And who told you this?" Draiodoir had suspicions, but waited for the boy's answer.

"Hitok.." Claíomh had found a stone and proceeded to throw it over the cliff, as far as he could. "He told me they are men unlike the ones from the Burning City, with skin as black as the night sky. And they have a King, who lives deep within a mountain, and who is old as the stone around him.."

"Velbog.." It was not the first time, nor did he expect it to be the last time, that he began to worry what Hitok was teaching his son in the dreams that was the old orc's world.

Claíomh's eyes widened. "You know him, Father?"

"Unfortunately, too well..the bastard continues to cheat death. What does he hope to gain from the Fáidh?" The Vassal smiled and shrugged. "I've heard stories, but never have seen him."

"Oh.." The boy looked dissapointed for a moment, but quickly brightened. "Perhaps Ahlam will wake tommorow."

"Yes, perhaps.." Draiodoir looked out into the horizon. The Taibreamh had returned from the meetings of deities, momentarily at ease as Cable returned her gift to the world. While his lords now slept, Draiodoir continued the task set before him. The final pieces were in place for it's inception. He looked at his son. These moments are passing all to quickly..

"Tommorrow is a new day."

GrimmyTOA

Ojah regarded the Orc standing before him. The events of the last few days had been excessively trying, exceedingly confusing, and extraordinarily tiring. Ojah fancied that he felt himself aging with every breath.

The fact that he was involved in a life-or-death battle of wills with a seventy foot long subterranean Firefish was not helping either. He nodded -- it was the only movement he trusted himself to make without collapsing.

"You and yours will find safety within what remains of our walls -- as will all who come with peace in their hearts. This includes the Asherites who came to help us, and who already help to tend to our wounded and fallen along with their own. Solaris has no need for further violence. Any who come with malice or avarice in their souls, however, had best turn and run as fast as they can. Solaris will stand, not kneel."

With a great -- if silent -- effort, Ojah convinced AR to retreat a few hundred feet farther into the core of the earth. Hopefully the crisis woud soon pass entirely, and the Salamander could be dismissed without disaster.

Ojah stood aside to allow the leader of the Orcs to pass through the gates. Riders went out, skirting the still-glowing and half-molten patch of sand, to take Ojah's words to the leaders of the various armies around Solaris.

Abysmal Lynx

General Nicus was shocked by the outcome of the battle, for he had not lost a battle since he first started commanding; and that was almost 25 years ago.

This was definitely unlike any of the other battles he had led; he had never fought another modern force, only tribes. Another problem was that the enemy seemed to have supernatural powers on their side.

General Nicus shifted a little and let out a sigh. The next battle was going to be a hard one, but at least he knew what he was up against now.

Reinforcements would soon arrive, larger then the force he had commanded before, but unless he could utilize them properly then it wouldn’t do him any good.

Suddenly the silhouette of a man stepped out of the shadows of General Nicus’ tent.

“Who are you?” asked Nicus as he stood and reached for his sword.

“I am one who has watched over your people for a long time now. I have helped you slay your enemies and torture the heretics. I have watched you plow your fields and bend the people to your will. I am the heart of Agrin. If you have to know me by name you may call be Primal.”

The General immediately prostrated himself before the figure cloaked in darkness, “Why do you speak to me oh bringer of life? I am not a Druid, I am but a lowly soldier.”

The shadow seemed to grin, “Now now Nicus, don’t be so modest. You are the greatest General in Agrin; you should be proud of you accomplishments. I’m here to help you. Agrin needs you Nicus, I can lead you to victory. Take my hand and we will crush these savages together.

General Nicus stood up and slowly grasped the hand offered to him. The hand and the body connected to it dissolved and engulfed Nicus as it flowed into him.

Agrin was not going down without a fight.

GrimmyTOA

The armies of Agrin came again, and Ojah knew that it was time.
The armies of Agrin came again, and Ojah finally, blissfully, relaxed his restraints on the monster underfoot.
The armies of Agrin came again, and Ojah died -- the price paid to Solar for the use of His left hand.
The armies of Agrin came again, and so came AR.

The first ranks didn't have a chance. Others might have time to flee, but not these unfortunates. Human, horse, armour, lance -- all swept away in the torrent of molten fire that surged free into the waning sunlight.

Like a breaching salmon, AR leapt from the trembling earth. Fully thirty feet into the air it soared, paused, and plunged back down towards the horrified hosts of Agrin. As the firefish slammed into the ground (its scales searing flesh and bone and stone as it passed), the earth itself shook. For a moment there was silence -- or at least, the screams of the wounded and dying seemed quiet in comparison to the roaring passage of the demigod.

The silence dragged on for a few seconds, the Agrinian advance momentarily paused.

And then... and then... AR erupted again from the earth, magma-bright eyes grinning. And then the Agrinians began the serious business of dieing.

Shamus

"Belief shapes the world, my son."

The words hung in the air as the fire crackled. Draiodoir watched his son absorb the words, before continuing.

"There exists a tribe of orcs, different from those who worship Primal. True, they believe the story of Kraton and the founding of their line. But on their windswept plains, they worship their fallen. Those who die in the wars that plague the plains, few of these orcs meet death at old age, are cast into ritual pyres. Their ashes form the war paint the tribes use, so that they may go into battle with the strength of their brethen.

There is one singular member of this group. They call him Luvah. Among the kahns of the plains, he is the greatest."

The child's ears perked up and his eyes took on a different light.

"Will I one day meet this Kahn?"

Claíomh's words caused Draiodoir to pause. In death, my son.. His face did not betray his thoughts, and he mearly shook his head as he continued on with the tale.

"Luvah possesses one singular quality that seperates him from his peers; ambition. He is not content to be kahn, or even unite the tribes with himself poised as khagan. No, he possesses one singular goal and the will to achieve it."

Draidoir licked his lips, which had gone dry.

"Godhood."

Abysmal Lynx

As AR burst from the ground and dived in the general direction of what was once Nicus, he suddenly stopped. The sounds of burning flesh emitted from underneath the salamander as it flailed about wildly. The grip on AR suddenly loosened, but as he began to burrow underneath the sand once more, he was yanked out by his tail and flung the great distance towards the approaching forces of Solaris. A pure black man with swirling features wearing a suit of burned human flesh and armor stood where AR had been moments before; and as Solaris’ soldiers burnt under the thrashing salamander, the man-suit grew over the shadow man until Nicus stood there once more.

General Nicus looked on the havoc he had wrought with a smile on his face, “AR, you’re going to have to try harder then that if you want to stop us.”

General Nicus turned looked at his men, “Take the attack to the Solarians, you should be able to mop things up here. After that, attack the Asherites.” If AR doesn’t take care of you first that is.

Somewhat off put by their leader’s informality, but not ones to disobey orders, the soldiers charged.

General Nicus walked off in the direction of a few Asherite scouts. When the Asherites recognized that he was a soldier of Agrin, they fired their arrows. With inhuman speed Nicus charged forward; the few arrows that hit him didn’t seem to bother him. General Nicus drew a sword with a black blade and cut down the Asherites.

General Nicus put a war horn to his lips and blew twice, a group of soldiers charged the poorly defended northern gate and two other groups flanked the Asherites.

The General walked towards the battle between the Asherites and the Agrinians enjoying the carnage and hoping to slay the child of Saint Asher.

***

A group of orcs came forward to help the city guards repel the Agrinian invaders. The berserkers jumped off the tops of buildings and the walls of the city in order to surprise the enemy and get directly into the fray, the warriors joined the guards in trying to keep the soldiers contained, and the Shaman and Shamanka stood back and started to hum. The beast masters ordered the wolves to attack and tossed vials of male velocigeier pheromones at the Agrinian soldiers; upon doing this, the newly released war velocigeiers went forth to deliver their painful poisons.

As the Shaman and Shamanka hummed, the rats and stray dogs of the city came out of hiding and joined the fight. They then went forward to fight, some armed, others such as Ugabuz went in armed only with the hands and teeth they had been born with.

Horseshoe

The Asherites had constructed a war camp outside of Solaris... the situation did not make any sense. Orcs had appeared to have taken the city, and were now fighting the Agrinian men. The Asherites had made themselves busy tending to the wounded in the tents, man and Orc alike. War was a simpler thing in their homeland... a straightforward and honorable business. Here, in the West it seemed there was only Chaos.

Argus and Captain Mathias surveyed the battle below from the hill of their camp.

"What do we do?" asked Mathias, "This is unfathomable... I can hardly discern which of these--"

Mathias' words were cut short as The Ar emerged from the ground, its fury of flames wreaking havoc among the Agrinian invaders.

"Sword of Asher..." Mathias whispered, almost breathlessly... "What is that?"

"It is a being of the Old Times, the days when my father walked the earth." said Argus, quite flatly. "It appears that the disturbance I felt before we voyaged was greater than the burning of Solaris. Something much greater is at work here."

The Asherites looked on in awe as the flaming supernatural creature dove again and again through the earth as easily as a dolphin through the water, consuming all that passed it. Until suddenly, what had appeared to be a man threw the Ar aside as easily as any writhing fish.

Argus' face steeled as he drew his sword.

"My Lord, you--"

"This foe is beyond any man," growled Argus, "This is one of the Natterlings... a Chaos Beast of the Old World. It was thought that my father Asher had slain them all... but it seems one yet remains. This is why we are here Mathias... this is our true purpose."

"But you said that this foe is beyond any man!"

"I am no man, Mathias, as you well know. I am the son of Asher, He of the Flame of Aesho, He Who Ends Strife... he who dedicated his time on this earth to hunting the Natterlings and bringing an end to their foul deeds... and the Natterling shall recognize this."

Argus raised his sword Aethafang, its light already begin to intensify as it felt the presence of the Natterling.

"This is the steel of Aesho, forged from the shards that broke upon Ngugu and Kiteph in the Forest of Cable long ago..." said Argus, "and it shall bring Justice once again."

"But what are we to do, General?"

"Rally your Cavaliers and see that the Agrinians are crushed. Leave the Orcs alone. We shall deal with them later. I will handle the Natterling."

***

As the Asherite cavalry ripped into the ranks of the Agrinians, their leader strode toward Agri'ka... as he drew closer Aethafang shone brighter and brighter in his hand. The holy symbol that hung from his chest began burn bright, and the Son of Asher was surrounded in a nimbus of light, a pale flame like the glow of Aesho in the night sky.

"Harken, Natterling! Today your tyranny and your corruption of these men is at an end. I am Argus, the Son of Asher, and like my father before me I shall banish you to the outer darkness with the cold steel of Aesho!"

Argus, his burning sword held high and shield in hand, charged Argri'ka.

"GLORIA, ASHER! ADSUM, MITTIS!"

Horseshoe

As the battle raged around them, Argus charged toward the Natterling. Agrin'ka had now thrown off the appearance of Nicus and assumed a form truer to his nature... a dark shadow thinly shrouded in burnt flesh and twisted metallic armor. The abominable Natterling wielded a great barbed morningstar, which smoked without flame.

"Foolish mortal," growled Agrin'ka, his voice seeming to come from no source, "Though you be the son of a God, I shall break you and make you suffer before me... and your death shall be payment for your father's judgement of my brothers!"

The clash of Aethafang and the Agrin'kas great mace rang over the battlefield. The auras of the two combatants, light and shadow, seemed to twist and fight around them as their weapons struck and parried. Their fight seemed to shake the very earth about them.

As his shield was impaled and spikes penetrated deeply into his left arm, Argus fought the pain and struck Agrin'ka with a mighty blow, spraying the black shadowy blood of the Natterling in a wide arc. The Natterling howled in pain, and reeled back, throwing Argus' shield aside.

The duel raged on, and the great Natterling, though wounded, fought with even greater ferocity. His inhuman strength finally overcame Argus... with the butt of his morningstar, he struck Argus in the abdomen, and then followed by smiting his stunned opponent directly in the head. Argus' helm shattered under the blow, and he was thrown away from Agrin'ka... his body broken, his face torn.

Agrin'ka cackled as he picked up Argus' eye from the ground, and looked to see the Son of Asher trying to stagger up from the ground, blinded and searching frantically for his sword.

"This shall be a fine token of my victory," sneered Agrin'ka, "Perhaps I shall take the other as well!"

As the Natterling drew back his weapon for the coup de grace, the ground beneath him roared and buckled.

"No..." barely escaped his lips before the AR emerged from the ground beneath him, its mouth of flaming fangs engulfing him, snapping off only the hand that mockingly held the eye of Argus. The great salamander lord dove again into the ground, its bowels already incinerating the dread Natterling, leaving a great till of molten rock in its wake.

Argus staggered to his feet, holding himself up with Aethafang as his clerics rushed to his aid. The black scars upon his body he would bear for the rest of his life... and even his descendents would be marked with dark scars mirroring his own. As the priests cleared the blood from his face and his eyes came back into focus, Argus looked down upon the burning remains of his duel.

"Victory belongs to the righteous once more," he managed to whisper through a blood-filled mouth, "but this day, it is not mine to claim."

Barely conscious as the priests dragged him from the battlefield, Argus prayed softly.

Sancte Asher, defende nos in proelio, contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium. Imperet illi Deus, supplices deprecamur: tuque, Princeps militiae coelestis, Natrax aliosque spiritus malignos, qui ad perditionem animarum pervagantur in mundo, divina virtute, in infernum detrude. Adsum... Mittis...

Abysmal Lynx

As what was left of General Nicus was consumed by AR, the Agrinian army became demoralized. Most of the soldiers surrendered, those that didn’t where killed.

An Asherite soldier approached one of the priests near Argus’ tent, “We captured an orc women; she keeps asking to see Argus.”

The priest answered immediately, “For what reason would Argus want to see her?”

The soldier looked down, “She says she’s a priestess.”

The priest sighed, “Argus is not in any condition to see anyone right now. When he wakes up I’ll ask him, but until then tell her to wait.”

“At once,” said the soldier as he went back with his message.

***

General Davus stood on a hill several miles away from Agrin. To his back was his army, now bolstered with various tribes, freed slaves, and orcs.

Davus was worried, there should have been more patrols this near the city and the slave camps should have had more guards.

One of General Davus’ commanders approached him, he saluted before speaking, “Sir, the scouts have returned. They say the city is under defended. They managed to capture a member of a recon unit; he says there is a war going on to the north. What are your orders sir?”

General Davus looked back towards the city of Agrin, “Tell the men we attack at dawn.”

“Yes sir,” said the commander as he went off to tell the soldiers the news.

General Davus went back to his thoughts.

***

Primal looked on at the souls of the dead soldiers, most went to Aesho, a few where drawn towards Vizana’s sweet promises, but a few who did not want to go off into the afterlife. Primal looked and he saw the souls of those who where not ready to except death wandering the planet.

”To those who wander through death and are not yet ready to meet Daevak, I grant you a new chance at life. May those who choose the path of reincarnation find satisfaction in their new life.”

Many of those lost souls went on to be reborn, but some could still not give up their old existence and stayed behind. One such soul was Nicus.

”Nicus, why do you choose to stay here?”

Nicus looked at Primal, “I am not worthy of forgiveness. The god I followed was never you, but always that natterling.”

”You may have followed a false Primal, Nicus, but their was no way for you to know before it was too late. Go back to the world and when you mature once more, serve me and spread my teachings.”

Somewhere in Agrin a baby was born, and someday, although he would not know why, he would become a Druid.

Horseshoe

Abysmal Lynx wrote: »

As what was left of General Nicus was consumed by AR, the Agrinian army became demoralized. Most of the soldiers surrendered, those that didn’t where killed.

An Asherite soldier approached one of the priests near Argus’ tent, “We captured an orc women; she keeps asking to see Argus.”

The priest answered immediately, “For what reason would Argus want to see her?”

The soldier looked down, “She says she’s a priestess.”

The priest sighed, “Argus is not in any condition to see anyone right now. When he wakes up I’ll ask him, but until then tell her to wait.”

“At once,” said the soldier as he went back with his message.

Almost immediately a shout came from the tent.

"What did he just say?"

It was unmistakably the voice of Argus, though a bit muffled and gravely.

"My Lord, you must rest, for--"

"Quiet, Morgannus! I am the leader here, and if there is one who has authority to parley with me, I shall meet them... be they Orcish, female, or otherwise. Tell them to bring her to me."

The guards immediately complied, despite all of the protests that Priest Morgannus continued to voice.

***

The priestess, flanked by guards, was led to Argus' tent. These humans were so strange... so... orderly. All dressed alike, marching in time, everything painstakingly arranged even in a battlefield, everything had to be "just so" with them.

"When you meet Lord Argus, you will momentarily lower your head in respect, and look him in the eye when you speak to him. You will allow him to speak first, and answer his inquiries directly. Disrespect and dishonesty will not be tolerated in his presence, nor will heathen prayers or sorcery of any kind. All of these infractions are easily divined by our Priest Inquisitors. Failure to comply with these conventions of parley will result in immediate judgement."

Parley? Judgement? More rules... and then rules about the rules.

Finally they arrived at the tent... a perfect cube of canvas, a squad of men and priests standing in orderly attention before its entrance, which was emblazoned with what appeared to be a broken sword. It struck her as the perfect symbol for these people... hard, militant, and very broken. Primal's world was not enough for them... to these humans it was something to be molded and shaped with force, never orderly enough, never strong enough... never holy enough. Misguided heretics.

"This Orc has asked to parley with you, my Lord, and we have brought her to you as you have requested."

The Orcs had seen their share of war and bloodshed, and a priestess had indeed seen much of it that day... but upon beholding this man she could not supress a small gasp. Argus was being treated for his wounds, and emerged clad only in white cleric's vestements that were draped around his waist. By the appearance of the bandages covering his chest, arms and face that seeped red blood and black ichor... he should have been dead. Outside the bandages and beneath the weeping wounds she could see his veins tinged with the black corruption of the Natterlings.

For all these reasons he should have been dead... an Orc twice his size would have been. But there he stood upright, as all his soldiers did, though the pain he was in could not have been more apparent. He was not a man... he was something more. He greeted her with a terse bow of his head.

"As you claim to be a speaker for the Orcs, I have granted you audience. But I have had enough of your people following us and afflicting humans with your sorcery. Your methods and tactics are barbarous and uncivilized... you are reckless and have--"

Argus had agitated himself too much. He coughed and wheezed, spitting a wad of blood and ichor from his mouth... his patience was strained, but his constitution moreso. His attendants reached to support him and he swatted them away and straighted up to his full height again, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth.

"My mood is colored by my wounds this day, which as you can plainly see... are black. I have not the temperament for dawdling and idle banter. What is your business with me, Orc?"