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#Post#: 160--------------------------------------------------
Kingdom Lore: Inheritance
DIR By: Gallowtree
Date: September 27, 2020, 5:58 pm
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My local game store, Black Knight Games, was doing some fun
stuff during COVID for the last few months. One of the contests
was for a story hook, or intro into a DnD campaign. I could not
resist! I won some nice gaming swag for my trouble, and I ended
up putting together a lot of material for the campaign,
subsequently, because, again, I could not resist. This was my
entry:
Kingdom Lore: Inheritance
Seven riders rode out from the pentagonal ring of greenish-grey
felgrieve waystones, the coarse, dark fur of the great wolves
they rode upon bristling with the meandering flow of energy
coursing through the ancient stones. The rider’s cloaks and
heavy hoods, festooned with layers of verdant vines and leaves,
waved in the rush of the breeze as they urged their mounts
onward, quickly! The great wolves barked and howled as they
leapt forward! From the sanctity of the felgrieve ring, an old
man in humble brown robes, frayed and mud-skirted, watched after
the riders, one silvery-white eye open to witness their passage,
the other of brilliant green orb open to the sights privy to but
a select few, for there approached in this time a reckoning…
For there was a ring of ancient stone on the eternally-evergreen
groves of the great Evawyld Woods in the central region, and
beyond the frontier where the stones kept their vigil, there was
a wide, shadowy valley to the east where thunder rolled in the
gathering gloom, minus clouds, and cries were heard in the
gloom, minus voice, and everywhere upon that blighted field that
the old man looked, there was a dawning menace minus a master…
The leader of the riders threw back her hood, keeping a strong
grip on the horn of her saddle, her eyes narrowing as they
peered ahead towards the distance. Her protruding tusks, dark,
spiky locks, and greyish skin
spoke of her savage heritage, but her eyes searched the way
ahead with a discerning eye. With her free hand, she motioned
for her fellowship to gather their strength…as one, the riders
reached back and drew long green-black felgrieve-bladed swords,
hammered on the altars of the Ansidhe themselves, from sheaths
of dekkaren oak wrapped in blackleaf, the long, elk-bone handles
bound in the gut of the first foe each rider had defeated as
they earned the right to wield such a blade with full honours!
They held them back and away from them in the stance of the
ess’edda, the ‘reaping wind’, their blades poised to strike down
and sweep across any foe to bestow disaster!
“To me, my Andouil, to me! We ride for our lords! To me!” their
leader cried!
She withdrew her own blade, a long, curved sickle of the same
make as her fellows, and held it on high!
From ahead, deeply sunken into the valley, she could see that
the gloom had gathered with a pregnant glee, and in that woeful
jubilation, a twisted working had begun! Sprouts of many bright
hues began to burst from the ground to wrap around each other,
each twisting member twice the height of a man and barbed with
nodules that flowered with flailing spines…they fell upon each
other, writhing and cavorting, the nodules bursting with a heavy
flow of blackened ichor that sizzled upon the ground as it
sloshed and splattered! The spines tore at the flesh, and each
sprout fell down with a finishing wound, turning from bright hue
to a dull, wretched white as their vitality was spent. As they
quivered in their final throes, the ichor began to pool about
them.
“Lords, no…” the leader of the riders whispered as she beheld
the blasphemous birth unfolding.
She uttered a savage cry as she desperately urged her mount
onward, and the words echoed as the elder language spilled from
her lips to break the gloom!
“Ess quen’a anna uentalith pon ques’kanna, eas ess daena ada mar
essa dankenna elowim!”
Her cry spurred her fellows forward with fervent devotion, and
their wolves howled as her words touched their bestial hearts
with the spark of and age long forgotten…
We are the precious light of the world…
The gathered ichor began to boil, oily bubbles growing like
unseeing eyes and bursting as forsaken power slithered across
the surface in rainbow-slickness!
Cast to deny the growing dark…
The bubbles increased as a single bulge began to grow and lift
from the centre, and the cries without voices grew louder!
We will defend it with our dying breath…
The bulge burst forth, showering the earth around it with
sizzling ichor! The black droplets fell, and rained down as the
gloom of the valley deepened! The riders drew ever closer!
And with the courage of our living hearts!
A pale-skinned woman, giant in stature, her naked young flesh
slick with the oily resin of her afterbirth, rose from the
ground to stand in the valley. The gloom began to gather around
her, an encompassing wreath of ominous intention. Rich, dark
veins of purple and black pulsed beneath her skin, and onyx
horns protruded from her forehead to form a jagged crown. As she
opened her violet eyes to look upon the world, the gloom wrapped
around her in folds of night, leaving her arms and head bare…
“A Commoragh! Lords protect us!” one of the Andouil cried!
“Ess’quen, antalith!” their leader rejoined, “To me, to me!”
The leader rose up and leapt from her wolf, her killing blade
held on high as her cloak trailed falling leaves upon the wind!
She dove towards the giantess as her wolf lunged! The giantess
frowned, and shouted!
“Ess…quen…alish…sidhe! You bleat like a frightened lamb…”
She batted the wolf aside with an effortless backfist, and with
the other hand, grabbed the Andouil out of the air! The leader
struck at her arm with her blade, sinking it deep into the
flesh. The giantess showed no notice as the wound dripped! The
six other Andouil came bounding in, striking at her from
wolfback!
The felgrieve blades splintered and scraped along the folds of
the giantess’ night-black gown, and only a few struck true
enough to cut her flesh! The riders began to rally behind her,
and she turned to address them.
“Bleat, little lambs!” she cried.
She lifted their leader up, and drove the woman down upon her
jagged crown, tearing the worthy blade of the Andouil from her
flesh in the process! The horns pierced the leader’s flesh, and
she gasped as the wicked barbs found her heart…a forlorn sigh
escaped her lips as she implored her fellows one last time…
“To…me…”
The Andouil rushed like an angry river towards the giantess as
she cocked her head to one side to accommodate the dead weight
of her vanquished foe. They struck at her in a rage, their
blades a whirlwind that bled chipping stone and blue-black
fluid! They had left their wolves, abandoning them to strike
hard, to land mortal blows! In moments, the giantess was a ruin,
her pale flesh hacked savagely in a dozen places, pieces of her
crown struck off, and her gown wispy as the darkness began to
unfold…
Around her, the Andouil stalked, preparing their blades to
strike as she faltered! She smiled as ichor dripped from her
wounds.
“Can you feel it, now?”
The Andouil moved to strike—
“For I can feel you.”
They stopped, and they noticed that they were now covered in the
ichor, spilled in their desire to close in and destroy
her…traces of it coated their arms, blackened their cloaks, and
even the wolves barked and snarled as the gooey stuff clotted in
their fur! Wherever it touched, it moved to reach their flesh!
The Andouil tore at themselves trying to remove it…some even
struck at their own limbs to rid their bodies of the creeping
blight!
The giantess cackled as the Andouil around her fell to the
earth, their bodies either succumbing to their wounds, or
twitching with the new life that roamed inside them to find
purchase…
“Oh my little black sheep…how I will delight in you…to me,
now...”
The giantess bent over and planted a loving kiss on the ruined
cheeks of the former Andouil, and caressed the oily fur of her
new furry abominations. Pale eyes opened to behold their new
mistress, and swirled with the chaotic energies of the monstrous
being. She rose from bestowing her gifts upon them. She turned
her head westerly, and her eyes became fixed upon distant
stone…step by step, she began to move towards them…
* * * * *
The old man in the brown, faded robes closed his eyes, and
sighed deeply. The energy below his feet quavered, and the
stones began to sing with the approaching doom. He stepped
deeper into the circle formed by the stones, into a deeply-set
series of felgrieve rings that focused his power, the ancient
runic language of the Ansidhe etched along every inch of the
rings, forming the song of life that had woven together this
very land. The threat of the Commoragh, long forgotten in living
memory, was real, as he had always said, and it was here. Their
agents had moved back into the land, and gained a foothold while
the ignorant continued oblivious of the danger, and the voices
of the wary became small, and seldom heard…
“There is still time,” he whispered, stepping into the centre
ring, “Time enough to send word…”
He focused on the deep wells of power underneath the circle, and
bowed his head. His spirit fell through the earth, through stone
and root, and grasped with will alone towards the flow that ran
through all such places…here he was not old, not young,
not…himself. Here, he was the will, and he rose back up to his
body bathed in the brilliance of his power!
“Go forth, upon the air,” he shouted, his head raised to the
sky, “Ess-et shia quen ela’breta! Gather the ones who would
stand! Seek to all corners! To the north, to the south, to the
west and east! From the rocks of distant shores, to the forests
deep, to gentle lands not yet beset! Bring word! Hearken to them
and let them believe!”
As he ranted and raved upon the wind, his body began to vanish!
As he spoke, each piece of him became luminous and white, and
tore off to become birds and butterflies, each astonishing in
their pure and brilliant hue! They erupted from the ring of
stones in a rising spiral, soaring and fluttering ever higher…as
they flew, they began to break apart, each drawn to a different
destination! The illumination filled the fields with a sudden
brightness that touched each blade of grass, and then, it was
gone.
Of the old man, nothing remained…and the stones were quiet.
///
Hope you enjoyed it!
#Post#: 173--------------------------------------------------
Re: Writing Challenge -- DnD Campaign Hook
DIR By: NamelessMystic
Date: September 28, 2020, 12:24 am
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You’re killing me, Smalls!
Where’s the rest? I have to know what happens!
#Post#: 175--------------------------------------------------
Re: Writing Challenge -- DnD Campaign Hook
DIR By: Gallowtree
Date: September 28, 2020, 8:03 am
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It was supposed to be the jump off for a campaign, but you know,
COVID.
#Post#: 176--------------------------------------------------
Re: Writing Challenge -- DnD Campaign Hook
DIR By: Gallowtree
Date: October 4, 2020, 8:28 pm
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1
The Shadows Come Calling…
The morning was cold and the sky was ‘moody’, as her father
called it, when the girl crept out from her bed just before
dawn, and stepped lightly across the chilling stone floor of the
hearth. She planted her feet on the furs that lay across the
floor where she could, steeling herself against the chill of the
bare stone when she could not, and took up her warm coat from
the chair nearest to the door when she reached the other side.
Opening the shutters of the window near the door a crack, she
gazed out at their yard and domain…the brooding quality of the
dark clouds that hung high above the glade down below gave her
pause in the moment of her journey. The grove and the pool down
the path from their cottage, next to the barn and far back from
the winter garden, was overgrown from a very damp snowfall, and
the pool was dark and frozen.
She gently closed the shutter, and listened for her father’s
gentle snoring from his bedchamber, down the hall from the
hearth. She closed her eyes. A moment passed, and then another.
There was a small shuffling from inside his room, and a creak as
he turned over in his sleep on the old down mattress, his large,
heavy frame ever testing the durability of the bed that he had
built with his own hands. A few seconds later, his snoring
resumed. Keeping an ear out, the girl took up her fur boots and
slipped them on her bare feet. She laced them carefully,
gripping them strongly as her father had taught her, and weaving
them evenly through the eyelets. She then stood, and quietly
swung the bar up from the door, letting it rest on the peg above
the frame. She gripped the iron knocker, and slowly opened the
sturdy wooden door. The dim light of the morning spilled in, so
she pulled her coat tightly around herself as the cold greeted
her, and went out into the yard.
She drew the door closed, and gave it a little tug at the end to
make sure it was tight. Satisfied, she stepped forward and onto
the stones of the path that led down the hill. She reminded
herself to grab a broom from the barn before she came up…the
night before had brought a light dusting of snow, and her father
liked the path to be cleared to the bare stone in case visitors
from the village came with any requests, as they often did
during the morning hours after most of the farm folk had been up
and brooding of their issues for hours already; her father was
an important man, and she understood that they had to make their
home welcoming, even though at times her father did not want to
be disturbed. It was the burden of his position, or so he said.
She knew that he took his responsibilities very seriously, and
would never neglect the people he had vowed so long ago to
protect. She was often shy of the visitors that came to the
house, and tended to go out to the barn to busy herself or play
around in the grove unless she was needed to serve a warm drink
to the guests, or to tie up their horses (of which the villagers
had few).
The inch or so of fresh snow crunched slightly as she moved down
the path. Except for that barest of noises, it was quiet out
there, not even an owl or a sparrow giving voice to break the
silence. She looked up at the dark clouds again. There was
something up there, of that she was certain, and it made her
feel very small. The silence had come with the clouds, she felt,
as if the forest was holding its breath as a large beast came
stalking by, on the prowl. A snowflake, heavy and wet, landed on
her cheek. The girl frowned, and drew her fur-trimmed leather
hood up over her head. She continued walking down the path, the
snow coming down in little clumps that would soon give way to
freezing rain. She could feel pressure behind her eyes as the
clouds moved in to hang over everything. She rubbed at her
temples as she reached the bottom of the path, and then took off
towards the grove.
As she approached it, clumps of heavy snow that had weighed down
the branches of the trees in the grove surrounding the pool
began to fall as the wind began to stir them. The branches began
to drip with the heavy wetness, and spatters of snow and
evergreen needles fell across the pool. The girl edged her way
into the glade, lifting aside a branch that dumped half a
snowbank across her feet in return for disturbing it. She kicked
the snow off her boots, and pushed her hands into the pockets of
her coat as the chill began to work its way up her sleeves. The
grove was a large copse of evergreens that her father had
planted the first day that he decided to build the cottage here,
or so her mother had told her. They were evenly spaced, and
straight and tall as the man who planted them. She laughed a
little to herself, for ‘Tall’ was the nickname that her father
had been given by the villagers who knew him well. His full name
was Tallwyn, so it made sense that he had been so aptly named.
It was her favorite place, for he had always told her that it
was special, that she would be safe there no matter what. She
gazed up at the snow-covered trees, and imagined them as tall,
strong men like her father, proud guardians with kind eyes that
gave her shelter on the worst of days.
Beyond the grove, the forest of Evawyld began. The forest
surrounded the little village, Caernwa, where they lived, and
went so far south as the Middlin Hills where the industrious men
of Dorrangal mined precious gems from the bowels of the Sentinel
Peaks, east to the great, grass plains of Dahuska and the fierce
tribes that hunted there and answered to no one, west to the
high cliffs and gentle sloping hills that overlooked the sea,
and north to where the greens gave way to silver and gold, and
the great boughs of the Bramblewood sheltered the domain of the
old lord who kept a weather eye over his territory, and to whom
they all owed their allegiance. A wave of strange and sudden
foreboding gripped her heart as she imagined these places, for
although she had heard many tame bedtime stories of places
beyond the village, other tales that she had traded with her
friends were much more terrifying. Those stuck with her, keeping
her awake as they had last night as she stared out the tiny
window of her room in the attic, and visions came unbidden to
her of things she had only considered in the light of day when
hushed whispers among friends came easy, and lent certain
comforts of disbelief that disappeared at dusk…
Tall, shadowy shapes stalked the forests, cold, pale blue eyes
shining in the dark, limbs encircled in thorns, skin like bark,
and stringy dark hair twined with leaves that shone silver in
the moonlight…mouths that were a sketch of sharp, angled teeth
encircling a hollow dark hole that moaned, and beckoned for
beating life to fill the emptiness that howled within!
A broken ruin of low walls surrounding a decimated tower at the
top of a hill cast long shadows across a path, and in the
shadows lingered gangs of tiny men, barely two feet tall, in
boiled leather with buckled boots with jaunty caps that were
red, wet, and dark…they looked out from the shadows with keen,
black, twinkling eyes, and scraped their tiny nails across
crude, stony blades that hung in deadly anticipation at their
waist!
There was the sound of striking hooves, and the low rumble of
the ground, tall willow trees and silvery grasses going by in
streaks of panic, a slow turn to look behind…riders drew close,
mounted on horses whose hides were scorched and lividly red,
manes oily and black, eyes pale and silvery, carrying spindly
forms wrapped tightly around their limbs with bindings that
slithered with colour and shape, wearing masks over their faces
that were renderings of jeering, hideous faces twisted out of
mortal proportion…they capered and laughed as they gave chase,
and there were piping sounds that leapt and swelled underneath
the ravening voices…!
The girl quickly placed her left hand over her heart, and bowed
her chin, her right hand held out at her side, as she was
taught. A language as old as the land came to her lips, and she
spoke quietly under the trees…
Qua‘ella qu’i Ansidhe daena qu’I weh kanna,
Eas qu’i soja dores qu’elowim,
Ishia ka’ana ta’esh qu’kenna,
Usa qu’esoja wehes uen…
I ask of my lords to protect me from the dark,
To walk with me all of my life,
To soothe the doubt that grips my heart,
And bring me back into the light;
There were few who could speak the old tongue, but she had
mastered it when she was young enough to form the words. Her
father knew some of it, but it was her mother who had felt it
was important for her to know, and had insisted on teaching her.
Her mother had been one of the Sidhe, the first mortal children
given the blessing of the Ansidhe themselves. She remembered the
lessons under the boughs of these trees, when she would kneel
down with her mother at the pool, who would whisper the lessons
in her ear, watching her daughter’s lips for the right shapes
and sounds…a tear, unhalted by time and distance, slipped down
her cheek to join in the dripping under the evergreens. The
looming darkness was slipping away as she recalled the powerful
stories that had accompanied her mother’s lessons about her
people and the legacy that the girl carried in her blood, but
the sorrow of the loss remained like a weight on her heart.
Other tears, squeezed from her with a sob, joined the first, and
she put her hands over her face as it became twisted up…this was
the face she could not bear anyone to see, especially her
father, whose own grief was a dark and angry thing that she
would not bait from him with her own. She tried to breathe
slowly to calm herself.
She reached into her coat, and withdrew the silver-handled iron
dagger from the sheath stitched into the lining, the metal cold
against her skin as she wrapped her fingers around the
leather-wrapped handle. She knelt down by the pool with her
dagger, right on the edge where the ice was most brittle, and
drove the pommel into it, smashing away at the half-melted
chunks that encrusted the dark water of the pool. She worked
away, making a large enough hole for her purposes; it was not
difficult, as the ice was very thin this morning, and broke
easily under her blows. She wiped the dagger on her coat, and
tucked it back into the sheath underneath. Breathing deeply, she
steeled herself for the next part, letting herself become calm.
It was not easy, and she could feel the oncoming sobs quavering
in the pit of her stomach.
She gritted her teeth, cupped cold water into her hands from
the pool, and then splashed it on her face to refresh herself.
The cold water streamed down her cheeks, and she felt the
singular numbness of it soothe her pain more than the prayers to
her lords had done. It was unlucky to admit it, but it was true;
the Ansidhe were a legend, a distant warmth that did bring some
hope to her, but it was the simple, cold truth of the water that
was helping her to steady herself in this moment. She kept at
it, washing her face until no tears remained, and her fingers
grew red and numb.
When she was done, she gazed down at the reflection in the
water…her deep blue eyes, glittering green near the iris, her
mother’s first gift to her, were framed by locks of red hair the
colour of late winter sunsets and blood trails. Her eyes were
still a little red, but no more tears moved towards the edges.
Her skin was pale like the bark of the bone-ash trees that grew
far to the north, where no people lived, and the quiet went on
forever. That was the wilderness to her, even though she had
never gazed upon many places beyond the village, the idea of a
place so untamed and strange appealed to some place in her that
the foreboding clouds had evoked. When she saw the clouds, she
knew that she had to find strength from something…the cold had
bidden her back to herself, and she felt immediate relief.
It was then, looking into the pool, that she realized she was no
longer alone!
In the dawn’s early light that had crept across the glittering
ice, she could see in its reflection a tall, dark shape that
stood behind her and to her right. It did not move, but stood
still, nary the slight steam of breath escaping it to show a
sign of its passing, the size of the visage broad and large,
cloaked and hooded in the morning gloom! The girl quietly
retrieved her dagger from its sheath, and turned it around in
her hand, reversing her grip for a quick attack that would allow
her to dash past the stranger once she had dealt a sudden,
cutting strike! The hood moved then, as she prepared herself, an
ever so slight tilt of the head within, as if in consideration.
This was her chance!
She turned to her left and pivoted onto one foot to start her
dash towards freedom, pulling her arms closer to her body to
conceal her blow. She moved to rush the stranger who had crept
up behind her! She leapt to move past, taking a vicious swipe at
the stranger with her dagger! There was a quick movement from
the stranger, a fluttering of shadows, and she stumbled past,
her hand suddenly empty!
She turned around to see a single, outstretched hand, holding
her dagger by the blade. The hand was massive, half-gloved up
the second knuckle of the fingers, and wreathed in a ragged set
of dark chainmail that hung loosely from the arm. At the end of
the fingers, there were short, black talons. As the dextrous,
clawed fingers spun the dagger a few times, the stranger’s hood
turned to examine it…the girl stared in wonder as the movement
caused the light to fall on the edges of the cloak…it was lined
with matted, patchy fur, worn after perhaps years in the
wilderness with twines of briar woven into the hood. In the
middle of the cloak, stitched in dark, frayed thread, was a
great old tree with bare branches surrounded by a crown of
briar; this was the sign of her family, the sigil of Gallowtree.
“It has balance, and a keen edge,” a gravelly, familiar voice
spoke from within the hood, “You have my respect, child, for
taking such care…”
The shadowy man turned to face her, and pulled his hood back.
His long black beard was touched with grey, his ruddy face rough
with tiny scars , and underneath his dark and shaggy eyebrows,
his pale green eyes locked onto hers. He held the dagger out to
her. She took it from him, and the put her comparatively tiny
hands around his big arm, and smiling as she remembered him.
“Uncle Kor,” she whispered, looking up at his face.
“Hello Shiara,” he replied, grinning as he looked down at her,
“I am so sorry that I am not here just to see you, but I need to
speak to your father about matters most dire…”
#Post#: 177--------------------------------------------------
Re: Writing Challenge -- DnD Campaign Hook
DIR By: Gallowtree
Date: October 28, 2020, 2:09 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
The Past, Awakened, and the Wounded
Shiara stood outside the door of the house with her uncle as her
father got dressed. The clouds that had made their way across
the forest as she had gone down to the grove were now nearly
directly overhead, and she gritted her teeth as the pressure
began to increase dramatically; it made her feel sick to her
stomach, and all she wanted to do now was jump pack into bed and
stick her head under her pillow! Her uncle, strangely, gave no
sign of any distress from the pressure. He sat on a large stump
near the door where her father had set down several such stumps
for people to wait while he attended to the other visitors – it
was always first arrived, first attended. Kormak’s large form
seemed to dwarf the stump.
He had kept his hood pulled back, exposing his matted black hair
to the slight drizzle that had started to fall as the
temperature rose slightly. Only his eyes moved as he sat there,
patiently, with his huge, clawed hands hanging between his knees
as he leaned forward with his elbows resting. A musty, heavy
odor hung in the air around him, and Shiara was reminded of
several of her father’s hunting trips, when they had laid out
the kill to gut and clean…in the beginning, it was hard for her
to be so close to the fearsome beasts that her father had to put
down, even when they were dead, but he let her touch them then
and again so that she wouldn’t be afraid. That same primal aura
emanated from Kormak. His eyes shifted from Shiara, to the door,
and occasionally to the sky above as they waited.
“Are you…hungry?” she asked him, not quite knowing what to say.
He looked down at his boots, and his clawed fingers twitched. He
shrugged, and his lip curled as he looked back to her.
“I’m always hungry,” he replied, “I know that I’ve been away for
a long time, so I understand that you may have forgotten.”
She moved close to him, and leaned in to look at his face.
“Are you…an oggra?”
He grimaced.
“Yes, but out of my love for you, please don’t ask anything
else…I cannot bear it.”
Shiara stepped back from him, and sat down on a stump near the
door. Kormak shifted uncomfortably on his seat, and rose to his
feet. He turned away from her, and looked up at the dark clouds.
“I apologize,” he said, quietly, “You were very young when I
left, and my…condition…was not as severe as it has become. If
there is time later, and you wish to understand, then we can
talk further.”
“Talk about…what?”
Shiara looked up as her father came out the door, dressed in a
heavy, woolen shirt and old leather breeches that were patched
and mended. He had his black bear hide housecoat over his broad
shoulders, and his dark blond hair was tied back and thrown over
his left shoulder. He had not shaved yet, so his beard was
grizzled and rough. Her father had spent many winters in a
comfortable life here, and had put on some weight, but his
strong frame still showed the bulk of muscles that he’d earned
in his career as a soldier before they settled here. He had
taught her to hunt, and defend herself should he not be around
to protect her, a prospect that Shiara found deeply troubling.
Kormak rose to his feet, and looked his brother up and down,
raising an eyebrow at Tallwyn’s chest. Her father stepped down
from the stoop, and stepped up to his brother. Kormak was a few
inches taller, which seemed strange to Shiara; her father was
the tallest man in the village, and it was unsettling to see
someone even taller, and bigger.
“Yes, I know, but what did you expect, coming back here?”
“I didn’t know…” Kormak managed, very quietly.
Tallwyn put his hand on Kormak’s shoulder.
“When was the last time you ate a meal indoors?”
Kormak shook his head, and grimaced.
“When was it you last stayed indoors?”
Kormak looked away, and her father grabbed his chin, raising it
to get a better look at him.
“Can you still come inside? Has it come to that yet?”
“I…can come in for a short time,” Kormak said, “But no more than
an hour. Some of us are made for the wilderness…even though they
may have forgotten.”
Tallwyn stepped back and put his hands on his hips. He let out a
short breath, and stepped back to the door.
“That will be enough of that, I think. Now, come in and tell me
why you’ve returned while Shiara fetches you something to eat
from the larder.”
“But I want to know what’s going on too!” she piped up.
Tallwyn smiled, and rolled his eyes.
“Yes, of course, Shi. Just get the food so none of us starve.
Some of that salted cod?”
Shiara smiled at her father, and stepped inside, past her
father, and into the house. She paused near the hearth as she
stood and watched her father come inside…then, her uncle came
in, ducking under the door frame as his matted hair scratched
along the top. He looked around the living room uneasily. He
looked over at Shiara, at Tallwyn, and pushed the door open as
wide as it could go. Tallwyn nodded at her as Kormak tried to
find a place to be in the room, and hooked a thumb towards the
larder. Shiara broke off from watching her uncle. She kept her
coat on as the chill of the morning crept into the room through
the open door, and passed across the hearth to go down the hall,
past her father’s room, and into the kitchen.
#Post#: 178--------------------------------------------------
Re: Writing Challenge -- DnD Campaign Hook
DIR By: Gallowtree
Date: October 28, 2020, 2:20 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Tallwyn watched his younger brother with a dread fascination as
he stalked slowly around the room, trying to find a place to
stand. His brother had aged considerably in the many years since
they had seen each other, and the strain of his affliction had
accentuated the tendencies and changes that were inherent;
Kormak was wilder, bigger, and more like an animal than his
brother had ever seemed. Whereas he had seemed calm outside,
collected and strong, once he was inside, Kormak was breathing
harder, his eyes were constantly searching the room, his clawed
hands were often twitching, and there was a near inaudible growl
coming from him. Kormak’s years of service to the Ansidhe had
done him no favours in mitigating his condition. Something in
Tallwyn’s chest felt fiery all of a sudden, in his gut where
he’d buried the past, and he clenched a fist to keep in control.
He had not slept well. There was something brewing outside…
intemperate, and dark. Tallwyn could feel it the moment he
stepped outside and saw his brother. It was at these times of
indecision and disturbance that he felt the most kinship with
his dark, brooding sibling.
“Seven years, brother,” he began, “Seven years since we parted
company, and now you return…why now? We have a quiet life here,
free from trouble, and I want to keep it that way. For her.”
Kormak turned to look out the window, resting his huge hands on
the sill.
“The stones…no longer sing,” he said, nearly a whisper.
The room became very quiet, and heavy snow became to fall
outside.
“What?”
“The stones no longer sing,” Kormak repeated, turning back
around, “And the circle is deserted.”
Tallwyn stepped back, and sat down in a chair near the hearth.
He leaned forward on one elbow, and his eyes moved over the
floor, his brow furrowed by sudden worry. Kormak was suddenly in
front of him, and dropped something in his lap. Tallwyn looked
down at a leather bundle tied up by twine. He looked up at
Kormak.
“Open it,” he said, “And you will know why I am here.”
Tallwyn shook his head, and undid the twine quickly. He quickly
pulled the leather bundle apart, and let out a breath as he saw
what was within…he gritted his teeth, and buried his head in his
hands, breathing heavily. For a moment, he couldn’t seem to find
his voice.
“Are you okay, father?”
They both turned to see Shiara step back into the living room
carrying a trencher of salted fish on ice chips, a loaf of wheat
bread, sliced and slathered with goat butter, and three steaming
clay mugs of arrowroot tea spiced with cinnamon. She looked at
Tallwyn with concern, and set the trenchers down on a low table
near the hearth. As she rose, she saw what he was holding. Her
face became blank and her eyes wide as she looked at it.
“What is it?” she asked, “It’s so beautiful.”
Kormak reached down, and lifted up the cloak from Tallwyn’s lap,
letting it unfold and expand as he raised it to his chin…it was
made of feathers, woven together in rows of different lengths,
longest at the bottom shortening towards the mantle. The
feathers were a dark emerald green mixed with others that were
pale as old bone, the thread linked together by small felgrieve
gems upon which were engraved with images of animals…bears,
wolves, tergara, eagles, even rats, owls, and ravens. The hood
was made of heavy, tanned leather that was the dark emerald
green of the feathers, and the swirling language of the Ansidhe
was burned into the material in graceful swirls and stark
accents. Shiara was puzzled though, as she tried to make out the
inscription…she tried to focus on it, but every time she did,
the letters moved out of shape, writhing into different forms…
“I don’t understand…” she whispered.
“There is no reason that you should,” Kormak said, setting the
cloak back down on Tallwyn’s lap, “That is the mantle of the
most trusted servant of an Ansidhe lord or lady, the sole
inheritor of their greatest measure of power. This belonged to
Mawdoc, the master of my order and commander of the Andouil. The
words written upon it are only understood by those who have
taken the pledge to serve the Ansidhe…”
“Why do you have it?”
Tallwyn rose, and placed the cloak gently on the chair. He
clapped Kormak on the arm, and leaned heavily on the hearth.
Kormak put one huge arm around Tallwyn’s shoulders, and they
began to whisper to each other quietly. Shiara looked down at
the cloak again, confused, and feeling uneasy about how much the
object had upset her father…it scared her. Her father had his
dark days since her mother died, and he tended to keep her at
arm’s length when he was living through his grief again, and if
he could not stand to do that, he would stock up on food,
setting it aside for her for a couple days, and then he would
leave, locking the gate at the end of the path where visitors
would come, then cross past the glade and into the Evawyld. He
would usually be back by the time the food was exhausted, and
sometimes she would eat sparingly in case he didn’t; it wasn’t
often that he failed to return when he said he would, but he had
taught her to rely on herself to survive. When he did come back,
the darkness clouding him was gone, and he came back as jovial
and kind as if it was just another outing. They never talked
about where he went or what he did, but she understood how hard
it was for him to bring it up. Now, he was drifting again. She
could feel it from across the room, and it cast a shadow over
him. Over them both. Her father looked over his shoulder to her,
and quickly wiped at his eyes.
“Let’s sit for a moment,” he said, “There’s a lot to discuss.”
He took up the trencher, and handed out the food. Shiara took
some bread to chew on, and eagerly cupped her hands around the
warmth of the mug. Her appetite had fled with the pall that hung
over the morning, but the tea was a comfort. Kormak sat down on
the floor, cross-legged, with his mug held with surprising
gentleness in one huge clawed hand, the other full of fish and
bread. Her father wrapped up the cloak on the chair with
reverence, and placed it by the hearth before sitting down to
eat. After a moment of quiet repast, her father set his tea on a
side table near the chair, and folded his hands in his lap.
“Shiara, do you remember what I told you about your
grandfather? My father?”
“You said he was a captain in the army of Dorrengal…that he
died in the war with the Dahuska. But you also said your father
is an important man.”
“That’s right. After our father died trying to lead a raid into
Dahuska territory, Kor and I were orphaned. We never knew who
our mother was, and we knew better than to ask. We were left in
the Dorrengal camp for days while it emptied…the soldiers
ignored us in the rush to get out before the Dahuska came. We
scrounged for food, but we were just kids. We waited in the dark
under a collapsed tent, trying to stay hidden as other
scavengers moved in…wolves, bandits, deserters. We would have
died, probably starved to death under that tent or killed when
we got desperate enough to run, if not for our father. Our true
father.
“We watched him walk into the camp, one morning at dawn’s first
light, as the mists drifted across the plains and the harvest
wheat grew cold under an early frost, this strange
ordinary-looking man in a cloak that made you rub your eyes to
check if the colours were that real…that unearthly. The dregs of
the camp tried to challenge him, but with a look from him they
fell away into the mist. The wolves that had been prowling for
us had laid down where they were, and buried their muzzles in
their paws. He walked past them all, and right towards where we
were hidden.
“Kor came out from the tent before I could stop him. I was the
older brother, and so weak from hunger. Kor just walked up to
him, and took his hand. He led him over to me, and that man just
reached his hand down and offered it to me. He looked at me,
with those eyes, and I knew that we would be safe. I took his
hand. He wrapped us both up in that cloak, and walked out of the
camp…”
Kormak finished his tea, and licked the crumbs from his hand.
“Mawdoc raised us both, and introduced us to the ways of the
Ansidhe,” Kormak continued, “He had sensed what I was, and was
drawn to it, or so he always said. He also said that he was
lucky to find two such special children; one of them touched by
the spirit of an eternal beast from the hallowed Ansidhara, the
other gifted with the strength in his arms and the courage to
use that strength to help others…”
“Enough of that,” her father said, smirking, “And it was Mawdoc
who took us with him to Felstone Keep, the seat of Yollraek
Elbauthin himself, where he attended his great master. It was
there that I first met your mother, whose people live there and
serve their lord. I…”
There was an unmistakable tinge of anger as he trailed off,
sudden and sharp. Her father shook his head, took a breath, and
continued.
“Mawdoc is dead. Our father is dead. He never leaves his place
of power without the cloak, and he never could have, such was
the deal he struck with the Ansidhe when he entered their
service, nearly a century or so ago. The only circumstance under
which he would parted from it is if he left their service. In
his case, that is only after death.”
Shiara got up and knelt beside her father. She took his hand.
“I’m so sorry, father,” she said, “But what does that mean?”
“It means,” replied her uncle, “That the western court of the
Ansidhe is without its greatest warden, and that our enemies are
likely responsible for removing him.
“I was coming back from scouting the northern edge of the
Bramblewood, where Mawdoc himself had bid me go, when I felt
something change, like a stirring in the land itself. I suddenly
looked up and looked around, in the middle of my camp, as if
something had moved in the brush, and was staring at me, intent
on me like a stalking predator. I had found something terrible
in the north that had me on edge already, and what I felt was a
tipping point that sent the beast in me into a certain dangerous
awareness. I made haste to the south in that moment, letting the
spirit take over and move me with more speed than I had as a
man.”
He looked over at Tallwyn.
“It was a cost I was willing to pay, brother,” he said, “And
the need was most dire. I returned to the stone circle near the
edge of the forest, under the boughs of ancient Moara, to
consult with Mawdoc, to tell him what I had seen and felt. As I
crossed the boundary of his land, I nearly stumbled, for I could
not hear the felgrieve stones of the circle singing with the
song of the Ansidhe. I knew then that something was terribly
wrong. Inside, I found brown leaves blowing across his evergreen
stones, and dark tracks like stains all over them. The door to
Moara was also stained, but it had stayed shut. It opened to me
with a touch, and I went inside and up the rings of the ancient
to find the domain vacant of Mawdoc’s presence; I could not find
him in his bedchamber, in the hanging gardens, or in the great
chamber at the heart of Moara where the light is strong, and the
spirit unburdened. I found his cloak on a bench, folded neatly.
“I took the cloak with me, which I could not have done if
Mawdoc had been there. I went on and explored the hidden places
where the rest of the Andouil gather, the location known only to
those who serve, but I could not find any trace of them there.
In each, though, I found those same stained tracks, and damage
to the gateways as if something tried to force its way in. The
Andouil are being stalked, and none of my comrades seem to
remain to find out what stalks us.”
“Yllanda?”
Kormak shook his head.
“No sign of her or her host. There are other scouts, but
without the guidance of Mawdoc, they are scattered to the
winds…and they aren’t fighters. If Yllanda and the others have
been defeated, then that leaves only two servants of the Ansidhe
in the entire court that are even vaguely aware of what has
happened…”
“You and who else?” Tallwyn asked, rising from his chair.
Kormak stood up, and folded his arms. He raised an eyebrow at
Tallwyn.
“The best dawim daeka that has ever served the Western Court,
defeater of the devouring scourge of the Autumn Queens, breaker
of the Circle of Thorns, and wielder of the blade that pierced
the black heart of Witchlight himself!”
“I do not serve the Ansidhe! I will not serve them! They owe me
a debt that can never be repaid!”
Shiara was astounded at her father’s potent rage, and backed up
from the two men who seemed suddenly intent on each other!
“Father?”
Tallwyn looked at Shiara, then back at Kormak, even more angry,
it seemed, than before.
“Do I need to speak her name to remind you? Do you even know
what you’re asking? Seven years, brother! Seven years gone, and
now you come here begging me to help them again? Have I not done
enough in their service?”
“And how much does the realm have to suffer for your grief and
your broken heart? I have carried that loss as well, and I
always will for my part! Can you not see past it to help me
avenge our father?”
Tallwyn stepped past Kormak, and yanked the door wide open,
causing snowflakes to waft in on a chill breeze.
“Get out, Kor. Get out of here and never come back! My wife,
Shi’s mother, was the blood I paid for my service to the
Ansidhe, and I will not be pulled back in to their war, and
their enemies!”
Tallwyn was breathing hard. Kormak growled, low and deadly, and
bared his claws! Shiara shrank away from the doorway, and pulled
her knife, gasping!
“Father!” she screamed, pointing with her knife at the stoop!
Tallwyn jumped back on instinct, and stood in front of his
daughter, shielding her from whatever had drawn her fright!
The snows at the door swirled with the chill wind, and through
the snow there was a dark, shadowy shape…it was dressed in the
once-proud leathers of an Andouil rider, the garments torn and
stained black, and the skin of the man blackened and grey, torn
in places as if mauled savagely. Dark rivers of black liquid had
frozen as they flowed from those wounds, and speaks of it
glittered across the cloak and hood of the fallen warden. From
under the hood, the gruesome face of the dead man looked
out…thorny branches had been woven through his cheeks to create
a wicked smile, and string gut tied around to hold the remains
of his face in place. His eyes were gone, the cavities hollow,
but inside them swirled a violet whirlwind whose center held a
bright epicenter that sparkled menacingly from the dark. The
thing moved forward a pace, carrying a rotten, musty stench with
it, its steps leaving dark holes in the new fallen snow as it
made its intent upon the threshold!
#Post#: 179--------------------------------------------------
Re: Kingdom Lore: Inheritance
DIR By: Gallowtree
Date: November 11, 2020, 7:27 am
---------------------------------------------------------
The Thing at the Threshold
It was Tallwyn who moved towards the door first as the despoiled
thing made its leap towards the doorway! It was a single bound
away from breaching the threshold when Tallwyn stopped dead a
couple of inches away. The thing collided with something as it
hit the threshold, bathing it in a wave of green and white light
that enveloped its form for a moment, and repelling it from
entering the physical area beyond the door! The thing screamed
and gurgled as it was thrown back, its form smoking and sizzling
with the encounter, its spiral eyes spinning and brightly
glowing with malevolence. It staggered back, black droplets of
burned material dropping from it in sizzling pops that sank
unpleasantly into the fallen snows. It raised its voicer to the
sky, yelling out in a high and croaking scream more akin to a
wounded animal than a man or woman! A second later, three more
voices like its own answered, from somewhere off in the
distance, filling Tallwyn, Kormak, and Shiara with dread!
Tallwyn turned to Shiara.
“Keep back Shi,” Tallwyn shouted, “I know what I’ve taught you,
but you cannot engage this enemy!”
Shiara shuddered, remembering the dreams she had as a child, and
the mad riders following her with those very same eyes! What
were they, she wondered? The form of the thing was different,
but the madness in those eyes was just the same! But this was
the here and now, and she was a young woman who could defend
herself! She gripped her knife tightly, trying to shake the
foreboding that the thing’s howl had filled her with! Tallwyn
slammed the heavy door shut, and slid the bar from above down
and across it.
“At least we know your threshold is still properly warded,”
Kormak said, “But that does leave us in a difficult position…”
“Did these things follow you?” Tallwyn asked, securing his coat
across his chest.
Kormak shook his head.
“Are you sure?”
“I would know.”
Kormak turned to look out the window.
“It is just standing there, dripping, the foul thing.”
“Probably waiting on the rest of its brood to try and overwhelm
the warding! I don’t believe that you intended to bring them
here, brother, but they seem to be after you nonetheless!”
Kormak nodded, growling.
“Did you see its face?”
“Yes…”
“It was Wheland, one of Yllanda’s host,” Kormak said, “I doubt
any of Wheland remains in there, but it is him! I will kill them
all for this outrage!”
Shiara watched her father and uncle. She hadn’t seen her father
so tense in a very long time, and the anger from her uncle was a
savage thing! She could feel the oggra in him stirring, and the
musky odor that he had brought in with him was intensifying in
this enclosed space! She suddenly wished that they could get out
of her and run for it, get away from the darkness was moving to
enclose their own little retreat from the dangers of the outside
world that had claimed her mother…she realized that it was
stupid, but the simple fact that one of her worst nightmares had
appeared, suddenly, was enough to make her want to run for her
very life! That, or throw open the door and drive her dagger
deep into the eye of that creature, and deal with what happens
next!
“You know what they are,” her father said to her uncle, “And
you know what it takes to kill them. Pull your blades, and let’s
have at them! Destroying them will give us time to figure out
what we do next!”
Kormak grimaced, and shook his head.
“My blades are gone,” he said, quietly.
“What? An Andouil never loses his blades! It’s not a set of
keys or lose change! How?”
“That is a story for another time,” Kormak replied, “Perhaps
after we have dealt with the current catastrophe?”
Kormak cocked his head, and squinted at his brother.
“Where is yours? Surely you did not divest yourself of it?”
Tallwyn grabbed Kormak by his heavy coat, and pointed out the
window, past the awful dark thing standing there, at the grove,
and the pond.
“The ice never fully unfreezes,” he said, “Not even when the
summer touches the mountains and the springs run…there, I buried
mine, and hers. I have never wielded it since she was lost…and,
seeing as you said we may be the last of the Andouil left to
deal with this, I was really hoping that we would have your
blades to cut our way to them and through our foes! That, it
appears, is too much to ask!”
“I can make it.”
They both turned to see Shiara securing her coat across her
chest, and pulling up her hood. She stood by the door, and
lifted up the bar!
“Shi! What are you—"
“I’m lighter than either of you, and I can outrun those things!
See you at the grove!”
Shiara was fast, and she had the door open in an instant! The
frigid air and drifting flurries rushed in as she hauled it
open, and out of the corner of her eye she could see her father
and her uncle rushing to grab her! Ahead of her, the dark form
of the ruined warrior saw its chance, and began shambling
towards her, its injuries from trying to breach the threshold
slowing it down! Shiara kept her head down, and stepped out the
door, pulling it closed behind her.
The hill was now swirling with flurries, and the morning had
gotten colder and darker! She could see no other forms akin to
the thing in front of her, but she could feel them now,
something about them that was directly in opposition to her very
nature! There was a flower in her mind, blooming and turning to
rot, a swirl of maggots in a wolf’s eye…invisible fingers that
worked the stuff of life, changing it and molding it into
something new…a young woman, naked, stood with her back to
Shiara, her body plump and strong, full of the blossom of youth
and desire…she stretched out her arm to reveal a sticky web of
purplish tissue joining arm to hip, and it shimmered as she
swept it out with a wave of her hand into a veiny wing! She
turned her head, one eye peering backward to Shiara, and opened
her mouth! The bleating sound of a goat rattled wetly from her
throat, and black bubble issued forth, and burst upon the air to
reveal white, grasping hands that reached for her heart! The
woman grinned, and dark horns began protruding and growing from
her head in a strange sort of crown!
Sahkaeah sha…alish sidhe…Thonrae Denrec mohreka!
“No!” Shiara screamed from within, and another voice had joined
hers! Older but stronger!
“No,” she repeated, shaking her head!
She looked up to see the thing had stopped, and its eyes were
swirling and pulsing, fixed upon her as she foolishly stood
there, enthralled by it! Black stuff was dripping from its
thorn-stitched grin, but it frowned as Shiara came to her
senses. She could hear the door bang open from behind her. The
thing heard it too, and it cried out and tried to rush for her!
She suddenly became aware of her dagger, which had hung near
limp in her hand since she became enthralled, and without even a
pause to think about it, Shiara threw the dagger at the face of
the oncoming menace!
The silvery blade flew like a predatory bird at the thing, and
one of the swirling purple eyes suddenly went out! The thing
stumbled backward, clawing at its face as a flood of ichor ran
down from the ruined eye. It raised its head, and began pulling
the dagger, slowly, from the wound! Shiara screamed in surprise
as her father grabbed her, and pulled her back a couple steps.
“Good try, but you only pissed it off…”
One of the stumps from beside the door suddenly came flying
past her father’s shoulder! Shiara gaped at the huge piece of
log as it drifted past on the air, inexplicably. It collided
with the thing as it freed the dagger from its eye, slamming
into its chest and sending it tumbling down the hill, the stump
rolling over it and crushing it randomly as the thing screamed
and cried out in agony! Each impact with the frozen ground left
a wet splat of dark goo from the creature as the stump became
caught up in its pulverized form! Tallwyn whirled around to see
Kormak standing beside the bare patch of ground near the door
where the stump had been, his huge body heaving as his muscles
bulged underneath his cloak.
“Lords of Lore, brother! You’re a lot stronger…but Kor…those
stumps were for visitors!”
Kormak caught his breath, and shrugged.
“I was done with that one,” he said, “And I decided to share.”
Tallwyn shook his head, and turned his attention back to the
creature.
Down below, two other such things had come quietly through the
snows, and were moving towards their comrade! They were the same
as the other, with stitched faces and torn armour blackened with
the touch of evil! Their eyes, however, were merely black orbs
without the insidious purple spirals. As they closed upon his
crushed and burdened body, it let out a howl, pointing one
mangled claw up the hill at Tallwyn, Shiara, and Kormak! Tallwyn
grabbed Shiara by the shoulders.
“Right. We’ll talk later about how stupid what you did was, and
how stupid I am for not thinking of it first, but you are right:
you are the faster runner! Get to the glade, and don’t stop for
anything! We’ll hold them off!”
“I love you, father,” she said to him, turning to break off
into a run.
“I know, Shi, I know.”
Tallwyn watched his daughter take off down the hill. He turned
around to see Kormak coming out of the house with two large
pieces of lumber over his shoulder.
“I was going to build a fence,” Tallwyn said, taking one of
them from his brother, “but I guess my fence-building days are
done for now, aren’t they?”
They started down the hill, Kormak with lumber sat on one
shoulder, and Tallwyn gripping his grimly, tapping it in the
palm of one hand.
“A dawim daeka is never retired,” Kormak said, “Or so it is
said.”
Tallwyn grunted.
“We’ll see,” he grumbled, “For now, I’m going to go down there
and make some pudding…”
[center]
* * * * *[/center]
[size=14pt]Shiara rushed down the hill, away from her father and
relative safety. The thing that had confronted them was lying
half-crushed under the huge stump that her uncle had tossed, its
smashed limbs twitching and scrambling to find some kind of
purchase to get itself up from under the stump. She was thinking
about the strength it must’ve taken to hurl the stump, and what
that meant for her uncle…she didn’t know everything about the
oggra, save that they were shunned by most folk who revered the
Ansidhe, although she didn’t know exactly why; it was strange,
then, that he had become such a devoted servant of the beings
who were worshipped by those who rejected the oggra. She
promised herself that if she survived this, she’d ask, for who
knows when she would see him again, and weren’t all their
stories important?
Her thoughts became solely focused on survival when she saw that
two other of the foul things had crept up to the stump, and were
eyeing Shiara as she ran down the hill towards the grove! The
thing under the stump cried out to them, and began pointing at
her! She wished she still had her dagger…why did she show off
like that?
She reached the bottom of the hill quickly enough, but they were
going to bar her way!
There was whistling behind her!
“Get away from her, you vechale gaed’a commoragh spawn!”
It was her father’s voice…of course. Her father had the best
curses in Ansidhe! She knew she couldn’t turn around, that the
might get her if she slowed down! She watched the things after
her turn away and start loping towards her father’s mocking
voice! As she breezed past them on the way to the grove, she
could feel the ugly sensation of their presence intensify, not
like before with the vision of the monstrous woman, but like the
pervasive pall that she felt in the oncoming storm! She found
that she was five feet away from the stump, tempted to derivate
a bit and give the thing a swift kick in the head, but she ran
past…it was too risky, that thing too nasty, and the rot coming
off them was enough that she would have to throw her boots away
after – and she liked her boots!
The run was restoring her spirit though, invigorating her body!
There were sounds of fighting behind her, but she knew if she
turned around now, she would just go and try and help them, and
that wasn’t what her father wanted! Instead, she retraced her
footsteps from early this morning in the fresh snow, and ran
along the trail to the grove. There was a stirring in the trees!
A white owl, its feathers thick with frost came flying out from
the branches, making Shiara stop on reflex and skid to a halt!
It flew past her shoulder, crying out and trailing wisps of ice
and snow through the air that showered her face and her hood,
splatting against her skin. Shiara slipped a bit, surprised, but
managed not to fall down on her ass. She sputtered and gasped
from the snow, and wiped at her face. There was a creaking, and
a hissing in front of her, and she felt a wave of malevolence
settle upon her, the same monstrous energy that had entered her
mind before! She gritted her teeth, her hands balled into fists
as she fought against it!
Right before the glade, rising from the snows, was a rahtegh
woman, one of a breed of people long diminished from the land
after humans and sidhe had come to grow and multiply to stake
their claim; the rahtegh were a race of wildfolk, with tusks and
rough skin that allowed them to thrive in the most desperate of
places, and had been forced to do so as their wild places were
civilized by the other races, and their numbers dwindled. She
had never met one until now…but this one was no longer rahtegh!
She had tusks protruding from a mouth that had been smashed and
was running with that disgusting black ooze, and her grey skin
was blanched white and black with sickly patches of frostbite.
Her mouth had been spared the cruel thorny stitching that was
evident on the others, but her eyes swirled with the same deadly
energy as her counterpart under the stump! She was another
Andouil, and her armour was in tatters…blackened pieces of horn
protruded from her chest, and were crusted over with ice and
filth! Her eyes glared brighter with the energy as she forced
her will on Shiara, a low and ugly chuckle gurgling from her
mangled throat! Shiara felt her mind being pushed down into
darkness by the relentless evil! In a flash, she saw the bubbles
If she stayed here, she would die, and if she retreated, they
were all going to die!
“No! Lords of Lore, give me strength!”
Shiara took off again, ignoring the pain and letting her legs do
the work instead!
The woman grunted in surprise as Shiara smashed into her, the
young woman’s arms covering her hooded head as she blindly
charged the distance! They tumbled together into the grove, the
force of Shiara’s charge carrying them both past the trees and
onto the ice!
[/size]
#Post#: 181--------------------------------------------------
Re: Kingdom Lore: Inheritance
DIR By: NamelessMystic
Date: December 15, 2020, 2:59 am
---------------------------------------------------------
It keeps getting better and better
#Post#: 182--------------------------------------------------
Re: Kingdom Lore: Inheritance
DIR By: Gallowtree
Date: February 1, 2021, 4:02 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
The Light, Awakened
Kormak and Tallwyn walked steadily down the hill as Shiara ran
on ahead to the grove, her strong, young legs carrying her
swiftly through the snows and past the ugly, dark monsters that
were stalking the three of
them! The first one that had come after them in the dim hours of
the early morning had come up second in a match with a tree
stump that Kormak had thrown into it that had sent it rolling
down the hill and ended with it trapped underneath in a
spreading mess of dark ooze. Another two had heeded its call and
had appeared in the yard at the bottom of the hill as the other
struggled and pointed at Shiara as she made her way across the
yard! They stalked towards her now, with their thorn-stitched
smiles, pale, lifeless eyes, and ragged, stained armour! Kormak
and Tallwyn picked up the pace to get to them first!
“Erwyls, and Ballacudi…” Kormak muttered, “It seems unlikely
that any of them survived…”
Tallwyn shook his head and grunted.
He tipped the makeshift club that his brother had given him over
his shoulder and whistled at the awful things! They cocked their
heads at him and Kormak.
“Get away from her, you vechale gaed’a commoragh spawn!”
The two monsters picked up the pace, trailing black drips as
they bounded forward! They didn’t have the fine weapons that
they possessed in their previous lives but were flexing
strangely long fingers with curved
claws like a bird of prey. A new and terrible creature was
slowly growing out of the ruinous remains of the slain Andouil
warriors! Kormak growled at the monsters as they approached.
“Don’t let them touch you, brother,” Tallwyn said, “You know
better! I know that beast inside you is telling you to tear them
apart, but don’t let it!”
Kormak’s own claws were twitching as he tried to keep his grip
on his club!
“As for the two of you…”
Tallwyn met the first of the creatures head-on and brought his
club across the jaw of the first one, snapped its head to one
side and knocking it back a few steps. He brought his swing
around to try and smash the other down, but it side-stepped the
blow, and leapt towards the club! It made a grab for the club,
trying to pull it from Tallwyn’s grip! He pulled it back from
the creature as the other recovered and moved in.
Kormak drove the butt of his club in as if it was a thin rapier,
driving it into the forehead of the creature, and there was a
sudden cracking sound as the thing’s skull broke under the force
of Kormak’s strike! The flesh on its head ripped from the brow
to the top of the head as the butt of the club ripped up from
the site of impact, and blackness splashed out and down its
face! It fell backward, the stitching of its thorny smile coming
apart and the grim skull underneath laid bare, framed by flaps
of pale flesh hanging gruesomely from its face...the thing
collapsed onto its knees, and began growling like a beast! The
other took up the growl as well as it stalked Tallwyn for an
opening.
He scoffed and swung his club in an obvious move to crush the
thing’s side and arrested it before it came full on the
backswing! He swept forward, and swept the creature’s legs,
knocking it down to the ground! The other dashed to catch
Tallwyn as he moved in to score an unprotected blow, but Kormak
quickly drove his club into its stomach, doubling it over the
length of the weapon and causing a spray of ooze to splatter the
ground as the creature’s wounded head came apart! Tallwyn seized
the moment and brought his club down in an arc that connected
with the thing’s breast, and there was a terrific crunching! Its
ribs poked through its ruined chest, and a pool of goo flooded
from the wound.
“Back off,” Kormak said, “They’re too damaged to fight safely…”
“What would you suggest,” Tallwyn said, wiping his club on the
snow, “I say we keep hitting them until the whole pudding thing
happens.”
Tallwyn spared a look towards Shiara…she was nearly at the
grove! Good, he thought, at least she will be safe. He smiled as
he watched her move; he was so proud of how strong she was
becoming, and how well she’d listened to what he’d taught her.
His smile faded slightly as he remembered that a whole other
being lurked beneath her humanity, an undercurrent of power and
purpose that they’d both have to deal with soon…
“Beware, brother!” Kormak shouted.
Tallwyn backed up another step as some of the goo receded into
the bodies of the battered things…they rose to their feet, bones
coming together in a crackling shiver as dark pulses of fluid
roared underneath their pale flesh, and their eyes glowed with a
pearlescent, evil malice!
“These things…only a felgrieve blade can destroy them…it will
sever the connection with the master,” Kormak said, backing up
as well, “If we crush them into pudding, then we’ll just have
monstrous puddings. It is a rare and recent form of the
creature, Tall, new and terrible!”
Shiara’s sudden cry of alarm snapped their attention away from
the threat at hand!
“Duck!”
They both crouched low, their arms over their heads, as a giant
white owl, its feathers dusted with snow, came screeching across
the yard! Kormak looked around incredulously as it flew towards
the house, his eyes narrowing.
“That is impossible…” he muttered.
“Shiara!”
Kormak whirled around to see his brother had taken off towards
Shiara! He looked across the field, and saw that a shape had
arisen from the snow in front of the grove…Kormak’s heart began
to break as he recognized the shape…
One of the creatures tried to grab at Tallwyn as he passed, but
Tallwyn crushed its hand into the snow and stomped on by! Kormak
rushed forward and leapt over the struggling creatures as
Tallwyn drew ever closer…
Kormak looked to see the shape was giving off a terrible aura of
power like the other had…it was switching bodies! Tallwyn was
reaching out his hand towards Shiara! Shiara was hunched over,
her head in her hands – she was fighting it!
"“No! Lords of Lore, give me strength!”
Shiara suddenly cried out! Tallwyn’s hand brushed her shoulder
as she took off straight on and barreled directly into the
creature that was tormenting her! Kormak grimaced as they both
crashed headlong into the grove…
There was a moment, suspended, as Shiara lay there, and the
thing she had charged stood up, fully, as if it nad been pulled
up with a giant hand, and looked around wildly, its body
surrounded by a green glow that was brightening quickly! Tallwyn
was almost at the edge of the grove, and Kormak leapt forward to
make a grab for his brother as he watched the green light become
dangerously radiant!
“Get down, you fool!”
* * *
Shiara felt cold against her face, and one side of her body was
going numb as she lay there, the cold seeping into every muscle,
rendering them stiff and unmoving. There was a peace to the
cold, a release from the dread figments that had plagued her
waking mind. Shiara drifted, her mind roaming among the memories
of her short life, the images mulled and grey with the weight of
years and change…in that place, the private house of her dreams,
she walked among shadows and mist. She held out her hand,
touching each of the thoughts…her mother, sitting in a chair by
the fire, talking to her and smiling… Slowly, a warmth began to
spread through her limbs, and feeling returned, albeit with an
odd pain in her right arm. She opened her eyes, the lids
unwilling to cede her the opening unto the light, but giving way
as she fought her way back…back to what? There was a sudden,
sharp pain in her arm, and she rolled onto her back, gasping!
She grabbed at her arm, the pain sharply focusing her attention.
She was lying on the ice of the pond inside the grove. There was
a piece of bone stabbed into her arm from when she barreled into
the creature that had appeared before her an instant ago, and
the black ichor that was on the bone had started steaming,
making Shiara wince!
“That was very brave of you…not bad for a half-breed welp!”
Shiara rolled onto her side and looked up to see the ruined
rahtegh woman hauling herself up from the middle of the pond.
Her entire form was steaming the same way that the black ichor
had started to and she was shaking from a strange discomfort
that ran through her from head to toe! The light inside the
grove was much brighter, and there was a sound around them
now…like the wind blowing across a field and flocks of birds on
the wind singing out their calls! As the woman stood, the sound
intensified and there was a crackling in the ice below her feet!
“You…are not welcome here,” Shiara gasped, cradling her wounded
arm, “and you must depart!”
The woman’s eyes bulged as they surged with malignant energy
and parts of her body began swelling…
“A minor setback,” she croaked, “I will eat your heart, Ansidhe
filth! The Andouil were but a taste of what I will—”
One eye-socket exploded, abruptly, taking half of the head with
it!
The woman’s remaining eye swivelled around as it started to
come apart all over as the bulging and swelling continued! The
birdsong was roaring now and there was something even sweeter
underneath, a powerful musical sound that was high and strong!
The body of the woman suddenly doubled over with a sharp crack,
followed by several others as it was folded over and over again,
as if by invisible hands!
The sound became too intense for Shiara, and she hugged her
ears!
The body rose from the pond and kept on folding in upon itself!
In seconds, it became small and bright…there was a sudden
popping sound and nothing of the body remained save for a black
mark. IN an instant, even that was gone.
The sound of the birds vanished with the wind, and the grove
was still.
Shiara fell onto her back, breathing rapidly as the pain from
her arm and the shock from the encounter finally hit her…she
felt exhausted!
“Shiara!”
The concerned face of her father suddenly appeared above her as
he came into view. He ducked down and was checking her over. He
ran a gentle hand over her face.
“It’s your father,” he said, “Can you hear me?”
He turned her face so that their eyes met.
“Thank the Lords you’re still with us,” he exclaimed.
His eyes drifted down to her arm.
“Agh…hold still Shi…Kor! Get over here!”
Shiara felt her father carefully lifting her arm to examine it.
A tear rolled down her cheek as the wound twinged painfully. She
felt her father take her other hand and he squeezed it, gently.
“I know it hurts, but the wound looks clean. There’s nothing
from those things in there…”
Kormak came around to her other side, his dark eyes locked with
hers as if he was looking for something…
He put his huge hand on her forehead, and she could feel
through skin brush some of her hair away that had fallen across.
The skin of his hand was warm as he laid it down and began
whispering under his breath…
“Uen’talith, daen’ess amra, pon’na ka-ana weh’am…”
Precious light preserve this woman, purge the dark from her!
He kept whispering…Shiara knew the prayer from long ago, from
when her mother had hovered over her when she had caught a fever
when she was a child…she didn’t know the words then, but the
strength of those sounds had stuck with her. As her father
tended to her arm, her breathing slowed down and her thoughts
became peaceful. She felt herself being gently lifted from the
ice, and very soon, she fell asleep…
#Post#: 183--------------------------------------------------
Re: Kingdom Lore: Inheritance
DIR By: Gallowtree
Date: April 21, 2021, 11:01 am
---------------------------------------------------------
5
A Dream of Trees, and a Time of Unburdening…
In the darkness of deep sleep, Shiara felt the edges of her
dreams again…in her mind, there were the dreams of a young woman
she was, and the child she had been. Back, and back, and back…to
strange regions that held sway beyond herself, as they always
had. This lifetime she knew, for her dreams she made up of the
waking time and reflection were but a fraction of what she could
see if she went deeper. She would see them, even as a child,
rising out of the grey sea of unconscious thought like distant
tall trees that rose above the little ring of pretty things she
had conjured in her mind. She had not conjured the elder trees,
but she knew they were part of her regardless of what she
thought or made of them. She would come to her sleep, as she did
now, and would turn to look past all the other things, even her
mother, and look at the tall trees.
Her mother smiled at her as she passed by the treasured memory
of her happiness, and the comfort that it brought. Her eyes were
fixed on the tall trees. She drew closer, passing by memories
that faded with the focus she was keeping ahead…in time, they
would be forever lost to her. Her body urged her mind past the
need for all those things that preoccupied her younger self…for
ahead, there were other things…but she could draw no closer to
them! With each step in the grey sea, they were just as far
away…she stopped, and wanted to lift off the ground and fly to
them! Why couldn’t she? She then felt the weight of her body…she
could not let go!
There was the sound of large, fluttering wings in front of her,
and a cry followed it that pierced the silence of the grey sea!
A pair of strong claws the colour of a stormy sky seized her
shoulders, pushing against her and driving her back! From out of
the grey gloom, the head of a large snowy owl loomed in at her.
She tried to raise her arms,
but the strength of the claws held her! The owl leaned in so
close its beak touched her nose. Its giant eyes were all she
could see now…crystal blue tinged with flecks of bright green
like sunlight twinkling upon the surface of water ringed the
iris, hemming in a pupil that was black and unyielding!
Shiara stared into the black…ripples began in the centre of it
and spread outwards to reflect on the outer edge…deep inside, a
green light began to shine from something outlined in a glow
beneath the surface. Shiara felt herself fall forward and she
realized her feet were suddenly teetering on the edge of a black
pool…the green began to become brighter. As she watched, a
slender arm reached upward out of the glow bathed in emerald!
The flesh was lined with cracks like stone and the nails of the
hand twinkled with bright motes like stars. The hand made to
reach out for her, not like the terrible claws of the monster
she had just vanquished, but imploring her…welcoming her…Shiara
reached out—
She was pulled up by her shoulders like a kitten being picked up
by the scruff of its neck! The arm reaching for her out of the
green, glowing depths of the pool disappeared below her as she
flew upward away from it!
She flew so fast that the black became the grey sea once again,
the distance flying past her in silent gradients of shadows and
images that distorted and were wrenched away from her sight.
Shiara struggled as she rose, but the strength of the power that
held her would not relent!
“You need to wake now, Shiara.”
Shiara opened her eyes.
The clouds that had dropped so much rain and snow earlier in the
day were gone, and the stars were out. A cold wind caressed one
side of her face, and warmth from a fire brushed the other. She
was wrapped in a blanket. One from the house by the feel of it,
a horse blanket from the barn, which was rough on the skin, but
it kept in the warmth. She tried to move, and she winced as her
arm throbbed with a dull pain…the wound was still there. The
wound! The dark creature she fought! Shiara’s eyes widened, and
she struggled to sit up.
“Take it slowly,” her uncle said, at her side, “Your father
bound and cleansed the wound, but it will take time for your
body recover from being touched by such corruption…”
Kormak helped her sit up. They were still outside, not far from
the place where her father and uncle had fought off the other
creatures that came after them. The snow was disturbed where
they had fought, but there was no sign of the creatures. The
bodies were gone. The large stump that had been near the door
had been upended again so Kormak could sit. It was placed across
from where she lay on a bedroll with several blankets piled
around her. There was a fire crackling in a makeshift ring in
the middle of where they had struggled, and a large, bubbling
pot was hung over the fire. Not far from it, six raw skinned
rabbits were piled in a bloody heap near the stump.
Kormak’s huge form loomed over her. His face was hidden the
shadows of his hood. He seemed bigger than ever. He patted her
shoulder gently with one large, clawed hand.
“You are very brave,” he rumbled.
He lumbered back past the fire and sat down on the stump. The
action sent a gentle puffing of snow into the air. He scooped up
one of the rabbits from the pile and began to chew on it
casually.
“I apologize for this,” he said between mouthfuls, “The more I
indulge in savagery and combat with no time to rest and recover,
the more that old Mog continues to remake me in his image…”
“It’s fine uncle,” Shiara said, “I know how to hunt and skin
animals. Father taught me.”
She suddenly stood up, looking around the camp and up towards
the house.
“Where is he?” she asked, her heart suddenly pounding, “Is he
okay?”
Kormak tossed the remains of the rabbit over his shoulder.
“He went down to the village after making sure you were warm and
sleeping soundly. He is going to check on them and warn them
against more visitations from the…enemy. Once he has returned,
there will be much to do.”
Shiara relaxed and began shivering.
“Grab some broth from the pot,” Kormak told her, “And grab a
robe from the sack near your blankets…there should be a couple
in there. Take whichever will suit you…”
She nodded. After a moment she had chosen a robe and wrapped
herself in it. It was much warmer than even the blanket and
fitted her well. It was of plain cloth with a wide hood not
unlike her old one. Her arm caused her some difficulty as she
pulled the cloak over herself, but she managed. She scooped up a
bowl from a small stack near the fire and poured herself some
broth. When she dipped her bowl in the pot, an aroma of fresh
wild herbs greeted her as the steam wafted up from the bubbling
surface. She sniffed at it. An aroma she did not know made her
frown…it was like mint, but there was a subtler earthy scent
underneath.
“Duolo root,” Kormak said, “The rahtegh have used it for
centuries in broth to help the healing process. Yllanda kept me
well supplied…she was a good student. They all were…”
Shiara sat back down among her blankets.
“Those things were your friends?”
Kormak scoffed and shook his head.
“They were An’douil, child,” he told her, “Fierce servants of
the Ansidhe trained to seek out their enemies…fine folk that I
trained…and now they’re lost.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle.”
Kormak nodded.
“There is much more to the story than that. I would have liked
to do Yllanda the service of burying her properly as I have
those others here…in silent mounds in the Evawylds, where their
spirits may await their turn to enter Dankenna.”
“Where the light shines always on your face through tall trees,
and the dutiful walk in the steps of the Ansidhe forever…”
Shiara recited, from a place of deep remembrance.
“Ess alisas ‘na Dankenna elowim,” Kormak whispered.
He doubled over for a moment, and Shiara heard him growl. The
sound ended in a terrible sounding howl, and Kormak’s clawed
hands shook as he stood to his feet!
He pulled his hood back and sniffed the air.
There came a screeching sound from the grove near the pool, and
the same snowy owl from before came flying out from the trees!
Kormak flexed his claws as it circled the camp, calling out at
them from above. Shiara shivered as she watched it and rubbed at
a place in her shoulder that had begun to ache.
“Where did it come from?” Shiara asked, “What does it want?”
It circled around above Shiara, not calling out but gazing down
at her as it did so. It then fluttered over towards Kormak…and
the rabbits.
The owl landed in the snow a few feet away from Kormak and
screeched loudly! Kormak growled at the owl. The owl took a step
back, shook its feathered neck, and went very still…the black of
its eyes vanished to become pearly white globes. Shiara looked
over at Kormak and saw that he had gone down on his haunches,
his huge arms suspended between his knees and his head turned
slightly as if listening. Shiara gasped as she saw that his eyes
had become twin pearls of white as well!
A sound reached her ears…a piping and whistling that came from
the owl…it continued as Kormak seemed to listen…his face
contorted into a bestial snarl! An echoing rumble erupted from
him with sounds like snaps over it…they continued this way for a
moment or so…call and answer…the owl drew closer to Kormak,
piping and whistling much more intensely! Kormak answered with a
low rumble that almost sounded like a laugh. He stood up again,
his eyes returning to normal. The owl’s eyes did as well.
“Oh…I see…” he muttered, relaxing somewhat, “Field mice and
squirrels not enough for you…the meagre pickings of the grove
scarce since the snows. Why should I share with you…hmm?”
“Hate me if you wish, old Morra bitch, but remember this one
shares his spoils…”
He tossed the rabbit at the owl, who caught it and took off into
the air. An instant later it returned to the grove and landed on
a branch where it could watch the camp and pecked greedily at
the carcass in its clutches.
Kormak crossed his arms and sat back down.
“What...was that?”
“A conversation,” he replied, “Just clearing the air.”
Shiara raised an eyebrow.
“I wish that would include me! Of all the strange things I’ve
seen, Uncle! At least explain this…give me something!”
“Very well,” he said, after a moment, “Something to pass the
time until your father returns. Are you comfortable?”
Shiara nodded.
“The robe is very warm, thank you,” she replied, easing the hood
down far enough so that she could see her uncle more clearly.
“It suits you,” he said, turning to look at her.
“You asked when I returned about what I am…an Oggra. What do you
know?”
“The other children in the village talked about it…a Sidhe
woman, Amwelde, who taught us how to read. Anyone who wanted to.
She told us stories...she made it seem like Oggras are…”
“Bad?”
“No…’rebel’ is the word she taught us.”
Kormak smiled.
“That is an enlightened view,” he said, “I would have liked to
know this woman.”
“She was very generous. She taught me a lot after my Mom was
gone.”
Kormak cleared his throat.
“Your father had a lot of good reasons for keeping you away from
all this, Shiara. What I’m going to tell you is something you
should’ve been aware of long ago if time and need had permitted
as they do now…
“You see, there were once powerful bestial spirits that kept the
land safe. They lived on Lore since the very beginning. They
were called the Morra. You see, when the Ansidhe came to fight
their enemies here, they
fought alongside some very powerful allies. The Morra fought and
died with them. Once victory was declared and the enemy driven
out, the Ansidhe offered the Morra a place by their side for
eternity in Dankenna.”
“I’ve heard of Morra,” Shiara interrupted, “But aren’t they
spirits of the Dahuska?”
“They’re so old that most races on Lore have a name for them
whether they think it is them or not…the Sidhe revere them as
well. You see, most of the Morra accepted the gift that the
Ansidhe offered and went with them to Dankenna when they met
their end. Some of the Morra did not.
“Some of them refused the offer and told them that they had
called Lore home a long time before the Ansidhe arrived and
would remain long after even the Ansidhe were in their paradise.
For their refusal, the Ansidhe cursed them to do just that…”
“That’s why the Oggra are rebels?”
“Yes. They stayed behind. After their forms withered away, their
spirits were forced to remain by the Ansidhe. They thought they
were going to wander lost forever, but they eventually found
kindred souls whose nature was much the same as theirs. They
latched onto these souls and became entwined. We did not ask to
be Oggra, but we are anyway.”
Shiara looked up at the owl.
“Is that a Morra?”
The owl stopped what it was doing and tilted its gaze to Shiara.
“A very special one,” Kormak said, “And we have been as close to
friendship as an Oggra and a Morra may ever be.”
“She doesn’t like you very much.”
“As I said…we tolerate each other.”
“I have a lot of questions,” Shiara said, shaking her head.
Kormak folded his hands in his lap.
“So, you must ask the most important one.”
Shiara thought about it for a moment, her head buried deep in
the folds of her hood.
“What makes her so special?”
Kormak smiled broadly and clapped his hands. He rose to his
feet, came over to her, and lifted her to her feet! Without a
beat, he hugged her. Shiara laughed as she felt her feet dangle
in the air.
“I’m so glad I came back, little one,” he said, “You truly are a
wonder!”
She patted him on the shoulder.
“A little tight, uncle…”
“Oh…sorry.”
He put her down. She smiled and adjusted her robe.
“Are you going to tell me then? Why the owl is so special?”
There was a crunching sound of snow, and heavy breathing.
“You will tell her no such thing!” Tallwyn roared.
Kormak looked over his shoulder at this brother.
“Then maybe you should,” he said, stepping out of the way
between Shiara and Tallwyn.
Tallwyn dropped the packs of food and supplies he had hauled
back to the village! His eyes widened as he looked at his
daughter…
“Lords and Ladies…” he exclaimed!
Shiara stood in the snow by the fire. She was clothed in a robe
of bone white and jade green feathers with a green leather hood
engraved with the flowing language of the Ansidhe. Her hands
were raised, and brightly-coloured butterflies and birds were
appearing from the sky and alighting on her robes and her
hands…as they did so, her eyes began to shine like mirrors and
the veins under her exposed skin pulsed with a blue-green light!
Her eyes became wide as she seemed to realize how sudden and
strange her appearance had become…she lifted one of the
butterflies to the level of her eyes, and she bit her lip as she
looked upon it…
“Father…?”
Tallwyn spun on Kormak, and took a step towards him, his hands
clenching and unclenching.
“What have you done?!”
Kormak looked at Tallwyn’s hands and shrugged.
“Only what I must.”
*****************************************************
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