2/5/22

Wind… Wind doesn’t matter anymore. It doesn’t “feel” the same. Nothing has for so long. Zoix slowly stood from where they had rested inside a wayward pine. Stretching now more from age old habit than a need, their automaton body made various sounds one would expect from an ancient construct.

The wind came in through the opening as the weather shifted outside. Stepping out into the early morning sun it glinted off the few bits of metal exposed that wasn’t under wrappings of various states of decay. Hiding their form had been important. For the groups or creatures they have encountered while surviving.

Short of stature compared to some others, the construct Zoix had made so many years ago was built for exploration, durability and enhancement of Zoix’s own abilities. It had held up well. So very well. Since the fall, the failed ritual. So much death.

Shaking their head to cast away the memories free and push themselves for todays tasks they headed west. There were two Cairns they had to make sure were stil sealed and safe from the Vreech and other things that would prey on the people. This task had become their purpose. Walking the world that was as it became something new. Observing the changes that occurred to the land and in those who could not make it to a cairn. The way that things have… evolved.

Gripping a set of tree roots for assistance Zoix pulled themselves up the side of a hill and looked over the valley before them. There they saw the crumbling former guild hall. Now a Vreech hive. Inside it encased in a special amber chamber rested their body. The magics of the chamber keeping them alive and sustained. Zoix didn’t know why the Vreech have not fed on that chamber. Maybe there was a key part of the protective magics that kept them away. It could have been the construction of the “lattice” in the special cell their body rested in, The answer was unknown but Zoix was fascinated by it. They couldn’t risk getting close enough to find out. In addition what would happen if they retrieved their body and took it from where it rested.

Right now none of that was important. The hive before them seemed dormant still. This is as it should be. It meant the few groups that existed would be safe for a while. The Vreech asleep here and sated on the glute of magic they had found inside the Esoteric order guild hall they now have made a hive.

Turning and dropping back down it happened. A wave of energy rippled through their awareness. A pulse that caused them to drop to their knees. A ley line was opened. Someone or something had removed the securities that kept them secret and hidden. Even if only for a moment. “ No…no…NO!” Zoix thought as they clambered to their feet and turned towards where the pulse came from. Behind them they heard the shrieks from the Vreech as they awoke.

Pure horror filled them as their feet moved with a tireless rhythm. They could outpace the Vreech hounds, maybe stop one or two. They had to keep the Vreech from the Cairns. The old protectors were gone. Only Zoix was left. This has been their only purpose for millenia. Their only reason to maintain their sanity and self. So many lost. So much lost. If they get there soon enough maybe they could protect the people or die, finally die trying.


This wind Zoix could feel. The wind of change.

2/6/22

“What… what are you doing over there.. What’s that moist sound?” Karnak said as he twisted in his shackles as best he could from where the chains were bolted. He looked over to see his friend Viltis the human licking his wrists and ..spitting on them and then working them against the shackles.

”I’m...trying to...wet my wrist. Spit works great for that.. I should have hydrated better,” Viltis replied grimacing at what he must have tasted as he worked his strategy.

Karnak frowned a bit, which on his handsome and rugged orc face seemed somehow heroic even in their current situation as if he was resigned to help that poor human no matter what. Looking back now to the cave opening and their deep goblin guards, Karnak began to speak at a whisper, “There’s two guards. One that was mean to you earlier.. With that hat.. And another with a pole arm. They seem drowsy. I think if we can get them in here and I can get them close enough, I can wrap my chains around one and threaten to kill them. Then the other would maybe unlock us.” The Orc stared still at the guards and to the side he heard “I want that hat” from his friend between sounds of Viltis liberally applying his attempt at escape.

Karnak thought back to the Cairn and the life they had lived thus far, to his new wife that Viltis introduced him to, and to the family he intended to have. Orcs were on a dire timeline. Ten years and a day he had learned. Then they simply just died as if a cord were cut. He had to find answers. If this was a result of magic then magic could counter it. Magic could give his future children a better life. That magic won’t be found within the Cairn. Those answers aren't here. That's what he and Viltis were out working on in forbidden forgotten areas of the Cairn when they stumbled across an ambush. They had been avoiding a troll when the goblins got them. The goblins still had to deal with the troll and it took away some of their forces which allowed them this opportunity. Karnak set his jaw while his hands reached to his hip and the belt favor he wore, fingers running over it idly as he did when deep in thought when he felt a tug. His head snapped to the source and he saw the human looking to him raising a finger to his lips to silence him. A finger on a hand unchained. Both were unchained! How did this damn Null do it? Amazing creatures.

Within moments Viltis had the manacles off of Karnak and they both stalked towards the cave opening.

Grupik was very proud of his day. He had found this great hat. He won two shinies and a day-old snake from Fleek and they took part in an ambush and captured people-food. They also didn't get selected to fight the troll. This day was GREAT! Even as tired as he was, he beamed a toothy grin to Fleek who stood guard with him and held the polearm they had taken from the green people-food proudly. Today was a great day! What was that sound…?

Viltis brushed off the hat from the goblin. He and Karnak had snuck up on them easily enough and made quick work. Now they salvaged their gear as best they could. Chief among these were the maps they had acquired and the backpack. Karnak was making sure the pack was on right so he could run with it and the maps were tucked away. Viltis was marveling at his hat and how it folded to be a totally different kind of hat. This fairly innocent minute was ruined not by their actions, but instead by the distinct sound of a goblin scream and it being torn in half and then by the awkward floppy wet sound of half of a goblin being hurled at them through the air and landing on the cave floor. Both friends looked at the half-corpse, then to each other. Sighing as one they looked to the cave entrance where a troll, riddled with goblin arrows growled and then roared a challenge.

Picking up a shortsword and battered shield, Viltis smirked and asked Karnak, “ I go low, you go high? I'll give you a ramp?” Karnak nodded and readied his polearm as they both rushed forward. Feinting to slash at the troll's abdomen, Viltis crouched and with one hand and slashed at the troll’s knee causing it to bend down slightly. Viltis’ other arm with the shield strapped to it moved to lay the shield across his back. In an instant Karnak was dashing forward using the shield as the ramp promised earlier and with all of the rage in himself went high and for the head.

“What odd little moments are these that make such a difference and give hope,” thought Viltis as he saw the troll’s head land before him and the body start to slump. “And boy, do I hope we can find a torch fast.”

12/8/22

Servants scrambled to assemble the small table and flat ware. They laid plates and filled the wine glass. All in preparation for the man slowly walking over. Black gems on his brow and a great coat brushing the grass by this roadside clearing. The light snow of the previous night melting and making the helm of his garment damp.

The figure moved to the table as a covered dish was laid on it and his seat was provided for him and pushed in as he sat. It seemed as if the only thing that was important to the the military caravan that now in the early morning began to rouse was pleasing this person’s needs. This living legend. This Inquisitor.

Thorne had been in the Inquisition for some time. Hunting down rogue elementals and outlaws, insuring the dominance of the protectorate and bringing his own brand of justice where he walked. Often people were aghast at some of his actions. He saw them as enforcing the laws and decrees of the protectorate and while active and in the field it was he who determined what they were and enforced them. All he did as a humble servant was serve. That is what he told himself.

The air was crisp and the first snow of the season had dusted the landscape the night before. Thorne knew he could not make it through the mountain passes before ithe snow and bad weather came more heavily. The harsh winter would strand his army here.. His aims were to seek a large town near the mountain base and reconnoiter it until the spring thaw. Staging his army to be able to lay claim to the peoples and resources of this newly opened cairn as is the right of the Protectorate,

Sitting down his servants placed the napkin over his lap and brought out a dish lifting the lid. Steam road from the roasted meat and sparse worn looking vegetables. In spite of his own hunger Thorne took a moment before carefully sliding into his meal. As his blade first moved in a sawing motion a scream could be heard echoing through the valley on this side of the mountains. The tell tale “Vreech” sound made by creatures commonly called “hounds” by those familiar.

Thorne sighed and laid down his utensils, closing his eyes as he spoke. The voice that uttered was barely above a whisper. “ Fetch the outlaws… and the decoys”. The camp sprang into action. Guard forming up and the servants dashing to follow the Inquisitors orders. In short order a group of six Null (humans) and Circleborn (high Ogres) were brought before his table. He took a long moment examining them. Thorne knew that this whole time wasted would mean his food was cold. He detested cold food that had been meant to be served warm. It was against common order.

Thorne was aware, however, that drama was a key part in his job. A tool to be wielded. Another scream echoed.
“You all know what that sound means… it seems to be only one. It hunts us.. So many innocents and non soldiers. A village nearby. All to be fodder and feed for these abominations. One of you could be our savior. One of you could earn a place of honor posthumously in spite of how you were brought into this world”
Gesturing , Thorne waved to the side and a servant brought up a tray with six leather bags.
“You know the ways. Starting on this end.. You will choose a bag one by one. You will open the leather and place your hand inside and touch the stone. The one with whom the stone chooses will be…our salvation. A hero to the protectorate. You will lead the enemy away and possibly overcome it! Should you survive, simply return here after the creature’s defeat and become rewarded. “

With a nod by the Inquisitor the servant holding the tray moved to the first person in line. A young human woman. She chose a leather bag, reached in and picked up the stone inside and then dropped it. She burst into silent, barely contained, tears as she did. Her shoulders shivering as she tried to control the relief. The next a male Null with the tan and tattoos of Haven. He also reached in the bag he chose and paused. Closing his eyes, his fingers curled around the stone inside, he brought out his hand and dropped the stone into the bag with a metallic clank.

Thornes eyes moved to the third individual. A Circle Born who seemed to be whispering to the air. She moved to reach for a bag and then paused, changing her mind and reached for another. With surety she reached in and her eyes went wide. He brought out her hand and with the stone in her pam she turned her hand upside down and splayed out her fingers. As she did the stone remained in her palm. The link to her spirit having formed on contact

“You have been chosen young outlaw. Your voices in your head seem to have led you to this great and glorious purpose. Run now. Your efforts guarantee the further success of the protectorate in these barren and uncultured lands.”

The female Circleborn growled something under her breath and four of the Protectorate guard stepped forward with their pikes ready. With that she turned and began to run. After roughly 100 yards she paused and tilted her head as if listening to the wind and cackled, turning her head she dashed off in the opposite direction before disappearing into the tree line.

“Return the rest to their cages. Ready another seeking stone in case more hounds are about…” He looked down at the no longer steaming meal before him and frowned deeply. “Then prepare my tools.. I'll be speaking with the other from Haven. I need all the information I can on this “Bastian” these cairn dwellers are building. We must bash their hope. Drain it from them. Dig up the roots and burn it. They are not greater than the Protectorate. The Protectorate is …eternal.”

5/18/23

Sondra

Sondra walked through Haven, making her way to the trade center. Her brother Benedict was going to accompany her to visit the people of Bastion. She really enjoyed the Night Market they held and wanted to share it with Benedict.

As she gathered the goods she wanted to trade, a Pastiche man came in. She smiled at him and reviewed the items she had chosen. “What do you think, Benedict?” The warm day had caused his skin to look pink from sunburn.

“Don’t you think you’re bringing a little too much?” Benedict asked from next to her.

“I don’t think so. They need all the help they can get. Besides, these are items from our surplus. It will help them and us, depending on the trade.” Sondra began packing the items into two bags for the trip.

Before she could finish, the alarm bell sounded. She glanced at Benedict as he walked to the door. She set the bags down and walked out of the trade center, Benedict close behind.

Sondra saw Cassius as she moved towards the meeting area and nodded to him. What is going on? The bell only rings for emergencies. Then she heard the sounds of marching, of shields being hit with swords, and the low rumble of voices… 

“The Protectorate is marching on our home! We must all defend it!” Elder Tialia’s voice rang through the din.

Sefondre and Pastiche alike looked around at one another. Sondra could see that everyone knew what their job was. Hers was to climb the wall and cast spells down upon the enemy; Benedict’s as well. They linked arms and began moving towards the walls.

Upon the walls she saw them, a black mass in the distance, moving ever closer. As she glanced back she saw the Mistress of Storms, Forge Father and Roc gathering children and the elderly together before rifting them to the other two Havens. She sighed in relief as the evacuation continued. But where is Marcus? He should be somewhere around here. She knew he’d be at his station, defending the village, just as she was. Still, she wished her twin were near. They always had a way of knowing exactly what the other was going to do in a fight.

With a sigh, she turned back to the army in front of her and by now, she could clearly see individual bodies. They were so close. She could feel her heart pound in her chest as she took a deep breath and readied herself. She knew her entire reserve of spellpower would go into this fight. She only wished she hadn’t memorized the Ward; there were so many other spells that could have been more useful!

The Protectorate surged forward, but the advance force was all Pastiche and Sefondre! Many Havenites hesitated. No one here wanted to attack their own people. As reluctant archers handled the first wave, Sondra and Benedict held their spells. Tears ran down her face as she watched the Pastiche and Sefondre slaves die in front of the walls.

Then the real army came, and from that moment, everything was a haze of light, color, and noise. She threw her entire memory down at the forces. All her spells and channeling seemed to make no difference. The moment she had nothing else to throw she turned to her brother. He nodded, out of spells too. Per the defensive protocol, they turned and left the wall, ready to evacuate.

As she reached the ground, there was a large crashing noise. She looked back to see the gates broken in. Benedict grabbed her hand and pulled her to the back gate to escape.

The army surged in as Sondra looked back. Her brothers and sisters were being slaughtered before her eyes. Many were leaving their posts too, spells exhausted, shields Disarmed, and quivers empty. Cassius was there, fighting against the soldiers in black. She wanted to call out to him but she knew better.

Suddenly the back gates crashed inward, and more Protectorate forces poured in. She and Benedict quickly dashed into a side alley, but as she turned back to look, Forge Father appeared! He began to use his magic to bring down Protectorate forces all around him. 

A large group of mages assembled behind the fighters engaging Forge Father. They began to throw Subjugates at him. Sondra saw his power as he shrugged off spell after spell, but she knew eventually one would slip past his defenses.

A Subjugate finally landed. Sondra knew it was over. Tears running down her face, she and Benedict slipped away from the main keep and fled towards the outpost. There, perhaps, her Ward would be useful after all. There, perhaps, they would be able to regroup and fight back.

Cassius

Cassius sat in the council room with Elder Tialia. They were going over the inventory of the winter stores, to determine how much the foragers needed to gather for everyone to have meals. Any residual supplies could be traded with the people of Bastion, who not only needed food, but also instruction in how to gather food.

One of the guard runners came in, breathing heavily. Elder Tialia and Cassius looked up at the young man and motioned for him to come closer. He moved quickly to them and took a deep breath.

“The Protectorate is near. It looks like they will be here in minutes. We need to get everyone ready to defend. The captain told me that the alarms need to be sounded.”

Cassius stood quickly, moved to the alarm bell, and pulled the rope hard. After ringing the bell a few times he moved with Elder Tialia and the boy outside. Already, there was commotion in the square as the Havenites gathered.

Cassius stood with Tialia and waited. He met Sondra’s eyes and they shared a nod as she moved to her post with one of their brothers. People stood muttering and talking to each other. The alarm bell didn’t ring all the time; hearing it meant something was wrong.

“The Protectorate is marching on our home! We must all defend it!” Elder Tialia’s voice rang through the din. 

All at once everyone went to their posts. Cassius began to collect all the children and elderly together. The Mistress of Storms, Forge Father, and Roc appeared in the square and began rifting them all out to the other Havens.

The sounds of fighting rose over everything else. He heard the ram hitting the gates. He knew that things were going to get dicey soon. He moved to the triage area and started to administer healing to the wounded.

Once his healing was exhausted and he was reduced to binding and Celestial magic, Cassius ascended the wall to begin his assault against the enemy. He looked out, and he was horrified. There were bodies everywhere. Most were Sefondre and Pastiche. He glanced over and saw many of his brothers and sisters along the wall bleeding out and dying, and he administered first aid as he was able.

A Pastiche ran into him with a gash from an arrow on his arm. Cassius pointed him down the stairs before he realized it was Marcus, Sondra’s twin. He hoped that they both would make it through this as he turned back to cast what he had left into the chaos. It was not enough, and the assault continued.

The walls shook with each bash of the ram on the gates. He almost fell over when it finally gave way. He moved to the opposite side of the wall as the back gate came crashing in as well. Thankfully, there were smaller alternate routes out of Haven and to outer hidden outposts. In the square below, his Father suddenly rifted into the fight.

Cassius could do nothing as the Protectorate casters surrounded Forge Father. He could do nothing as they cast Subjugate after Subjugate, relentlessly. He could do nothing as he watched his father’s defenses give way and the Protectorate gained control. He could do nothing as an Inquisitor walked forward and held a crystal towards Forge Father.

Then, the fires began. Though most buildings were made of stone by Roc there were still fabrics, wood, and so many other flammable things. Everything that could burn did. Cassius turned and fled. There’s nothing else I can do. I’ve used all my magic. All I can do now is try to get as many people out as I can. He hoped that most would survive, but he knew many would not.

7/18/23

The air made a soft sound as two figures filled the space on the peak. The place where they rifted into was a small outcropping, overlooking the valley that Bastion rested in. Lightning danced between the clouds as The Mistress of Storms, ancient lightning elemental, worked diligently to put out the fires across the valley as best she could.

Between the flashes, the two figures knelt. The larger of the two carefully laid the other down, folding their arms over their chest and propping them up a bit. The smaller body, known to many as Kymisha, could now look over the people she loved and the forest she had come to call home.

The lightning flashed again. The larger figure, who knelt next to the body of his friend, wiped his eyes- revealing the small silver scales now encircling them. A soft glow started to eminate from him, and he whispers a few words in an unknown tongue. Words to his friend. Then he turned slowly and looked back over the valley. His face was conflicted, and also wracked with grief. It slowly twisted into fury as his ears, now far more sensitive, picked up a scream that formerly filled him with fear.

He reached out for the blade, his secret tool- instead his hand became that of claws and death. He grimaced as he looked it over. Kymisha’s death had been planned. It was an ambush, and an assassination. That weapon they used was the tail of a Queen. This meant the Vreech Queens still existed. They would be coming for him soon, and this is what he had feared. Even now, others may be paying for it. Viltis walked to the edge of the outlook and staggered, his energy waning. He could feel himself swelling with magic, he could feel himself changing. It was glorious- and frightening. Right now, however, he pressed it all down. Even then, his focus turned his eyes silver, black slits for pupils widening in the dark. His hair gained a silvery sheen in places. Then another scream- more Vreech. He flexed his new claws and took a few steps back. He then ran forward and leapt into the air, to bring some justice and deliver some payback.

7/18/23

No…no….NO! This is not what I want to do! My children are screaming! I can’t stop this. Everything is burning. Everything I built. All the good we have done. No…no…no…no..

In a flash Forge Father left his daughter kneeling before him with pleading eyes. She was alive. So many others were not. How many have I burned…in Haven, while they ran, in the camps… Looking around, he was on a peak. He saw many spotted areas that usually were clear of life.

There, in the distance, was the spot he had called home for so long a time he almost didn’t remember the first Haven anymore. Then he spotted it. The keep where that cursed gem had been kept. He grinned knowing soon The Protectorate would feel loss as he did.

There was no chance they would ever be ready. He was vaguely aware that the night the gem had been stolen by his daughter’s friends, that other children had been close by. He paused for only a moment to look at the room across from where his will had been kept. Empty.

Fire erupted from him then. He walked out of the room, and into the center of the keep. Smaller elementals split from his body to keep the guards busy while they burned to death. Then he saw him, Vice Inquisitor Errant. Rifting, he was behind him in an instant. Forge Father wrapped his hands around Vice Inquisitor Errant’s neck.

“Your Protectorate will burn. You protect no one.” He pushed fire into his body and dropped it. Everyone here was dead. On to the next keep or camp. It didn’t matter which, all that mattered was wiping the Protectorate away from his home and children.

7/18/23

After the Spring gather…

Thorne returned to the forward base, though the trek for his spirit felt long overland when he recalled. This is what it all was for, and he was hungry when his body formed where he recalled. As soon as he stepped out, his aide came to his side. They had taken this so-called Forge Father, and the imperious Inquisitor cast his eyes down to the war table he’d been led to. The Vice Inquisitor would be returning with his own news soon enough. There were casualty numbers as well as stock of what they had gained from taking Haven, and he surveyed them with cool detachment.


“That is enough,” he murmured to his aide. Thorne didn’t often have to speak up, others quieted themselves to listen. To the proud Librahm at his side, he nodded and turned to his assembled field lieutenants. “Send the Vice Inquisitor to them on the morrow, and the thirteenth company. They are pitiable and spirited, but if they cannot understand reason, perhaps they will understand force. If they understand neither,” Thorne allowed for a pregnant pause, closed his eyes and lowered his head in a deadpan pantomime of mourning. “Then we will make better use of their resources, for the good of the Protectorate.”

In the flickering light of standing torches and eldritch lights, the stone on his forehead refused to shine, seeming to absorb the light. When Thorne looked up, his cold gray eyes looked through his people as if to distant horizons. “We will protect, and we will endure.”

With that, he cast his arms out to the sides, drawing in a deep breath, staff clutched in his right hand. Despite the grand gesture, he did not have to shout. “For the Protectorate.” His icy monotone was final as a bell’s tolling, and it was followed by a hearty chorus of voices in unison. Without speaking again, he raised his arms and drank in the voices of his people, bolder than wine, as they rose again. “WE WILL PROTECT. WE WILL ENDURE. THE PROTECTORATE IS ETERNAL.” After the rallying cry was complete, he brought his staff down into the soft earth and nodded to them. “Let us prepare for tomorrow.”

Thorne turned and dinner was laid for him. Orderly. Immaculate. Hot. When the servants stood by, hiding their worry for the Inquisitor’s displeasure, he nodded deeply to dismiss them. They learned.

**************************************************************************

Long before twilight, Vice Inquisitor Errant returned. There was no fanfare as the Vice Inquisitor and the thirteenth company trickled back. Thorne’s lieutenants sat them aside to wait, the Inquisitor would be with them at his discretion. When he did approach, his steps were measured, his great coat floating back behind him, driven by the wind stirred by the supposed Mistress of Storms’ temper tantrum. He did not need to inquire what had happened for explanations to pour forth. “Let Vice Inquisitor Errant speak,” Thorne stated, flat as the palm of his hand, held up toward them to motion for quiet and order.

So it was - Song of Life had come to their aid. What special interest these Elementals had taken in the cairn-dwellers of ‘Bastion’ was new and tantalizing information. No matter. They would be subjugated just as the Forge Father and brought into line, and that sort of power would serve the Protectorate well. This Song of Life had shown her willingness to intervene, a willingness that would prove folly. “Good. Now, clean up. We have much work to do.”