Printable Version of Topic

Posted by: SubRosa May 6 2018, 03:26 AM

A while ago I wrote http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=5381, which is set in Tamriel. Afterward I thought about adapting it to an original setting. I did a lot of world-building, remade the characters to fit the new world, and got started into translating the story over.

I ran out of steam when I started looking at my over-arching direction, and started seeing some problems. The biggest one was that I had in mind a big High Fantasy story - an ancient race rising to destroy the world, champions rising from the dead, the army of light banding together to fight off evil, and so forth. The twist I planned to this standard format was that the protagonists were trying to stop the war, rather than win it. With finding a peace between all involved being the end goal, rather than destruction.

But the story I was starting out with - Seven - is Low Fantasy (at least the way I define it). Farmers and mercenaries vs. bandits. Ordinary people, with ordinary problems. I like that, as it feels very accessible, and makes the characters, even the extraordinary ones, feel more relateable. So that made me want to continue in that vein, and do a series of stories about a pair of hired spells who are part mercenaries, part private detectives. Sort of like Spenser For Hire or Magnum P.I. with magic. That in turn meant scrapping the entire over-arching story. Or trying to bridge the gap between Low Fantasy and High Fantasy. It left me with a lot of questions, and I was not feeling excited about the answers. So I ended up setting it all aside.

Instead of leaving it all collecting dust, I decided to post what I did finish up here. Maybe it will fire me up to get back to working on it again. People who have read Seven will recognize most of the main characters. Names have been changed in many cases. Some because the originals were Bethesda creations, others to suit the new races/languages. Speaking of which races and the like are entirely new, as is the geography, flora and fauna, how magic works etc... I will put some of that here in this post, and start the actual story in a second post. Let me know if you want to see more of the background notes, and I will put them in this post.


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Teodon Coloration (this is just what their scale colors look like, not actual representations of the characters)
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Fighting Moves
https://youtu.be/1S_Q3CGqZmg?t=56s

https://youtu.be/5PibS3owPEQ

https://youtu.be/Q4SHWXQBVL4?t=49

http://www.thearma.org/essays/HT-A&UA_files/image012.jpg

Posted by: SubRosa May 6 2018, 04:29 AM

Seven 2.0

Chapter 1.1

Aela rocked on her heels as a magical bolt crashed into her arcane shield. The raw mana flashed hot and brilliant, and she knew that to mundane eyes it would appear to be lightning. Her magical senses could see beyond the simple elemental force however, to the primal magical energy underneath.

It was the same energy that sang within all living beings, and flowed through the earth itself. Normally mana brought life and vitality, as water did to plants. But now it crashed into her like a flood. Just as tidal wave pulverized everything in its path, the magical assault sought to obliterate the threads of power that made up her aura. That would in turn carry the same terrible fate down to the flesh and bone of her body governed by those magical strands.

Her magical bulwark shivered under the assault. Aela reflexively poured more energy into her shield, so that even as the enemy magic ate away at one layer of defense, she wove a fresh lattice of force beneath. So in spite of the fury unleashed against her, Aela's ward held.

As the last remnants of the arcane bolt fizzled away into the aether, she found herself brushing aside a loose strand of hair from her eyes. She was thankful that she had tied it back before the battle. Otherwise she imagined that the brown strands would stand on end from the static, and create a frightful sight!

Staring down the megalithic passageway, Aela's eyes fixed upon the source of the attack. It was a man, given his shape and size. His race was anyone's guess however, given the mask of bones that covered his face. He wore a dark robe with long sleeves, overlain by a lamellar cuirass of black metal. Aela imagined that it might be lorcras, the black steel of the legendary Dark Elves. She hoped not, given that metal's well-known ability to absorb magic. In any case, Aela knew that this had to be the leader of the cultists they had come to stamp out.

The dark priest was surrounded by bodyguards. They were men and women of all the human races: dark-skinned Aymarans, olive-toned Rasenna, fair Arvernach such as herself, and pale Skanjr. All wore mail shirts and carried round wooden shields painted with images of voracious mouths. Most gripped swords or axes of mortal steel. But Aela noted several who brandished silvery-white aetherial blades. Swords conjured from pure mana, they looked like lightning hammered into solid form.

Aela felt Loria's warm breath on her shoulder, smelling faintly of mint. The Light Elf reached out beyond her with one hand - though still within the protection of her ward - and fire blossomed from his fingers. The bright red and orange flames sprayed down the passage before them. The blaze licked off the dry-stone walls, and rolled along the megalithic slabs of the ceiling. The tunnel between was transformed into an inferno of flame and smoke.

The dark priest lifted his staff however, and a bubble of energy rose up before him and his followers. Loria's flames crackled and snarled upon the protective wall of magic, but failed to pierce its glowing surface. It was a standoff then. As Aela had feared, this battle might have to be decided by force of arms rather than magic.

As if to give voice to the Arvern Witch's thoughts, a shout rose above the bedlam in the corridor.

"Frisverd!," the deep voice rang out, "forward!"

With a wordless chorus of bellows and cries, a tidal wave of humanity charged up from behind Aela and Loria, and swept past them down the hallway. Like the cultists, the Skanjr warriors were clad in good mail byrnies, steel helmets, and iron-rimmed shields. They raised swords and axes, and put them to use with ruthless effect.

For all their wild cries, the Skanjr mercenaries formed an even wall of steel before the Aela and Loria. They moved forward as one, axes and swords stabbing and hacking at the cultists. Aela could see little more than their armored backs at this point, as the Northerners stood far taller than an Arvern like herself. Even Loria's willowy elven frame was matched by their height, though he was certainly outstripped by their bulk.

Aela stretched her senses out through the aether, and the corridor leaped to brilliant life before her. She could not only see the magic around her, but smell, taste, hear, and even feel it as well. The brilliant energy ebbed and flowed like water, coursing around and through everything in the physical world. It might be invisible and intangible to the dull eyes of a mundane, but to her it was like standing within a living, breathing watercolor painting.

She immediately felt Loria standing beside her. His energy rose like a brilliant pillar of fire, spreading light and warmth out through the aether around him. Before the two of them she sensed the fainter auras of the Skanjr mercenaries. Not being magicians, their energy was cooler, dimmer, and less vibrant to her magical senses. They reminded Aela of the embers of a fire that had recently burned out.

The cultists beyond the hired swords were similar, in that their auras were dull and grey as well. Yet unlike the Northern mercenaries, their auras felt foul. Touching them reminded Aela of stepping upon slime under her bare feet. That feeling only worsened as she neared the dark priest. Unlike his bodyguards, his aura was brilliant and powerful, but far more sickening to behold.

Where Loria's energy was warm and clear as the noon-day sun, the dark priest's power reminded Aela of rotting flesh squirming with maggots. Aela felt herself momentarily recoil at the corruption that was so plainly etched upon the man's spirit, and could not prevent herself from curling a lip in disgust.

The stone walls and cold earth of the tunnel surrounding her felt nearly as bad. The barrow was darker in the aether than it was even in the mundane world. For that same sense of corruption which lurked within the leader of the cult seemed to permeate the entire barrow. This was clearly not a place where the dead found rest and peace. Rather it was an abattoir.

Clearly, horrific deeds had been done here. To have soaked so thoroughly into the aether, Aela knew they could not have been a rare occurrence. It was a legacy of long years of torment. Terror, torture, and worse things screamed out from the mana that surrounded Aela. It assaulted her senses like the effluvium of a midden heap. It made the Arvern want to retch, but seven years of training at the Ingenium had steeled her against such things.

She focused her thoughts, and rewove the threads of power that created the tapestry of her arcane shield. At the same time Aela poured yet more of her energy into the spell, causing those strands to grow and take new shape in the aether before her. Now her magical barrier extended out in all directions to fill the entire passage. Then she pushed the glowing bulwark forward, beyond the dim auras of the Skanjr mercenaries, until it slammed into the unyielding barrier of the dark priest's own ward.

Aela was just in time, as she felt a terrific wave of fire wash across the face of her shield but a moment later. The magical energy sizzled against her defenses, burning away the channels of power that defined the ward. It took all of Aela's years of experience and skill to continually reweave the strands that created the blanket of her defense. She worked feverishly, so that even as one thread was incinerated, a fresh one took its place.

All the while Aela continued to drain more of her mana into the shield. She wondered how long she could continue to channel such energy into it. This dark priest possessed a power the like of which she had rarely ever felt before, even among the sages of her old school. Aela had no doubt that without her shield to stop him, he would have literally just turned all of the mercenaries into dust.

Aela recalled the war between Alalia and Felathri years before. She had been part of the ritual team that had protected the Alalian army with a massive arcane shield. They had stripped away its physical layer of protection to conserve energy. Now Aela did the same. Her ward would only protect against spells, where moments before it had also warded off mundane blows from axe or sword. From now on the Skanjr would just have to trust to their armor and shields to defend them, as the Alalian army had done on the field years ago.

Those Skanjr appeared to be doing well. While she could not physically see what was happening on the front line of the battle, she could still discern that the mercenaries were steadily pushing forward. Her magical senses could easily place their auras, all neatly arranged in a solid wall that spanned the megalithic passageway from one side to the other.

The auras of the cultists were not so organized. Rather they spread out haphazardly across the passage. Sometimes one would push forward against the mercenaries, but rarely with any immediate support from the other cultists. The Skanjr however, met their foes together, never breaking their shield wall. Because of that the cultists never fought just the single mercenary in front of them, but were forced to contend with the warriors to either side as well.

One by one the auras of the cultists winked out under the crush of the massed Skanjr. While Aela was not trained as a warrior, she could clearly see that it was this teamwork on the part of the mercenaries that carried the day for them.

While the swords and axes of the Northerners steadily worked their way through the cultists, Aela felt Loria strike out once more. This time it was not elemental force which the elf wielded, but rather a more subtle magic. A counterspell that was neither visible to mundane sight nor able to be felt by non-magical blood, its power was nonetheless a brilliant flare before Aela's magical senses.

Loria's magic stabbed into the bone-masked cultist's ward like a chisel being driven underneath a great hammer. Aela felt the dark priest's defense shiver under the elf's magical strike. Loria followed with another blow, and another, and soon cracks formed in the opposing ward. The Arvern Witch felt the cult leader's attack upon her own ward falter, and flicker out. A moment later his own arcane shield likewise vanished. Wary of a trick, Aela maintained her focus and continued channeling power into her own defense.

Aela's caution was rewarded when she felt the cultist's ward flare to life once more. This time however, it did not span the hallway, but rather formed a smaller barrier that curved around the front of his body alone. A moment later she felt it buckle under a heavy, physical blow. She knew that had to have been from a Skanjr sword or axe. That meant that the mercenaries were upon the dark priest, and now he would be forced to split his energy between assaulting Aela's arcane shield, and protecting himself from her allies.

Aela stumbled forward, her body feeling numb and far away as her senses roamed the aether. She could not let the mercenaries get too far ahead of her, lest they advance beyond the range at which she could project her ward. Again, when she had been part of a ritual team, it had been possible to push the ward far from her body. But without a hundred other magicians in support, her abilities were limited.

Loria hammered with his counterspell once more. Again it smashed the priest's ward, and its mana scattered into the aether. A moment later Aela felt the hot pillar of the cult leader's energy snuff out like a candle being pinched under finger and thumb. She knew what that meant. One of the warriors had finished the priest off the old-fashioned way. As if to underscore Aela's ruminations, a great cheer rose from the Skanjr.

Posted by: Acadian May 6 2018, 06:55 PM

By Julianos' little teapot it is good to see you posting some fic again!

You did a nice job of setting things up in your first post. We know this is a foreign world of your own making and, therefore, we are open to absorb how things (like magic) work here. The geography you provide is a nice touch.

Wonderful to see Aela again - even though I know she is different here. You did indeed provide lots of info in the first episode but it was most welcome and you did a masterful job of weaving it into a very engaging battle.

I simply love how Aela lives and breathes magic - it permeates every strand of her being. The descriptions of how the magicks of Aela, Loria and the dark priest all worked were easily understood and totally fascinating.

So far, this is a wonderful story and I'm looking forward to learning more as we go!

Posted by: Kazaera May 7 2018, 04:56 PM

Hey, it's Aela! It's great to see her again, in Tamriel or otherwise!

Re: telling rather than showing... I see what you mean? It's subtle - I've read way heavier exposition hammers, definitely - but it's there. I think the problem is that this is an action scene, and as a result any worldbuilding digressions end up eating away at the urgency and suspense - especially ones that are a little further away from what's happening, such as the line of thought about how different races or blind people might sense magic. This level of exposition would be much less noticeable if it were, say, Aela regathering her reserves after the battle, or watching her allies train, or anything else where it'd be more viable for her mind to wander.

That said, this critique is brought to you by someone who errs very strongly on the side of avoiding exposition in favour of forcing readers to piece things together themselves (and reads fanfic for fandoms where they don't know the canon for fun, too). I find that almost every fantasy novel I read has too much exposition for my taste, so the fact that I consider it just barely too much means it's probably the perfect amount. :-P And I do think dropping us straight into the action was a great narrative choice, even if it makes the exposition trickier to balance! It definitely grabbed me, and I'm curious to see what will happen next (never to mention eager to see more AELA!!)

(PS: If you'd prefer not to have this sort of critique, let me know! I don't usually offer concrit unless it's been specifically welcomed, but since you explicitly pointed these things out I thought I'd mention how it came across to me.)

Posted by: Renee May 7 2018, 06:32 PM

I really like the part where it says she could see magics, beyond what ordinary people can see in everyday life. Not exact words, but ya know, that is my favorite part. The way she must focus to maintain that magical shield is also intense!

So this takes place on another continent in Tamriel, interesting. I know nothing about Aulerci, so that's interesting.

Posted by: SubRosa May 7 2018, 10:26 PM

Acadian: It is good to work on writing again. Finding the time is never easy these days. I need to get back into the habit again, to make it a habit again.

One of the things that always struggled with when writing fiction set in Bethesda's game world is how limited it all was, especially concerning magicians. To Beth a mage is simply another class, and their abilities have to be balanced with everyone else's to make the game fair and even. A fighter gets a sword, a mage gets a spell, a thief gets a bow. In the end they are all the same (or should be).

I like to show that being a magician is not simply one more form of doing damage to an opponent. It is a different way of perceiving the world, of occupying the world. IRL magicians are people who step from the physical world to the spirit world, and back again at will. They live between worlds. I really want to show that here in how Aela perceives reality. Which can be good for her, and bad for her (as the next few segments will show).


Kazaera: Hey, its Kazaera!

That is exactly the sort of critique I hope for. In fact, that very paragraph you singled out is one I took out because I thought it was too much Telling. Then I put it back in, but still felt uncertain about it. I feel better taking it out completely now. It is not necessary for the reader to understanding what is currently happening. I think I am going to try to use that as a litmus test to decide what more to cut out, and what to leave in.

I also have done some more editing to other parts. I changed the comparison of an arcane bolt to a lightning bolt in the beginning. Instead I followed the comparison to water. There are also a few bits here and elsewhere, such as Aela ruminating about how in the war they took out the physical protection from their arcane shield, so she does the same. I pared that down so it flows better, but you can still see that she is acting from past experience. I also changed it so the dark priest's initial arcane shield protecting all of his followers instead of just himself. That makes the fight much more even until the end.


Renee: Writing about how Aela lives in the spirit world is one of my favorite parts of writing her. Her world is more than what she can see and touch.

I am glad the effort Aela put into using and maintaining her shield came across as being engaging. That is one of her major talents after all. She is defense while Loria (formerly Ungarion) is offense. I don't want her to come across as insanely overpowered. It should seem like a lot of work, even though she is good at it.

This is not set in another part of Tamriel. It is all created by me, and is entirely separate from Bethesda and anything they have ever done.

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 8 2018, 12:08 AM

Infodump?? What info dump?

For the most part the exposition was minimal, I liked how you used Aela's memories as a means of providing information of herself and her world, which strikes me as being quite the far cry from Tamriel.

And yet, I felt at home here, in this world you've created for Aela. She was instantly recognizable, as was Loria as Ungarion 2.0. I loved how the two worked together and balanced different magics to form a cohesive whole.

Oh, and the way Aela perceives magic? That's exactly how I imagined witches, shamans and medicine men/women see their worlds. It feels like the Bosmer worldview taken up to notch eleven.

And starting in the middle of an action piece, ah, my favorite way to start a story off (or a chapter, for that matter . . .)

Hope you keep this up - I really want to see where Aela and Loria go after this!

Posted by: Renee May 8 2018, 02:01 PM

I didn't notice this either, not that it makes any difference to me.

Posted by: SubRosa May 9 2018, 10:06 PM

You missed most of the Telling. By the time you got to it I had already edited the worst offenders out. But I have still been making some edits. In fact I just changed the second paragraph a few minutes ago.

I am basing Aela's experience with magic on my own experience as a Witch. Also on several pen and paper RPGs like Shadowrun and Earthdawn (some of whose writers were also Witches, like Steve Kenson). One thing I find myself coming back to a lot is: "As above, so below", and how one world affects the other.




That is kind of you to say. It is much better now.

Posted by: SubRosa May 12 2018, 03:21 PM

Chapter 1.2

Aela finally allowed her ward to drop, and pulled her senses back from the aether. She sighed as the drab reality of the barrow once again filled her vision. Her physical eyes - previously enhanced by a night seeing spell - could easily pierce the gloom. Yet for the moment there was little to see but the armored backs of northern mercenaries. The sounds of battle had ceased, as had their advance. Now the warriors milled about, and when they turned in Aela's direction the lightstones suspended from their necks created bright spots that hurt her enhanced eyesight.

With a command in the Skanjr tongue, most of the mercenaries spread out into the small chambers to either side of the main passage. One of them came back to Aela and Loria. He was a bear of a man, with a craggy face that looked as if it had been chiseled from the rocky mountains of his northern homeland. A beard of red bristles sprouted like trees from his rugged features. Sprinkled with gray in many places, his whiskers reminded Aela of a weathered old forest dusted with ash.

The newcomer held a giant Skanjr long axe in his meaty fists. Its single, crescent blade was fixed to a wooden haft over half as long as he was tall. She noted that not only was the steel edge stained with blood, but also bits of brain and hair. Aela felt power stir within the fearsome weapon, and it proudly announced its name to her as Skjoldbreki, which she imagined might mean 'Shield Breaker' in the Northerner's tongue.

"I expect that will be the end of it," the heavy-set man rumbled in the Rasen language. "But come, there may be more mages in the main chamber."

"Let's get cracking then Hrollaug," Loria said brightly in Elvish. The Light Elf emphasized his words by cracking his knuckles together, and he grinned with a zest that Aela had to admit she did not feel herself. There had already been a heavy battle outside of the barrow, against several mages and scores of armed warriors. Their bone-masked leader had been one of the most powerful magicians she had ever faced. So far it had been all Aela could do protect herself and the others with her shielding magic. She could not honestly say she was anxious for more.

The mercenary shook his head at the pair. Aela suspected that he did not understand Elvish. It was not a language many Northerners had a desire to learn, as elves were hardly well-loved by his folk. Aela had to admit that she felt much the same toward the Skanjr in turn.

She coughed as they made their way through the smoke-filled passageway. She noted Loria doing the same. The taller elf held up the long, flowing sleeve of his robe over his mouth and nose in an effort to filter out the smoke left behind from the incendiary magic that both sides had employed. Even Hrollaug and the pair of blond mercenaries who joined them labored to breathe.

At least there was something Aela could do about that. She let her senses shift to the aether once more. She pushed her awareness up through the great slabs of rock that made up the ceiling, into the turf that covered it, and finally out into the open sky above. Once she was clear of the noxious energy that suffused the barrow, she called out to the air itself with her mana, and it answered in the form of a sylph.

Aela entreated the air spirit for her assistance. She found that the elemental was more than willing to oblige. The spirit drew hold of her mana, and allowed Aela to pour the energy into her being. Using that power, the sylph was able to transcend the aether and take physical form in the passage below.

That form came in the manner of a strong breeze that whispered through the rough-hewn corridors of the barrow. Rather than simply stirring up the fumes, the wind pushed all of the smoke outside. In moments the air was clean and easy to breathe again, and a playful wind danced around the tips of Aela's bound hair.

The mercenaries looked around uneasily, and murmured to one another in their own tongue. That is when Aela noted that one of them was a woman. Not that it made much difference in the end. Professional warriors like those of the Frisverd company were fighters first, men or women second.

At the end of the corridor they came to a wide, semicircular chamber. They found a great, bubbling cauldron set up in the center of the room. Shackled to the ceiling above it was the corpse of a man. From his olive skin, Aela deduced he had been a Rasen. His body was missing from the waist down. Given the chunks Aela saw floating around within the pot, she imagined that his legs had not gone far. Entrails and organs dripped down from the poor man's torso to add spice to the unwholesome meal. If that was not enough, in several places along his arms the flesh had been filleted from his bones as well.

Aela could not help but to turn her head away for a moment. It was not the dissected corpse itself that made her feel sick. She had seen - and done - far more gruesome things during her years of training in the healing arts of Vitamancy. Bare muscle, bone, tendons, organs and the like were not the sort of thing to make her blanch. Rather it was the sadistic intent so clearly behind the act that disturbed her. That intent not only assaulted her physical senses, but violated her magical sensitivity as well. Just as the previous areas of the barrow had reeked of corruption in the aether, here the horror was at its worst in the spirit realm.

"What they said was true," Hrollaug rumbled, "damned cannibals!"

Another of the Skanjr mercenaries spat on the ground in disgust. Aela noted that even Loria's creamy features, usually so bright and cheerful, were now veiled in shadow.

"There's one still alive!" one of the Skanjr cried, pointing across the room with his bared sword.

Aela was instantly at the ready. Before even casting her gaze about, she focused her thoughts upon the symbol for her arcane shield, and prepared to flood her mana through the threads of its tapestry. When she did finally see what the mercenary was pointing at, she relaxed her guard, but only somewhat.

What had seemed to be only a bundle of rags at the far end of the chamber shook, like a pile of leaves in an autumn breeze. Hrollaug and the other two Skanjr warily moved toward it from both sides. Aela followed, just in case her shielding was necessary. At the same time she made sure to leave a clear field of fire for Loria, who waited near the doorway with arms raised.

"Help me, help me!" The bundle of rags exploded upward, and revealed itself to be a filthy man clad in shabby wool. Aela could see that his teeth were blackened from rot, and she could practically feel the lice squirming through his greasy hair. "They captured me, were going to eat me! Oh you have to save me!"

"Captured you did they?" the female mercenary asked slyly. Her hand darted down to his waist, and drew forth a long, single-edged knife belted there. "Then what are you doing with this?"

"And why are there no ropes or irons here to bind you?" the other mercenary demanded. He grabbed one of the man's hands, exposing his wrist. "And your skin bears no marks of them ever being there?"

"And a mail shirt at your feet?" With one boot, the female Skanjr poked the steel rings of a byrnie laying on the floor nearby.

"I can explain!" the dirty man cried. "I found that knife, I was going to-"

But Hrollaug and the other mercenaries were no longer listening. The war captain looked to his followers and nodded wordlessly. Before the dirty man could finish his sentence, the female Skanjr drew the cultist's own dagger across his throat in a crimson line.

Aela stood and watched as the life poured out of the man, her heart as cold as the glaciers of the mercenary's far-off homeland. She could feel the darkness that twisted and smothered the man's spirit, just as clearly as she could feel it choking the light from the barrow all around. She could muster no sympathy for the cannibal, not given the horror suspended above the cauldron, and floating within its depths. How many innocent people had he and his ilk kidnapped or lured to the barrow, only to meet such a terrible end?

"As I suspected, they are Manaha cultists." Aela followed Loria's voice, to find the Silaine mage standing before a shrine made of bones. They were not just any bones either, but entirely from the Manaborn races: those peoples with both sentience and the ability to recognize and manipulate magic, whether or not they actually used it. The bones were bound together in wire, forming the image of a creature taller than Loria, yet more slender, with limbs too long for the rest of its body.

"Bloody Fomorian filth," Hrollaug spat. Then he turned to the other mercenaries. "Take everything of value. Then let us be quit of this cursed place."

Loria moved away from the shrine, and the Skanjr went about their looting with a quickness that revealed their experience at such matters. Aela stepped over to her friend, and followed his gaze to the idol of bones.

Looking at the shrine set Aela's teeth on edge. For once she wished that she had not honed the magical ability that resided within her, that lay within all people. If she had not done so, she would be as blissfully unaware of the icon's terrible presence as the mercenaries were.

To the warriors it was naught but a grotesque curiosity. But even without consciously trying to aesense, Aela felt the deep and terrible hunger that rose up from the shrine. It twisted through her belly like a fiery snake. It clawed into her ears, like fingers across a chalkboard. It whispered of the power that could be hers. It gnawed and writhed, like a maggot in the flesh of her soul.

Aela felt as dark as the barrow. Darker still. Feeling the power of the idol, she realized that the worst victims of the cult had not been those they had murdered and eaten, but the cultists themselves. It was now clear to her that the dead were just the bait, like worms on a hook. It was the cultist's own spirits that were caught by that hook, rent and trapped by its corrupt promise. Their souls were the true victims of Manaha the Voracious.

Once the Skanjr were gone, and the two mages were alone in the chamber, Loria raised his hands. He loosed a torrent of violent mana across the room. Lightning arced and blasted the idol to pieces. The cauldron and the corpses followed as the elf turned his destructive power about the room. After shattering everything, he changed his assault to fire, and engulfed the chamber in an inferno of cleansing flame.

As far as Aela was concerned, it could not burn fast enough.

Posted by: Acadian May 12 2018, 11:38 PM

Another fascinating episode! I simply love how Aela perceives her world. You really bring meaning to the title 'mage'. The way the battleaxe whispered its name to her spirit, her ability to coax help from the air itself, her sensing of the malevolence in both the prisoner and that grisly totem.

It brought a smile of satisfaction as Loria used some Delphine Jend level magic to tear apart and burn that cursed barrow.

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 14 2018, 02:53 PM

Skjoldbreki! Finally someone explains how we mysteriously know the name of enchanted weapons found as loot in the game - it’s not like someone hands it to you and tells you its name and enchantment. That little bit jumped out at me in an otherwise fascinating and immersive bit of storytelling.

More, please.

Posted by: Zalphon May 17 2018, 10:25 AM

I would like to start by saying I appreciate the scope of this piece as we've witnessed thusfar; it has a high fantasy feel (e.g. magic being commonplace), but the scope is narrowed in on low-fantasy concerns (e.g. the aforementioned farmers vs. mercenaries).

I'd also like to note a certain appreciation for the following phrase:

It was not the dissected corpse itself that made her feel sick. She had seen - and done - far more gruesome things during her years of training in the healing arts of Vitamancy. Bare muscle, bone, tendons, organs and the like were not the sort of thing to make her blanch. Rather it was the sadistic intent so clearly behind the act that disturbed her.

It gives us a lot of insight into your protagonist as one who is by no means squeamish about bodily fluids, but more about the darker sides of human nature. I feel it takes a lot of the focus away from the physical aspect of the sight and puts it into a more mental/emotional sphere, thus diminishing the need to be overly detailed with the physical aspects. I think how you handled it was quite well and revealing about the character's personality, as well as their abilities.

That said, there was one thing I wasn't a fan of. The use of the word rumbled (and other placeholders for said). I feel they sort of detracted from the prose slightly, such as here:

"I expect that will be the end of it," the heavy-set man rumbled in the Rasen language. "But come, there may be more mages in the main chamber."

But then your usage of the word "Cried" here I feel was substantially more effective than just having used said.

"I can explain!" the dirty man cried. "I found that knife, I was going to-"

I feel like in the case of the former, you used rumbled as a way to paint this figure as being large and imposing with a deep, gravely voice, but I may be wrong. If I was correct however, I think it might have been accomplished by giving a brief mention of his stature and how his deep voice carried.

That said, I really do like this chapter. The depictions of magic have a bittersweet charm about them as one thinks about them on the grand scale of the theatrics of it all, but also on the smaller scale of what it's like to be on the other side. I really do like this piece though. I think it has a lot of potential and I look forward to seeing its developments over the coming months.

Posted by: SubRosa May 19 2018, 04:04 PM

Acadian & haute ecole rider: My goal here is to show that magic is not an inert force that just sits around waiting for someone to use it. Rather it is an active element in the multiverse, like gravity or electro-magnetism, always acting upon its surroundings.


Zalphon: Hi Zalp! I do tend to get away from just using "said" often, in order to add more feeling. I used to give it a lot of careful thought back in the old days. But now that I am more comfortable with my writing it just naturally comes right out at times. So I leave placeholders in those places.

I think High and Low Fantasy are being redefined lately. I believe the classic rule of thumb was that if it was set in a wholly other world it was High Fantasy, and if it was set in the real world it was Low Fantasy. But as we are getting away from the 'standard' Tolkienesque stories of Dark Lords and the Army of Light uniting to defeat them, I think Low Fantasy is now being applied less toward the setting, and, more toward the plot. The Dark Lord and Army of Light is still High Fantasy, while the grey characters with mortal, everyday concerns like making a living, getting revenge, accumulating political and military power are Low Fantasy. I think the Game of Thrones tv series really illustrates this. I would call most of it Low Fantasy, as it is a dynastic struggle between ruthless warlords. But the Big Bad Ice Necromancer and his legion of undead are pure High Fantasy. I don't watch the show, but I think the most recent season had some issues because it was shifting away from the Low Fantasy stuff everyone can easily relate to, to the more romantic High Fantasy of Light vs. Darkness.


(This next chapter is a big one, but I don't think there is really enough going on to break it into two)

Chapter 1.3

Aela pulled the Light Elf away from the blaze, and entreated her sylph to continue to keep the air around them clear of the smoke and fumes from the blaze. She led the Silaine down the long corridor of the barrow as the heat from the flames bathed their backs. Finally they stepped from the darkness and out into the light of the sun. Aela lowered her night-seeing spell, but was still forced to raise a hand to shield her eyes from the sudden brightness.

A collection of wooden and stone buildings were clustered around the entrance of the barrow. All showed signs of the battle that had preceded the struggle beneath the earth. Doors were broken, windows and shutters were smashed, and roofs were burned out. In some cases entire structures had been completely flattened. The wooden stockade beyond had fared no better, and was charred to ashes or smashed down flat in numerous places.

Just outside of the broken walls, a spring bubbled up into a wide pond, whose runoff trailed away as a narrow stream. Beyond that rose the jagged pinnacles of the Stone Forest. The irregular spikes of limestone rose up hundreds of feet into the air, and spread out in all directions. It was as if someone had taken a forest, and replaced all the trees with towers made of rock. Here and there real brush and small catechu trees sprouted up between the pinnacles of stone, and in some places vines and creepers crawled up the rock faces. But for the most part the uneven fingers of stone were bare as they clawed at the sky overhead.

The mercenaries of the Frisverd company milled about the ruins of the small settlement. There were at least four dozen of them, if not more. Most were Skanjr, with pale flesh and fair hair. However, Aela also noted the olive skin and black hair of the Rasenna folk among nearly a third of their number. There were even a few brown-skinned Aymarans from across the sea, and pair of granite-hued Guzuk orcs from the eastern mountains.

The humans all wore shirts of mail belted around their waists, with skirts hanging down to at least their upper thighs. Spangenhelms protected their heads, and many wore bracers of hardened leather about their forearms. Their round shields were faced with leather or rawhide, and painted in a riot of colors and designs. There were spiral and checkerboard patterns, animals such as boars, wolves, or dragons, and even the elaborate knotwork patterns that her own people - the Arvernach - were known for. Most were armed with either straight, double-edged swords with rounded tips, or single-handed axes. However, a few carried great long axes like the one their leader Hrollaug brandished.

The two gray orcs were unarmored, as was typical of their folk. Chaotic designs were painted upon their bare skin with ochre, and the red body paint glowed warm to Aela's magical senses. She recognized the ochre as bearing a protective enchantment. The orcs had never been renowned for spellcasting, but their alchemy was second to none. The same was true of their fame with the falxes they carried. Pole-arms bearing a long, sickle-shaped blade, Aela had already seen that they could cut through shield and armor in one blow.

Aela felt the warm glow of mana beside her, and out of the corner of her eye she noted a shimmer fall down Loria's body from head to toe. A moment later it was gone, but the magic had left his skin and clothing impeccably clean. Even the wrinkles and creases had vanished from his black and silver robe. The ring of gold and amethyst that decorated one of his fingers glinted as if it had just been polished, and like his robes, resonated with the mana bound within.

Loria looked as if he has stepped off the cover of one of the copper disme romance novels that were so the rage in Alalia. Lavender eyes slanted gently across his delicate features, while a roseate waterfall of soft hair spilled down to nearly his waist. Now freed from grime, his skin was revealed to be as soft and pale as cream, and drew the light to it as a flower did butterflies.

Aela took a moment to concentrate upon her own Cleanse spell as well. Another brief shimmer of light carried away the grime and sweat from the battle, leaving her skin feeling as fresh and clean as if she had just risen from a warm bath. With the fingers of one hand, she loosened the band that tied back her hair. That allowed the light brown tresses to spill down across her long features, past her soft chin, and come to rest below her wide shoulders.

Her clothing was now cleaned and pressed as well, like Loria's. However, the white chemise, brown bodice, and leather pants she wore looked nowhere near as fine as his wizardly attire. Yet they too were suffused with protective magic, and Aela knew her clothing would defend her just as stoutly as the hauberks of steel that the mercenaries wore.

Aela saw that the warriors had built up a tall pile of the loot they had collected from the barrow. It seemed that nothing had escaped the eagle eyes of the sellswords. Aela saw not only the obvious valuables such as mail armor, weapons, and jewelry, but also drinking cups, candlesticks, boots, a wall hanging, and even a few books. Off to one side Aela also noted the bodies of the cultists, stripped bare and thrown into a much larger pile. Next to the grisly mound waited a cart drawn by a pair of mules.

Most of the warriors were clustered around the loot, examining the reward for their labors. Many doffed their helmets and ran fingers through sweaty hair, or quenched their thirst with skins of water or wine. Here and there Aela noted men and women with rent armor or dented helms, clearly wincing in pain. It was to these folk that she reflexively moved.

"Give me a few moments and I can heal that." Aela stepped up to a man whose arm trailed blood from wrist to elbow. She reached out for his wounded flesh, but the Skanjr jerked his hand away with a sneer.

"Don't touch me!" the red-haired man cursed in broken Rasen.

Aela recoiled from the stinging words. Looking from one mercenary to the next, she saw many gaping, fish-like stares greeting her. She knew that look well. They could see that she had not been born a woman, but was instead an ardhanari: a two-spirit who had transformed herself from male to female with magic.

"How are you going to earn with a hand like that Bruni?" One of the female mercenaries piped up. "You'll be worthless for a month at least."

"Then I'll be worthless!" the Skanjr spat back to his countrywoman. "Better that than some unnatural he-she's magic."

Bruni stalked off, to welcome pats and nods of approval by several of his comrades. Aela was about to turn away herself when a male voice stopped her.

"I'll not mind your seid-working." Another Skanjr stepped up. "Something happened to my head, though by Teiwaz I cannot remember what."

The warrior wore his blond hair in one of the fashions popular among the men of his people. Cut short in the front of his head, his straw-colored locks were shaved entirely bare behind the ears, from the crown of his head down to the nape of his neck. Aela saw that what hair he did possess was caked in dried blood, staining its bright color to dark brown.

The Skanjr held his spangenhelm with one hand, and Aela noted a long dent within one of its steel plates. She imagined that his skull would have been split in twain if not for the helmet. But even still, she knew that much of the force of such a blow would have been sent through the metal and into his head. She suspected that this one might have more to worry about than just some bloody hair and lost memory…

"Sit down and tell me your name," the Arvern Witch said. The mercenary weaved unsteadily for a moment, then sat down hard on the ground with legs crossed. One of the female Skanjr stepped over to steady him. Then before he could speak, he pitched forward and vomited all over his legs and the ground beneath him. The stench of it assaulted Aela's nostrils, and the other sellsword made a disgusted face. But Aela did not bat an eye. She had seen - and smelled - far worse working at the Ingenium's hospital.

Many of the other mercenaries laughed however. Aela shot them an angry look, before laying her hands upon the injured man's temples.

"That's not unusual with a head wound," she said softly, "just relax."

Easing the warrior's head back so that he sat straight upright once more, she let her mana sink down into his body. His aura filled her magical senses, a dizzyingly complex tapestry of energy that wove throughout his body and spirit. There were far too many individual strands of power for her to follow and study. That would take months. But her training in Vitamancy had taught her to distinguish which threads pertained to his physical health, and it was these that she traced to his injuries.

Just as clearly as she could see it with her flesh and blood eyes, her magical senses revealed where the skin of the warrior's head had been broken by the inward-dented helmet. His scalp bled profusely, as all such injuries did. But this did not concern Aela. She had expected as much after all. As she feared, the real danger lay below his skull. While the bone had endured most the shock of the blow, Aela found his brain had not. It was severely concussed, and now blood was pooling and seeping through the barrier between it and its normal fluids.

Aela closed her eyes and blocking out everything else around her. The Arvern Witch concentrated solely upon his aura, and the torn and smashed fibers of energy that mirrored his physical injuries. Using her mana as a seamstress would a needle and thread, she sewed the strands of his aura back together. As she did so, his body followed suit. Blood was drawn back into its vessels, and then the veins and arteries sealed shut. Cranial fluids returned to their normal space, bruises healed, pressure was relieved, and bone was restored to full health.

"As above, so below," Aela murmured.

Once she was finished working inside his head, she let her awareness slip out of the aether and back to the physical world. She stared at the superficial wound along his scalp. Healing that was child's play compared to her earlier work, practically as easy as snapping her fingers. She did not even need to read his aura to do it. She simply willed his flesh to heal, and her mana made it reality.

When she was finished, the Skanjr's hair was still matted with dried blood and sweat. But she found that the color had returned to his fair skin, and he smiled back up at her. Before he could speak, she passed a hand over him. A shimmer of purifying light fell down the mercenary's body as Aela cast her Cleanse spell upon him. In its wake his body and clothing were left clean and fresh, as if both had just emerged from the wash.

"Don't suppose you could do that for a hangover too?" he winked.

With that the female Skanjr clapped him on the shoulder. "Now we know he's fine!" she laughed.

"You may have lost some of your memory," Aela cautioned the man, "especially of receiving the wound. It may come back eventually, or never at all. Let me know if you have any other problems."

"Aye," the Skanjr nodded. "Ergi or not, you are right in my runes. Sondulfr of Hjartsfjord owes you a debt seidkona."

Sondulfr clambered to his feet, and offered Aela his hand. She took it gladly. At least he was being civil. Still, she noted that even he could not resist using the term ergi for her: weakling. While she knew little of the Skanjr tongue, that word she did know, given how often she found it leveled upon her. Still, at least he had also called her a seidkona, their word for a female mage. That was the best she could ever hope for, from anyone.

"Anyone else?" Aela asked, looking from one mercenary to another.

"I've got something right here you can lay your hands upon!" one of the men laughed, gesturing rudely to his privates.

"Aye, here too!" guffawed another.

Aela shook her head and turned away. Before she could leave however, another voice cut through the afternoon air.

"I wouldn't let some man pretending to be a woman touch mine," a third voice stung. "There's no telling what you'll get from it."

The Arvern Witch turned around, feeling her anger bubbling like hot water in a pot. The wind whipped up around her as the sylph she had previously summoned reacted to her feelings, blowing dust and clods of dirt in all directions. She fought down the rage with an effort of will, and the nature spirit calmed, albeit grudgingly.

Aela knew that she should say something witty in reply. Loria always had some clever riposte for such situations. But as usual, her mind was a blank slate, and her tongue a stone in her mouth. Yet she was certain that by the time she laid down to sleep that night, she would think of exactly the right thing to say. Of course by then it would no longer matter.

"From what I've seen, no one is going to be touching yours for a long time." Loria's voice came to the rescue. "That is assuming anyone can even find that little thing."

"You have a sharp tongue leaf-ear," growled a man with dirty blond hair and a long mustache. He gripped an axe in one hand, and the men around him did likewise. "But we know what to do with you high and mighty alfar in Skanlond."

"That's enough!" Hrollaug's bull roar silenced all. The red-bearded Skanjr stomped between the pair of mages and the unruly mercenaries. "You all have weapons and armor to clean and maintain. I want to see cloths and oil out now. We'll have inspection before the sun drops a hand-span, and any not fit for duty will regret it."

The mercenaries groused, and some shot dark glances at Aela and Loria. But they followed their leader's commands, and set to maintaining their steel. In the meantime Hrollaug turned to the mages, and gestured for them to walk with him.

"Let us split up the loot here and go our separate ways," he said. The mercenary captain's tone made it clear that this was not a suggestion, but a demand.

"And miss the pleasure of your company's hospitality?" Loria replied sardonically.

"Hospitality is one thing. But you two…" Hrollaug leveled a hard stare upon Aela. "An alfar is bad enough, but if I'd known you weren't a real woman, I'd have never agreed to this partnership."

"I was real enough for you when I was saving your skin back in that barrow!" Aela snarled.

The Skanjr opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off when a strong wind suddenly rose up and shoved him back by at least an inch. Loria stepped between the two, and the unseen sylph relented, for the moment at least. Aela did her best to rein in her feelings, while the Light Elf put a conciliatory hand around the mercenary captain's shoulder and led him a few steps away.

"Perhaps you have a point my friend," the Silaine mage said in an assuaging voice. "Let us indeed part ways here. You may have the heads to collect the bounty back in Veia. We'll take that lorcras cuirass from the high priest, and a few of those mail shirts and swords from his bodyguard."

Posted by: Zalphon May 20 2018, 08:47 AM

The thing I notice initially is a lot of telling in the first few paragraphs. I think the most evident example is this passage:

"...The irregular spikes of limestone rose up hundreds of feet into the air, and spread out in all directions. It was as if someone had taken a forest, and replaced all the trees with towers made of rock..."

I feel that this may have been better shown had you had a brief snippet of dialogue about it, or perhaps made mention of one of the characters being awe-struck by it. It'd have the same effect, but I think it would feel more organic and integrated into the story instead of having painted a background image for the characters to act in front of.

A great way I can see of explaining what I'm trying to say is look at the animation style of the recent fad videogame, Cuphead. The animation style was largely inspired by 1930s-era cartoons in which the background was significantly more detailed than the characters, because it required less animation than the characters.

The characters, requiring a massive variety of poses, facial expressions, etc. were substantially less detailed to save manhours, as well as to help them contrast to the background.

Now I am not saying that these passages are bad, in fact, I find them to be beautifully written. They are evocative with rich imagery, but what I am saying is that I see this as having been an opportunity to integrate the character and setting and reduce the amount of contrast between them.

That said, I will say that I really appreciated the following line:

"Then I'll be worthless!" the Skanjr spat back to his countrywoman. "Better that than some unnatural he-she's magic."

This has exactly the effect I was talking about earlier in the post. It is incredibly telling of the character and the setting without coming off as long-winded exposition. I am very much a fan of it.

I also like this passage as well:

[i]"The Arvern Witch concentrated solely upon his aura, and the torn and smashed fibers of energy that mirrored his physical injuries. Using her mana as a seamstress would a needle and thread, she sewed the strands of his aura back together. As she did so, his body followed suit. Blood was drawn back into its vessels, and then the veins and arteries sealed shut. Cranial fluids returned to their normal space, bruises healed, pressure was relieved, and bone was restored to full health."[i]

I like it for different reasons, but I do like it. I like it because it illustrates how magic works and allows me to extrapolate the logical extreme of her power if it really like a seamstress with a needle and thread.

Ultimately, I appreciate this update. I felt it did a lot to show more of the setting and develop the character dynamics.

Posted by: Acadian May 20 2018, 04:43 PM

This was a wonderfully engrossing episode with lots of goodness woven in. More world building as the adventurers filtered out of the barrow into their stark, sunny surroundings.

How very mage-like to use cleansing spells to spiff up after a hard dungeon crawl.

You did a wonderful job with the whole healing scene – showing us the pain and rejection she was clearly well-familiar with. The actual healing she did was mesmerizing and seemed as natural for her as could be.

Finally, you show us some of her limitations - a good counterbalance to her considerable arcane support skills. Unlike her smooth-tongued elven pal, she gets tongue-tied when searching for a witty response. Also, the degree of control she has over her nature spirits is unwillingly quite influenced by her emotions. Aela is becoming quite an interesting and endearing character here.

Nicely done – more please.

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 21 2018, 03:35 PM

I have to agree with everything Acadian said - he picked out the things I really liked about this segment.

I have to respectfully disagree with Zalphon on this:

Any such dialog would have occurred when the characters first entered the zone, prior to entering the barrow. Upon exiting it, they would have been more interested in dividing the loot and recovering from their injuries. The brief mention of the environment is, I feel, more appropriate to Aela's nature and her assessment of the exterior surroundings. It seems to me that you were going more for the contrast between the ruins of the settlement, which was damaged by the battle below, and the untouched splendor of the stone spires beyond, which Aela, being so attuned to above and below, would have automatically noted.

However, I do second the rest of Zalphon's assessment, especially the passage about healing with magicka!

Posted by: SubRosa May 26 2018, 05:52 PM

Zalphon: I do like the idea of using dialogue to convey not only description, but also emotion. I have been listening to radio dramas lately, and naturally almost all of the description comes from dialogue between characters. So it is something I look to work into my writing when I see an opportunity.

I get a lot of how I visualize magic and it use from the old tabletop games Shadowrun and Earthdawn. One of their best writers - Steve Kenson - is a RL Witch in fact (I met his husband Chris Penczak at the local Pagan festival). One of the things I really loved about Earthdawn in particular was the idea of True Patterns, which governed everything in the world. If you rewove the threads of a pattern, you changed the object it governed, and vice-versa.


Acadian: One of the great perks of being a mage is being able to easily clean off the muck and ick of dungeon-delving!

Aela is in many ways a ridiculously over-powered character. So I try to consciously keep her down to earth and relatable. Her ordinary problems with everyday matters like bigotry, self-consciousness, social awkwardness, and just lack of being "one of the cool kids" are one of those ways.


haute ecole rider: You probably noticed that this time around I got away from using scientific terms and descriptions for Aela's healing. Instead I embraced the magic aspect more fully, and put most of it in the aether, relying upon the concept of "That which is above is the same as that which is below" from Hermes Trismegistus. Also how in core shamanism, a shaman heals the sick by journeying to the spirit world and doing battle with the spirit causing the illness. In this case Aela is not doing battle with anything. But she is shifting her consciousness to the spirit world to create change in the physical. Walking between worlds.



*Note, new pics have been added to the initial post*



Chapter 2.1

"We have found them," Sindeok warned.

The Teodon riding ahead of him raised one hand, and the young nangdo brought his oro to a halt. The ornithopod mount stood on a pair of powerful hind legs, while its smaller forelegs dangled freely in the air. A long, slender tail stretched out behind it, balancing out its thick, feathered torso. A rounded head rose from the saurian's short neck, fitted with a bridle leading back to Sindeok's hands.

"As I expected," Daeso said. The captain's scales were bright blue, announcing his pure bone ancestry to all, and faded to white along his lower jaw and chest. Buru sported the same color scales as their leader. But Sindeok's skin was black, except for irregular bands of white that ran up and down his arms and legs, and a row of orange spines that crested his head.

The hwarang of the Celestial Flight Company wore a cuirass of bronze scales, which glinted warmly even in the pale light of the moon. A similar helmet covered the captain's head, festooned with tassels of yellow and white silk. The long-sleeved tunic he wore for padding beneath the metal was decorated with dragons and serpents, also stitched from the finest silk. Leather bracers embossed with more dragons protected his forearms, and his feet were shod in leather boots, reinforced with bronze plates.

Sindeok wore the same himself, as did Buru, the other nangdo with them. Except that their silks were not quite so fine, nor adorned with gold stitching. Like their leader, they each carried the straight-bladed swords of their people. But again, theirs did not sport grips wrapped in silver wire, or crossguards set with pearls.

Daeso sat upon his oro and waited.

Sindeok tried not to bob his head or twitch his tail as adrenaline flooded his veins. These midnight meetings with bandits always set his scales upon edge. There was no telling if they would end quietly, or with bloodshed. It took all of his willpower, but the nangdo sat his own mount with the same stillness that his leader did.

As one of the flower knights of Kye Rim, Sindeok had trained all of his life in the arts of war. Death in battle was his only promise in life. But there was no glory in dying from a hidden bandit's arrow during a clandestine rendezvous. His bones would never be properly blessed, his kindred would never sing his praises, and his honor would never increase that of his family.

To one side of the muddy road, a shadow detached itself from one of the tall durian trees. It was revealed to be another Teodon when it stepped into the wan light of the moon and stars. Like all of their race, the interloper stood upright upon his hind legs. His bare, four-toed feet squished effortlessly through the mud. A slender tail waved gracefully through the air behind him, hovering just inches above the wet earth. His long, crocodilian head sat upon a tall, slender neck. Bright yellow eyes shone from the back of his skull, and when he smiled the Teodon revealed a mouth filled with serrated, sail-shaped teeth.

The newcomer gripped the durian wood of a staff in his three-fingered hands. The magical weapon was tipped with the rounded skull of an oro, whose eye sockets had been filled with red crystals. Those crystals now glowed, and Sindeok could smell the energy that coursed through them even from where he sat. He had never felt such power in a staff, and the nangdo briefly wondered if the bandit wizard had enchanted it himself, or if he had stolen it from an honest magician?

As the bandit mage stepped closer, Sindeok sensed the mana within the skull-shaped crystals that girded the wizard's waist and torso as well. Unlike the staff, this energy was not formed into an enchantment. Instead it was simply extra power stored for later use. It appeared that the magician was worried about running out of mana, given how much he was keeping for ready access. Rounding out the outlaw's frame were the real skulls of birds and small lizards, in the form of bracelets and a necklace.

It was Girim, the nangdo thought, the lieutenant of the bandits.

The wizard turned his head and hissed something in a low tone. More dark shapes rose from the rainforest to either side. Two of them turned and vanished deeper into the undergrowth. The rest stepped out onto the road, and flanked the wizard. All were Teodon, carrying short spears or bows. A few wore nothing but loincloths, but most were at least clad in simple rattan cuirasses. Some even wore ancient Rasen armor. Such was either a simple bronze disc strapped over the chest and back, or three such discs welded together into one larger, V-shaped-shaped cuirass. All of them went barefoot in the mud however.

Sindeok could not help but curl an aristocratic lip at the green and brown-scaled peasants, with their bare feet literally caked in mud. Not even the Rasenna wore such armor anymore, having eschewed it for the mail armor brought south by the Skanjr centuries ago. Yet he knew that for such common bone churls, even four hundred year old cast-offs were treasures. What could one expect from those who wallowed in the mud all of their lives?

"Daeso," the wizard practically spat the name out onto the mud, "you are late."

"I am here exactly when I needed to be Girim." Daeso took his time and dismounted, swinging one leg over the shoulders of his oro and sliding effortlessly to the ground. His boots squished into the moist surface of the dirt road, and the hwarang rested one hand casually upon the hilt of his sword. Sindeok followed suit, as did Buru, and the two nangdo flanked their leader.

Sindeok glanced back to the crumhead that followed behind their mounts. It was much larger than the slender oros. Covered in green scales. The hadrosaur's shoulders rose as tall as a Teodon. Including the thick tail that stretched out behind it, the beast of burden had to be nearly fifteen feet long. Unlike the smaller riding animals, the crumhead walked on both its massive hind legs and its shorter forelegs. Its name of course came from the long, hollow crest that curled back from its skull, much like a crumhorn.

"Where is Ugeo?" The captain of the Celestial Gallery cast his head this way and that, scanning the forest to either side.

"My name is Dark-Eye!" a voice roared like a leviathan. "Ugeo is long dead, thanks to your master."

All turned to witness the author of the voice step from the green undergrowth of the rainforest and into the open road. He was a thick, heavy-set Teodon. His scales were dull red along his back and upper head, and faded to grey along his lower jaw and chest. More striking were the black stripes that crossed his body from the tip of his nose to his tail. Such colors could only mean that he was one of aristocratic birth, as Sindeok, Buru and Daeso were.

A black patch covered one of the newcomer's eyes, but his other, dark red orb stared out of his skull like a festering wound. A cuirass of white leviathan scales covered his upper arms, torso, and hung down to mid-thigh. A helmet made of the long fangs of the same monster encased his head. Like the other bandits Dark-Eye walked through the mud with feet bared. He held a spear of durian wood in one hand, tipped with a leaf-shaped head of gleaming black lorcras.

"You have none but yourself to thank for that," Daeso replied evenly. "Once you were the best of us. But you went too far. Even the orcs would have cast you out."

"You were right there beside me," Dark-Eye growled. The older Teodon cast his lone eye from the hwarang to his two followers. "So too were my other loyal nangdo. Until you all turned on me."

"After what those mud-footed peasants did, none of us hesitated to take vengeance with you." The younger Teodon nodded to the black eye patch that the bandit leader wore, and the scars that trailed away through the scales above and below. "But when you ate their flesh and drank their blood, there was nothing any of us could do. The gyukon had no choice but to strip you of your rank and exile you. You are lucky he did not order your execution."

"Luck had no part of the Sublime Ancestor's decision," Dark-Eye spat. "You would not be here otherwise, would you? Gaesomun's greed for gold and silver is far greater than my hunger for flesh. So which of us is the true abomination? Whom do you serve?"

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 26 2018, 11:22 PM

Well.

This section sounds very Korean to me. ;P

I liked how the relationships between the teodon - both bandits and Celestial Flight. And it was a bit of an unexpected surprise to realize the leader of the bandits was himself a former Flight leader. I'm intrigued in seeing where these go.

As someone who once wrote of a barefooted character who draws power from the ground, I was delighted to see these "peasants" also go barefoot! I wonder if they do so for the same reason . . .

Posted by: Acadian May 26 2018, 11:27 PM

Exotically fascinating!

Lots of world building going on here as we are exposed to new types of folk, mounts and beasts of burden.

Hmm, some sort of late night meeting with unsavories no doubt. Some interesting characters here – lots of nice details added to the bandit mage (and his staff), as well as Dark-Eye.

I look forward to finding out what comes of this meeting – nothing good I somehow suspect.

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 2 2018, 05:15 PM

haute ecole rider: I am so grateful for you turning me on to The Great Queen Seondeok, so many years ago.

I worked on the history of Dark-Eye in this version, giving him more depth, and creating a stronger tie between him and the local ruler.

These bare feet are a little different. I wanted some obvious way to set the Teodon gentry aside from the peasants. So I decided that the peasants all went barefoot everywhere, while the upper classes wear shoes. I literally got the idea from the old term 'dusty feet' used for the Helots


Acadian: Much of the exotic nature of the new world I built is in Kye Rim. Or at least in the non-human lands. I tried to use the human-dominated lands of Aulerci as a more or less 'standard' environment that people could easily relate to. Then as we travel away into other lands, we see more and more exotic and unusual things.

Clandestine meetings with outlaws are bound to go bad sooner or later...



Chapter 2.2

"Just bring out the tribute," the hwarang turned to nod at Sindeok and Buru. The young nangdo and his comrade walked back to the crumhead and unstrapped several chests and sacks that had been slung over the hadrosaur's heavy frame. Returning with the containers, they revealed them to be empty when they set them at Daeso's feet and opened them.

Dark-Eye said nothing. He simply waved to the Teodon bandits lurking at the edge of the road. They came forward with bags and packs fairly bursting with coin and other loot and dumped them into the hwarang's chests and sacks. Yet when they were finished, there were still two chests left unfilled.

"Not enough." Daeso crossed his arms and stared back at Dark-Eye. "The Sublime Ancestor Gaesomun has increased the tribute."

Murmurs rose from the bandits, and Sindeok noted even darker stares than normal were cast at himself and the others. The bandit wizard lowered the oro-skull of his staff to point directly at the hwarang. Sindeok felt the mage call up his mana and channel it into the weapon, causing the ruby-red mana crystals set within the eye sockets to glow with fiery life. Girim looked to Dark-Eye, and Sindeok realized that the wizard was just waiting for leave to attack.

The bandit leader laughed instead. "Why, does Gaesomun not have enough golden chamber pots already? Perhaps we should give him something to fill those pots instead?" Dark-Eye turned sideways over one of the chests, and lifted his tail as if we were intending to do just that.

But before he could, Daeso drew the long, straight sword from his hip. The single-edged blade stretched out nearly three feet. Like all Teodon swords, its pommel was formed into a wide ring. Daeso's was embellished with the form of a curling dragon that filled the interior of the circle, while the grip was protected by a disc-shaped crossguard embossed with images of leviathans.

Dark-Eye stepped back, out of range of the weapon, and lifted his spear in response.

"Perhaps we shall just send him your head instead Daeso," Dark-Eye said.

"It will be your head, not mine Ugeo," the hwarang replied evenly.

"Let us see." The bandit leader cocked his arm back and hurled his spear forward. Daeso was too quick however, and the hwarang sidestepped to avoid the missile. Instead its gleaming black lorcras head buried itself in one of the oros behind him. The poor creature screamed and thrashed, biting at the wooden shaft that now sprouted from its long neck.

Sindeok did not spare another glance at the riding animal however. Instead he watched Daeso, as the flower knight sprang forward with sword held in the high guard known as The Roof. With both hands upon the hilt, the long blade of his sword rose up into the air behind his head. Dark-Eye stood unarmed before him, and appeared to be easy prey. Yet Sindeok smelled mana rising from the one-eyed renegade's fingers, and knew some trickery was about to be unveiled.

The bandit leader raised his hand, and what appeared to be lightning sprouted from his fingers, taking the shape of an elvish longsword. With a straight blade four feet in length, the aetherial weapon also bore the crossguard and two-handed grip of any mundane longsword. Sindeok even noted a smooth ricasso just above the guard, and a small set of lugs above that.

Like all nangdo, Sindeok had some magical experience. With his mage-trained nose, Sindeok could smell that the weapon was comprised of mana of course. It was an extension of Dark-Eye's will, bound into the shape of a deadly weapon. The nangdo had heard of such magically conjured arms of course, but had never seen one formed.

Daeso brought his shorter blade down at Dark-Eye's head in a great over-handed chop. The bandit leader raised his aetherial longsword, holding one hand on the grip, and the other near the point. Sparks flew as the hwarang's steel crashed against Dark-Eye's mageblade. Now that it was bared and in its full fury, Sindeok could feel the enchantment laid upon the hwarang's own weapon. It proudly announced itself as Mireuso, or Dragon's Bite. The nangdo knew from experience that it would have shattered most mortal weapons beneath it. But instead it merely bounced off Dark-Eye's aetherial sword, which snarled and hissed in reply.

Sindeok imagined that both men's hands and arms might be numbed by the force of impact. But he knew Daeso would not be slowed. He had seen that his leader had a heavy hand. No warrior struck with the strength and power that he did.

Yet Dark-Eye seemed unfazed by the attack. He countered, bringing the hilt of his aetherial longsword around like a hammer. Now it was Daeso’s turn to parry, barely preventing his skull from being caved in by the morte-strike.

The two swordsmen moved back and forth in the mud, attacking and countering in a flurry of blows. But neither enchanted steel nor manablade found purchase in the scales of either warrior. Daeso fought with speed and agility, and Sindeok was amazed at how the bandit lord was able to keep up with his longer weapon.

The nangdo thought it would be slow and clumsy. Yet the two-handed sword was anything but. Unlike the one-handed ring sword carried by the hwarang, Dark-Eye often used his longer blade much like a staff. The older Teodon would sometimes hold it with both hands on the blade, one near the point and the other toward the crossguard. This allowed him to both stab and cut with the point, and swing the opposite end like a club. At other times he would return to a normal grip with both hands on the hilt, or even choke up with one hand on the ricasso of the blade, just above the guard. Sindeok had never seen such a style before, and wondered if it might be an elvish method, for their people were known to use such great blades.

After another punishing overhead attack by the hwarang, Daeso lowered his weapon to a middle guard, that of The Plow. Holding his sword with the hilt near his waist, the point rose toward Dark-Eye's face. But Dark-Eye did not change his stance in response. Instead he still stood there with arms raised over his head, sword held between them like a staff in the position he had blocked the previous attack. Sindeok wondered if the older Teodon had tired, or if instead it was some manner of ruse? If Daeso had considered the latter, he did not show it. Instead he took advantage of the opening and darted forward with his sword.

Dark-Eye swung the point of his mageblade down across his chest, like a door swinging open. The conjured blade of his weapon met Daeso's enchanted steel and swept it to one side. Dark-Eye continued the motion, pushing his tip down toward the ground. Before Daeso could disengage, the bandit leader had hooked the point of his longer sword behind the hwarang's knee.

Jerking his aetherial longsword back, Dark-Eye pulled the flower knight's leg with him. The hwarang stretched out, completely off balance, and fell into the mud. Dark-Eye followed quickly now, stepping on Daeso's sword wrist with a bare foot, leaving him defenseless. The bandit lord reversed his grip on his manasword, so that he now held it pointed straight down like a spear. Then he thrust the sparking point down into the unarmored throat of the hwarang.

It did not take long for the pure bone aristocrat to die from the mortal wound. Dark-Eye stared at him as he did, as if watching for the last moment of life to leave the captain's body.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 6 2018, 04:25 PM

oooh, both magic and swordplay! Pretty tense fight there, though I felt Daeso was a bit overconfident from the start. Perhaps because of my memories of Daeso from the series Jumong . . . Or was it Kingdom of the Wind?

Posted by: ghastley Jun 6 2018, 05:15 PM

This all had me wondering about how a conjured weapon should behave. Does it have weight, and momentum, like a physical one? And if not, what difference does that make to combat?

In this, it's behaving like a physical one, and the fighting style is the same. But a weightless blade could be moved more easily, at the expense of having no momentum of its own, so that all force has to come from the muscles and leverage. That's much harder to imagine, as there's no real-world analogy possible.

The extreme case of that in fiction was a "sword" consisting of a single fibre reinforced with a statis field that made it unbreakable. There was a small ball at the tip, to let the user know where it was, or it would be essentially invisible. Effectively, it's all edge, and no blade. It will slice through any other weapon, but if you tried to block, the sliced-off section would keep going, and still cut you! The novel didn't describe what happened if two fighters used the same weapon.

Posted by: Acadian Jun 7 2018, 05:53 PM

Quite the sword fight! Loved your descriptions of the summoned mageblade as well as the touch of personality you injected into each weapon (as announcing themselves by name).

Dark Eye is quite the formidable opponent, displaying the rare ability to use magic, while brandishing the manablade as effectively as any master of melee combat.

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 9 2018, 04:58 PM

haute ecole rider: Daeso was partly inspired by Kim Yushin from The Great Queen Seondeok, with his heavy-hitting blows. But he lacked Yushin's principles.


ghastley: I imagine that an aetherial sword has a similar weight to a normal one. Mana gives it form, which I also take to mean mass as well (the same with conjured spirits. Although in their case the form and mass depends upon their element. Air has almost no mass, while earth a great deal).


Acadian: Every magic item should be unique, with it own personality, based upon its creator, its history, and its function. I try to give a glimmer of that with their names, and how they make people feel when they perceive them.

Dark-Eye's finishing move is a real longswording technique. https://youtu.be/1S_Q3CGqZmg?t=56s. I definitely stepped him up from the original version. We will learn where he got his training in magic and elvish longswording in this episode in fact.


Chapter 2.3

In the meantime Sindeok found the other bandits crowding around him and Buru. His hand rested upon the grip of his sword. But the nangdo knew the futility of the situation. He had no doubt that he was a far superior swordsman to any one of the outlaws. But with their numbers and position, he would die just the same.

For the moment the raiders waited, and all eyes turned to Dark-Eye. The renegade paid them no heed however. Instead he opened both of his hands, and his mageblade vanished into a sparkling haze. Drawing a knife of ordinary iron from his hip, the red and black scaled Teodon squatted down over Daeso's corpse. Sindeok could not see exactly what it was he did there, and from the sound of cracking bones that followed, he did not truly want to know.

Finally Dark-Eye rose, holding the hwarang's bloody heart in one gory hand, stained knife in the other. He strode to Sindeok and Buru, holding the organ before him.

"For the past five years, you have both lived in the shadow of Daeso and his lord Gaesomun," he said. "All of this time, they have used you like tools, and prevented you from realizing your true power. For they fear what you might become. They fear what you might do. Just as they fear me. I will show you why."

"Daeso was strong, and a skilled warrior" the bandit leader admitted. "But mere strength and skill are not enough. True power requires something more. It must be taken. It must be consumed. Feast upon the heart of your enemy, and you will take his power."

"Swear by me, and I will show you a power that you have never imagined," Dark-Eye continued. "You will stride across this earth like gods. The scales of men will quake at the sound of your names, and the tails of women will be yours for the taking."

"What say you?" the one-eyed bandit turned from one nangdo to the other, holding Daeso's heart before them. "Who will take this power I offer?"

Buru shook his head and backed away. The corners of his long mouth curled downward, revealing the nangdo's disgust. Girim bared his serrated teeth in a terrifying rictus. At Dark-Eye's nod, the bandit wizard leveled his staff at the recalcitrant Teodon. At the same time, the bandits near Buru all scampered away.

Once again Sindeok smelled the mana rise up from the wizard's bones and pour it into his staff. The enchanted weapon focused the energy into a brilliant projectile of fire, which leapt from the oro skull at its tip and blasted clear through Buru's armored chest. The nangdo did not even have time to cry out as the flames seared through his body and left a gaping hole in their wake. Buru simply fell dead as a stone into the muck.

Sindeok stared at the corpse of his comrade, and felt his tail twitch involuntarily at the sight of his charred scales. He looked back to Dark-Eye, and saw that he was aptly named, for there was nothing but darkness in the other Teodon's gaze.

With one shaking hand Sindeok reached out to take the severed heart. He raised the organ to his mouth, and bit down hard into the tough muscle. He had to twist his head this way and that so that his sail-shaped teeth - more suited to grinding up plants than ripping flesh - could tear out a bite. The resilient meat was no easier to chew, and it was as much a physical effort for the nangdo to finally swallow the mouthful as it was a moral one.

But finally he did gulp down the meat. As soon as he did, a sensation of heat rose from his belly. It surged up his throat, and spread through his entire frame. It felt like someone had poured flaming oil into his stomach, and it was burning him up from the inside out. He wanted to scream, but his training won out. He would never so openly reveal weakness. Instead he screwed his eyes shut, and ground his teeth together to bite down the pain.

The fire in him burned on and on. By the time it was finished, Sindeok felt lighter, as if he had been freed from invisible weights. When he opened his eyes once more, Sindeok realized that the flame had burned away the nangdo he once was. In the place of that man of duty and honor, he felt something new: a hunger.

It was a hunger for flesh, but not just for any flesh. Somehow he knew - as if by instinct - that only the flesh of the Manaborn would do. Bread, rice, or the meat of beasts were mere fodder. They might sustain the body, but not the soul. What his spirit demanded now was something more. More than even duty and honor could provide. He could not put a finger upon exactly what it might be. Perhaps it was the soul of an enemy, the force of his life, or some other ineffable thing. But Sindeok knew one thing for certain, it could only be taken from a sentient being.

A cheer rose up from the bandits, and Sindeok felt several clap approving hands upon his armored back. Sindeok paid them little mind. Instead he turned his attention back to the heart in his hand. Taking another bite, he found that this time it was easier to rip out a mouthful and gulp it down. Now that fire in his gullet warmed him like the afternoon sun, and everything was right in the world.

The other bandits now fell to the corpses of Daeso and Buru, and began carving them up. Sindeok stepped back out of their way, feeling satiated for the moment. He saw Dark-Eye standing beside the wizard Girim. The two were speaking in low tones, but Sindeok found that by drifting nearer, he could overhear their words.

"Daeso was right about one thing," Girim said. "His master will now come for us. From the Celestial Flight company to the most lowly spearmen, Gaesomun will send everything he has to kill us."

"Let him," Dark-Eye said calmly. "We both knew this day would come sooner or later. It may as well come now. "

"They will not fall as easily as the farmers and travelers we usually prey upon," the wizard cautioned. "They are trained warriors, many you once taught yourself. We must be prepared."

"Aye, and we shall be my friend," the one-eyed Teodon nodded. "We have allies of our own, and powers at our command. We shall journey to the west. In the forest of stone there is a place of darkness, the Dark Barrow where I learned the secrets of consuming flesh. We shall find strong warriors there, trained in the human and elven styles of longswording. There will also be skilled wizards, with the knowledge of elven magic. Then we shall return. The other outlaws of the forest will join us, whether they like it or not, and we shall march upon the Gyukon's fortress in Hansando."

"We shall meet them in the open then?" Sindeok noted that Girim's tail twitched as he spoke. Clearly the idea of fighting a set piece battle against trained warriors did not sit well with the bandit wizard. Sindeok could not help but agree with the feeling. He knew full well what his former comrades were capable of. Attacking them head on would be suicide.

"Of course not!" Dark-Eye laughed. "We shall flee, like the scum we are. We will melt away into the swamps and lead them upon a chase through the countryside. We know these lands, we know every fen, every river, every village. We know where to find food and shelter, and where the leviathans make their lairs. Those pampered pets know nothing, and will exhaust themselves in a fruitless and deadly pursuit. Finally, when they are spent, frustrated, and spread out across the rainforest, we will slip past them and take the city while it stands defenseless."

"But the walls…"

"Are of no concern," Dark-Eye waved off the wizard's unease and went on. "There is a secret way into the palace. One known to only a few. We will be within the very heart of the Sublime Ancestor's fortress before he can catch a whiff of us coming."

"And Gaesomun's heart will be yours," Girim smiled.

"His heart is filled with nothing but envy. The crows can have it," Dark-Eye spat. "But his riches, that will all be ours. You will not believe your eyes when you see it my friend. There will be fine silks and shining crios crystal from the Light Elves of Ainetir, and golden torcs from the Arvern in Aulertil. There are fine Rasenna wines, frost stones and amber from Skanlond, carpets and fire crystals from the Aymaran desert, pearls reaped from the ocean's depths by the Sea Elves, and more. He has a hoard the likes of which you have never dreamed of my friend, and it shall all be ours."

"Nothing can stop us now."

Posted by: Acadian Jun 10 2018, 07:51 PM

”The scales of men will quake at the sound of your names, and the tails of women will be yours for the taking." - - This is epic on so many levels!

Wow, Dark Eye and his wizard can be quite . . . convincing as they coax Sindeok into their ranks.

Ahah, we do indeed learn where Dark Eye gained some of his elven skills, as well as the fact that he has a hidden base of fellow flesh eaters.

Sounds like Dark Eye has a pretty good plan. One that optimizes his knowledge and resources.


I got confused here. Perhaps a nit or perhaps something I just didn’t get, as there are so many new characters we’ve seen so far. In the lead sentence below, you mention the corpse of Girim – but I thought he was the (living) wizard of Dark Eye. Did you perhaps mean the corpses of Daeso and Buru?

The other bandits now fell to the corpses of Girim and Buru, and began carving them up. Sindeok stepped back out of their way, feeling satiated for the moment. He saw Dark-Eye standing beside the wizard Girim. The two were speaking in low tones, but Sindeok found that by drifting nearer, he could overhear their words.

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 16 2018, 03:49 PM

Acadian: I wanted to show some of Dark-Eye's charisma in the last episode, and demonstrate how he stays in command of his raider band. I also wanted to show how they get new members. I created Sindeok to have a pov character within the bandits ranks. Through his eyes we see how Dark-Eye leads, and what his goals are. We also see the inner workings of the cannibal raiders, and how they have been corrupted.

Thanks for finding that nit. I had indeed got my names mixed up!


Chapter 3.1

Aela fussed with her hair as she stared into the mirror. While she could use magic to make the long brown tresses clean, keeping them orderly was another matter entirely. Some days it seemed that every strand had a mind of its own, and that mind was keenly aware of its need to embarrass her. Aela was certain that spending days onboard a ship was not helping matters. Not with the damp air from the sea all around.

"I suggest shaving it all off." Loria crowded in the mirror behind her. Somehow his soft red locks managed to behave themselves. He was an elf after all, and their races were all known for leonine manes like the one Loria possessed. But perhaps most importantly, it was not her hair. The Arvern was certain that was the most important factor.

Aela made a face at him, eliciting a laugh from the willowy elf. "I'll shave your hair off when you're sleeping!" she threatened.

"Then I shall be the most handsome bald man in Veia," the Silaine preened.

"That you would be my friend," Aela could not help but crack a smile at the elf words. She wished that she had even half of his self assurance, not to mention good humor.

Loria stepped away, leaving the small mirror all to Aela once more. With a sigh she surrendered, and tied her brown hair back into a ponytail. At least it would be out of the way, and no one would mistake her for a giant ground sloth. She hoped…

She turned to find that Loria had already drawn their empty bags up onto his cot. He had long since put aside the elegant black and silver robes he used for adventuring, and instead wore a simple tunic, vest, and trousers of red and brown linen. She too, wore a simple skirt of linen, cut short in the elven style, along with a chemise and tightly cinched bodice. The two of them looked entirely ordinary, except that Loria still wore his enchanted amethyst ring of course, and Aela her crystal spiral necklace.

The tiny cabin that the two of them shared had a small writing desk situated against the outer hull. Directly opposite that was a door leading to the cargo hold. Flanking them were a pair of folding beds. Beneath each cot was a sea chest. In reality these were nothing but boxes nailed down to the hull, but at least they offered a place to store their belongings during the voyage.

Aela watched as the elf passed a glowing hand over first one, then the other chest. The latches to each popped open as he released the locking spells he had placed upon them. Neither mage was concerned with someone stealing their clothing, even enchanted as their adventuring gear was. Loria could always enchant something else to replace it. But their loot was another story. Mail shirts were not so easily conjured up. Rarer still was the cuirass of ancient Dark Elf steel. Aela knew that would fetch them a healthy purse of gold all on its own, and would go a long way to paying off their debts.

So after filling her traveling pack with her clothing and other things, the Arvern mage joined the elf in loading up their loot into a pair of sturdy canvas sacks. A trio of swords did not want to fit into the bags, and they were forced to leave their hilts protruding from the lip of one sack. Thankfully the armor folded down piece by piece, fitting much easier in the bags.

Aela was not so thankful when she hefted one. "It feels like there's a hadrosaur in here. Or at least a horse," she groused as she drew it up to her shoulder.

Loria grunted as he did the same, and led the way out of the cabin and into the hold beyond. The large chamber had once taken up the entire space from one side of the hull to the other. But at some point wooden walls had been installed to create the row of tiny cabins from which they had emerged, along with an identical string of berths lining the far side of the ship.

The remainder of the space had not gone to waste. The center of the hold was crammed with crates and barrels of cargo lashed down to the deck. More containers hung suspended from nets that swung from the ceiling beams. That left only a narrow passage free to either side, and the pair of mages found it to be bustling with the rest of the vessel's passengers, who all appeared to be just as eager as they were to make their leave.

"This would be much easier to carry if you would just summon up a gnome." Loria dropped his bag to the floor with a clanking of steel. "We did not graduate from the Ingenium just to drag heavy objects around."

"No, we graduated so you could learn to use weightless spells," Aela shot back as she set down her own bag of loot. "I thought your major field of study was materiality after all?"

She was thankful for her own knowledge of vitamancy, which among other things allowed her to increase her strength with magic. With that in mind, she gathered up her mana and channeled it through her body, using it to infuse her muscles with newfound might. She found her bag much easier to manage when she lifted it a second time.

"I found it more expedient to major in financial transactions," Loria winked. He filled his hands with light, and Aela recognized the Lighten Load spell he cast upon his own bag. She also noted that the Light Elf made no move to cast the same spell upon her own sack of loot. Instead the wizard raised his over-stuffed bag with ease and nodded down the passageway before them. "I thought you majored in spiritism though."

"I did," Aela said, "as well as vitamancy. But you know how summoning spirits gets the hayseeds excited. It's been four hundred years since the Sacerdotium was broken by the Skanjr. But in some places you would never know it. They'd be coming at us with pitchforks and torches before you could say Inquisitor."

"Aye," Loria smiled, "and then we'd have to kill them all. With nary a gold coin or gemstone to loot off their poor, wretched bodies. Best to let them live instead."

Loria led the way through the hold to the stairs leading up to the deck. It took some time, as they had to wait for over dozens of other people to go before them. Most of them appeared to be at least from the middle classes, given their linen clothing and moderate displays of jewelry. But some wore the velvet and upturned noses of the gentry. She was surprised to see a handful of what could only be peasants, given their rough-spun clothing. Even just a few days passage aboard a ship was not cheap. Aela wondered what would bring such a person with little coin to spare onboard, or send them on a journey hundreds of miles away?

Most of the others paid little mind to her and Loria, but once in a while someone stopped to stare at Aela. She knew that look all too well. She had been receiving it ever since she had transitioned to living female at the Ingenium. It was partly a gape of shock, partly a smirk of ridicule, and partly a sneer of disgust. She might as well have been something unnatural and revolting they had the misfortune of discovering upon the bottom of their shoe.

Aela sighed, and tried to ignore the people around her, and the disquieting feelings they conjured up. She wished they were back in the wilderness again. At least the animals and the trees saw her for who she really was, rather than simply as the body she had been born into. Even the Rasenna often said that animals were good judges of character. It was too bad they did not find a lesson in that…

She was glad when they finally made their way onto the deck. Not only was the fresh air a relief, but the chance to break away from the crowd of humanity was a balm. She made her way toward the prow of the ship, taking care to avoid the Rasen sailors who scrambled all about. That gave her a good view of the harbor ahead.

Tall cliffs of grey-white limestone rose up from the sea ahead and stretched off to the east and west. Cut into the barrier of rock was a strait of water roughly a mile wide. Into this channel their ship ventured. Aela saw the stone walls of a city rising high above the cliffs on the eastern bank, round towers flying pennants in the stiff sea breeze.

The Arvern Witch felt the stirrings of mana within the water below her. She did not even have to fully shift her senses to the aether to feel the undine taking physical form under the ship. By now she was so attuned to the energy of nature spirits that she could always feel their presence, especially one as powerful as this. The water spirit took hold of the ship's hull, and gently guided it into the strait.

Aela traced a thread of power from the spirit back onto the ship. She found it attached to a Rasen standing atop the sterncastle. He was a middle-aged man with a long curly beard, holding a staff in one hand. Aela almost laughed. He could not have looked more like a wizard if he tried. He might as well have been plucked from a bard's tale. Beside him stood the captain and several of the other officers and men of the crew, whom Aela noted were also all Rasen. In fact, Aela did not see a single Sea Elf in the ship's complement, in spite of that race's well-known mastery of the waves.

A glance upward showed that the crew still worked the sails high atop the ship's pair of masts. Even with the assistance of the water spirit, the vessel still had to make its own way into port. Aela had never heard of an undine being able to move a hundred foot ship all on its own. Not given the tons of cargo she had seen within the hold.

"Down the Spout we go," Loria murmured as they entered the strait.

The channel did indeed remind Aela of a spout as they entered it. In her mind's eye she imagined that Bronze Sea as a teapot. Then they would be entering the base of its spout, which she knew would eventually empty out into the Inner Sea far beyond the isthmus upon which Veia sat.

Aela noted that abutting the walls of the city on her left were also the turrets of a castle. Many of its battlements and towers overhang the cliff, to look directly down into the strait. Aela could even see embrasures cut into the very walls of the bluff, some so large that they must have been for stone-throwing artillery pieces rather than archers. A similar castle stood upon the far bank of the Spout.

Aela knew that catapults had a limited range. But given the height of the cliffs, she imagined that such weapons from the fortresses high above could reach any spot in the channel below. Here was the reason for the lack of Sea Elves and their vessels upon the Bronze Sea. Thanks to Veia's dominant position in the Spout, it was the only large body of water in the world that remained a human pond.

The city of Veia proper came into better view after they passed into the channel. The cliffs fell away in a vast goose-egg to the east, creating a wide harbor beyond the mouth of the strait. This left a long horn of land between the port and the Bronze Sea to the north-east, jutting out toward the mouth of the strait. The fortifications that Aela had seen before rested upon the tip of that horn, while the city itself stretched out to the base of the horn and out into the highlands beyond.

Down at sea level, stone docks stretched from left to right around the nearly circular harbor, brimming with ships. Most were human vessels with high curving prows and sterns like the two-masted hulk which Aela sailed upon, or smaller one-masted cogs. However, here and there the Arvern mage noted the graceful lines and characteristic triangular sails of a vessel belonging to the Silisce. She knew that this would be the last stop in the Sea Elves' journey. For the merchant princes of Veia would not allow them, and the competition they brought, any farther into the wide expanse of the Bronze Sea.

Beyond the docks, nestled at the base of the cliffs, Aela noted rows of square and rectangular buildings. They were constructed in the Rasen style, with walls of whitewashed stone, and red-glazed tiles covering their slanted roofs. The largest ones could only be warehouses, but even in the distance she could make out the colorful signs of smaller inns and aleshops.

Smoke from cooking fires rose into the skies, and Aela followed the fumes. They rose along the bluffs, where a road had been cut into the stone, crisscrossing its way up to the city high on the tableland above. The avenue ended in a massive gatehouse that protected the way into the metropolis, whose great bronze gates now stood open for traffic. Horse-drawn wagons and carts climbed the road to vanish with the gates, only to be replaced by others that issued forth to begin the descent to the sea below.

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"Do you smell that Aela?" Loria puffed up his chest with a deep breath of air. "That is the smell of money. By the time we sell all of this, we should be able to pay off Mamarce the Knee for half a year in advance."

Aela wrinkled her nose at the thought of the usurer in Alalia. She owed him more money than she cared to think about. But without his loans, she never could have paid for the Ingenium. Especially after all of her scholarship applications had been turned down. Somehow even though she had graduated at the top of her spiritism class, she was not academically gifted enough to earn a financial deferment from the school.

Aela shook off the memories. Instead she produced a small hand mirror and comb, and went to work straightening the strands of long, sandy brown hair that had broken loose to harry her face. Once she was finished she proceeded to check the light dusting of makeup around her eyes, and the soft shade of rouge on her lips.

As she had a thousand times before, she sighed at the plain features that stared back at her in the silvered glass. She looked convincingly female enough for most people to never give her a second glance. But there was always one person in every crowd who noticed her slight adam's apple. While her magic had given her an hourglass frame, her shoulders were still a bit too broad, and her hips too narrow, and her breasts too small. Never mind her man-hands. Some things even years of magic could not repair, at least not yet. If only she had been born a normal woman…

Aela put the mirror away and tried not to look at the other women around her. There was no point in reminding herself of how she did not look after all.

Posted by: Acadian Jun 17 2018, 04:21 PM

Another wonderful episode chock full of goodness and fun. We get to see a very girly side of Aela as she fiddles with her hair and appearance. But we are reminded again of the path she walks regarding her gender. I so want to unobtrusively whisper inside her head (the way Acadian does when Buffy suffers from self-doubts), "Remember, those who matter don't mind. . . and those who mind don't matter."

I was quite surprised when the pair of mages struggled to heft their loot bags and struggled out of their cabin. Surely, I thought, dear SubRosa will not miss the opportunity screaming so loudly here. And sure enough, they did not go far before the expected magical resolutions surfaced to their big heavy loads and little magey muscles.

More welcome detail on part of the reason Aela quests - to pay off her mage student loans.

I'm glad that she and Loria have each other to support as you continuously remind us that mages are a bit rare in Aela's world and how they use their magic has consequences.

And finally, it was delightful to see 'Gandolf' as the ship's propulsion engineer as he gently coaxed an undine to power the ship.

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 23 2018, 05:02 PM

Acadian: The last segment was another good opportunity to show the issues Aela has with society, not to mention with her own body. No one is born perfect, no matter how green it may look from the other side of the septic tank.

Heavy loads and magey muscles definitely do not mix! I like using little every day things like that to show how magic ought to work in a real world. Not just for zapping bad guys, but for everyday life. Though not everyone appreciates that.

I could not resist a nod at the archetypal wizard. I think Gandalf pretty much set the mold for what a wizard is 'supposed' to be.




Chapter 3.2

"Excuse us good folk," Aela turned at the sound of a husky Teodon voice. "We could not help but notice from your spellcraft in the hold that you are mages. Perhaps for hire?"

Aela and Loria found a pair of Teodon and two more Rasenna standing behind them. The Teodon speaking was dressed like a human, wearing what had once been a good, cream-colored linen tunic edged with red embroidery. Its faded color and frayed threads betrayed the wear and tear of time however. His scales were just beginning to fade, showing his middle years. Those of his head and back were dark green, transitioning to light brown as they went down his throat and chest. His headspines were dull orange, and bore a band of black that ran horizontally through the center of each.

Beside him stood a much older saurian with washed out green and brown scales, and headspines that had faded to a dull brown in color. Where the first Teodon appeared to be perhaps in his early forties, Aela imagined this one to be at least two decades older still. Like most Teodon that Aela had met, he wore nothing more than a belt around his waist, from which several pouches depended.

Then there were the Rasenna, with their race's characteristic olive skin and dark hair. One was a young man dressed in a rough-spun tunic, who bore the calluses and weathered skin of a farmer. The other was a woman with long hair and soft brown eyes. She wore a dress of green linen, which like the first Teodon's clothing was faded and worn by time and work. Aela imagined from the calluses on her hands, yet healthier skin, that she was an artisan. She was certainly someone who worked indoors with her hands.

"Why indeed we both are magicians!" Loria declared. "I am Loria, the finest wizard of Alalia! And allow me to introduce to you my partner Aela, the most brilliant Witch of Cymner."

Aela could not help but to roll her eyes at the Silaine's theatrics. He always did like to put on a show. She would think that a black marketeer would want to keep a low profile. It was just her luck to befriend the only smuggler in Aulerci who wanted everyone to look at him.

"If you will allow us to introduce ourselves, my name is Vesia," the human woman began. She gestured to the linen-clad Teodon, then the older saurian, and finally the Rasen man in turn. "This is Daehyun, Hyunsu, and Ranazu. We are from the village of Agrigento, and are in need of folk such as yourselves."

"I am afraid I have never heard of your settlement," Aela said. "Is it here on the Bronze Sea?"

"No, not quite," Daehyun said. "Our village lies far inland, within Kye Rim."

"You have come a long way then," Loria whistled.

"I come here often in fact," Daehyun said, "to sell our soju in Veia. Or at least I used to. So it is not an unfamiliar journey."

"So what is it that you seek mages for?" Aela asked.

"Raiders," Vesia said. "For years now they've been preying upon us. They come twice a year, every time after we have distilled our soju. They take it, and anything else they want, and kill anyone who tries to stop them. Or just anyone at all."

"The last time they ate someone as well." Hyunsu glanced at Ranazu. The young Rasenna did not say a word, but Aela noted that his hands clenched into fists so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

"Cannibals?" Aela looked to her elven partner. That seemed quite a coincidence, given their recent expedition into the Stone Forest.

Loria looked back to Aela. The Arvern Witch could see the wheels turning behind the Light Elf's eyes. Could these outlaws be part of the same group they had destroyed?

"Are they led by an elf wearing lorcras armor?" he asked.

"Nay," Vesia answered, though all of the peasants shook their heads. "Their leader is a Teodon, with one eye."

Aela shrugged her shoulders. There had been no Teodon among the Manaha cultists in the Dark Barrow. "They are not the same group that we just destroyed then," she said.

"In any case, this sounds like something for the Kye Rim authorities?" Loria ventured.

"The Gyukon has better things to do," Ranazu practically spat upon the deck beneath them. "We tried appealing to him already. He couldn't give two squirts from a croc's tail about us."

"So we need people like you," Vesia said.

"What is the opposition?" Loria asked.

"Fifty bandits," Ranazu frowned, "give or take a few."

Aela coughed. "It will take more than a pair of mages for that. You'd need at least, oh a dozen good mercenaries. Even then, they would have to be people with experience, who aren't afraid of long odds. Or perhaps half that many, if they are really good."

"What is the pay?" Loria asked, his eyes taking on that crafty look they always possessed when the subject of gold came up.

"These ones can feed you," the aging Teodon Hyunsu finally spoke. "Three meals a day, and offer some soju as well."

"Feed us!" Loria sputtered. "Good luck finding anyone that hungry!"

"Wait!" Ranazu held up his hands before Loria could turn away. "I once heard their leader say that there was a price on his head. You could bring it here for the bounty."

"The raiders have loot as well," Vesia added. "They are bandits, preying upon those who travel up and down western Kye Rim, and back and forth here to Veia. They have many stolen goods: gold, jewels, you name it. All would be yours if you can defeat them."

Aela noted the sharp look that Daehyun shot the Rasen woman. The Witch imagined that he would prefer to keep that loot for himself and the village. Aela could not blame the Teodon. Some of the treasure was doubtlessly their own to begin with.

"Well, we just finished with a band of Manaha worshippers in the Stone Forest," Aela declared. "We have to sell off our own loot, and have accounts to settle. So we cannot go anywhere with you right now. I suggest you try one of the mercenary warbands in the city. They might take your contract."

"That was indeed one of our thoughts," Daehyun declared. "But perhaps when your business is concluded you will come find us? I always stay at The Captain and the Mule inn."

"Perhaps we shall indeed," Loria said. Aela noted that the Light Elf had that thoughtful expression again. She knew that he was thinking about that bounty, and imagining what kind of loot a band of Teodon robbers might accumulate. The Manaha cultists had collected quite a haul of goods, especially in the form of armor and weapons. The Arvern had to admit that she was wondering how much wealth a company of Kye Rim raiders might possess as well. But first things first. She owed Mamarce the Knee gold. She needed to make a deposit at the temple to keep the money-lender off her back, and her knees in one piece.

Posted by: Acadian Jun 23 2018, 11:28 PM

A wonderful introduction of the villagers seeking help.

Korean Kye Rim soju!

”Or perhaps half that many, if they are really good." – I had to smile here as the phrase ‘magnificent seven’ came to mind.

I’m pretty sure the witch and her elven pal will sign up for this. I look forward to the how/where and dynamics of assembling a somewhat larger team.


Tiny suggestion: ’Its faded color and frayed threads betrayed the wear and tear of time however. His scales were just beginning to fade, betraying his middle years.’ – You might consider an alternative to 'betray' for one of the two times you use it in such close proximity. Perhaps something like announce, bespeak, declare, display or proclaim?

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 30 2018, 04:36 PM

Acadian: Hopefully they will be magnificent!

Betrayed by too many betrayals. Who ever would have seen that coming? Thanks for catching that!


Chapter 4.1

Aela resisted the urge to elbow Loria. The Light Elf was fidgeting again, as was his wont when made to wait. First it was his leg bouncing up and down a hundred times a minute. Then he was drumming his palms on his thighs. This made it clear that Loria was no musician. Now he was loudly cracking his knuckles, his neck, and all the other joints in his body. Aela knew that next would come his amethyst ring. First he would spin it around his finger, then he would take it off and roll it around on the nearest table.

Aela tried to ignore the pent-up ball of energy that was her Silaine friend, and instead turned her gaze around the room once more. The chamber was floored with polished hardwood. Divided into square panels three feet on a side, each section of floor was made up of a diagonal mesh, framed with strips of oak. The walls were painted a soothing shade of cream, complementing the gold that gilded them. Sunlight spilled in from windows lining one wall, enhanced by the light of several glowstones set into sconces along the opposite side of the room.

A huge mural of the world goddess Dohman took up the entire ceiling. Here she had fallen into her long slumber after giving birth to the gods. Surrounding her were her children: Mhuira the sea god, Sirona the healing goddess, Esus the woodworker, Toutatis the defender, Karnon the horned god, Tarann the god of thunder, Suil the goddess of rivers, Brighinde the goddess of fire, poetry, and smithing, Mhorlor the raven goddess of magic and death, and many others.

The new gods were singing to their mother, and from their music sprang the first of the solascran, the great glowing trees of the Light Elves' far-off land. Then came the elves themselves, and finally the other races. Shining high in the sky over all were Dohman's own progenitors: Egrieine the sun god, and Gealas the moon goddess.

All of Creation loomed overhead. It was a big ceiling.

"Lord Camna will see you now." Aela nearly started at the servant's voice. He was a young man, with the olive skin and dark hair that bespoke of Rasenna birth. The green and white livery he wore was of soft velvet and silk, stitched with cloth of gold. Aela was certain that he was wearing more than she was worth, not counting the loot she and Loria had so recently gained from the Dark Barrow.

"Brilliant!" Loria sprang to his feet in delight. He hefted the canvas sack at his feet with an effort. Then Aela felt a wash of weight-reducing mana flow down the elf's fingers. "Let's get cracking then!"

Aela rose feeling less enthusiastic than her partner in spells. Her own gentrified birth notwithstanding, she never liked dealing with aristocrats. They literally lived according to their own laws, and woe betide any mere commoner whom they decided to cross.

The youthful retainer led them to a grand hall. The polished green marble floor was inlayed with the design of a great white stag's head with spreading antlers. The vaulted ceiling was supported by a double row of circular columns that were leafed with gold. Sunlight pierced the chamber from clerestories floating high overhead, filling the hall with warmth. A pair of massive bronze doors led to the street outside. Across the room brooded a second, mahogany-paneled door, nestled between by a pair of curving staircases that rose to the second floor of the manor,

Coming from that door was a human woman wearing a simple gray tunic. A cape of the same color fell to her knees, with its attached hood thrown back over her shoulders. Her legs were covered by white leggings of the Skanjr fashion, tied about with gray cord. Her hair was white as snow, matching her milk-pale skin. Her features were delicate, beautiful even. Yet from a distance Aela could not miss the mass of long scars that marred her left cheek and chin.

Aela might have thought she was a Light Elf, like Loria. But while her skin and hair were the right color, her gray eyes were far too plain, and her ears failed to poke through the strands of her hair with a characteristic elven point. For that matter, her hair looked rough and coarse, words never associated with any elf. She was clearly human, and Aela wondered if she might be an albino?

As the mages approached, another servant appeared alongside the white-haired woman. He seemed to be the double of the man who led them. This new retainer was much older however, with a neat-beard sprinkled with gray. Father and son, the Arvern Witch imagined.

The older servant handed the woman a bared longsword of silvery astril. Its double-edged blade was a good three and a half feet long, including a blunt ricasso that stretched a hand-span above the guard. The crossbar curved slightly toward the point, thickening as it did so. The long hilt was wrapped with what appeared be dark leather, and ended at a large pommel shaped like a multi-faceted scent stopper.

White-Hair took the weapon without a sound. A silver glow emanated from her hand and flowed down across the sword. Aela could feel the mana rising in both woman and weapon, clear and cold as a mountain stream. The sword faded into the light, and vanished entirely.

"Now that is something you don't see every day," Aela said dryly.

"Aura-bonding," Loria said, "an ancient technique. I read about it in some of the restricted books."

The older servant openly gawked for a moment. Then he composed himself. With a grunt of effort, he handed the woman a massive book, bound with cracked brown leather. The great volume must have been heavier than a money-lender's conscience, but the white-haired woman tucked it under one arm with only a nod to the retainer. He said nothing to her, and Aela noted a sour look on the middle-aged man's face. White-Hair paid him no more heed, and instead turned and strode purposely across the hall toward Aela and Loria.

She stared Aela directly in the eye as she approached, without flinching or even blinking. Aela gave back her stare evenly, and noted that like the rest of her monochrome appearance, the swordswoman's eyes were hard gray steel.

As they closed, Aela shifted her perception to the aether. White-Hair's aura sprang to life in a brilliant tapestry. She appeared normal in the spirit realm, possessing bright threads of power that spoke of magical training. Aela saw no signs of albinism in her aura, though with such a cursory glance she imagined she might simply be overlooking it. What she did feel most of all from the other woman was... coldness. Like the steel of her eyes, or the snowy mane of coarse hair that spilled from her scalp. Aela could not put her finger upon why, but she felt a chill crawl up her spine as they silently passed one another.

Aela pulled her senses back to the mundane world. The chill passed, and a moment later she felt the warmth of the sun kissing her skin. Aela spared a glance back at the white swordswoman, and wondered if she had imagined the entire thing?

"Who was that?" Loria's voice lilted softly beside her.

The young retainer made a sound that was half grumble and half growl. "Just some hired thug," he murmured in a low voice, "no one of interest."

A hired thug who could magically meld her sword into her aura, and took a book as some form of payment? Now that sounded interesting to Aela.

"She never blinked," Loria whispered in an even softer voice, one Aela knew was meant for only her. "Not once, the entire time."

"She didn't breathe either," Aela replied in an equally low tone.



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Posted by: Acadian Jun 30 2018, 08:47 PM

Nice to see you unleash the full slender of your description gun. A delightful picture of her bouncing, musically-challenged elven partner in spells. Followed by a wonderful description of the ‘waiting’ chamber they were in. I like how the ceiling mural so unobtrusively allowed you to share some of the religious aspects of Aela’s world. A very well-done opening scene.

’Aela was certain that he was wearing more than she was worth, …’ - - Love how cleverly this makes the point.

More opulence in the next room. . . and a mysterious white haired scarred woman.

"She didn't breathe either," Aela replied in an equally low tone.’ - - Oh. My. Goodness. It’s Persephone!!!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jul 3 2018, 03:44 PM

YASSSS! Pursephone! I made the connection as soon as I read this:

Then I saw the screenshot and cheered!

Looking forward to more!

And of course, meeting the villagers before the visit to the noble's home. Liked how they tried to entice our pair with the promise of loot. That never seems to pan out, does it? As I'm sure dozens of pirates will tell ya . . .

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 7 2018, 08:50 PM

Acadian: I was originally going to simply describe how lavishly furnished the noble's mansion was, in order to show how rich he is. That waiting room was meant to overawe all of his visitors. I was looking at pictures of RL Renaissance palaces like Versailles, and that led me to the idea of working in a subtle lesson in cosmology into the description. I am glad it worked out so well. It is like Zalphon was saying before about trying to use dialogue to convey information. Except in this case the dialogue was all in Aela's eyes.

btw. speaking of Versailles, the crosshatched hardwood floor was taken directly from that of https://www.woodfloors4u.co.uk/product-category/versailles_panel_wood_flooring/


haute ecole rider: As you both noted, that was indeed the Living Dead Girl. She underwent a number of alterations to make her fit into the story and world. In fact, her actions form a very important (and horrific) part of ancient history, as will be alluded to later. Her name is now Phereinon (among other titles), she wears different armor, her sword Malediction is different from the games, etc... But deep down in that cold undead heart she is still the Persephone we know and love.

Hopefully the bandits will pay of well enough for Aela and Loria to keep up on their student loans.


Chapter 4.2

Then they were at the door between the staircases, and the younger servant ushered them past. They found themselves within a study whose floor was covered in thick Aymaran carpets. A desk of glowing solascran wood stood before a pair of wide windows. A full suit of ancient Rasen bronze armor was fitted out upon an arming dummy. A line of weapons stretched out to either side of it, old bronze swords and spears, a bright astril arming sword, a gleaming black lorcras great sword, even a recruve bow of the Aymaran nomads from Tiwanaku's deserts.

The bust of a bearded man that Aela recognized as the ancient philosopher Aritosthene graced one pedestal, flanked by other worthies whom she could not identify. Books sat in state like honored heroes within a series of velvet-lined cases. She recognized a few from their counterparts in the Ingenium's library: The Golden Bough, Mercurus the Thrice Great, The Book of Dzyan, The Mysteries of Magic were ensconced in glory, along with and more worthy manuscripts of magic and history by Trithemia, Agrapina, Heirdot, Alorri-Zrokros, and others.

Aela noted a space missing in one of the display cases, large enough to accommodate a book. For a moment her mind went to the one that the white-haired swordswoman had carried out with her. But that grand folio had been far too large to fit in the space that Aela saw. No, it must have been a different, more ordinary-sized volume that had wandered free.

A full-sized chariot of her own people - the Arvern - stood along one wall of the room. Floating above a pair of small wooden wheels, the simple, square cab was made of oak. Semi-circular panels rose knee-high to either side, but left front and back open. A long tongue stretched out before it, fitted with a yoke for two horses. Aela imagined that it must have been a replica, since no one had used such things since before the Skanjr came, centuries ago. In fact, now that she thought about it, nothing else in the room appeared to be less than four hundred years old.

Behind the glowing wooden desk and beyond the glass panes of the window was a wide atrium open to the sun. Green grass and flowering plants lined the airy expanse. In its center rose a marble fountain carved in the likeness of Sea Elves with arms raised high, as if they were drawing the fountain's water up into the air with their magic, only for it to spill about them in a crystalline shower.

Sitting behind the desk was a thickly-set Rasen dressed in black brocade crusted with rubies and stitched with cloth-of-gold. His mustache was black as pitch, but the gray, neatly-trimmed beard underneath betrayed his years. His raven hair was brushed back from his forehead in widow's peak. The dark eyes that stared out underneath were as fathomless and piercing as the abyss.

Still, Aela noted a slight tremble in his fingers as he inelegantly set down a gem-encrusted drinking cup. It clattered loudly upon the golden tray he set it upon, nearly knocking over a crystal carafe that was only half-filled with a smoky, amber liquid. The cup was clearly empty, otherwise it would have sloshed its contents all over.

Standing in each corner of the room was a warrior clad in mail overlaid by hardened leather vests. These were dyed green and emblazoned with a white stag's head. Their round shields were likewise decorated, and swords hung from their hips. Two of the oathmen were Rasen from their olive skin. The third's straw hair and liquid blue eyes betrayed his Skanjr heritage. While the final one bore the green skin and tusks of an Assina, one of the Forest Orcs from far off Hiakwia.

They were less than four hundred years old, Aela thought wryly.

"My Lord Camna," Loria said with polished courtesy and bowed graciously. Aela curtseyed beside the elf, hoping she did not trip over her feet as she did so.

"I have been looking forward to meeting you, certainly more so than my other business of late." The Rasen looked away for a moment, to the empty spot in his book displays. His features fell into shadow, and he brooded for long moments upon the missing volume.

Camna rose from behind his glowing desk and strode around to face them directly. He was a great bear of a man, whose frame was sadly the worse for wear from too much good food and the merciless advance of age. Yet when he stared down at Aela, it was a great black wolf she was reminded of, that gazed down upon a sheep.

"You are Aela, are you not?" He gestured for them to rise, and both she and Loria straightened. "I understand you are the first ardhanari to graduate from our old school's hallowed halls. The honor is all mine."

Now Aela noted the crystal-adorned staff beside the desk, and the testamur framed in glass upon one wall. Its fine calligraphy proclaimed Serves Camna to have graduated from the Ingenium as a Master of the Arcane, just as her own did.

"My lord is most kind," Aela stammered, hunting for words that would not come to her tongue. She could feel the mana within him, and detected a glint in his eyes that showed he was aesensing her. She resisted doing the same, and could not help but feel like one of the many prizes he kept cased in glass around the study.

"Nonsense," Camna said with a matter-of-fact air that belied his obvious wealth and power. He spoke more like a tradesman than a pampered noble. "Kindness is something I have never been accused of, and for good reason."

He leaned his not inconsiderable bulk back upon the edge of his desk, and waved his oathmen away. The warriors filed from the room with a stamping of feet and jingle of steel, leaving the three alone.

"I mostly keep them around for show," he almost winked at Aela after the last shut the door behind him. "But sometimes they earn their keep."

Apparently he did not expect the warriors to need to earn their keep with her and Loria, unlike with the white-haired swordswoman. Aela supposed that was a compliment.

"Is it true that you, changed yourself?" The older man's gesture to Aela's private parts made it plain what he meant, "with magic?"

"Yes it is my lord," Aela tried not to flush. But the aristocrat's stare made it hard not to feel self-conscious. "I rewove the threads of my aura. Well, I still am to tell the truth."

"And in so doing you rewove the threads of your body as well, remaking yourself in your own image," the old man sighed. "Amazing, simply amazing."

"I admire those who master their own fate, regardless of the opposition or consequences. You and I have that much in common. I graduated the Ingenium without two eagles to rub together, and a debt to a money-lender the size of the Bronze Sea. But from such humble beginnings I was able to build all of this."

"Let us hope that Aela and I are even half as successful," Loria said dryly.

Camna laughed, but it was a bitter sound, whose humor did not reach his eyes. It felt more like a pale imitation of happiness, made by someone who had never known real joy, "And you, an outsider elf, son of an outcast. How many times did you smuggle books in and out of the restricted section of the library? Aule Cursni always swore he would catch you at it and throw you out, but here you stand despite his best efforts."

"Well, the headmaster did come close that one time in-"

"I'm sure Lord Camna doesn't want to hear about that," Aela shot the elf a glance. What smuggler wanted to brag about his infamy? "Perhaps my Lord would like to see what we brought him?"

"Yes, down to business." the Rasen looked at the sack pooled at Loria's feet. "My man said you brought me a suit of armor for my collection."

"Why not a mere suit of armor," Loria clucked, "but rather an opportunity. One to fulfill a lifetime of collecting."

"An opportunity it is then?" Camna raised an eyebrow. "You should come work for me. I can have you selling water to the Sea Elves."

"I've already done that..." Loria breathed as bent down and opened the bag. From its canvas depths he produced the suit of lorcras armor most recently worn by the high priest of the Dark Barrow. Cleaned of blood and grime, its glossy black lamellar plates reflected the sunlight with a high sheen. Each individual lamellae was an individual work of art, embossed with gently curving designs of fantastic beasts, astronomical symbols, and even floral motifs.

"It is a good thing I have more than two Alalian eagles to rub together these days." Camna's eyes glowed as he stared at the ancient Silor armor.



https://i.imgur.com/IojhlWG.jpg

Posted by: Acadian Jul 8 2018, 09:38 PM

Very much a pleasure to read as you weave this tale. Once again, your rich descriptions continue to reveal the considerable wealth of their host.

"My lord is most kind," Aela stammered, hunting for words that would not come to her tongue. She could feel the mana within him, and detected a glint in his eyes that showed he was aesensing her. She resisted doing the same, and could not help but feel like one of the many prizes he kept cased in glass around the study.’
- - I quoted this for two reasons. First, you expertly craft a lot of goodness into this concise paragraph. Once again you show us Aela’s discomfort with being the center of attention and how she is challenged to find the right words when on the spot even as you give us much insight into Camna. Second, I found the word ‘aesensing’ to be unfamiliar. Did you mean assessing or was I simply unable to find its meaning?

Camna’s blunt and potentially awkward question about her being a changeling was well managed by Aela – likely due to experience at answering similar questions. Camna’s open-minded and supportive response revealed his keen interest in all things magic.

I also enjoyed how naturally you revealed more of Loria’s background as he and Camna discussed ‘good old days’ back at the Ingenium.

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 14 2018, 04:09 PM

Acadian: I wanted to show that with an item as rare and valuable as ancient Dark Elf armor, you didn't simply go to an ordinary armor shop to sell it. Instead you go to rich collectors, like with stolen art!

I went into writing this section without much forethought on what Camna as like. I found that pic of Orson Welles and stared it for a while, and he came together for me. A great black wolf, whose free time has gone to collecting historical and magical artifacts of all kinds (which in turn act as visible demonstrations of his wealth and power). All of the wealth displayed in his home is not mere vanity, but a calculated act meant to overawe visitors.

Aesensing is my own made up word, short for aetherial sensing. I will use it throughout the story.

Lora/Ungarion's background has always been vague and unplumbed. Changing that is one of my challenges with Loria. In this world his race does not mingle as freely with others as Altmer do in Tamriel. So I have been working on how it is he was born and raised in a human city. His father being an exile is the first part of that picture.


Chapter 5.1

"Perhaps we might take ship to Felathri." Loria paused to take a sip of wine from his cup. "It is said they are war with Priana. They probably want to make up for that land they lost to Alalia."

"Perhaps not," Aela frowned, "I still remember how Alalia dragged us out of the Ingenium and into that war of theirs. Thousands of people lining up and killing one another, and for what? So their highborns could have bragging rights for the next decade?"

"Well, there was that copper mine too..." Loria noted.

"And innocent people getting caught in the middle, only to be dispossessed, robbed, or murdered." Aela shivered. "Not again."

"I did not mean we would fight in it," the Light Elf said. "Wherever there is a war, there are always other opportunities."

"I think we can find enough opportunities here in Veia," Aela insisted. "You told me yourself that this city was built on gold."

"Aye, but I'd sooner not have to use a shovel to get it…" Loria murmured.

Aela shook her head and took another bite from her lunch. The hot piadina was filled with grilled chicken, diced tomatoes, strips of sharp cheese, and bubbling with extra flavor thanks to a sprinkling of basil. The sandwich was far too good for street fare, and she vowed to return to this hot food stand whenever they were in Veia.

The kiosk that sold the delicious food possessed a simple cloth awning to provide shade from the sun. Beneath ran a long stone counter, whose surface was lined with large holes filled with earthenware jars. Each brimmed with a different form of hot meat, fish, or mulled wine. Sprigs of garlic and other spices hung from the canvas awning, and farther back in the stand loaves of fresh bread and wheels of cheese were stacked on a table, with bottles of wine and ale sitting on the pavestones underneath.

Like most of the other patrons, Aela and Loria sat at a long table beside the food stand. Just a few feet away horse and hadrosaur-drawn wagons and carts clattered along the cobblestone street. Pedestrians dodged between them, and crowded either side of the avenue. It seemed that people of every race and animals of all kinds were packed into every square inch of space, along with their sounds, and especially their smells. Whitewashed stone buildings rose two and three stories high all about, and the streets went on and on like a tangled ball of yarn in all directions. The sprawling city was like a world unto itself.

Aela missed the smaller towns along the shores of the Bronze Sea, with their fresh air and quieter avenues. Or better still, the Stone Forest between Veia and Kye Rim. While rocky and often inhospitable, the karst landscape and its quiet earth spirits provided a welcome respite from the press of humanity. That rough land had little to offer people, especially when there was rich farmland along the coasts of the two seas which bracketed the isthmus upon which Veia and the badlands sat. So only a few daring, or desperate, folk lived there.

The rumble of laughter from a deep throat roused Aela from her ruminations and brought her head around to view its author. Across the street from her and Loria were their acquaintances from Agrigento. Towering above the Kye Rim farmers was the largest Skanjr she had ever seen, wearing mail armor and sporting a long axe nearly as tall as he was.

"Scalebacks make me laugh!" the blond giant guffawed in broken Rasen. He slapped Daehyun on the back with enough force to send the linen-clad Teodon stumbling away. Then the Skanjr lumbered off down the avenue while the other Agrigentans stared in shock and dismay.

"It seems our friends from Agrigento are not doing so well with their plan to hire mercenaries," Loria dryly observed through a bite of his own flatbread sandwich. "Perhaps we should lend our assistance?"

"Are you planning to pay off Mamarce the Knee with rice?" Aela shook her head and took a sip of wine from the worn cup the food stand had provided. It was far from the luxurious Recie or Amaron wines of Alalia, but at least it was not tepid water or stale beer. "In case you have forgotten, our education did not come for free."

"Thanks to those cultists, we have enough gold in the temple to keep Mamarce at bay for a long time," Loria insisted. "Besides, if these raiders pay out nearly as well as those cannibals did, I expect we will be making more than food and drink from this venture."

"There are fifty of them," Aela pointed out. "Don't you think that's a bit much for even us?"

"All the more for us to loot afterward," Loria waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Besides, I am sure we can conjure up a few swords to even up the odds."

Aela shook her head. She knew there was nothing she could say to sway the Silaine's mind. She had the feeling that it was not even the promise of loot that had set the hook in the wizard's mouth. Rather it was his sense of adventure. She had known him long enough to realize that he would do this sort of thing just for the fun of it alone. Money was only an added incentive.

The next thing the Arvern Witch knew, her friend was waving the four Agrigentans over to the table where they sat. Aela ate the last of her piadina in silence as they crowded around, and drew stares from many of the other patrons of the food stand.

"How goes your recruitment efforts?" Loria asked.

"I am afraid you just saw how well," Vesia frowned. "We even had an audience with the zilath in the castle, but he will not send troops into Kye Rim. We tried the White Company and the Frisverd this morning. The Whites are out of the city, fighting in some war up north. The Frisverd had just returned from some other place it seemed, and their leader turned us down as well."

"We have done no better at hiring individual mercenaries either," old Hyunsu lamented with a down-turned head. "No one will help us."

"Fear not," Loria declared. "Aela and I have discussed it, and we are with you."

Aela just shook her head again as she chewed the last bite of her basil-flavored chicken sandwich.

"Good!" Ranazu practically boomed. "It's about time we found someone around here with stones."

"Oh, it's not the stones that are the problem," Loria rose to his feet. "It's a matter of finding the right people, at the right time, in the right way."

"And with the right amount of hunger," Aela added.

Loria ignored the quip, and continued. "First, you need to stop asking people off the street. That is never going to work. They are either going to laugh at you like that Skanjr, or you are going to end up with some cutthroat who will murder you in your sleep."

"So where do we find these people?" Vesia asked. "I thought surely the Frisverd or the other mercenary company would conjure up any number of warriors."

"They have their bottom line to think of," Aela said, standing up beside Loria. "This is a contract that is going to tie up their resources for a long time. So it has to pay their expenses for that entire period. You just don't have the money for that, and they cannot gamble on the loot from the bandits making up the difference."

"What we need are people who are footloose," Loria said, "not tied down with families to support, rent to pay, that sort of thing. Hrollaug from the Frisverd is married and has children. For most men that would be reason enough to stay away from home as long as possible! But by some miracle he actually enjoys being a father, so he doesn't like hiring his company out for long stretches away from the city. Our prospects will be folk who can just pick up and wander to another part of the world at the drop of a hat."

"So where can they be found?" Ranazu asked.

"Why at the tavern of course!" Loria grinned.

Posted by: Acadian Jul 14 2018, 09:27 PM

Aesensing – Yes, I thought perhaps you had intentionally created the word. It does fit in and gives exactly the impression you intend. I also wanted to compliment you on your nice, relaxed posting schedule – frequent enough to stay fully engaged yet slowly enough to fully savor each episode and look forward to the next. And finally, I also applaud your episode length discipline; I see you are still working with the guidelines we all sort of developed several years ago for ‘just right’ episode length.


Your opening here, as the pair of mages debated their plans, filled the senses with the tastes, sounds and smells of the crowded maze-like street venue. I could clearly envision the scene.

A smooth and natural-feeling segue back to the story’s premise – a rice farming village in trouble. So the die is cast, even as you show us more of what makes the adventurous elf and the more cautious witch he travels with tick.

So it is to be mercenary hunting at the tavern is it? The task sounds perfectly suited to Aela's silver-tongued elven pal.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jul 18 2018, 08:02 PM

I continue to draw inferences between your fiction and both the saegeuks and the Japanese samurai/American Western classics. I need to dust off my copy of The Magnificent Seven to refresh my memory regarding the personalities of the characters involved. I do enjoy this sort of fiction - while it's immersive and sweeps me along with its hadrosaur drawn carts and the food stands (fondly remember those from the Teresa fan fiction), I enjoy the memories and thoughts and associations it stirs up in the Murkmire of my mind.

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 21 2018, 09:02 PM

Acadian: We are finally getting to the start of the start, so to speak, with the Seven being drawn together.


haute ecole rider: One thing I like about classic westerns is that while their protagonists were not perfect, there was never any ambiguity about their actions. They fought the good fight, and their opponents were always those fighting the bad one. Likewise, samurai movies always had an epic feel, even if it was just seven samurai taking on a band of thugs for the sake of some farmers.

I work hard to not only create vivid characters, but also a vivid landscape for them to play their roles out upon. The hadrosaurs, the food stands, mages working as ship's navigators, etc... When I am reading books or watching tv and movies, the more real the world feels, the more I care about the people in it. That is what I always like about Marvel comics using real settings like New York, over DC's made up ones like Metropolis, Central City, or Midway City, etc.. The made up ones just don't feel real. Only Gotham has come to seem like a real place to me, because of how long it has been around and how consistently it has been portrayed.




Chapter 5.2

The Light Elf led the Agrigentans across the city. They paused at a three-way intersection. To their right a wide boulevard led to large square. Beyond that rose a great palace of white marble, topped by a huge dome of what appeared to shining gold in its center. Smaller domes of bronze rose from each corner of the palace. The pennant of the city flew from a staff rising atop each: a crowned man riding a dolphin, holding a spear in one hand, and a shield in the other.

Ranazu whistled. "Who lives there?"

"No one," Loria said.

"People call it the Font of Gold," Aela explained. "The Captain's Council meets there, to argue about how they run the city."

"I thought the zilath ruled over Veia?" the old Teodon Hyunsu wondered aloud.

"He is just an executive appointed by the council," Loria said. "He oversees all the day to day affairs that keep the city running. Collecting taxes and customs duties, commanding the army, and so on. He has that castle overlooking the Spout at the western tip of the city. But in the end he is just the council's errand boy. The real power in Veia lies in the Font."

In spite of what the Light Elf said, he turned away from the palace, and led them in the opposite direction. He stayed on the same street through several more intersections, and finally the avenue became lined with armor and weapon smiths, and the faint sound of metal dinging against metal wafted from the buildings and into Aela's ears.

They passed the White Company's compound, marked by a banner of a white horse against a blue background. The area looked nearly deserted, with only a few women hanging up laundry and children playing in evidence. Aela imagined that the mercenary company itself must be in Felathri, fighting in that war Loria had mentioned earlier.

"I do not see any taverns," the human farmer Ranazu noted.

"All in good time," Loria smiled. "First we shall make our rounds with the armorers and weaponsmiths. They may know of good hands looking for work."

They were approaching their third shop when the glass window that fronted the armorer exploded out in a shower of jagged shards. Bursting through the opening were two humans wrapped in a violent embrace. One was a dark-haired young Rasen clad in velvet and silk, a sword clenched in his hand. The other was a white-haired woman in pale linen, who appeared to be unarmed.

It was the same white-haired woman they had seen at the Camna estate!

Aela leaped back along with the others, to give the two room in the street. So too did the other passersby. Traffic halted in the street, as everyone stopped to stare.

The pair hit the ground and rolled to a halt in the street. White-Hair sprang instantly to her feet. She whipped the gray cape from her shoulders and passed it between her hands, twisting it into a cord. The Rasen man rose more slowly, and Aela saw that he possessed a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes flashed with anger as he leveled his gold-hilted sword at the pale woman. Bared and in its full glory, the fine sword practically trumpeted the name Princely Gift at Aela.

"Justice will be done upon you assassin!" he cried.

Without another word he lunged forward and stabbed at the woman. She neatly side-stepped, and threw her cloak around his wrist. Catching the free end, she wound it tighter, trapping the Rasen's sword arm. Twisting his arm up and around, she effortlessly flipped him across her back and down to the paving stones below. The sword clattered from his nerveless fingers, and she bent to pick it up by the blade with one hand, releasing his wrist from her cloak in the process.

Now armed men came boiling out of the shop after them. All wore green leather vests emblazoned with a white stag's head, and long-sleeved mail hauberks underneath. They gripped straight, double-edged swords of the Skanjr type, and carried green and white shields.

"Oathmen of House Camna," Loria murmured. Aela too, recognized the distinctive livery from their recent business with Lord Serves Camna. But she had little time to consider what that might mean, as the warriors charged upon the mysterious white-haired woman.

A red-haired Skanjr burst through the window, while two Rasen charged through the front door in single-file. White-Hair threw her cape at the face of the first man through the door. He ducked to avoid the missile. But the man behind him literally never saw it coming, and staggered blindly as the cloth wrapped about his face.

Then the Skanjr who had leaped through the window was upon White-Hair. He stabbed with his sword, and she used Princely Gift to deflect it to one side. Rather than gripping the sword by the hilt, she still held the purloined weapon by the blade, point to the ground. With the Skanjr's blade swept toward his shield side, she stepped in closer. Her flatted palm jammed into the side of his armored head, followed by the pommel Princely Gift, which crashed into his face. The nasal of his spangenhelm saved his nose from ruination. But he still ended up flying backward onto the pavement. Now Aela noted that White-Hair had slyly inserted a foot behind his ankle, which the warrior had tripped over.

Now the first oathman through of the door was upon her. She effortlessly parried his sword stroke with Princely Gift. Again, she moved chest to chest with the Rasen, grabbing his sword wrist with her free hand. Her right leg swept out and caught his own right ankle, and toppled him to the ground. A quick kick to the head followed, and Aela winced involuntarily. One of the plates from his spangenhelm burst completely from its rivets and clattered away down the street, dented almost beyond recognition.

By now the third oathman had freed himself of White-Hair's cloak. He was upon her before she could dodge, and slammed his shield directly into her unarmored face. Aela saw her nose buckle under the impact, but otherwise her head barely moved.

White-Hair smiled, and her eyes glowed silver-white, like stars on a clear night. Aela shivered as a wave of ice seemed to wash over her body. Then White-Hair grabbed the top rim of the Rasen's shield and yanked it - and him - closer. At the same time she leaned into him, and smashed her bare forehead into his armored one.

That should have been a foregone conclusion. But it was the armored man who fell limply to the pavement.

There was clearly much more to this woman than met the eye. Or the mundane eye at least. Aela shifted her senses to the aether, and closely studied the mystery woman's aura. Like at the Camna estate, it shone with the bright light of a magical adept. But other than that, she appeared completely normal. Except of course for that glacial coldness, that nearly chilled Aela to the bone.

Now Aela noticed that even though White-Hair was exerting herself to the utmost, the threads of power that governed her body appeared calm and at rest. For example, there were no signs of faster breathing or heartbeats, nor even of sweat. Aela searched for the web of magical fibers that governed the woman's shattered nose, yet found nothing in them out of place.

"She's cloaking her aura!" Loria whispered into her ear. "Aranath wrote about it in Hidden Magic. The technique was used by human slaves to escape the notice of their Dark Elf masters, and later to hide from Inquisitors during the Sacerdotium's rule."

"Let me guess, one of your books from the restricted section?" Aela smiled wryly, not taking her attention from White-Hair."

"Of course!" the elven mage replied. "I did thumb through a few of them, from time to time."

Three more oathmen of House Camna came from the shop. One was a gray-skinned Guzuk orc, armed with the point-heavy kopis his people were known for. Next was a brown-haired Arvern carrying a leaf-shaped sword with a pommel that flared out to either side like a pair of antenna. Finally came a dark Rasen armed with a straight, double-edged Skanjr-style sword.

They did not rush in as their predecessors had. Instead they moved slowly around White-Hair, careful to stay out of her reach. They beat the flats of their blades against the iron rims of their wooden shields. In spite of the quick work White-Hair had made of their comrades, their eyes showed no fear. They were wolves, closing in for the kill.

In the meantime the first Rasen, clad in velvet and silk rather than armor, had climbed to his feet off to one side. "Murderer," he hissed, drawing a jeweled dagger from his hip. Still, he made no move to enter battle himself.

Once they had White-Hair surrounded, the oathmen all moved in at once. The Guzuk and Arvern in front of her shouted loudly. The orc struck high, the human low. Somehow White-Hair parried and dodged each of the simultaneous attacks. But she could not ward off the final, silent attack from the Rasen behind her. The rounded point of his double-edged sword sank deeply into her lower back, and Aela shook her head. Surely this would end it.

But it didn't. White-Hair did not slow for an instant. Pivoting on her hips, she sent a crushing back kick into the midsection of the Rasen. Aela heard a distinctive crack, and her aethersight witnessed the threads of his vertebrae shatter. The hapless oathman fell to the ground with a broken back.

His comrades did not slacken their efforts however. The orc bashed with his shield, which again had no effect upon White-Hair, but did trap her stolen sword against its surface for a moment. At the same time the Arvern brought his antenna sword down in a high, slanting cut.

White-Hair dropped to the ground, and the sword sailed harmlessly overhead. She swept out with one foot to trip the shield-basher. But the orc leapt up with both feet to avoid the trip. White-Hair sprang back to her feet in an instant. But she was too slow, for the Arvern stabbed out with his leaf-blade, burying the weapon deep into her shoulder.

Aela shifted her senses out of the aether and back to the meat world. Now she noted that there was no blood, not from the stab to her back, nor from this most recent wound. A magician skilled in vitamancy could easily stop the flow of blood. Aela did it all the time when treating wounds. But to do it in the middle of a fight, before the wounds were even incurred, that was inconceivable.

It was almost as if White-Hair had no blood to begin with...

White-Hair dropped Princely Gift, and before the Arvern could withdraw his sword, she grabbed it. Aela noted that she took care to grip the weapon by pinning the flat of the blade between the tops of her fingers and the palm of her hand, so that the edge did not touch her skin. The oathman tried to pull his sword back for another blow, but could not budge it from White-Hair's grasp.

Now she twisted to the side, tearing the point out of her shoulder, but only after gouging out a long line of flesh with it. Again, there was no blood. She pulled on the sword as she twisted, dragging the Arvern with it. He blundered into his comrade, who was beginning a cut with his kopis. The orc's sword was fouled by the Arvern, and both went stumbling to one side.

White-Hair released her grip on the antenna sword and came up behind the Arvern. Before he could react, she wrapped her hands around his waist. Bending backwards, she effortlessly lifted his armored form up over her head in a belly to back suplex. Continuing in a swift, fluid motion, she bent over completely backwards, so that her hair brushed the paving stones. The oathman flew above her, and his head and shoulders slammed directly into the street with a crunching of bone.

White-Hair twisted to one side after the back arch throw and bounced to her feet. The final oathman stared at her. His sword clattered to the ground, followed by his shield. But the gray-skinned Guzuk was not surrendering. Instead he moved forward with fists raised.

"Is he mad?" one of the Teodon gaped. "She'll kill him!"

"I don't think so," Aela observed. "She has not killed a single one of them." Indeed, White-Hair had stunned, concussed, and crippled the oathmen. But not one of their injuries would be fatal. In fact, Aela knew from personal experience that with skilled magical healing every one of them would be back on their feet as hale and hearty as before.

"For someone called an assassin and murderer, her singular avoidance of killing is most interesting," Loria said.

The two came together and traded blows in the orc-style of kick-boxing. Using fists and feet, they exchanged a flurry of strikes and counters. Blood and part of a tusk sailed from the orc's mouth. His answering blows had less effect however. In fact, Aela now saw that White-Hair's nose was just as straight and true as it had been before the earlier shield-bash had crushed it. Likewise, the wound on her shoulder had closed, and there was no sign of the stab to her back. As Aela watched, even the skinned flesh on her knuckles flowed back together seconds after every punch she landed.

"She's regenerating," Aela noted, " and she's clearly enhanced her strength and speed."

It felt strange, just standing by and watching someone else fighting desperately. But given that she had no idea what this about, she was not going to enter the fray herself. She would be just as likely to be helping whoever was in the wrong as who was in the right. Assuming anyone was in the right.

"Maybe she has armored her skin?" Loria wondered aloud.

"Not enough to stop a sword." Aela shook her head. "I think she is just taking the pain until she heals."

Now the oathman kicked low, at White-Hair's knee. She lifted her leg to block with her shin. She instantly replied with a similar kick with her opposite leg. He likewise blocked, and followed with a knee to her mid-section. She shrugged it off, and landed a hammer blow to his ribs.

The orc seemed unfazed, and launched a push kick directly at White-Hair's jaw. She side-stepped however, and caught his leg with one arm. Twisting to one side, she brought her elbow down hard on the Guzuk's leg. The resulting crack was like thunder in Aela's ears. The orc fell with his shin twisted at a right angle to the rest of his leg. Jagged shards of bone protruded from the rent flesh around the wound, and more blood pooled in the street. He didn't make a sound, but he was clearly finished.

https://youtu.be/5PibS3owPEQ

Posted by: Acadian Jul 22 2018, 07:33 PM

By Julianos’ Little Teapot!

With the Magnificent Two looking to increase their numbers, they certainly came upon a candidate worth considering!

White Hair is clearly a woman of many mysteries – even beyond the aesensing abilities of Aela. The biggest question surrounding this white-haired master combatant who can regenerate faster than a troll is what motivates her to fight? Will a just cause suffice? Be she potential friend or foe?

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 28 2018, 04:38 PM

Acadian: Aela and Loria certainly agree that White-Hair would be perfect for their team. But can they recruit her? We will find a little more about the mystery regenerator this segment.


Chapter 5.3

Now there was only one man left on his feet, the Rasen in velvet whom White-Hair had originally crashed through the window with.

"You may really be the White Death," he growled. "But I don't care. Blood calls for blood."

Now it was his turn to advance upon White-Hair, holding his dagger in an under-handed grip. He kept one hand out before him to block, while the other held the knife at shoulder height, point always facing White-Hair. He moved in slowly and tried to circle her. But instead she cut him off, stepping directly into his line of advance.

White-Hair did not attack even then however. Instead she let him make the first blow. He stabbed, and she ducked under the dagger with lightning speed. She darted beside him and hooked one arm around his right shoulder. Continuing the motion, she swung her entire body up into the air and around his torso like a fulcrum. Her legs flew up above his head, while her own face dipped down toward the pavement. The Rasen was pulled off his feet by her momentum, and her legs locked around his neck as he toppled to the ground.

White-Hair retained the arm-bar on his dagger arm as they struck the ground, and rolled them onto his back, with her right side against the ground as well. This left her choking him with her legs, his weapon-arm pinioned helplessly.

She whispered something to the Rasen, too low to hear.

It was too low for mundane hearing at least. With barely a thought, Aela channeled mana into her ears. Suddenly even the slightest sounds reverberated through her skull. The breathing of Loria and the farmers was loud as thunder, as were the gasps of amazement from the crowd. The Arvern Witch concentrated on blocking the unwanted sounds out, and focused her attention directly upon White-Hair and the finely-dressed Rasen.

"Didn't you ever think it odd that every young, attractive woman in your father's service disappeared Sethre?" White-Hair asked. "Didn't you ever wonder where they went to?"

"The comings and goings of common-born maids are no concern of mine," the Rasen - now clearly Sethre Camna - gasped though the vise around his throat.

"Didn't you wonder about the book that is missing from your father's collection?" White-Hair continued to needle. "The one by Borellus?"

Aela caught her breath at that name. She had never taken much interest in the books in the restricted section of the Ingenium's library. She was much too busy with transforming her body from male to female. But that name stood out. His books were banned everywhere.

"Your dear brother Fanre was a necromancer." White-Hair spat the final word with more violence than any of her assaults upon the oathmen. "He murdered every woman he fancied. He reanimated them. Then he raped them, again and again."

"No, that can't be," the Rasen nobleman sputtered. Whether from the revelation, or the lack of air Aela was not certain. "That's impossible!"

"Your father knew all along." White-Hair continued. "He did nothing, until your brother kidnapped and murdered Hercna Ulthese. Yes, of House Ulthese. The others on the Captain's Council gave him the option of settling things quietly, before they stepped in. Since none of your oathmen would do the right thing, he turned to me."

"I don't believe you assassin!" Sethre swore.

"Then see for yourself," White-Hair insisted. "Go to the sub-basement. In the wine cellar, behind the third cask on the left, there is a secret door. Follow it, and see what your brother has been doing."

"No," the nobleman murmured. But Aela could see that the fight had gone out of him. Perhaps he now believed her. Or perhaps he was simply about to pass out.

"If you truly want justice, it has been served," White-Hair whispered. "Come after me again and I will kill you, your father, your uncles, your cousins, and every one of your family's retainers. Scorched earth, no survivors."

With that White-Hair released her hold upon the Rasen. His dagger clattered to the street, and he instantly reached for his throat with both hands, gasping for breath. The mystery woman rose to her feet, and did not even spare a glance at the crowd that had gathered in the street to gape at the incident. Instead she strode directly into the armorer's shop and disappeared from view. Sethre made no move to follow, or even rise to his feet. Neither did any of his oathmen, who groaned and winced in the street with disabling wounds.

"I wonder what she said to him at the end?" Vesia roared in Aela's ear.

Aela winced at the noise, and let the spell that had enhanced her hearing fizzle into the aether. She had forgotten that the others had not heard a word of the exchange. It was curious indeed, and made her think back to their recent deal with Serves Camna in a new light. He had ordered his own son's death to avoid a blood feud with another noble house, not to mention the ruination of his family's honor. She had imagined him like a wolf even before this revelation. Now she understood what he meant when he said that he had never been accused of kindness.

But there was no time for wool-gathering. Aela looked to Loria. As usual, the elf seemed to know what she was thinking. With a nod in silent reply, he sped after the mystery-woman. This was someone they wanted on their side in the fight to come. To say that she was skilled would be an understatement. Perhaps even more importantly she possessed the restraint to avoid killing when it was not necessary, even when she could easily have done so.

In the meantime Aela moved to the Rasen nobleman and his wounded men. If she could keep them occupied, that would give Loria enough time to talk to White-Hair and let her escape without further incident, hopefully in a quiet manner via by a rear exit.

"My lord," she began deferentially, "I am a healer. I can help you and your men."

Sethre Camna looked at her, then to the broken window of the shop. Clearly he was debating whether or not to give chase. Aela would have to help him decide, as diplomatically as possible.

"Your men have fought with valor." Aela moved quickly from one man to another, assessing their injuries both physically and in the aether. "You can take pride in their loyalty to you, and their willingness to endure any sacrifice for you and your House."

Aela settled upon the man whose injuries appeared the worst. It was the first oathman through the door, whose head the mysterious stranger had kicked in. His eyes were already dilated, and blood flowed freely down his face. She took hold of his broken helmet, and tried to gently remove it from his head. She made as great a show of this as she could, and looked to the nobleman.

"My lord, could you help me with this?"

That made up the Rasen's mind. He turned away from the armorer's shop - and his enemy within - and instead moved to help Aela with his fallen retainer. He knelt down in the street at her side, and held the oathman's battered head as Aela gingerly drew off his helmet. Blood and sweat dripped everywhere, and the Arvern tossed the wrecked spangenhelm aside.

"If you can just hold him still my lord, I can take care of him." Aela breathed. In reality he could have set the man's head down. But at least this kept the nobleman occupied.

Then Aela banished all thoughts of keeping Camna distracted from White-Hair. Instead she gave the injured man her full concentration. She took her time, and thread by thread, stitch by stitch, she reconstructed the fallen warrior's flesh and bone. She finished it off with a Cleanse spell to wash away the blood, and was gratified to see the swordsman's brown eyes fly open and stare up at her.

"What!" he jerked into a sitting position, and reached for sword and shield. "Where?"

"Easy Arte," the nobleman soothed. "The battle is over."

"Do we have justice my lord?" the oathman's eyes scanned the broken bodies of his comrades in the street.

"Justice?" Sethre Camna said. "That is now in the gods' hands. But we live to fight another day my friend. That is all that matters for now."

One by one, Aela moved to the remaining retainers and healed their injuries. When she tried to minister to Camna's own cuts and bruises, the Rasen nobleman simply shrugged her off. But he did pass her a bag of coins for her efforts, along with the thanks of his House.

Aela waited until he and his men had vanished before rejoining the Agrigentans. They parted when she approached, and she found Loria standing behind them. For once the Light Elf had remained out of sight, at least until Camna was gone.

"So how went it?" Aela asked.

"She turned us down." Loria frowned. "She was there to pick up her armor from the smith. She took it and said she had business elsewhere. I suspect it has something to do with that book she left the manor with."

"Did you get a look at it?"

"Of course!" the Light Elf exclaimed. "It was nothing interesting though. Just some ancient sketches of an old Arvern city."

"What would a sellsword want with something like that?" Ranazu said.

"What indeed my friend?" Loria said. "We are each and every one of us a story. I am afraid we shall be hearing no more of that particular tale. Unless she changes her mind. I did tell her where to find us of course."

"Did you even get her name?" Vesia asked.

"Phereinon," Loria shrugged, "at least for whatever that is worth."

"What do you mean?" the old Teodon Hyunsu scratched his headspines in confusion.

"Pherein Phonon is old Rasen." Vesia was the first to answer. "It means 'To Bring Death'. It's a myth."

"Some say she killed the Dark Elves." Ranazu whispered. Aela was not sure if the young farmer actually believed in the tales. But he must have heard the same stories as Vesia.

"Which Dark Elves?" Daehyun asked.

"All of them," Aela answered. "They say she's the reason we have a word for genocide. Every race has a stories about someone called Phereinon. She's the White Death, the Grave Walker, the Scale-Breaker, Elf-Bane, the Gray Wanderer, the Blight..."

At the mention of the Scale-Breaker, the two Teodon shot each other dark glances. They must have heard tales as well.

"Just children's stories," Loria scoffed. "Whoever she really is, this woman clearly has a sense of humor."

Aela looked down at the blood that stained the pavement. No one was laughing.

Posted by: Acadian Jul 29 2018, 07:32 PM

Cool spell to hear things not intended for Aela’s ears! To say White Hair could be a good addition to their hopeful little group is an understatement. In addition to the things Aela cited, White Hair seems to have a very tangible – albeit hard nosed – sense of honor that is likely unrelated to any pay involved.

I was pleased to see that Aela had no trouble finding the right words to move her purpose along when it involved healing the wounded. The healing force is strong within this one.

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 4 2018, 04:09 PM

Acadian: While Aela is far from being a superhero, her chosen field of study - Vitamancy - allows her to use magic to enhance her physical form in all sorts of superhero ways. Like Daredevil's enhanced hearing. I found that was a great way to show what was going on with Phereinon and the Camnas, and why it would be kept secret by those involved.

Phereinon is indeed motivated by anything but money. But tapping into her real motivations might be difficult. We will see more of that.

Aela is indeed good at what she does. She can indeed find the words when it comes to practicing medicine. It is her profession after all. She can stop being self-conscious for a change, and just do what she knows best.


Chapter 6.1

The remainder of their tour of weapon and armor shops passed without incident. Aela let Loria do the talking, and simply stood back with the Agrigentans as the elf passed on the word that they were looking for warriors. In the end they did go to a tavern, and naturally not the one Aela would have preferred.

Waranari's was an unremarkable two-story building. The whitewash was peeling from its walls, and in many places shutters were missing from the windows. The inside was more of the same, with scratched, battered, and sometimes warped tables and chairs thrown in. A large 'U'-shaped bar dominated the central room, and a stair rose up to the second floor behind it. Dart boards were set up in several places. Wide openings led to rooms off to either side, filled with gaming tables for amusements such as bar billiards, skittles, shove ha'copper, and ringing the bull.

The entire tavern was worn, old, faded, and used. But Aela had to admit that it was clean. Waranari always kept it that way at least. It was the only thing that made the place bearable. It was still relatively early, so there were not many patrons hunched over mugs or adding more dings and scratches to the gaming tables. But Aela knew from experience that as the day turned to night, the number of loud-mouths and roughnecks would multiply, like rats on a lump of cheese.

"Warriors will be found in this place?" Daehyun was evidently less impressed with the alehouse than Aela.

"This is where all of Veia's mercenaries - and other unsavory types - congregate." Loria found them a table and motioned for them all to sit. Aela made sure that she had a chair with a wall at her back. Just in case.

"So how do these ones winnow the good rice from the husks?" Hyunsu asked.

"Well now, that is the trick is it not?" Loria's eyes sparkled as a large Aymaran walked over to them. His head was shaved until his brown scalp gleamed, and a neat goatee set off his chiseled features. He wore a simple tunic and leggings, with an apron pulled down from his neck and left to hang from his waist.

"Loria, Aela," he nodded to the mages as he stepped up. "Some of the Frisverd told me you were back in town. They say things went well in the Stone Forest."

"Well enough Waranari," Loria said. "We came back alive, and with a small amount of coin."

"A small amount?" the Aymaran raised an eyebrow.

"Just a pittance really," the elf replied. "But it is enough to buy you a cup of tea, say at the Blue Orchid?"

"You know I don't like tea," Waranari smiled.

"Neither do I." Loria's eyes gleamed.

The Aymaran laughed, and looked to the others around the table. "New friends, or are you two already at work on another job?"

"A new adventure!" Loria replied with zest. "Let me introduce our employers, who have journeyed far from the mysterious land of Kye Rim in search of only the greatest of mercenary spellweavers!"

"Unfortunately they found us instead," Aela murmured.

"This lovely goodwoman is none other than Vesia." Loria continued without pause. "From what I hear, she might be able to teach even you a thing or two about brewing the finest of alcoholic beverages. This ruggedly handsome young man alongside her is the Mighty Ranazu, goodman and planter. The dashing Teodon dressed in white is Daehyun - you had better watch your purse around that one, he's a salesman. Finally we have Hyunsu, the wizened patriarch of the friendly settlement of Agrigento."

"Well it sounds like I am in impressive company then!" Waranari grinned as he looked over the Agrigentans. "What can I get you, ale or wine?"

"Don't you have any Arvern whiskey?" Vesia asked.

"I had to stop serving that." The publican made a sour face. "It starts too many fights. So I have ale or wine."

Neither Loria or Aela had to say a word for the Aymaran to bring them each a wooden mug of wine. Vesia tried the same, while the other Agrigentans chose the ale. All of them stared down at their mugs. Carved from a single piece of rich brown wood, each had horizontal lines carved around their sides, giving them the appearance of tiny barrels.

"Who serves wine in a mug?" Vesia shook her head.

"The solid wood is harder to break than crockery," Aela explained as she took a tentative sip. The wine was better than the vessel which held it, possessing a strong, fruity flavor. "Things here are often thrown, or smashed, or crushed."

"Warriors tend to be a boisterous lot," Loria said. "Anyway, we need to be choosy…"

"Good thing we came here," Aela said dryly.

"…about the people we hire," Loria continued as if she had not spoken. "Some of those in here belong to one of the three gangs that run Veia's underworld. Waranari's is neutral ground, the only place they can meet without killing one another. Take that Guzuk back there in the corner, that's Ihsen One-Tusk, the enforcer for the Toklumen gang. He'd kill us all if he saw a coin in it."

"If everyone knows they are criminals, why doesn't the law come and arrest them all?" Hyunsu stared wide-eyed around them.

"The zilath tries," Aela said. "But every time his oathmen squash one gang, it creates an opening for another one. Before you know it that one moves in, or a brand new one sprouts up in its place."

"Like roaches," Ranazu frowned. "No matter how many you step on, there's always one more."

"So what do we do now?" Vesia asked.

"I don't see anyone here I trust, so we wait to see who comes to take our bait." Loria pulled out a deck of cards from one pocket. "Who wants to try a game of whist?"

Aela sat out of the card game, as did Vesia. If they had been in better circumstances, she would have meditated. Communing with nature spirits always made her feel better. Not to mention that as a conjurer, she always needed to nurture her relationships with them. Nature spirits served far better when they wanted to. But Waranari's was not a place that she dared to let down her guard. You never knew when a piece of crockery might come sailing through the air. She had already gotten more unpleasant stares than she would like.

So she was surprised when a friendly face came through the door. An Asokar, the newcomer was covered in fur that was reddish yellow along his back, and turned to grey-white from his lower jaw down the front of his torso. He stood upright like a human or elf, and bore similar hands and fingers. But his head was shaped like that of a fox, and a long, bushy tail jutted from his rear.

The vulpine wore the ironleaf armor of his people. Aela knew from experience that the long leaves of the aronsawa plant from which it was created were as strong and durable as iron. A cuirass of its wide, dark green leaves formed bands around his chest. Similar strips created pauldrons over the shoulders and upper arms. Finally, smaller leaves created bracers and greaves to protect his limbs.

The Asokar warrior carried a one-handed axe tucked into his belt. Unlike those favored by the Skanjr, the tamac's striking edge did not contain a long, trailing beard. Rather it formed a short crescent. A small hammer rose from the back of the axe head, which Aela knew was meant to be a tool as much as it was a weapon. An unstrung flatbow was slung over his shoulder, laminated dark red, with a line of yellow diamonds running the length of its arms. A quiver of arrows also rose from one shoulder, and finally Aela noted a small wooden buckler slung from his waist, with an eagle painted across its leather face.

"Dhasan!" Aela waved to the newcomer, and his brown, vertically-slit eyes lit up with pleasant surprise as he met her gaze. The vulpine silently glided to the table where they all sat, and Aela motioned for the others to make room for him. Taking an empty chair from another table, the Asokar spun it around and hunkered down beside the Arvern Witch, with his forearms resting upon the backrest.

"It is most pleasing to see you again Aela!" The furred warrior sniffed the air. "How has that cream cake been treating you?"

"Oh, he's a handful, as always," Aela smiled with genuine delight.

"The cream cake is sitting right here you know…" The Light Elf, with his soft pale skin, rolled his eyes.

"Oh, this one had thought it was a tall bottle of milk," Dhasan grinned, revealing a set of short fangs. "And how are you this fine summer day Loria? Still smuggling banned books?"

"Oh no, not since we graduated," Aela smiled.

"Well, I still have my contacts," Loria insisted. He straightened up his collar, and did his best to make himself look distinguished.

"So you did graduate!" the vulpine's eyes lit up with delight. "Congratulations! There was never one so deserving of it as yourself. Especially after all of the trials and tribulations placed in your way."

"It was hardly a walk in the gardens for me either…" Loria said dryly.

"And who are your new friends?" Dhasan asked, looking around the table.

"These are our employers," Aela said. "In fact, there's room for more, if you're interested."

"Oh I am sure he is far too busy," Loria waved one hand in dismissal. "Chasing his tail, breaking into hen houses, a fox's work is never done."

"This one should be glad to accompany you upon any quest Aela," Dhasan smiled. "If only for the pleasure of civilized company."


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Posted by: Acadian Aug 5 2018, 08:51 PM

Your descriptions are wonderful throughout! You concisely bring the dingy but clean tavern, its chiseled proprietor and the Reynardesque newcomer vividly to life.

I was impressed again by Loria’s silver gift of words as he so adeptly and graciously introduced the accompanying residents of Agrigento to Waranari.

As soon as Dhasan spun a chair around, straddled it and began to speak however, it was clear that Loria had met his match as far as speechcraft goes. I was grinning as I imagined the potential ongoing, competitive banter between these two as their quest evolves.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Aug 6 2018, 01:50 PM

AAAnd Dee Foxy makes his appearance!!

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 11 2018, 05:00 PM

Acadian: I spent a lot of time working on Waranari's. I wanted to replace the straightforward dive of The Lonely Suitor with something a little more suitable for mercenaries and adventurers. Not classy, but not vile either. I decided to go with a place for physical, energetic folks to have fun. A sports bar. So I did some research on old pub games, and built Waranari's around it. Waranari himself is of course Luke Cage. At least that is how he looks. My Waranari is not a superhero.

I had fun finding ways for Loria to make the ordinary farmer folk of Agrigento seem as larger than life as he prefers to portray himself and Aela. And of course it is fun to introduce his speechifying nemesis in the form of Dhasan.


haute ecole rider: I spent a lot of time working on the Asokar. I was first inspired by a Netflix series called Wild China, and the Dai/Tai forest people of Yunnan province. I was originally going to make them wood elves - because of how they lived in rural settlements close to nature (with wild birds living in their homes). But then I thought, haven't wood elves been done a million times? So I looked for a anthropomorphized animal race instead. I looked through legends on such, and the Kitsune just leaped out at me. So I decided they would be Fox-People.





Chapter 6.2

"Trump, and rubber," Loria crowed as he laid down his last card upon the table. Ranazu and Hyunsu groaned as they stared at the cards in the pot.

Daehyun grinned at Loria, revealing a mouth full of fangs. "Perhaps we should play some of the others here for coin. We might earn enough to hire an army before nightfall."

"Or get your throats slit," Dhasan observed from his seat beside Aela. They were still at Waranari's, much to the Arvern's regret. "Many in a place such as this take offense at losing."

"Yes, that is the trouble with gambling for a living." Loria shocked Aela by actually agreeing with the Asokar. "The better you are at it, the more likely you will need to be a good fighter. Rather defeats the purpose of trying to make a living without killing people."

The opened front door caught Aela's eye, as did the unusual sight that walked through it. The newcomer was a Skanjr standing at least six feet tall. She was clad in mail armor, but Aela noted that it was not comprised of ordinary steel. From the silvery glint of the links this must be astril, the lighter and stronger steel of the Light Elves. Stranger still, an elvish composite bow was slung in a combined bowcase and quiver at her right hip. Made of softly glowing solascran wood and bearing crystal tips, it drew the eyes like a bonfire in the darkness.

The round shield that was slung over one of her shoulders was of ordinary human manufacture however, as was the straight-bladed Skanjr sword at her left hip. An equally ordinary spangenhelm hung from her belt by its chinstraps. Aela noted a pendant made of black stone hanging around her neck from a simple rawhide strip, carved into the likeness of a bird.

The newcomer's hair was spun gold, and pulled back into an elaborate series of braids and knots. Two rows of thin braids ran along either side of her head, pulling her locks up from her ears. More short braids wove through a series of knots along the top of her head, pulling the rest of her glorious mane back from her face and spilling it down her back and shoulders in a waterfall of color.

She took a moment to casually slide her long, slender fingers across her locks, as if to smooth them out. Yet not a single strand in her resplendent coiffure was out of place. Aela wished that she could make her hair look like that, let alone stay that way, and wondered how the other woman accomplished such a magical feat.

The newcomer stood in the doorway and scanned the crowd. Then her eyes met Aela's. She stared for a moment, and the Arvern recognized the look of discovery upon the Northerner's face. The Skanjr had seen through her female presentation. But rather than sneering, or laughing, the woman's features seemed to fill with regard.

The new arrival strode purposely across the room to the pair of corner tables where their group sat. The others looked up as she approached, and Loria set down the deck of cards before him. The archer ignored them all however, and remained focused upon Aela.

The Arvern Witch felt magic resonating within the Skanjr's gear as she stepped near, and out of reflex she shifted her senses into the aether. The newcomer's glowing composite bow instantly told her that its name was Silinblaen, which Aela knew meant 'Cherry Blossom' in Elvish. That was just the beginning however. The Skanjr's armor was named Creidlan, or 'Faithful', and Aela could sense that it was enchanted to not only protect her wearer, but also to increase her strength. The Skanjr's sword proudly announced itself as Frostbita, which the Witch thought might mean 'frostbite' in the Northerner's tongue. Finally her pendant glowed with great power, and whispered the name Hrafnvartha, into Aela's ear. She did not know what that meant, but could sense the ward it placed around the warrior, protecting her from magical attack.

Aela glanced over to Loria. He nodded back at her. Clearly the other mage had sensed the same power in the newcomer's gear that she had. If that magic were not enough, the Skanjr had the hard set to her frame, the swagger in her walk, and the glacial look in her blue eyes that said she was a killer.

"I am Hrafngoelir," she declared in a heavy Skanjr accent. "I am told you seek warriors."

"What makes you think that?" Loria raised his fingers into a steeple before his chin.

"Cutu told me, at the Bowyer's Bundle," the archer said. She paused to glance at Loria, then turned back to Aela once more. "He said two mages - a Silaine and an Arvern - were looking for extra swords on a long term contract."

"We are," Aela admitted. She was beginning to find the tall woman's gaze more than a little strange. What was Hrafngoelir so intrigued by, in herself of all people?

"Then I shall join," Hrafngoelir declared. "When do we begin?"

"This is an eager chwa'ai!" Dhasan exclaimed. "Don't you even want to know what the opposition is, or the pay?"

"It doesn't matter," Hrafngoelir said. "If a seidberendr is involved, I know it's going to be remarkable."

"A seid-what?" Ranazu scrunched his eyebrows in consternation.

"It's Skanjr for-" Vesia began, only to be cut off by Aela.

"I haven't heard your name before," she said to Hrafngoelir. "What sort of experience do you have?"

"As a child I was trained by Hallveig Troll-Burster," she said. "I've sold my sword for about a decade up and down Aulerci, fighting in wars, bodyguarding, hostage rescue, even hunted bounties. I've slain ice trolls and frost wyrms in the Jotunfjeldene Mountains. I've raided the Guzuks in the Alagars, and fought alongside them and the Brightfolk against the Rock Tolls."

"I heard about that," Dhasan rubbed the lightly-colored fur under his chin thoughtfully. "Nasty business, trolls wiping out entire settlements, using tactics, fighting in formation. Not at all like normal trolls."

"Aye, the elves suspected that someone, or something, was guiding them. Perhaps even controlling them." Hrafn looked to Loria. "I spent much time with your folk then. I am not too proud to admit that I learned a great deal from them."

"About war?" Aela felt her brow furrow in bemusement. This did not sound at all like any of the Skanjr she had ever met!

"About being a better person." Hrafngoelir said. "I made many good friends then, elf and orc alike."

"Is that where your armor and bow came from?" Dhasan nodded to her bright astril cuirass and translucent solascran bow.

"Aye, they were a gift from a... friend of mine." The Skanjr's eyes looked away, as if gazing back through the years. The ghost of a smile played across her fair features, but drifted past a moment later.

"That is some friend." Loria said.

"Ryolin is some man," Hrafngoelir replied evenly. She took an empty chair from a nearby table and pulled it up to the table. Aela and Dhasan made space, and she sat between them.

"We had quite the adventure together in the deep roads beneath Mount Mazani," she said. "We became... close."

"So what happened to him?" Vesia asked, "When it was all over?"

"He returned to his people," the Northerner shrugged, "and I took a ship to Hiakwia. We are from different worlds, and those worlds rarely meet."

"But still..." Vesia's words trailed off into silence.

"Why did I not run off to live with him in a magical tower?" Hrafngoelir smiled, but there was no laughter in her eyes. "The Light Elves are not quick to welcome strangers in their land, especially not those with round ears. Nor are they fond of venturing from their crystal forests and shining cities."

"Which makes me wonder what a Silaine is doing so far from home?" The warrior turned to look at Loria. "I have met many of your cousins from the sea in my travels. But your own folk... why I can count those I have met since those days in the Alagar Mountains on the fingers of one hand. Are you an ambassador of some kind, or a wandering trader?"

"Well I have been known to make a few transactions." Loria straightened up in what Aela recognized as his best imitation of an honest businessman. "But the truth is I was born here, in Alalia in fact. I have never even laid eyes upon Ainetir."

"You are all a curious warband." Hrafngoelir gazed from one to another. "A Silaine, an Arvern, and an Asokar walk into a tavern. It sounds like the beginning of a joke!"

Aela smiled in spite of herself. She had to admit, she liked the Skanjr. Clearly, there was a great deal more to this woman than one could see upon the surface.

"I came to Veia a week ago with a friend of mine," Hrafngoelir said. "He said this was the city of opportunities. But I have been nothing but bored. The greatest challenge I have had since coming here has been against my hair."

"Well, you seem to have won that battle!" Dhasan laughed.

Aela looked to Loria and nodded.

The elven wizard smiled. "Our warband grows curiouser by the hour."



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Posted by: Acadian Aug 11 2018, 06:04 PM

Wow! White Hair, Kitsune and now Goldenlocks – the warband is indeed growing in numbers and curiousness. Hrafn conjures Nord/Viking images and you did a wonderful job introducing her.

Her instant focus on Aela was interesting. Putting all the clues together, Hrafn obviously holds seidberendr folk like Aela in high mystical regard. So the fact that Aela cut off her explanation of the term does not reflect fear of being picked on; rather, it showcases that Aela simply does not like being the center of attention. Seasoned perhaps by her experience with seeing that not all folk who may be listening are as open or receptive as Hrafn. At least, that’s my take.

By my count, the band is four with hopes that White Hair will make five. I look forward to learning what will tempt White Hair to join them as well as expecting a couple more joins.

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 18 2018, 04:54 PM

Acadian: I am liking how the Seven Magnificos are shaping up in this version of the tale. Because of the new setting, I am able to make them more unique than I think I did before, and provide more story hooks into their backgrounds. Things not always obvious in this tale, but which can be used for future stories.

You are right in that Aela has learned the hard way that when people learn she is transgendered, it changes how they treat her, usually for the worse. She just wants to be the same as anyone else.

White Hair will return in the episode after this one. So watch for temptations.



Chapter 6.3

The sun hung like a red ball over the western sky, bleeding long shadows across the parade ground beyond Veia's southern gate. Aela and Loria followed Hrafngoelir through the rough, sparse grass of the wide field. The high, snow-capped peak of Mount Ida rose up miles away to the south, and Aela's eyes traced the line of the stone aqueduct that sent its water across the plateau to the city behind her. To the east the ground gradually fell away, tumbling down into the great stone forest between Veia and Kye Rim. But it was to the west that the Skanjr led the mages, toward the setting sun.

The wind whipped at Aela's long, brown hair, and she was forced to hold it back from her face with one hand. The sound of waves came to her ears, and in the fading light, she could see that the field came to an abrupt end in the distance. Beyond that, the world vanished in twilight.

"You are certain your friend shall be here?" Loria raised a single eyebrow as they walked on. "Usually mercenaries prefer less idyllic surroundings."

"He'll be here," Hrafngoelir insisted. "Venca always watches the horizon at dusk. This is the best place in all of Veia to get a view."

"What is he looking for?" Aela asked, genuinely curious about the unusual quirk.

"I don't know," Hrafngoelir shrugged. "He never talks much about it. I think it's got something to do with Valfreia though."

"Valfreia?" Loria now cocked a second eyebrow. "Now that is just begging for a deeper explanation."

"He carries her Wheel." Hrafngoelir glanced back for a moment. "He has since I've known him. At least I think."

"You think?" Aela wondered aloud.

"Things are a little muddled for me around the time of the Sluagh," Hrafngoelir admitted. "I cannot remember much of what happened for the month beforehand, and nothing from that day."

"That is strange," Aela mused. She had still been living in Cymner at the time, so she had experienced the edge of the Sluagh herself. For a single day the spirits of her homeland had gone mad. There had been earthquakes, storms, tornados, and fires, all rampaging out of the city of Tregyn. But perhaps even worse had been the spirits of that's city's recent dead, whom had all risen up from their graves to assault the living. It had only lasted a day, but that day had seemed as long as a lifetime to Aela.

Even now, no one knew what had caused the calamity, nor what had truly ended it. Aela was simply thankful to have survived. Yet she had never heard of anyone missing the entire month beforehand. She could recall everything during the Sluagh with no difficulty. The same was true of everyone else she knew. Who was Hrafngoelir, that the Sluagh had devoured her life for the month before it had even happened?

"I count myself lucky," the Skanjr said. "Venca has it much worse. The Sluagh took his life with it. He cannot remember anything that happened beforehand. He's not even sure if his name is really Venca."

Loria whistled. Aela glanced in his direction and saw that he was thinking the same thing she was. Hrafngoelir and Venca had somehow been a part of the Sluagh. Not mere survivors, but active participants somehow.

"Here I thought the two of us made a pair," Aela said.

"We do," Loria insisted, "just a different kind."

The grass thinned out and gave way to hard rock, and they found the city walls coming to an end on their right. Now Aela could see the edge of the escarpment ahead, and the dark waters of the Spout beyond. Across the narrow strait rose a rocky bluff that stretched out of sight to the south and west, and opened up into the expanse of the Bronze Sea to the north and east.

Aela could see a figure sitting cross-legged near the edge of the cliff. Aela noted that he had broad shoulders, and was dressed in ordinary black linen. A sheathed longsword laid upon the ground beside him, with a hilt made of gleaming black lorcras. She was just barely able to sense that its name was Solagea, or 'Moonlight' in the elvish tongue. But she could feel nothing else from the elven weapon.

For Aela felt a power resonating from something on him that nearly eclipsed everything else in the area. Even more than a dozen paces away, it glowed in the aether like the moon in a clear night sky. She had never felt such energy from a magic item before, not even at the Ingenium. Even though she was not a master of enchantments, she could tell that it would devour any sorcery thrown at it, and fill its wearer with the power of the stolen spell. What its limits might be, if any at all, the Arvern Witch could not even guess.

But there was also another sensation coming from the artifact, beyond simply its enchantment. It was a strange thing, that made her think of ravens and black roses in moonlight. Aela suspected that was the touch of the amulet's creator.

She knew instantly that this was the Lorlonrhod or Ravenwheel of the goddess of death and magic. To the elves she was Mhorlor, to her own people Morigu, the Rasenna called her Nyktera, and the Skanjr Valfreia. Aela was certain that the other races had their own names for the same omnipresent entity as well. Those were simply the ones that sprang to life in her mind, as if conjured there by the Wheel itself.

Where many others might feel a chill at the touch of the night goddess, Aela instead felt nothing but warmth from her touchstone. The Arvern was a magician, and like all of her kind she walked between worlds. Morigu did the same, carrying souls between the worlds of life and death, as well as magic between the worlds of the spirit and mundane. That made her the ruler of transitions, something Aela was quite familiar with herself…

"Venca," Hrafngoelir said as they stepped nearer, "I have found a quest for us."

"A quest?" The black-clad man snorted derisively. He did not turn to face them, but instead continued to stare out into the straits. "Who even says that? You mean a job."

"No," the Skanjr said. "A shopkeeper has a job. A donkey salesman has a job. Warriors embark upon quests, and Tiewaz smiles upon our glory. It is our sacrifice to him."

"You can take Tiewaz and shove him up-" Venca could not finish before Hrafngoelir cut him off.

"You would prefer to sit on your lazy arse and brood for another week?" She rested her hands upon her armored hips. "Well, we can just go and slay those dragons all by ourselves then."

"Your sense of humor has not improved," Venca grumbled. Finally he did turn, and Aela saw from his dark hair and olive skin that he was a Rasen. He had a face that she imagined most women would call handsome, with short, curly locks and a neatly trimmed goatee. If she had to guess, Aela would put his age somewhere between thirty and forty. Not old yet, but not young anymore either.

His eyes were hard though. Even though he was sitting, Aela noted the stiff, erect posture, and the seemingly tensed muscles. Where Hrafngoelir's bearing had proclaimed herself as a warrior, his said that he was a soldier. He looked like a man who had stood at attention and marched in lockstep for so long that his body had forgotten how to do anything else. A huscarl or oathman was Aela's first guess, or some other professional military man.

"Your disposition has not improved either," Hrafngoelir countered dryly.

"So what is it this time?" the Rasen sighed, "vampires? necromancers? Or did you really dig up a dragon somewhere?"

"Raiders are threatening a village to the east." Loria rested his hands upon his hips. "We're looking for a few experienced people to stop them."

"To the east you said?" Venca thoughtfully stroked his beard, and turned to glance back at the eastern horizon, where the stars now began to shine in the dark sky. The raucous cry of a raven split the evening air. Its black shape briefly winged past Aela's eyes, only to vanish into the oncoming night.

"How many outlaws?"

"Fifty," Aela said.

"How many do you have?" he turned back to face them.

"Four," the Arvern said honestly.

The Rasen's cool demeanor finally broke, if only for an instant. "Well you certainly have stones, I'll give you that!" he nearly laughed.

Then he turned serious again. "Now you have five. I'll do it to follow the raven, if nothing else."

* * *

The foursome was making their way back through the darkened streets of Veia when a Teodon stepped out of the shadows along their path and blocked their way. His dark yellow scales bore stripes and irregular shaped bands of green across his entire body. Likewise, the spines that crested his head were banded in yellow and green. He was easily one of the most striking members of his race that Aela had ever seen.

He was dressed in little more than a loincloth and a belt. In one hand he clutched a long spear with a leaf-shaped head of steel. In the other hand he held a crescent-shaped shield of wood that was painted yellow, and emblazoned with a pair of large crimson eyes drawn at a slant.

"It is said that these ones are seeking warriors," the Teodon declared. "Alcheon shall join them."

Like the others, Aela studied the Teodon. The flickering light of the street lamps glistened off his lustrous scales, a sure sign of youth in one of his race. While his face seemed set in stone, his tail twitched, revealing his nervousness to all with an eye to see. His gear, or lack of it, again spoke of his inexperience. But most of all his eyes lacked that flinty edge that one got after having killing other sentients. Not from the first time, but the time after that, when you did it again even though you knew what it meant, and part of your heart went cold.

"You don't have what it takes boy," Venca said what Aela knew they all were thinking. "Go home, and live to see your scales fade."

"I am a warrior," the Teodon insisted. "I may not have fancy armor or magics, but I am strong, and I can fight."

"What do you know about fighting?" Venca growled. He stepped forward, and grabbed the spear from the youth's hand. "We aren't spearing fish boy, or hunting razorbacks. We're killing people. People you have to look in the eye as their life drains out of them, as they scream, and cry, and beg for their mothers. Can you do that son?"

"I am ready," the Teodon declared. The spines on his head rose up high, and his tail began to sway behind him.

"Then show me kid." Venca slapped the spear against the Teodon's chest, and the youth took hold of it with his right hand again. "Come on, stab me with that fish-sticker."

Aela felt sorry for the Teodon. He was clearly out of his depth. She hoped that he would just walk away, and spare himself the humiliation that was so plainly coming. But given his youth, she doubted that would happen.

Alcheon's eyes flickered from Venca to her, Hrafngoelir, and Loria.

They all stepped back to give the pair room. "Don't hold back Teodon," Hrafngoelir cautioned. "Give it all you have. Kill him if you can."

The Teodon stabbed with the speed of striking serpent. But Venca appeared to have seen it coming. Aela only knew a little of sword-fighting, and far less of spear-fighting, so she could not tell what the name of the move was the Rasen used to disarm the youth. All she did know was that an instant later Venca had the spear in his hand, and whacked its wooden butt against the side of the Teodon's ankle.

Alcheon fell to one knee under the blow. But he did raise his shield over his head to ward off more attacks. Venca did not follow up his assault however. Instead he simply threw the spear down upon the cobblestones at the Teodon's feet.

"Go home son," he said quietly. Without another word, he walked on down the street. Loria opened his mouth to say something. Then he shook his head and walked on as well. So too did Hrafngoelir.

Aela stared the young Teodon, and debated whether or not she should try to heal the bump she could already see forming upon his leg. She could not help but to feel sympathy for him. She knew all too well what it felt like to be humiliated before a crowd. But she could appreciate that Venca had not been motivated by cruelty. Of course, whether or not Alcheon would understand the lesson the Rasen had so painfully tried to impart was another matter.

Aela decided not to heal him. All actions came with consequences, sometimes painful ones. Alcheon would have to endure them all. It might help him decide his fate.



https://i.imgur.com/Rxj20dr.jpg

Posted by: Acadian Aug 18 2018, 07:52 PM

Woot! Number Five is Alive! Another wonderful introduction – this time to one blessed by some serious military experience, I’d wager, as well as by the Mistress of Twilight!

Speaking of the Mistress of Twilight, I enjoyed how you tied her to Aela as the goddess of transitions.

I can see already that Venca’s martial skill and manner will come in handy for the likely bit of militia training the town in jeopardy will need. You’ve certainly tantalized with plenty of mystery about Venca that we will hopefully gain glimpses into moving forward.

Hmm, something tells me we haven’t seen the last of the eager young teodon.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Aug 20 2018, 02:05 PM

Oooh, who is that Venca? Where have I seen HIM before?

I continue reading your take on the Mag Seven with fascination. Sorry that I’ve been mostly silent, but be assured that I read every installment with deep interest and admiration for your imagination and world building. The tantalizing bits you keep offering up keep me intrigued, such as the recent introduction of an event called the Sluagh.

SGM

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 25 2018, 03:45 PM

Acadian: Venca is indeed our Seven Magnificos' army guy. Given the new format, I was able to give him a much deeper background than he had in the Beth setting. In fact, I see an entire book about just who he was and what he did in the past. Of course Venca does not remember any of this. Yet.

The Mistress of Twilight is not quite what she was in the Beth setting either. I am drawing heavily upon comparisons to The Morrigan, Freyja, and Hekate for this world's goddess of death and magic. Hence the association with ravens (The Morrigan and Freyja), and the transgendered (Hekate, who was served by transgendered priestesses known as semnotatoi). Though as I will show later in the story, all magicians are people who walk between worlds. Likewise, so are all GLBT people, which I think is why IRL they were often considered the most powerful of all magicians by many cultures.


haute ecole rider: Venca is indeed our old friend Valens from the original Seven. He has undergone a lot of changes due to the new world, and his new history. Though on the outside he is still much the same.

I am glad to see you are still reading. I had a lot of fun building the world for this version of the story. I can see other tales taking place far in the past, that show major events which still effect the current story.. Such as the Sacerdotium conquering Rase, and the great war that destroyed the Dark Elves and freed humanity from slavery.

I am thinking of cutting out some of what I had about the Sluagh in the previous segment. A lot of it feels like telling rather than showing. Upcoming episodes also make references to the Sluagh, and in a more natural manner. Googling the name will give you an idea of what the Sluagh was, but that is just scratching the surface. It is a huge piece of the overall story arc I have in mind.



Chapter 7.1

Aela sat up in bed, allowing her brightly colored wool blanket to pool around her hips. Like all Rasen affairs, the bed possessed a wooden frame slanted up at the end to raise the head and shoulders. This one was only a simple wooden frame with a hay-stuffed mattress. She could only imagine what sumptuous devices wealthy aristocrats like the Camna's might sleep upon. Still, it was better than laying on the earth, or even the plain rattan bed her dorm room at the Ingenium had offered. However, it was not as fine as the feather-stuffed mattress she had slept upon as a child, long ago in Cymner. The freedom to be herself was well worth the trade in sleeping arrangements however.

Aela swung her bare feet out onto rug beside the bed. Again, it was no sumptuous Aymaran masterpiece. But it was colorful, and kept her feet warm. A quick drink from a cup upon the bed stand was followed by a visit to the chamber pot. In moments she was dressed in her white and brown adventuring clothes, followed by a Cleanse spell to chase away the funk of a night's sleep.

The room around her was simple. The plastered walls were painted light green and blue, and decorated with occasional images of ordinary Rasen women going about their daily lives. A few throw rugs surrounded the bed and plain dressing table. Otherwise the floor was bare wooden boards. A single window let in the morning sun, flanked by hanging pots of aromatic rosemary and basil plants.

Aela stepped to the dressing table, and reached into her small makeup kit. She opted for only a light touch of color to her lips and eyes. She was not trying to impress anyone today. Nor would she be for a long while. After an interminable period fighting with her hair, she put on a pair of short earrings of simple glass beads. No one was likely to see them though her hair, but she could still enjoy the feeling of them dangling from her ears. Finally, she settled her necklace around her shoulders, and enjoyed the warm feeling of mana stored within the spiral pendant as it rested between her small breasts.

She stared into the little mirror hanging from the wall above the table. Hair, makeup, jewelry. Simple things, that had taken her a lifetime to possess. Things that she had been forced to trade her old life for. She never doubted they were worth it.

"Be the person you see inside," Asaryl said. "Make that your reality. In time others will see her as well."

Aela allowed herself a brief smile. She missed the old elf. 'Old' being subjective of course. Her spiritism teacher had looked hardly any older than she did now. Yet what was he, a century old? A young man for his own people, ancient for her own. Who knew, with her own mastery of vitamancy, she might even live half and again those years. Assuming she did not get herself killed trying to pay off her debts.

"I will miss this room," Aela said to no one in particular as she took one last look around. She quickly loaded her scant possessions into a backpack. Makeup and some cheap jewelry, the mirror from the wall, a skirt and spare chemise, a few drakma novels, a cup, plate, and utensils, and other little odds and ends. She did not have many possessions to show for her life.

"A life is not measured in objects, but how it is lived."

Again, Asaryl's words came back to her from across the years. She nodded, as if to the elf, and shut the door to the rented room behind her. It was time to move on with life.

A few steps around the balcony that ringed the second floor of the boarding house's atrium brought her to Loria's room. She almost hesitated to knock. While she frequently rose with the sunrise, the elf was another story. Long nights tended to make for late mornings, and Aela was not sure how the Silaine had passed the time after they had returned from Waranari's. She had spent her own night in the aether, communing with the spirits of rock and air that predominated in the cliffside city. She suspected that Loria had spent his time in more earthly pursuits…

She rapped lightly on his door, and was about to repeat it again when the wooden portal slid partly open, revealing Loria's disheveled features peering out through sleep-fogged eyes. Disheveled with elves was of course just as subjective as age. Aela would have sworn that his crimson mane looked better than her own, even though he had obviously just risen from bed. Even in its wildest state, his hair only fell out of place when it would make him look more rakish. While Aela's own brown tresses always seemed to conspire to mortify her.

"Shhhh," the Light Elf whispered. "We don't want to wake our guest now do we?"

Aela made a show of trying to look past the bare-chested elf to see who was in the room behind him. She glimpsed a still arm and leg protruding from the covers of the elf's bed, but could not tell whom their owner might be.

Loria pushed out into the hallway, and gingerly shut the door behind him. Aela now realized that he was not scantily-clad, as she had first assumed, but completely naked. She resisted the urge to shake her head.

"Who is it this time?" Aela teased. "Someone you met on the walk home from Waranari's? Or did he just fall into your bed?"

"Well if you must pry it is Cai Atna," Loria whispered.

"From that clothier's shop?" Aela said, making no special effort to keep her voice down. "I didn't even know you liked him?"

"Well, like is so open to interpretation," Loria said. "A person might like a rosé one day, and dry white the next, and spicy shiraz after that. I was in the mood for a Cai."

"I thought you said he was too bony?" Aela could not contain a sly grin.

"Shhh, he'll wake up!" Loria exclaimed as quietly as he could. "Did you want something, or did you just come to bask in the glory of my love life?"

"Well, it is indeed majestic," Aela said, "and while I would love to soak up the warm glow of your amorous brilliance, we are supposed to be leaving today. Or did you forget about the cannibal bandits in Kye Rim?"

"Well of course I have not forgotten!" Loria declared. "We'll get there. Eventually."

"That's what I thought," Aela said. "I had better go on ahead to Waranari's, in case any new hopefuls arrive looking for us."

"And I shall rendezvous with our gracious employers and meet you at the docks." Loria said. "Before the ship departs."

"Remember that," Aela said, "Before this time."

"That only happened once." The Light Elf waved off the admonition with one hand.

"Once?" Aela raised an eyebrow.

"That other time does not count," Loria insisted. "It was not my fault."

"Then whose fault was it?" Aela asked.

"Well it was Aksil's of course," Loria breathed, "or was it Derrian? No, it was definitely Marce."

"Of course," Aela rolled her eyes. "What could I have been thinking?"

"Well I can tell you what I was thinking…" Loria grinned. "He had the most-"

"I can imagine," Aela waved off further descriptions. "I'll meet you at the ship."

The Arvern made her way around the second floor balcony and descended the stairs to the ground. Already there were sounds of activity in some of the other rented rooms, and she wondered if any of their occupants might catch a glimpse of Loria's naked frame before he returned to his room. It would be just like the elf to lock himself out with no clothes on. Not that any lock could stand in the way of his spellcraft.

Aela stopped at the landlord's apartment. As usual, her door was open, and on the table outside she found that the rotund woman had already laid out a tray filled with fresh rolls and a bowl of olive oil.

"Oh, you are divine Hennu," Aela said as she snatched up a roll and tore it in half. She dipped both pieces into the oil, and began a quick breakfast of the still warm bread.

"You are leaving today no?" the dark Aymaran woman said in broken Rasen. "Where is your friend the elf? He was out late last night."

"He's out late every night," Aela mumbled around a mouthful of breakfast.

"He still has to pay for his rent!" the landlord complained. "You, you are a good tenant. Sango bless you. I hope you come back when you are done, wherever you are going. But that one? Out all night, sleeps all day! Never thinks to pay!"

Never wants to pay, Aela thought, but wisely did not say.

"He will be down shortly," she said by way of explanation. "I am sure he will have the last of his rent for you then."

Aela sped out of the open air atrium and through the building's vestibule, pretending not to hear the Aymaran's loud complaints about her friend behind her. The Arvern was in the street a moment later, and made her way through lanes of white-washed brick buildings with red-tiled roofs. With the sun barely above the horizon, traffic was still light. It was mainly bakery employees making deliveries, and a few other early-morning workers.

Aela knew that would change soon enough, and transform Veia's streets back into the packed, noisy, smelly mass of humans and animals they usually were. She enjoyed the quiet and fresh air while she could, and was almost disappointed when she finally came to Waranari's. A quiet walk was always refreshing.



https://i.imgur.com/JfX3lqd.jpg

Posted by: Acadian Aug 25 2018, 07:57 PM

A wonderfully girly morning and pause in the action as we gain more insight into our pair of mages. The contrast between the witch and elf is stark indeed. Whereas Loria spent the night with someone warm and his hair is still coiffed upon waking, Aela communed the evening with rock and air – and must battle with her hair in the morning.

Though not bound to possessions, Aela does take what she feels as her responsibilities to others very seriously – such as paying her rent, rousing her partner in adventure, and ensuring she is not late for her pending voyage.


Nit -- ’She opted for only a light touch to color to her lips and eyes.’ - - Seems like the double use of ‘to’ disrupts this sentence. I’m guessing you may have wanted ‘only a light touch of color to her lips and eyes’ or perhaps ‘only a light touch to color her lips and eyes’.

Posted by: Renee Aug 29 2018, 03:32 PM

A relaxing morning scene, other than some hair-fighting and bed-discovery. How does she accomplish the act described below? She go into a trance? Or dissociates mind from body? Or, something more simple?

Posted by: Uleni Athram Aug 30 2018, 12:50 AM

5.2 - 5.3


Delicious, delicious combat. The technical details are spot-on and I’m absolutely head-over-heels in love with Phereinon White-Hair’s combat intelligence/precision/brutality/economy. The way she ‘bridged’ when she committed to the suplex, her immediate retaliation to a checked low kick (catch-and-pitch, as my MT coach likes to call it, though it’s not limited to leg kicks haha), her mouth-watering use of her cloak to trap and blind opponents, the way she responded to that Orc’s teep (I thought she would pull him in for a knockout hook Coban-style but breaking his leg is nice too KEK), her poison-cold calmness in the face of her foes’ numerical superiority...

And the trips! Dear lord the trips! Her subtle and disruptive trips made it x10000000 better than it already was! I’m a simple man, tbh. I see trips, I foam at the mouth in ecstasy.

If there’s one thing that kinda took me away from the whole thing, it was her decision on taking the final lad to the ground with that flying triangle-armbar hybrid. It’s more of a personal opinion than objective criticism, and I think I have an understanding on why she did it. Could be wrong ofc, but here’s how I saw it.

(Use a flashy move only experts can pull off to finish the fight AND further establish her dominance on her enemies WHILE using the aforementioned technique as a literal position of power to reveal what his brother really was.)

If that was the case, I like it. It touches on the fact that a fight’s mental as much as it is physical. You listen to the martial whirlwind who rampaged through your crew and is currently crushing your head between her legs, after all. With that said however, a grounded position is still a grounded position. The disadvantages it offers are many, especially considering the encounter’s in the street. She might’ve mollywhopped the frick out of her present/visible enemies but the unknowns in the crowds and maybe even those inside the armory...? Too risky for my tastes, tbh. In fact, this decision coupled with the way she nonchalantly dislodged the sword in her shoulder by simply ripping it out sideways leads to me think that she’s either dangerously dependent on her unnatural regeneration/resiliency or there’s some sort of self-destructive tendencies going on around inside her. Maybe even both. I’m very interested to see how she fares and what she’ll do if she ever loses her otherworldly traits.

All in all, I rate it an unforgiving 9/10. NOICE WOIRK.

————

So uh. Hey, SubRosa. KEK! I haven’t really read the story that much, tbh. I was actually planning to start from the beginning today but I was bushwhacked by the combat scene in Chapter 5.3. It caught my attention and well, here I am, jumping chapters because of a juicy fight scene. HA!

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 1 2018, 03:17 PM

Acadian: I really like those old Roman beds, with the elevated head and shoulders. Those would be really nice for people (like myself) who suffer from acid reflux at night. In fact I love that whole room in the pic I posted. That would be an awesome place to live.

That whole segment was a nice little piece of character building that I enjoyed writing immensely. It shows Aela simply being herself, and it gives us a view into Loria as well. As you pointed out, Aela is the dependable, reliable, responsible one. While Loria is out having fun, she is paying the bills and keeping appointments.

Nit fixed. Thanks for catching that. It was just a typo, the kind that the spellchecker never catches.


Renee: If you ever saw Frozen, when Princess Anna wakes up is what I imagine Aela's hair is like in the morning.

Aela's mental projection into the aether is somewhat described way back in the first chapter, when she summons the air spirit from beyond the confines of the dark barrow. I will also go more into it later in the story. You can also refer to the There Goes The Neighborhood link in my signature, which features an early version of the same thing that I wrote for Elder Scrolls Aela.


Uleni Athram: Hi Uleni! I did a lot of research for that fighting scene in the street, as I am not a martial arts person like yourself. I only know what I read or see in videos. I am glad it was exciting. I imagine that the Orcs invented Muay Thai kickboxing. I got that push kick that the orc tried to finish Phereinon off with at the end of the fight from a video of an mma fight where I guy used it to knock his opponent out cold.

You are right in that Phereinon sometimes gets arrogant and shows off. She is 5,000 years old, and knows every fighting style that exists. Some of them she invented.

Other times she simply discards niceties, and just takes the pain instead of dodging or blocking, and counters with something devastating. It is a side-effect of her regeneration that she and Wolverine share. It is also inspired by an episode of Sharpe's Rifles. Sharpe is a Peninsular War veteran and returns home after the war. He gets goaded into a fencing match with a young dandy, and loses badly, because it is a nice, regulation match fought for touches. At the end of the movie they fight for real. The dandy stabs Sharpe in the shoulder with his rapier, and Sharpe grabs his sword, pinning it. Then he puts his broadsword against the dandy's throat and says something to the effect of "When it's for real, you take the pain." Phereinon is like that. Pain is nothing to her.



Chapter 7.2

The mercenary bar was nearly empty, and Aela wondered how many of the patrons she saw scattered about had been there all night. She thought that Waranari closed up at some point. But she had never stayed long enough to find out. For all that she knew, the Aymaran publican never slept.

"Aela," the very same tavern-keeper's voice rumbled from the bar. The tall, shaven-headed Aymaran was wiping cups clean. He paused to jerk a thumb to one of the back corners of the main room. "Someone's been asking for you."

"Thanks," Aela nodded. She headed that way, noting an indistinct figure in a gray cloak and hood seated there, back against the wall. An oversized book was spread open on the table, with a filled mug nearby.

The Arvern hoped that this person would bring their number up to six. She would have liked to remain in the city longer to recruit, but there was no certainty when the bandits would return to Agrigento. They would have to make do with whomever they left with this morning.

When she reached the table, its occupant looked up, and threw back her hood to expose iron-gray eyes, moon-pale skin, and stark white hair. It was the mystery woman she and Loria had crossed paths with first at the Camna estate, and then in the street outside the armorer's.

"You are Aela?" The mystery woman leaned forward with interest. "The Arvern mage trained at the Ingenium?"

"I am." Aela said, "My partner said your name is Phereinon?"

"Yes of course, the elf who followed me into the shop," she mused. "I am Phereinon. You sound surprised to hear that name."

"Well, when I do it is normally part of some lurid tale of vengeance and mass-murder," Aela said. "But those tales go back thousands of years."

"I have heard them." The other woman gestured to the chair across from her, and Aela sat.

"You were there in the street the other day, and at Camna's." Phereinon continued. "All this time I have been seeking you, and now here you are, for the third time. I don't know if this is fate, the bony claw of some divine power, or just the multiverse trying to get my attention. Well, you have it."

The Arvern thanked Waranari when the publican walked over with a mug of ginseng tea. She took a faint sip of the bitter drink, and turned back to study the mystery woman across from her.

Aela's gaze traveled across the scars that cut across the left side of Phereinon's cheek. They were jagged rents, which led her to discount the thought that they might have been caused by a knife or sword. They were also too unevenly spaced to have been the claws of a beast. Her experience in vitamancy suggested that whatever had caused the scars had been rough and irregular, like an outcropping of coral, or a bed of broken glass like those some builders put atop walls to discourage thieves from climbing over. From their lack of color, it must have happened some time ago.

"You have been looking for me?" Aela wondered. "Did you change your mind about joining us?"

"No," Phereinon said. "I seek the expertise of a conjurer who is skilled with the element of earth. Someone not daunted by long odds. Someone who will not break. I have been told by many that you are the second best in the city."

"Who did they say is the best?" Aela asked with genuine curiosity. While others might have taken it as a snub, she had to confess to feeling more than a little satisfaction at being held in such high regard as second.

"Every summoner I asked said they were the best," Phereinon said. "So I have been looking for you."

Aela stifled a laugh. If anyone else had spoken, it would have been funny. But nothing about the white-haired stranger evoked mirth. The Arvern shivered, and was not even sure why.

"So you want to do some digging?" Aela asked. "I can do that. I have experience working with earth spirits in underground spaces. Like back in the Old City under Alalia."

"Good," Phereinon leaned forward. "How are you with wild spirits? Can you calm them? Can you control them?"

"That really depends on the spirit," Aela replied honestly, "and why it has gone out of control. One that has simply slipped the grasp of an inexperienced summoner is a trifle to manage. But those that are genuinely aggressive or enraged, well those are more difficult."

"These are extremely aggressive," Phereinon said. "Lethally so."

"Where are you going where the spirits are…" Aela's words trailed away as she looked down at the book spread out between them. As Loria had said before, the pages laying open showed sketches of an ancient city. At first she thought it was Arvern, albeit thousands of years old. But the unmortarted stone in some of the drawings pointed to an even older age than her own people's civilization. Those had to be from the time of the Mound People.

"You are going to Tregyn," Aela breathed, "to the City of the Dead."

"Yes," the white-haired woman nodded. "I have lately come from there. What I seek lies buried deep beneath the modern city, beneath the ruins of the older cities underneath. I could dig myself, but it would take centuries."

"You came from there?" Aela looked around to make sure no one was in earshot. "Are you mad? Do you know how many return from expeditions there?"

"Not as many as those who remain," Phereinon almost seemed to smile then. "But really, it is not as dangerous as it once was. Eight years of tomb raiders have thinned out the deadwalkers considerably."

"Only the most powerful are still there," Aela observed, "that is not reassuring."

"Perhaps I sought the wrong person after all." Phereinon leaned back in her chair, and seemed to reappraise the Witch. "I was under the impression that the first ardhanari to graduate from the Ingenium was not one who required reassurance, or who balked at danger."

"I won't hesitate to kill anyone or anything that threatens me," Aela growled. Her arcane shield was instantly in her mind, ready to spring to life from her fingertips. By reflex, she partially shifted her senses into the aether, and felt a wood spirit sleeping within the beams of the ceiling. She reached out, gently waking the dryad and coaxing her attention. It would take only a second for her to fill the spirit with mana, and bring her fully into the physical world.

"Being a two-spirit in the Ingenium taught me to fight," Aela continued. "But it also taught me to pick and choose when and where I do. Tregyn is the graveyard of adventurers whose reach exceeded their grasp. Money is not a good enough reason to go there."

"Good," the white-haired woman leaned forward again, as if satisfied by Aela's response. "I can take care of the dead. They and I have an... understanding. I only need you to deal with the nature spirits."

Aela wondered just what an 'understanding' with the dead might mean. Was she a necromancer? Given the contempt Phereinon had displayed for necromancy in the street fight with Sethre Camna, that seemed doubtful. But Aela of all people knew that the face one presented to the world might not match what truly lay underneath.

"I had an experience with a mad spirit once," Aela mused, "during the Sluagh. It created a tornado, and tried to flatten my family's home outside of Cymner."

"You dispelled it?" Phereinon asked.

"I calmed her," Aela said. "I soothed her. She was far too much for me to simply defeat with raw power. Not that I even knew how to do that back then."

"How old were you?" The white-haired woman furrowed her brows in thought.

"I was, oh, thirteen," Aela said. "It was before I went to the Ingenium. In fact, it convinced my parents to let me study magic there."

"And the spirit?" Phereinon asked. "What became of it?"

"As I said, I calmed her." Aela shrugged. "Whatever madness the Sluagh had infected her with was gone. She drifted around the house afterward. But I have not seen her since I left."

"You pacified a mad spirit?" White-hair stared back at Aela. "You restored its sanity?"

"I don't really know what I did," Aela had to fight the urge to squirm. She felt like she was back in school, and one of her teachers was grilling her about some boring subject - like materiality - that she had failed to study about the night before. "I cannot put words to it. I just reached out and made a connection. I shared my warmth... my compassion. I felt her rage, her terror, her violation, and I... doused it, drowned it, with... well... love."

Aela had to fight the warmth rising to her cheeks. She hoped that she did not sound as trite and soppy as she imagined, talking about love.

"If only such a thing would work against swords," Phereinon murmured and stared away. If she had noted Aela's discomfort, she gave no sign of scorn. Then she looked back, eyes hard as steel. "You are the one I seek. I have no doubt."

"I am sorry, but I cannot go with you," Aela shrugged once more. "Loria and I already have a quest. We have given our words, we cannot break faith."

"But even if we did not, I still don't know that I would want to go with you," Aela said. "Like I said before, no amount of money is worth it. I advise you to look for treasure elsewhere. Leave Tregyn to the dead, it's their city now."

"I cannot," Phereinon said. "But I never said anything about treasure. I have little need for trinkets. Oh, there is gold, and jewels, and artwork, and other valuables aplenty within the Dead City. That is how I intend to pay you after all. It is not what I seek however."

"Then what?" Aela wondered aloud, "fame, power, glory?"

"Don't you want to know what caused the Sluagh?" Phereinon answered with a question of her own. "Don't you want to know how to stop it from happening again?"

Aela stared back at the other woman in sheer amazement. She did not know what to say. Was this mystery woman mad? That would explain her using the name of a millennia-old urban myth. Then Aela remembered how Phereinon had fought in the street, and her mastery of ancient magic such as aura cloaking and binding.

"You have some idea of what caused it?" Aela cautiously probed.

"I do," Phereinon nodded. "But I need to get down under Tregyn to be certain. Will you come with me?"

"I..." Aela had to admit that she was intrigued by this strange woman, and her quest. The Sluagh had nearly killed her and everyone she had known. It had killed hundreds of thousands of others who had been less fortunate. It felt personal, close to home. In truth, it was.

"We have a contract with the people of Agrigento," Aela rose to her feet, reaching for the rare comfort of ethics. "Our oath is our bond. Perhaps afterward… I'll need to think about it."

"Then I will come with you to Kye Rim," Phereinon stood as well. Closing the book of sketches, she slid it into the pack beside her chair. "And afterward, we shall see."

Posted by: Acadian Sep 1 2018, 07:44 PM

Using White Hair’s need for Aela’s spirit-calming was the perfect way to coax her into the little Agrigento group. The verbal probing and slight sparring between the two women was great fun to read. White Hair was impressive but it was wonderful to see Aela more than hold her own when challenged – in her Aelish way.

"Every summoner I asked said they were the best," Phereinon said. "So I have been looking for you." - Typical mages!

"Being a two-spirit in the Ingenium taught me to fight," Aela continued. "But it also taught me to pick and choose when and where I do. Tregyn is the graveyard of adventurers whose reach exceeded their grasp. Money is not a good enough reason to go there." - - Well put!


Nit- ‘They would have to make due with whomever they left with this morning.’ – I think the idiom is ‘make do’.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 1 2018, 09:16 PM

Oooooh, this is getting even better than I have come to expect from your masterful pen. Okay, not a pen, but still the same thing.

Knowing what I know about Persephone's backstory from Skyrim, I am really looking forward to seeing how this plays out after Agrigento. Do I scent a second story in the making here? Because as I recall it, your original Seven played out over quite a lot of ground, enough for a full novel. And here I see the makings of yet another, just as in depth, if not more, looming in the not so near future.

This is getting really exciting, and I'm looking forward to more!

Oh, and Acadian already put dibs on what is easily my favorite quote regarding who's the best mage in town.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 8 2018, 04:36 PM

Acadian: I was pleased with how I was able to dovetail Phereinon's goals into the current story, using Aela herself as the reason for her joining the defense of Agrigento. It took a while for that to come together.

Aela can be extremely stubborn when she gets her dander up, and Phereinon certainly knows how to do the latter. Part of her taunt was of course just to see how Aela would react. Aela is not just a fighter, but a thinker, so naturally both came out in her responses.

I must confess to the second best mage in town not being entirely my own invention. In an old episode of Magnum PI, someone hired Magnum because every other PI said he was the second best in Hawaii. You can guess who they said was the best...

Thanks for catching my 'make do' miscue. Another one that spellcheck does not catch, because technically nothing is spelled wrong.


haute ecole rider: Seven is indeed just the first act of a much larger story. It is really just an introduction to the characters. There is a much larger story waiting behind it, starting with the expedition to the City Of The Dead. Besides that story arc, I can see standalone prequel novels focusing on individual characters in the past. One on Phereinon and how she became undead, and exterminated the Dark Elves. One on Venca, and the rise of the Sacerdotium and the Rasen conquest of Aulerci thousands of years in the past. One on Hrafngoelir and her adventure with the orcs and elves in the mountains, and the Deep Roads beneath. And finally one on Aela and Ungarion's time in the Ingenium. It wold be nice to have one on Dhasan as well, I just don't know enough about his history yet. I only know that he is driven by a need to outdo his father, who didn't come back from a war.



I also made a minor edit to the previous segment, added a more detailed description of Phereinon's facial scars.



Chapter 8.1

Less than an hour later Aela found Loria and the others gathered at Veia's docks. The mercenaries all wore their armor and weapons. Hrafngoelir was clad in her full astril panoply, and carried her elvish bow and Skanjr sword. Dhasan wore his own people's ironleaf armor, and carried his flatbow and axe. Loria practically strutted in a new suit of green silk robes, and Aela wondered when he had gotten that. Then she remembered the clothier sleeping in his bed earlier that morning.

Aela noted that Venca was now clad in armor: a gleaming black lamellar cuirass of slender lorcras plates that ran vertically down around his torso, shoulders, and upper arms. Its long skirts hung down to his knees. Bracers of the same black steel plates wrapped his forearms, as did greaves that ran from ankle to knee. It was difficult to be certain against the fierce aura of the Ravenwheel, but she could feel no magic from the armor. Though given its material, it hardly needed enchantment.

Phereinon accompanied Aela of course. The white-haired woman was clad in a long-sleeved mail hauberk under a vest of hardened white leather that was embossed with eagles. Identical leather bracers were strapped to her forearms, and a pack was slung over her shoulders. Otherwise she wore the same white leggings wrapped in gray cord as before, along with gray boots.

"I thought you were not coming?" Loria wondered aloud. His eyes traveled from the mystery woman to Aela.

"Your friend changed my mind," was all Phereinon would say.

Aela fought the urge to blush as all eyes turned upon her. It was not as if she had said or done anything to convince the warrior to come. Phereinon's decision had been entirely her own.

She was rescued from the attention of the group when one of the ship's officers cried out that they were ready for boarding. Aela followed the others up the wide gangplank from the dock to the wide-bellied cog. It was much like the hulk that had borne them from the Stone Forest to Veia a week before. She and the others stowed their gear below deck and prepared for the journey ahead of them. Eager to escape the confines within, Aela was quick to return to the deck, along with many of the other passengers who had boarded the ship with them.

Aela saw that among the other travelers on the ship was a young Teodon with yellow and green scales. Aela recognized him immediately as the brash, would-be warrior from the street. She wondered how long it would take the others to notice the young Teodon. The cloak he now wore somewhat obscured his appearance. But she knew that on a ship only fifty feet long, he could not remain unnoticed forever.

She said nothing to the others, and instead made her way to the prow of the vessel. Like most cogs, this one had a small castle built up around the bowsprit. It was really nothing more than a flat platform with a crenellated wooden wall around it. She climbed inside and sat down with her back against battlement, legs stretched out before her. Craning her neck to the left, she looked out through the gaps between the merlons to watch the water below as it foamed up around the ship's prow.

She closed her eyes and shifted her senses into the aether. Almost immediately she felt an undine dancing within the water that sprayed up from the prow of the ship. The unearthly being seemed eminently pleased with this simple thing, and Aela easily slid her consciousness down into the waves beside her.

All too soon something else intruded upon her escape with the nature spirit. Aela felt it in the aether first. Bright and faithful elvish armor, accompanied by a composite bow that floated like a cherry blossom. Then came a stinging chill, like a frost wyrm's bite, and the ragged, yet somehow soothing, croak of a raven.

It was Hrafngoelir, and the varied assortment of enchantments that hung about the Skanjr like perfume about a flower. Aela was about to open her meat eyes, when she felt another enchantment, much weaker than the rest. It was barely even noticeable above the warm glow of the Northerner's own aura.

Unlike the strong and bright energy of the blond woman, this was dark, filled with loss and regret. It possessed no specific enchantment. It was just a miasma of sadness and pain, soaked up by some object like a sponge. It paused with Hrafngoelir at the nearby ship's rail, and hovered there above the waves.

Aela did open her eyes just in time to see that it was a palm-sized stone. It tumbled from the blond warrior's fingers, and the Witch saw that a Skanjr rune was carved into one of its faces. If she had paid more attention in her enchanting or language classes she probably could have identified the character. But Aela could not even put a name to it. She could only tell that it consisted of two vertical lines, joined by a single, slanting bar.

Then the stone was gone, vanished into the sea. It took all of that regret bound up with it to the sunless depths below. Aela hoped that the water would wash away the sorrow within its soothing embrace.

"What?"

Aela started at the blond warrior's voice. Had she spoken her thoughts aloud? Or had Hrafngoelir only now just noticed her behind the merlons of the forecastle?

"I'm sorry," Aela stood up. "My mind was elsewhere. I noticed your carving."

Aela nodded to the waves, that had so recently swallowed up the Skanjr's dark offering.

"Aye," the Skanjr said. "I was just saying eloi to someone."

"Hello or goodbye?" Aela recognized the unusual word as elvish, favored by the Silisce. It could be either a greeting or a farewell, depending on how the Sea Elves used it.

"Both I suppose," Hrafngoelir frowned. "What brought you up here?"

"Just staying out of the way," Aela shrugged and looked back to the waves. Clearly the other woman did not want to talk about the strange stone she had cast into the sea. Aela was not going to pry. She of all people understood the value of privacy. "I just like watching the water. It always feels peaceful to me."

The taller human climbed over the crenellated wooden wall and sat down beside Aela. The Arvern stared down at Hrafngoelir's armored legs as they stretched out on the deck beside her own. Looking back up, she noted that not only was the other woman's hair a masterpiece, but that even the powder above her blue eyes gave them a brilliant shine in the morning sun.

Aela could not help but to feel a twinge of envy, and turned away from Hrafngoelir. For the thousandth time, she wondered what it was like to be born normal, and have the option of living an ordinary life.

"That is a lovely necklace." The Skanjr's words broke Aela's reverie, and she followed the other woman's gaze to the crystal pendant that she wore. Shaped in a spiral, it hung above her small breasts from a chain of thin silver links.

"My spiral?" Aela said. "Among the Asokari - and we Witches here in Aulerci - it symbolizes the never-ending cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. We all come from the Earth, and we all return to it. It also happens to be enchanted to store additional mana."

"Then you keep to the Asokar gods?" Hrafngoelir asked. "Or not gods. As I recall, they see all the Earth as a god, and all of us on it as well."

"You have traveled indeed," Aela noted. "I grew up in a city - Cymner in fact - but I have always loved the countryside. The forests, the rivers, the mountains, the sea… The wild places of the world are where I feel most alive. They are the places I feel connected to something beyond myself. In fact, it is in those places where I first met my spirit guides."

"You have spirit guides?" Hrafngoelir raised an eyebrow again. "Now you really do sound like one of the Fox Folk!"

"I am a Witch," Aela shrugged. "It is about the same thing. Oh I don't see them or smell them the way Dhasan does Wolf. But I do feel them, and I can learn from them."

"They really do see them then?" Hrafngoelir said. "I spent some time in their land, and some told me so. But I have always wondered if they were having a laugh on a foreigner."

"Oh, they see their guides," Aela insisted. "They are as much a part of their world as the earth or sky. In my case I met Turtle during a trip into the woods. There was a real turtle there, crawling ever so slowly across the path. But I felt so much more from him than just an animal. He taught me patience. Turtle is all about getting there, no matter how long or difficult the journey. Later I met Butterfly, who taught me the secrets of transformation."

"You sound like quite a Witch indeed!' the Skanjr exclaimed. "But I would not think that one with your gifts would require more magical energy?" She nodded toward the enchanted pendant.

"I don't anymore," Aela felt a wry smile come to her lips, and stared down at the spiral, "Well not usually. But when I first started casting spells in real combat, I had a tendency to use much more energy than I needed. I was like a fighter throwing a haymaker with every punch. It took me a while to learn to only use as much mana as was truly necessary. I keep it as a reminder to pace myself. And because it was a gift from a friend."

"You did not make it yourself?" Hrafngoelir looked confused.

"Oh no," Aela confessed. "Loria enchanted it for me. He has always been much better at that than I am. He did all of our gear in fact: his old robes and ring, my clothes, even Dhasan's axe and shield. Now that he has a new outfit, I am sure he will be enchanting that during our voyage as well."

"Forgive me," Hrafngoelir said, "the only other seidberendr I knew had been an enchanter. I just thought…"

"That we could do everything? Not hardly." Aela smiled. "The truth is Loria is a much better mage than I am in most of the schools of magic. The only ones I ever really had much interest in are vitamancy and spiritism. So I devoted all of my energy to them at the Ingenium. Well, and arcanism of course. Using it is part of all higher forms of magic. I never spent much time on the other disciplines. I only took the basic classes required by the school."

"Oh," the Skanjr blushed. With one thick finger she swept aside an imaginary lock of hair from her eyes. "Ever since I was a child I was taught that people like you have fearsome powers. And my brother…"

"It is true that people like myself have certain advantages as magicians," Aela admitted. She had not missed the other woman's mention of a brother, or how her words had trailed away into silence after his mention. She imagined he might have something to do with the seidberendr she had mentioned as well. "To use magic, one must walk between worlds. People like me, who change gender roles, also walk between worlds. I suppose we are made to be magicians."


https://i.imgur.com/5A5rEfq.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/O4Y4KBF.jpg

Posted by: Acadian Sep 8 2018, 07:38 PM

Nice character development here that begins with Aela’s delightful communion with the water spirit and is interrupted by the magical cacophony of Hrafngoelir’s approaching enchanted gear. What a fascinating perception of the world Aela can glimpse into!

I like that Aela has specialized in the magic schools that suit her and sacrificed some ability in the others. It supports the idea that one only has so much mojo. I also enjoyed her insight on mana management/efficiency in combat.

And finally, we learn a bit more about the girl with the golden hair. Oh, and I’m sure we’ll hear more about that young Teodon who ‘just happens’ to be sharing their ride.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 15 2018, 04:39 PM

Acadian: As I have been going back through the story and rewriting it, I have been really pleased with how ordinary Aela often feels. While surrounded by elves, lizard-men, fox people, unliving urban myths, and so on... To me she often feels like an everyman character, like Bilbo in The Hobbit. Then once and a while she shows that she is just as unique as everyone else. Like with how she lives in not just the physical world, but the spirit world, at the same time. She literally does experience reality differently than most people (although so would other advanced magicians).

More about the girl with the golden gun hair this episode, as we conclude their conversation. Then we will be going back to the young Teodon...


Chapter 8.2

"It is obvious you would study vitamancy to change your body." Hrafngoelir considered. "So why spiritism too? Why not something like enchanting or materiality?"

"I have always enjoyed conjuring," Aela mused. "Summoning nature spirits is all about nurturing your relationship with the spirits of the world: of the rocks, of the trees, of the sky, and so on. When I am with the spirits, I can be myself. They always see me for who I truly am, not what other people think I should be."

For a hired sword, the Skanjr knew quite a bit about magic. At their first meeting Hrafngoelir had said that she had spent some time among elves. Clearly the Skanjr had learned much, and with a more open mind than many others of her race. There was definitely more to her than met the eye.

That thought gave Aela a brief snort. She should be the one to know!

"But during the Sluagh, well that changed everything. spiritism wasn't just a way to escape from the company of people anymore. It became a matter of survival. Many of the spirits around Tregyn seemed to go mad, and my magic is what saved me from them. It made me realize just what I could do with spirits. It also got me into the Ingenium."

"The wizards at the school heard of your exploits?" Hrafngoelir scrunched her eyebrows in bewilderment.

"No," Aela laughed, "it made my parents take me seriously. They always said magic was just a phase, something I would get tired of and grow out of. But when I stopped a tornado from leveling our manor, even they had to accept that this was my calling."

Hrafngoelir smiled wryly, and nodded her head. "It was like that with my brother. My mother wanted him to be a shield maiden. Well, shield man. But magic was always in her runes too."

"Did they enchant your things for you?" Aela asked. She did not fail to note how the Skanjr had mixed up genders when referring to her brother.

"Aye, Hetha did make my raven." Hrafngoelir looked down to the black stone raven pendant that she wore, and held it up with one hand. As if wakened by her touch, Aela felt the magic within glow to brilliant life in the aether, a ward to protect Hrafngoelir against all magical harm. "He even carved it from basalt himself. She had always been good at that sort of thing, even when we were little."

"So what does Hrafnvartha mean?" Aela did not know a great deal of Skanjr culture, but she did know that Hetha was not a man's name. Now she was beginning to understand Hrafngoelir's interest in seidberendrs.

"Ravenward," Hrafngoelir said proudly. "Hetha said it would protect me from harmful magics. So far, it has saved my life more than once. But how did you know its name?"

"It told me," Aela said. "Except for those upon the simplest objects like warm cloaks and dry socks, all enchantments have a name. They are unique, special, so they must have a name, just like people."

"You sound so much like Hetha sometimes…" The Skanjr looked away from the Arvern mage, and stared off across the waves.

"So what about yourself?" Aela wondered aloud. "I can see from your aura that you have some magical ability as well. Is that how you do your hair?"

"Oh no, I do that the old-fashioned way!" The Skanjr warrior laughed. She reached up with one hand to touch the elaborate tapestry of golden locks that made up her hair.

"I only know a few spells," she said. Her free hand patted the glowing shaft of the composite bow nestled in the bowcase at her hip. "I know one to cloak Cherry Blossom here. Otherwise you can see me from a mile away at night. Another will muffle my foot falls, even on dried leaves. I know a Night Sight spell to see in the dark, and a few other little things."

"All useful for a hrafn," Aela observed, using the Skanjr word for raven. "So then your name means 'raven' and something else?"

"Hrafngoelir?" the Skanjr warrior turned back to look at Aela. "It means 'Makes The Ravens Sing'. My mother gave me that name because a conspiracy of them took roost around the house when she went into labor with me. They would not leave. She said that when I was finally born, they all began squawking at once. I made them sing. She said it meant that I would be a shield maiden, like she was."

"So what does Aela mean in your people's tongue?" the Northerner went on to ask.

"I don't know!" Aela laughed. Then she turned more serious. "In truth, it all depends on who you ask. Some people say it means 'rock' or 'rampart'. Others say it means 'amour'. Still others say it means 'divine messenger'. But I have simply liked the way it sounded, so that is why I chose it when I changed."

"When you-" Hrafngoelir stumbled momentarily, then went on, "of course, I forgot for a moment. When did you make your change?"

"I went to living female in my fourth year at the Ingenium," the mage said. "Afterward I met Loria. He told me that I should have waited. But I just could not bear it any longer."

"It could not have been easy," the Skanjr woman observed. Aela wondered just how much personal experience she had in the matter, given the matter of her brother, or was it sister now? "They say the elves and Asokari are much more accepting in this. Indeed, I saw more than one two-spirit among the Fox People, and they were all treated with great honor. But we humans…"

"We are not so comfortable with people being different from us," Aela finished the other woman's sentence. "My parents were furious. They tried to make a magistrate send me back to Cymner. But I had reached my legal age of majority by then, so they could not. Instead they disowned me and cut off my funds."

"Then the Ingenium turned down my request for a scholarship. They said my family was too wealthy for me to qualify. So I had to borrow the gold from a shark named Mamarce the Knee to pay my tuition. Many of the staff tried to have me expelled, and the other students… well, as I told someone else today, the Ingenium taught me to fight. I graduated a few months ago, but I'm still paying off my debt. I will be for a long time."

"Why did they do those things?" Hrafngoelir looked confused. "Because you are a seidberendr?"

Aela nodded, but said nothing.

"But that is mad!" Hrafngoelir exclaimed. "I would think they would want more people like you in their Ingenium? Aren't all these new magic schools I hear about based on the elven ways of teaching? Bringing teachers and students all together in one place, to gain further knowledge than could ever be done in the old way of master and apprentice?"

"They are," Aela sighed. "But they are still run by humans. And you know how we are. You are supposed to be like everyone else. Learn the same trade as your parents, inherit their property, positions, and titles. Marry who they tell you to. Have children of your own and do it all over again to them. Duty, loyalty, and obedience, that was all I was taught as a child."

"Aye," Hrafngoelir nodded, "and I know my own people are probably the worst of the lot. For all that these Rasen would not allow women to bear arms or use magic before King Knutr Serpent-Eye came south, in many ways they are far more enlightened now. Even though we conquered them, sometimes I think they are the ones better for it. The last of the Skanjr successor kingdoms fell what, two and a half centuries ago? Now Skanlond is just as poor and backward as it ever was. But these southern lands are rich, and people have more freedom than ever, men and women alike. They are certainly a lot more open to other races and ideas than back home!"

"They say my people were never bad in the old days," Aela frowned. "Now you can hardly tell the difference between a city in Aulertil and one here in Rase. But in the west, across the straits in Arvethair, they say we Arvernach are still like we were in the old days. I had some distant cousins living there, and they always shocked my parents with their impropriety. My parents once said they were more like elves than humans."

"The elves say that every person must find their own true calling in life." Hrafngoelir murmured. "They say no one can choose the fate of another. For no one can live the life of another."

"You seem to know a great deal about elves," Aela noted.

"As do you," Hrafngoelir replied with a smile. "You and Loria seem to get on well. Are the two of you…"

"No," Aela shook her head. "Loria has never been attracted to women."

"Oh," Hrafngoelir stared wide-eyed. "Oh! So then he and Dhasan?"

"By the blessed Earth no!" Aela laughed. "They are just friends. They just act like they are married from how they love to argue!"

"And what about yourself?" Hrafngoelir asked. "Which are you interested in, or both?"

"You first," Aela had to suppress a giggle. It was beginning to sound like they were a pair of teen girls. She had to admit, the feeling was not unpleasant. It was something she never had the chance to experience before.

"Well men of course," Hrafngoelir said matter-of-factly. "But they can be such crumheads most of the time. I cannot see why any woman would ever want to marry one."

"What about Venca?" Now it was Aela's turn to cast a sly gaze in the other woman's direction.

"Him?" Hrafngoelir sputtered. "Bah, he's too busy brooding - and looking for more black clothing to wear - to find the time for a woman."

"So the two of you never…" Aela let the question trail off.

"Well, there were a few times," The Skanjr stared down into the sea. "But those were just physical. You know, after battle celebrations. You have to put out the fire somehow. It's not like I want to have his children or anything."

"Well you might if you are not careful." Force of habit brought out the vitamancer in Aela. "It only takes one time..."

"Yes, yes, I know mother!" the Skanjr woman held up a hand to ward Aela off. "I learned a long time ago that a little princess nettle and tanet flower will keep that from happening. My mother taught me in fact, when I had my first courses."

"I wish I had a mother to teach me these things," Aela sighed. "I had to learn them in a class in school."

"Ach, you are doing just fine woman," Hrafngoelir waved a dismissive hand. "Besides, that is what friends are for. I learned more about hair and makeup from my friends than I did from my mother. She liked to shave the back of her head like the men do, said it made her helm fit better."

Aela could help but to gape. She could not tell if the other woman as being serious or not.

"Please tell me you did not really mean that," she blurted out. Instantly she regretted the words. What if the Skanjr would take offense? After it seemed that they had been getting on so well.

"I do!" Hrafngoelir nodded. "She wanted to shave my head when I was sixteen, but I would not have any of it. I like my hair. I plan on keeping it until I am so old it all falls out!"

"Well you wear it very well," Aela admitted as she looked into the Skanjr's eyes. She hoped that she was not blushing. "You're beautiful."

"That is kind of you to say," Hrafngoelir smiled. "But look at you, with that lovely long hair, and those soft brown eyes."

"Aye, hair brown as dirt, and eyes brown as bark," Aela grumbled, looking back down at the waves below.

"Nonsense!" Hrafngoelir exclaimed. "Well, your hair is rather sandy, and your eyes are brown of course. But there is so much more to you than that."

With that, the Skanjr leaned back. The next thing Aela knew, Hrafngoelir had pushed her forward, and was gently taking up her hair in her slender fingers.

"Let's do something with this," the Skanjr suggested. "We'll start with a braid around either side of your head, then tie it all in back into a tail. Then we can do something with your eyes. We'll start with some eggplant color on your lashes. That will make the whites of your eyes really shine. Then we'll put some gold on your lids, which will make the brown in your eyes glisten. It will give you more color, without being overwhelming. When you want that, we can use cobalt shadow, and deeper black on your lashes."

A small, white-winged butterfly danced across the rail before Aela's eyes. She could not repress the grin from her features, and knew that she was blushing now. But she could care less. For the next few hours she forgot all about prejudices, seidberendrs, loan-sharks, and everything else. She was just a young woman having her hair and makeup done by a friend.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 16 2018, 06:19 PM

Aww, an adorable chick episode! Complete with discussion of feminism, social/gender roles and limitations of said roles (which I find frustrating IRL, now that I have a nephew and a coworker who are trans and are both wonderful people), and ending with hair and makeup. Just the right touch of everything!

I did notice one tiny nit -

Just wanted to remind you that the possessive form of it does not earn an apostrophe.

I continue to enjoy this story, and the hints and foreshadowing and world building that is going on here. I remember the original Seven as well as both the Seven Samurai and The Magnificent Seven and look forward to how our young, brash Teodon integrates himself into this group.

Posted by: Acadian Sep 16 2018, 07:10 PM

Rider is right – a delightfully girlish episode. And very nicely woven in there, we learn more about not only Goldenlocks but our brown-haired witch as well.

"That is kind of you to say," Hrafngoelir smiled. "But look at you, with that lovely long hair, and those soft brown eyes."
"Aye, hair brown as dirt, and eyes brown as bark," Aela grumbled, looking back down at the waves below.’
- - This is precious! We are never satisfied with what we have and often envious of what we admire on others.


Please for give me for piling on the same passage Rider cited: "Hetha said it would protect me from harmful magics. So far, it is saved my life more than once. But how did you know it's name?" - - Do you want ‘is saved my life’ or ‘has saved my life’?

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 22 2018, 03:26 PM

haute ecole rider: I had two women talking to one another about something other than a man. So I passed the Bechdel test.

The dreaded It(')s strikes again! Another thing that spell check does not catch.

Lots more foreshadowing in the coming episodes.


Acadian: It was fun writing that girl on girl episode. It gave me a chance to do a lot of exploration of Aela's past and character.

Hetha's mispelled magic had saved Hrafngoelir's life more than once. Thanks for noticing that.




Chapter 8.3

"So why is it called the Bronze Sea anyway?" The aging Teodon Hyunsu scratched his fading green and brown scales in consternation. "The color is not like bronze at all. Not even old bronze that's gone green."

Loria piped up before anyone else could answer. "Why my good man, because while the sea may be made of water, it is bronze that flows over it."

"There beyond the far end of the sea, you will find many copper mines in the forests and meadows of eastern Aulerci." The Light Elf pointed a slender finger ahead of them to the east. Then he turned around, and gestured behind them. "But to the west, in the hills of Aela's homeland of Aulertil, there are tin mines. For thousands of years, both have been traded across this sea to create bronze."

"Aye," Venca spoke up from the rail where he stared out across the sea. "It is bronze that brought the people of this continent together, in peace and war. The Bronze Sea is the heart of Aulerci. They say that sooner or later, everyone passes over it."

"And perhaps sooner for some."

Aela turned at the sound of Dhasan's voice, and followed his gaze to the stern of the cargo vessel. There she saw Alcheon, the same Teodon from the day before. He tried to conceal himself with a cloak, but the stripes and irregular swathes of green across his otherwise yellow scales were impossible to miss.

"It would appear that these ones have been followed," Dhasan continued. The Asokar nodded toward the Teodon. "Is that the scaletail these ones spoke of before?"

"Aye," Loria said, "That is him to be certain."

"Well, he is persistent," Venca admitted. "I'll give him that."

"That persistence will earn him an early grave," Hrafngoelir murmured. "What are we going to do about him?"

"Do?" Aela finally spoke. "There is nothing to do. He can make his own bed, and he can lie in it."

"What if he dies in it?" Loria said.

"Everyone dies," Phereinon pointed out. "If he wishes to die with us, let him come."

"Remind me to never book you as an inspirational orator," Loria murmured.

"I know we all had to start sometime," Dhasan conceded. "Often not the best time. But I think we can all see that he is in over his scales."

"What we want does not matter," Aela said plainly. "Alcheon's fate is his to make, and his alone. None of us can change that. If he is determined, then we cannot stop him. Just like no one could stop me from attending the Ingenium, and no one could stop Loria from smuggling banned books out of the restricted section of the library."

"Trust a seidberendr to speak the truth no one wants to admit," Hrafngoelir said with slightly flushed cheeks.

"This talk of self-determination is all well and good," Venca argued. "But it still does not change the fact that the boy lacks skills."

"Well perhaps if someone who knows a thing or two about spear fighting teaches him - instead of humiliates him - that will change?" Aela took a moment to transfix the Rasen with her stare. Then she walked off. Stepping around crates and barrels of cargo lashed to the deck, she made her way to the rear of the ship. There she found the subject of their conversation.

The young Teodon leaned upon one of the side rails and stared out at the shore as it slid by to the right of the ship. The starboard side, Aela reminded herself. She leaned upon the rail beside him, and looked down at the water that foamed and eddied behind the cog. Alcheon said nothing, and for long moments neither did she.

Turning to Alcheon, she finally spoke.

"Tell me friend, do you know any magic?"

"The use of magic is not common where I come from," the Teodon hesitantly replied.

"Well then," Aela declared, "time we changed that."

"But I cannot-"

"Use magic?" Aela finished the sentence before Alcheon could. "Nonsense. Everyone can use magic. It is as much a part of us as blood and bone. Mana is the lifeblood of the world. It is just that many people do not want you knowing that."

"Why is that?" the Teodon asked through cautious eyes.

"Because you might change the world," Aela said plainly. "Do you know what magic is?"

"Well, potions, and scrolls, and bolts of lighting, and such things," the Teodon replied with a wave of one hand.

"Not at all," Aela shook her head. "Those are expressions of magic. But not the essence of magic. Magic, my young apprentice, is the ability to create change in accordance with your will."

"That is all?" the Teodon seemed unimpressed.

"It is that simple," Aela nodded, "and that powerful. Magic is quite literally the ability to reshape the world. To make reality how you will it to be. Is that not enough?"

The young warrior shrugged, and Aela hoped she was not wasting her time with the prospective mercenary. But she knew that if he did pay attention, her lessons might just save his life, or someone else's. That was certainly worth a little effort on her part.

"There are three things which comprise all magical workings, be they spells, scrolls, potions, or enchantments." Aela began. "First there is mana, then a pattern, and finally the will of the magician. Everything a mage does always comes down to these three things. Now, let us talk about each one."

"Mana is the first. It is the energy that powers all magic, just as pieces of wood are the fuel for a fire." The Arvern explained, and Alcheon nodded as she spoke. "All living beings have mana within them. It comes from the Earth and builds up in our bodies. Our spirits attract it, just like you have probably seen flies attracted to dung. And just as the bigger pile attracts more flies, the more powerful magician learns to store more mana within them."

That brought a wry smile from the Teodon, as Aela had hoped it would. It had done the same for herself, the first time she had heard those very same words spoken to her nearly a decade before.

"Now let us start by learning to feel the mana within ourselves," the Witch went on. "I want you to rub your hands together like this," she rubbed her open palms back and forth in a quick motion, as if she was trying to work the cold out of them. "Now you do it."

Aela watched as the Teodon rubbed his hands together as she had.

"Now what?" he asked earnestly.

"Do you feel that tingling in your scales?" the Witch asked. When the warrior nodded, she went on. "That is mana. In time you will learn to feel it within you with only a thought. But for now just rub your hands together like that."

"Next is a pattern, which is very important," the magician explained. "Think of it as the pattern of a tapestry. Or as a portrait or drawing. It is an image of what you want your mana to do. The only difference between a spell that summons a sylph and another that fires a bolt of lightning is this pattern. So learning a spell is really a matter of learning the proper pattern."

"Now there are all kinds of patterns for spells." Aela said. "In fact, there are many different ones to make the same spell. That is because magic is as much about your own personal inclinations as it is about universal rules. What inspires one person does not always work for the next. You must create your own magic or it will never work for you."

"For beginner spells, the patterns are very straightforward," she went on. "Simply imagine the result you desire in your mind, and channel your mana into image. As you can probably guess, more powerful spells require more complicated patterns. In time, you will learn to sense into the aether. There you can weave the individual strands of a spell's power, just like stitching a shirt, or a tapestry."

"Today we will learn an arcane shield spell, something very useful in our line of work. Shields can deflect physical blows, magical attacks, or both. Let us just start with the simplest: physical attacks."

Aela put out one hand, and with barely a thought a field of shimmering energy formed there before her. She turned, and stepped back so that she stood side by side with the Teodon.

"Do it just like me," she said. "Rub your hands together like before, and feel the energy rise in your scales,"

Aela watched as the Teodon did as she asked. She felt the power rising within the young warrior, and partially shifted her senses into the aether. "Now put your hand forward, and imagine a barrier taking shape there. This shield will turn aside any weapon that strikes it."

The Teodon put his hand out, palm flattened outward as if motioning to stop. Aela could see the ridges over his eyes scrunch up in concentration. His tail twitched, and his head spines rose up above his head. Yet nothing happened. Finally, he threw down his hand in disgust.

"It doesn't work!" he cursed. "I cannot do this!"

"Oh you just wait and see!" Aela's eyes sparkled with light reflected from her own arcane shield, which still glowed before them. "No one gets it right the first time. That is because there is one final ingredient we must speak of: Will. You must make the change happen. It is not enough just to want it, or hope for it, or even believe in it. You must know it. Just as you know the sun will rise tomorrow, you must know your magic will work. If your will is not this absolute, then you will cause your own spell to fail. Now let us try again, and this time focus your will."

The Teodon rubbed his hands together once more, and again the Witch could see his features scrunched together in concentration.

"That is right," she coached softly, watching the mana once more rise through his body. "You can do it. You have the power within you. You can do anything. You can make it happen. You will do it."

A disc of brilliant light burst from his fingers. In an instant it spread out to form a glowing oval in front of the Teodon, screening his body from head to toe. He opened his eyes, and stared in wonder at Aela behind the rippling light of the ward.

"See," Aela said, feeling no small amount of pride in both the Teodon, and in her own teaching ability. "I told you that you could do it. Now watch."

Aela finally allowed her own shield to fall, and she pulled back her senses from the aether. She stepped before the Teodon and balled up one hand into a fist. She beat it upon the face of Alcheon's arcane shield, as if pounding on a sealed door. She felt the magical barrier stop her fist just as firmly as such a door would. She struck again, and once more the ward halted her blow.

Then the light of the spell fizzled out of existence, and the Teodon sagged for a moment. Aela stopped, and waited for him to shake his head. He yawned, and Aela recognized this particular form of fatigue without even having to view his aura through the aether.

"You just used all of your mana," she explained. "Shields require much energy. Do not worry, it will replenish in a short while. The more that you use magic, the more mana you will learn to retain within you, the quicker you will recover it, and the less of it you will need to use in your spells. The important thing is that you did it."

"I did," the young Teodon said, "didn't I?"

"Welcome to a much wider world my friend," Aela breathed.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 22 2018, 11:19 PM

Sigh. I am hearing http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=4423&st=120# in my head as Aela teaches our young maverick the ways of magic. I quite liked your interpretation of how magic works. And I enjoyed Alcheon's growth, small as it may be, in this segment. I can't help comparing him to the https://pm1.narvii.com/6069/f9a553b3a1f4c514de303699c4feb504d050a4f8_hq.jpg I am familiar with, and am sure he will turn out the same way . . . even though they start out very differently.

Story good, more please!

Posted by: Acadian Sep 23 2018, 08:01 PM

More and more, I’m realizing that much of Aela’s motivation comes from her nurturing nature. To insert herself into a physical altercation’s aftermath to heal the wounded. To wake her elven traveling partner to ensure he doesn’t miss their transport vessel. To recognize that if this young Teodon is going to survive among her band, he needs some training. . . and since no one else seems to be taking up the mantle, she feels compelled to do so. Though normally quite mild mannered, when Aela is ‘nurture-motivated’ to a task she becomes as assertive as necessary to accomplish it.

And what a fascinating lesson in basic magic use she gives! I’m so glad that Alcheon shows some arcane potential. After all, if Aela will be the one training him that will work out much better than the witch trying to teach him physical melee combat!

“Our spirits attract it, just like you have probably seen flies attracted to dung. And just as the bigger pile attracts more flies, the more powerful magician learns to store more mana within them." - - Every arch mage should have this posted on their wall to remind them to be humble.


Nit: ’Magic is the quite literally the ability to reshape the world.’ - - Methinks the first ‘the’ in this sentence is an extra one.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 29 2018, 03:59 PM

haute ecole rider: That does indeed remind me of Tumindil!

That is also the Alcheon I am familiar with! He was one of my favorite characters in that show. I was inspired by him when I reworked the Seven Reimagined version of the brash young Teodon warrior. I even chose his colorings - yellow with green stripes - in a nod to the Great Queen Seondeok Alcheon's yellow uniform.


Acadian: I would not put much faith in Aela's desire to nurture. She usually has ulterior motives when it comes to helping people. From stalling the younger Camna so Loria could talk to Phereinon in private, to looking out for herself by making sure her companions can hold their own in a fight. Being Loria's friend practically demands you be dependable and reliable. Because he is not going to be either! She would not even be going to defend Agrigento if not for Loria. And of course Loria is there for fortune and glory (preferably the first). She might feel differently about individuals once she gets to know them. But she looks out for number one (with Loria of course being number two, in more ways than one...)

I always did like the comparison of wizards to poop as a teaching tool. It breaks the ice, and is a good way to keep yourself humble.





Chapter 8.4

After the magic lesson, Aela introduced Alcheon to Loria. As always, the Light Elf's open and affable nature immediately dispelled the tension that hung in the air between the young Teodon and the others in the group. Well, most of the tension at least. Venca was certainly nonplussed. But then again, given the older mercenary's apparent disposition toward brooding, Aela was not certain if his behavior was truly related to Alcheon or not.

The villagers too still seemed unsure of both the youthful warrior, and the other mercenaries as well. Aela expected that. They were a group of armed strangers whom the Agrigentans were bringing to their homes, to protect them from other armed strangers. Aela knew it would take time to build trust with them.

The journey across the Bronze Sea was a long one, even via ship. The trip had been shorter in the opposite direction. But Loria was quick to remind Aela that they had been on a hulk then. A much larger vessel than the cog which they currently sailed upon, it could make better time over the waves. The wizard had quoted some mathematical formula about how the length of a ship's hull related to its speed, but it had quickly gone over the Witch's head. That larger meant faster was all that the Arvern really cared to know.

They ate a simple lunch of bread dipped in olive oil, washed down with the ship's cheap wine. Then Aela made her way back to the forecastle for some time to herself. As much as anyone could find solitude on a ship that was only fifty feet long. She leaned back against the parapet and closed her eyes.

The Witch shifted her awareness into the aether, and let her thoughts drift down into the water below. There under the waves, all around the small, dim spirits of fish and other marine life, she found the undines. Spirits of water, they were often the most friendly of the elementals. Indeed, at the Ingenium she had learned that water symbolized empathy and intuition. She found the undines near the ship to be in a bright mood, playing about the water that foamed off the prow, as if the vessel were a toy. They welcomed Aela as a sister, and she danced and splashed alongside them - if only spiritually - and whiled away the time with the elemental spirits.

The smell of roses and lilies filled Aela's nostrils, and the harsh croak of a raven or crow echoed in her ears. Hard footsteps followed, clanking across the wooden planks of the deck nearby. They stopped as a dark shadow fell across Aela's body, blocking out the warm rays of the sun. The cool light of the moon washed over her instead. Wood creaked loudly in her ears, and Aela felt the planks of the deck shift under her as a heavy weight lowered itself down upon them nearby.

The Arvern pulled her awareness fully back into her body. She opened her meat eyes to find Venca squatting beside her. The Rasen wore his black lamellar armor, even in the summer heat, and stared out at the waves beyond. She saw the Ravenwheel hanging from around his neck. Even no longer sensing within the aether, Aela felt its cool effluence bathe her, like flowers in moonlight. Then the mercenary's dark eyes turned to meet her own.

"So just what in the worlds are you anyway?" he asked bluntly.

"I'm Aela," the Witch replied. Her heart doubled its pace at the loaded question, but she did her best to keep her voice neutral. "That is all you need to know."

"So what do I call you," the Rasen went on, "'he' or 'she'?"

"Do I look like I want to be called 'he'?" Aela still fought to keep the anger from her voice. "I'm not wearing a bodice and a chemise because I want to trumpet my masculinity, and I'm not wearing makeup to impress everyone with my manhood."

"Fair enough," Venca nodded. He looked from her to the water, and stared into its depths for a long time before he went on. "You know, Hrafngoelir thinks you're something extraordinary."

"Well that makes one of her," Aela replied caustically.

"It must be hard living in Rase, with everyone who knows what you are treating you like an aberration," Venca observed. "Why do you stay here? You could go west. The Asokari love your kind in Hiakim, so do your own folk in Arvethair."

"Because I have just as much right to be here in Aulerci as anyone else," Aela insisted. "I won't be run out by a bunch of narrow-minded provincials. I would think that Nyktera's Champion would be a little more enlightened. She is the goddess of transitions after all, of traveling from one state to another. That is what magic does. It transforms reality."

"I'm not Nyktera's Champion," Venca stiffened, as she had accused him of a crime. "Or Mhorlor's, or Morrigu's, or whatever you want to call her. I've no use for the gods - or the Fomorians, or Fir Bolgs, or anything else - and they've none for me."

"Really?" Aela pressed on, "is that why you carry the very essence of the goddess of death and magic given physical form? Why do you worship her every sunset?"

"I don't worship her," Venca grumbled. "I'm just… thinking."

"What is the difference?" Aela asked.

"Plenty," the Rasen insisted. "I serve myself. No one else. This world - and the gods - have never done me any favors."

"What, you think the universe owes you some consideration?" Aela scoffed. "You think you're special because you lost something? Well join the rest of us."

"What would you know about it?" Venca shot back.

"What would I know about it?" Aela replied hotly. She noticed that several of the others were now staring from their positions around the boat. A little voice in her head said that she should be building trust. She ignored it. "My whole life was taken away from me when I changed. My family, my home, my future, the people I thought were my friends, everything. I lost it all."

"But you know what? It wasn't the end of the world. I have a new family." Her eyes glanced to Loria. The Silaine mage stood by with his arms crossed, and nodded back to her. "I make my own future now. One day I'll make a new home as well. The gods didn't create the world we live in, or our fates. We are the gods, and we make our destinies all by ourselves, every single day, by what we do, or do not do. What world are you going to make?"

"You sound like someone I used to know once," Venca murmured and stroked his goatee thoughtfully.

"Who?" Aela asked gently. Perhaps it was not too late to listen to that voice of reason in her head after all.

"Damn if I know," Venca sighed. With that simple honest admission, Aela felt her anger ebb away like the evening tide.

"Memories are stored in many different areas across the brain," Aela allowed the vitamancer in her to take the fore. "If you give me time, I might be able to restore some of yours."

"I have been down that road before." Venca shook his head. "There is nothing left to find."

"You have not been down that road with me," Aela insisted. "If you change your mind, I am willing to try."

"Have you done it before?" the Rasen asked.

"Never," Aela shrugged. "But I have read about it."

"I will forgo the honor of being the first then." Venca rolled his eyes.

"There is a first time for everything," Aela found herself saying. She almost felt as if she was she was channeling Loria's dry wit. "My mother used to always say I should try new things. Of course when I tried being a woman, she did not like it much."

The Rasen warrior almost smiled at that, almost. He stood, and looked about at the others, who were all staring back at them now.

"So what do I call you Venca?" Aela asked, still sitting against the parapet of the forecastle. "My friend, or something else?"

"I am your friend Aela," the Rasen rumbled. "Of that let there be no doubt."

Posted by: Acadian Sep 29 2018, 08:00 PM

Aela’s delightful romp with the water undines was rather rudely interrupted by the brooding mercenary!

"Do I look like want to be called 'he'?" - - I love the simple brilliance of this reply.

Wonderful little scene between Aela and Venca. Her advice about each making their own future was insightful and, I would think, likely just what Venca needed to hear.

Bit by bit we are learning more about each of the Magnificents – all the while revealing more depth to Aela.


Nits
’The smell of roses and lilies filled Aela nostrils,’ - - Aela’s vs Aela.
"You think your special because you lost something?” - - you’re vs your.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 30 2018, 05:16 PM

I really liked that whole confrontation/conversation/discussion between Aela and Venca. Trust him to get his doubts out of the way - he was sizing up what kind of person Aela was. It felt like he was putting out feelers to see if she could be trusted - or not.

That this exchange cleared his doubts and put his mind at rest is summed up perfectly here:

Looking forward to how Aela interacts with the remaining four(? three?) of the Seven!

Posted by: Renee Oct 3 2018, 03:37 PM

[censored], I've fallen behind... way behind. Hard for me to keep up, because this story definitely demands no interruptions from work, or child, but I'll try.

The tension between Aela and Phereinon though... That part is pretty intense. Just like when I'm gaming and one of my characters must choose between two quests, each equally demanding in importance! :ahhh:

Dangit. Back to work.

I like this a lot...

And also this...

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 6 2018, 04:16 PM

Acadian: Every time Aela tries to get some quality time with the spirits someone interrupts her!

I do not doubt that Venca has more than a little transphobia in him, thanks to his upbringing and his culture. He has forgotten most of that however, along with all of his history. But I think there are some things that still stick about right and wrong deep in his subconscious. He is a very complicated person. He is trying to take the high road, especially given that he knows his life might end up in Aela's hands. But it can be difficult to overcome the prejudices that have been drilled into you from childhood, and are continually reinforced every day by the society you live within.

Aela's vs Aela sounds like a Celebrity Death Match video!


haute ecole rider: As you and Acadian both noted, there is a lot of that sparring going on with the Magnificents right now, as they feel one another out and try to get to know who they are dealing with. As Aela thought a few times - "I should be building trust".


Renee: I enjoyed writing that interaction between Aela and Phereinon. As Acadian and Haute noted in the most recent episode, there is a lot of feeling out going back and forth as the Seven try to learn who they can trust and who they cannot. Phereinon is of course concerned that whoever goes with her to Tregyn is someone who can pull their weight and not lose their nerve. Aela, OTOH, is naturally suspicious of someone who sometimes forgets to breathe. Plus she has a visceral reaction, thanks to years of being on the ugly end of bigotry. Her dander can be easily roused.

I am glad you noted that line about being born normal. I am sure many people - trans or not - have felt that way. It is not easy being different from everyone else in the world, and seeing your opportunities vanish because of it - while others seem to have everything just given to them because they look, or act, or speak, or think, how they are *supposed* to.



Chapter 8.5

Later that day, Venca took Alcheon under his wing, and began training the young Teodon in the use of shield and spear. Aela watched with fascination as the soldier began his instruction. She was not the only one whose interest was piqued either, and in no time at all nearly all of the passengers and several of the crew were crowding around to get a view of the Rasen's lessons.

"Let's take a look at this weapon combination." Venca began as he picked up Alcheon's crescent-shaped shield in his left hand. He slid his right hand over its bright yellow face, and held it up so all could see. "This shield looks very simple. Some thin planks of wood with a piece of rawhide stretched over it. A little yellow paint and red eyes to make an impression. But don't underestimate it. The crisscrossing strips of wood give the design strength, and this hardened leather on the face reinforces it. If any of you have a dog and give it rawhide to chew on, you know how tough that can be."

The Rasen rapped his fingers against the gleaming metal boss in the center of the shield. "The boss here where I grip it is made of bronze, so not only is that going to protect my hand, but I can punch with it as well." To underscore his words, the Rasen jabbed outward with the shield. "This is a very simple piece of kit, and aside from the boss, something that anyone can make. But in the hands of a skilled fighter, it gives you both a strong defense, and a good offense."

"Now the spear." Venca stepped over to Alcheon once more and took the weapon from the Teodon's hands. Its leaf-shaped point was now wrapped in several layers of thick leather, secured by crisscrossing strips of cord. "This looks even more primitive. It's just a stick with a pointy end! But don't laugh, this is one of the oldest weapons in the world, and the reason people still use it today is because of how effective and versatile it is. Not to mention how easy it is to make."

"Now with Hrafngoelir's help, I'm going to show you just what you can do with this arms system." The Skanjr stepped up holding a shorter spear in an overhand grip. Like Alcheon's weapon, its point was also blunted. In her other hand she gripped her shield, which was decorated with a white knotwork dragon against a blue background.

Moving slowly, the Northerner stabbed overhand at the Rasen's shoulder. He easily raised his shield and deflected the blow. She followed with several more stabs in slow motion, each time going to a different part of his body.

"Now since this shield doesn't cover my entire body, I have to constantly move it to counter Hrafn's attacks," Venca said as they performed their intricate dance. "But what you have to be careful not to do, is hide behind it."

To illustrate his point, Hrafngoelir attacked Venca's face. He raised his shield to counter, and deflected the Skanjr's blow. She brought her weapon back for another strike at his head, and he continued to hold his shield up high to counter.

"Every second I have my shield up like this, I can't see what Hrafn is doing," Venca said. Now the Skanjr's spear darted down, its point angling for his belly. The Northerner stopped short, with the blunted point inches away from the ebon plates sheathing the Rasen's abdomen. "Now I'm dead, because I let her trick me into covering my eyes."

"But an enemy who feints high and goes low is not the only thing you have to watch for," Venca went on. "If you don't lift your shield when you need to, that leaves you open to another common move: going over the top of the shield rim." Hrafngoelir attacked high again, and in slow motion, she used her height to stab over the top of the Rasen's shield.

"If she's quick, and I'm not paying attention, I'm dead," Venca said. Now he finally brought his own spear into play. He held it in an underhanded grip, with the point straight up. The Rasen swung it across his body from right to left, and twisted his torso with it. The wooden shaft of his weapon met the haft of Hrafngoelir's spear and swept it away.

"But as you can see, I can use my own spear to knock hers aside," he said. "Now I can drive her back."

Then with a backhand motion Venca swung his spear back from left to right in a wide arc, once more twisting his body with it. The weapon's leather-bound tip slashed for Hrafngoelir's head. The Skanjr was forced to step back to avoid being hit, leaving her too far away for her shorter weapon to reach Venca.

"As I am sure you begin to see, the real strength of this spear and shield is my reach," Venca shifted the spear to an overhand grip, and jabbed at Hrafngoelir several times. She used her round wooden shield to bat his spearhead away. But every time she tried to close in to attack herself, the point of his spear was there waiting for her.

"This spear is at least seven feet long," Venca said. "So even when I'm holding it with one hand in the center, I've got a good three and half feet of range. When I am fighting someone like Hrafngoelir - who has a shorter spear or a sword - I have the advantage as long as I can keep her at a distance."

"Now the Teodon raiders we are going to be fighting prefer to use a short spear, about five feet long, the same as she has," Venca went on. "Some of them fight with a buckler as well, but others use their spears two-handed. They like to get in close, where they can land a flurry of blows with that spear, using it like a staff."

"So why don't they use a longer spear?" Loria asked.

"Now that is a good question," Venca said, momentarily pointing his blunted spear to the wizard. "The answer is where they live. Most bandits in Kye Rim make their lairs in the wildest areas. Usually swamps and jungles, filled with dense undergrowth, where no one else wants to go. They spend as much time in the water as they do on land. So the simple answer is that a seven foot weapon like this is just going to get in their way. They need something that is small enough that they won't be snagging it on everything around them. I can tell just by looking at this spear, that Alcheon is from a place on the periphery of the rainforest, where the growth isn't as heavy. Probably the northern coast. Or from one of the big cities."

In the meantime Hrafngoelir stepped aside and handed her shield to Aela. The Arvern's fingers naturally fell around the crossbar behind its steel boss. It was heavier than she expected, and smelled of leather, oil, and sweat. Gazing down across the leather that faced the linden wood core, she briefly studied the white dragon emblazoned there. Painted in an intricate knotwork design, it reminded her of her own people's artworks. Both the dragon and the blue background it rose against were worn and faded, showing the nicks and abrasions of hard use.

Hrafngoelir gripped her spear with both hands now. Aela glanced back up in time to see her sweep it around her body in a noisy flourish. Then she walked back to face Venca once more.

"Now just like before, Hrafn's going to want to get in close with that spear," Venca said to the onlookers as she closed in. The Skanjr deftly used the shaft of her spear to knock aside a jab from Venca's own weapon. Stepping closer, she brought the butt of her spear forward, only to see it deflected by the Rasen's shield. Still closing the gap between them, Hrafngoelir countered by sweeping the head of the spear forward. Venca brought his shield up to block once more, and the Northerner came right up to his chest. Rather than pull her spear back, or swing it around for another blow, she pressed right against his shield with both hands on her weapon.

"See how quickly she closed the distance between us?" Venca said. "Now watch what she does." The Northerner moved a foot around behind one of Venca' ankles and shoved. The Rasen went down to the deck on his back, with the shield maiden right on top of him. She dropped her spear and pulled a single-edged Skanjr knife from her belt. Unlike most daggers, this one's back widened slightly outward to two-thirds of the distance up the blade. Then it tapered down and forward to meet the cutting edge in a narrow point. Holding the broken-back seax overhand like an icepick, she slowly jabbed down at the Rasen.

Then she stood up and put the dagger away, while Venca climbed to his feet behind her. "See how fast that happened?" Venca said. "We went from spear-fighting, to wrestling, to knife-fighting. When it's for real that will only take seconds. That's what the raiders will try to do. They'll push it in close and take away your range advantage. Then they'll wrestle with you, and cut your throat."

"So now you know what you are up against," Venca concluded. "Next we'll start going through it one at a time with everyone, and you can learn how to keep Hrafn at a distance, and stop her from killing you."

Alcheon was the first to step up and take his spear and shield from Venca. Hrafngoelir continued her role as the aggressor, once again taking her shield to defend with. As with the demonstration, all of this was done in slow motion, so that everyone could see what was happening.

"Hold your spear overhand, high above your head, just behind the balance point." Venca guided Alcheon to lift his spear in such a manner, with the point drooping down from where he balanced the long weapon in his hand. "Now when you thrust, you're going to be using gravity to bring the point down into your enemy's face. Thrust over the top of her shield, just like Hrafn did to me at the beginning."

"So it's like fighting downhill," Alcheon observed as he took a tentative jab at the Skanjr.

"Exactly," Venca nodded. "That is going to give you more speed and power, and take less effort. Always take every advantage you can. With that in mind take a small step with your left foot when you strike. That will close the distance, and prevent her from being able to step back out of range. Once you hit, step back again, and get out of her range once more. Remember, always keep her in range of your weapon, but stay out of range of hers."

Alcheon took that half-step forward and jabbed once more, stepping back again the moment his spear head struck Hrafngoelir's shield.

They continued doing so for long minutes, and gradually picked up the pace of the drill as Alcheon showed that he was comfortable with the movements. Then Hrafngoelir began to advance, and Venca instructed the Teodon to step back every time she moved forward to keep her at a distance, and to always drop his spear point in her face to stop her.

The other four Agrigentans followed one at a time. Some had greater success than others. Daehyun seemed skilled with the spear already, and Aela overheard him say that he sometimes went hunting with bow and spear in the marshes. Ranazu dove into the lessons with a zeal that was nearly frightening, and Aela wondered whose face he imagined staring back at him when he sparred with Hrafngoelir. Vesia was clearly unskilled with the weapon, but diligently followed along with the lessons anyway. Finally the old Teodon Hyunsu seemed to be almost afraid of the spear, and looked like he was ready to jump off the boat the first time that the Skanjr struck his shield.

Perhaps most of all Aela was amazed at how Venca, usually so surly and morose, seemed to come to life in the training sessions. It was as if the person he truly was on the inside was showing through. Perhaps he was so engrossed in what he was doing that he forgot to brood? In any case the training sessions became a staple of life aboard ship, with Venca leading Alcheon and the Agrigentans in lessons every morning, afternoon, and evening.


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Posted by: Acadian Oct 6 2018, 08:04 PM

A wonderful and easy to follow instruction period in spear & shield play. You bring to life the fact that Venca really knows what he’s doing when it comes to both close quarters combat as well as instructing it to others. You also show us that Hrafngoelir is no slouch either in this business.

The contrast the pair provides to the less knowledgeable/experienced Agrigentans is stark but I suspect the 'students' are in good hands. It was also fun to see that, in this arena, the magic duo of elf and witch were rather out of their element.

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 13 2018, 04:05 PM

Acadian: One of the things that really annoys me about movies that have a training sequence, is that there is never any actual teaching involved. It is typically just one person beating up another, and somehow they are supposed to learn that way. So I did a lot of research to put together both a demonstration, and some actual hands-on teaching.

Aela and Loria are totally out of their element here! You are right, in that it was nice to write this from Aela's pov precisely because it is all as new to hear as it is to the people being taught.



Chapter 9

Dark-Eye called a halt to their march, and Sindeok found a log to sit upon. His feet ached. This was the price of having spent so much of life riding an oro everywhere. His once fine silk leggings were splattered in mud, and his leather boots were completely encased within the goop. Worse, the bronze plates sewn into the front and sides of the footwear were likewise inundated.

He knew the armor would not rust like iron would. But the last thing he wanted was for the plates to turn green with verdigris, or worse bronze disease. A nangdo would be expelled from his company for being so lax and slothful with his equipment. He might be an outlaw now, but he had not forgotten his pride.

The black and white scaled Teodon pulled off his boots and began wiping them clean of muck. It was a thankless task. But it was one he had performed a thousand times back in the barracks in Hansando. Somehow simply going through the motions took his mind off recent events, and reminded him of better days. Days when he was still a man of honor, still a credit to his family.

When he was almost finished another bandit came sloshing through the mud nearby, splashing a thick spray of the muck all over Sindeok and his boots. The former nangdo recoiled, shielding his eyes from the mud. After wiping his face clean, he curled a lip at the offender, who merely laughed as he walked away.

"They are testing you."

Sindeok nearly jumped out of his scales at the sound of Dark-Eye's low voice. He had not heard the bandit leader come up behind him. Turning, he found that the red scaled Teodon gazed at the interloper's back.

"You had better do something, lest you be found wanting in their eyes."

Sindeok nodded. He was no stranger to hazing. His first week as a nangdo in the Celestial Gallery had been the worst week of his life. Or at least he had thought so at the time. But he had found that by enduring it, he had gained the respect of his comrades, and showed them that he was strong enough to be counted among them.

"How do I earn their respect?" Sindeok asked. He suspected that things in a raider camp - much less a cannibal band - would be much different from a hwarang barrack.

"You don't," Dark-Eye said plainly. "They have no respect. Not for me, not for anyone, least of all themselves. They only thing they understand is power, and fear."

"Then I should do something dramatic," Sindeok said. It was not a question, so much as a thought spoken aloud.

"And do it soon, or something dramatic will likely happen to you," Dark-Eye cautioned. The raider captain turned his single eye to the former nangdo's boots.

"Those do not help," he said. "It incites them. It makes them think you are insulting them. There are no pure bone aristocrats here. We are all mud-feet now."

With those final words, Dark-Eye walked away through the mud. Sindeok noted that he did so with bared feet. He knew that the bandit leader had once commanded the Celestial Gallery company. His bones were born as pure as his own. Yet he walked barefoot through the mud, the same as any peasant.

Sindeok looked around him. Everyone was barefoot. Everyone but him.

He looked down to his boots. He knew that he would never wear them again. But he still had one final use for them. Picking them up in one hand, he rose to his feet and strode through the mud. He was surprised to find it was much easier than with the boots on. The webbing between his three front toes found more purchase in the muck, and allowed him to almost swim through it. It felt strange. But then lately so did many things.

He found the Teodon who had splashed him with mud. The offender's scales were dark brown, fading to a softer shade of the same color on his underside. He wore a bronze heart-guard disc over his chest, and a few belts to hold his gear. A spear tipped with a bronze head was nestled against his shoulder, and a long knife slung at his waist.

Sindeok ignored the other Teodon around the offender, and focused upon Brown-Scales. Lifting his boots in one hand, he flung them at the Teodon's back. They connected with a pair of loud thumps, plastering the bandit's scales with mud.

"Lick them clean you eggless bastard," Sindeok snarled.

Brown-Scales staggered forward, and rose to his feet with his spear in both hands. Sindeok's single-edged sword sang from its sheath. He brought it up with the point forward, and ring-shaped pommel at eye level. He waited calmly while the bandit spat and hissed at him. That might have frightened a peasant, but not a trained nangdo such as himself.

Sindeok moved closer, daring Brown-Scales to strike. The raider took the bait, thrusting his spear directly at Sindeok's face. By reflex he raised his sword blade just enough to meet the shaft of the bandit's spear. That lifted it up and to his right, and pushed Brown-Scales' weapon off line.

Sindeok simply had to flick his wrist to continue the motion. That spun the long, straight blade from right to left around his head. Before the bandit could bring his spear back to guard, the former nangdo's sword fell in a diagonal cut. Scales and bone parted as easily as rice paper beneath the blow. Brown-Scales' body fell to one side, and half of his head to the other.

Sindeok stepped back casually, but kept his eyes on the bandit's maimed body. Instant kills were rare. Even a mortally wounded enemy could still strike back to take his slayer with him to the grave. But Brown-Scales did not move, and Sindeok could pick out the convolutions on the surface of his bisected brain in the muck.

Now he took the measure of the other bandits. Some gaped openly. Others stared with hard, cold eyes, like sharks recognizing another predator in the water. Dark-Eye simply nodded when Sindeok met his gaze. It was a simple motion, but it conveyed much. Their leader had given his blessing to the killing.

Even as his bare toes sank into the mud, Sindeok felt that he was now on much firmer ground than before.



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Posted by: Renee Oct 14 2018, 06:42 PM

The magic tutorial had me fascinated, that was awesome, especially since she's teaching somebody who probably swears by weapons. As long as I've played RPGs, nobody has really ever explained it in such a way. Maybe in the tablegames I played long ago, but if so, that was long ago. And it wouldn't have been told in context of a story.

I seem to remember Simplicia the Slow taught Teresa her first magic, yes?

Posted by: Acadian Oct 18 2018, 09:20 PM

A neat interlude from the Seven’s water journey. Sindeok makes much progress within his new and ruthless bandit gang. Dark Eye recommended something dramatic to demonstrate power and instill fear. Sindeok delivered in full measure!

I like also how you have the bandits barefoot – given the muck they live in and the nature of Teodonic feet, it makes perfect sense.

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 20 2018, 04:17 PM

Renee: The Shadowrun and Earthdawn rpgs were excellent at explaining magic, and making it an integral part of the world. No surprise there, since they had real life Witches like Steve Kenson on the writing staff. I of course drew upon my own experience as a Witch, and integrated that into the fictional world I created for Seven Reimagined. Check out https://www.amazon.com/dp/B002AS9S80/. It is an outstanding book to introduce one to magic and Witchcraft.

Simplicia the Slow raised Teresa. But it was Raminus Polus who taught Teresa her first spells. It was in a flashback chapter from her childhood, when she also first met Methredhel and Adanrel.


Acadian: I am enjoying writing Sindeok. He provides an excellent view into life as a raider. Since he is just as new to the outlaw life, that allows the reader to learn about it at the same pace he does. Of course being a former hwarang, he is killing machine of an order much higher than the other bandits. So long as he can adapt to a new life without honor or ethics, he will do well.

I liked what I was able to do with the barefoot nature of most of Teodon society, and how like their scales coloration, it is a means of denoting peasant from noble. Peasants have muddy feet, nobles are clean - above the common work of the earth.



I updated the first post with some examples of the scale coloration of some of the Teodon characters. They are from various dinosaurs, so they are not actual physical representations of the characters (Dark Eye is not an Allosaur!), just how their colors would look.




Chapter 10.1

Aela found that four days after leaving Veia, their ship finally came into port. The sun was at its zenith when the cog tied up at one of Telsin's stone quays. Loria led the way down the plank and onto the wharf. Like Aela, he was familiar with the seaside town. It was where they had boarded the hulk that had taken them to Veia just over a week before.

Situated at the mouth of the Nakdeok River, the small town marked the border between Kye Rim and the Stone Forest. The latter was nominally claimed by Veia. Not that any state in its right mind would waste its resources fighting over the rocky badlands. Surrounded by a stone wall, the brick buildings of the community were white-washed in the Rasen style, and roofed with red-glazed tiles.

Telsin sat upon the western shoreline of the river. A long stone quay jutted out into the water from the northern edge of the town. It was to this landing that their cog tied itself up, alongside other sea-going vessels. A wooden dock stretched the length of the shore to the south, and ended at another stone quay that bisected the river. The sheltered harbor cradled between the two piers was filled with small boats of many varieties, from sea-going dories to tiny one-man coracles.

Farther inland rose a line of warehouses and occasional ale-shops. Beyond them rose the small one and two story shops and homes of the town's inhabitants. Aela knew from experience that a single, cobblestoned road ran from the docks directly to the western gate of the town, the only other point of egress.

But Loria did not take them deeper into the city. Instead he led the group along the timber docks, to the southernmost stone quay. Situated farther up the river, this landing hosted a slew of small, flat-bottomed river boats. Among these the elf found a vessel willing to take them aboard.

The Nakdeok Queen was a curious affair. To begin with, she had not been tied up with her side to the dock as most vessels were wont to do. Instead her stern had been nestled against the quay, allowing horses and wagons to trundle directly on board and roll straight down the boat to the prow. Indeed, several teams of horses and saurians had already done so. The bow was not the usual narrow point that most boats possessed either. Instead it was flat, just as the stern. In fact, the entire vessel was rectangular in shape, with gently rounded corners. Either end appeared capable of functioning as bow or stern. She was long enough to accommodate three wagons from end to end, and two such conveyances side to side. Even after that there was still plenty of room for passengers on foot.

The most unusual thing about the Nakdeok Queen was the matter of her propulsion however. Rather than bearing sails or oars, Aela saw that she was driven by hadrosaurs. Not dragging her by tethers from the shore, but upon the boat itself!

At either side of the vessel a massive saurian stood in a stall that was cut through the deck, each pointed in opposite directions. Each hadrosaur sported a bony crest that began at the tip of its nose, and ran all the way back along the top of its skull. From there it jutted out from behind its head at an angle like a single, short horn. Otherwise they were just as large as a crumhead, and easily the mass of two draft horses.

The Teodon seemed quite familiar with the breed, and Aela heard Daehyun refer to them as spirecrowns. Hranfgoelir laughed that they should be kept away from bulls, lest they grow jealous of the other animals' two horns.

The Arvern Witch could see that once the spirecrowns began to tromp along, their feet would turn what appeared to be a disc hidden underneath the planks of the main deck. Because of this the enormous animals would remain walking in place as it spun beneath them. Aela imagined that there was other machinery hidden below the deck as well. Somehow it must cause the low waterwheels at either side of the ship to spin. Their wooden slats would in turn push the vessel forward or backward through the river. It was a very complex design, and Aela admired the engineering ability evidenced in its creation.

A canvas awning rose above the spirecrowns to give them shade, and Aela noted postholes spaced along the boat that would allow more tenting to be erected if need be. Aela saw no signs of there being a hold or lower levels. So far as she could tell the boat had only the single open deck, and either possessed a flat bottom or one with a very shallow draft.

Her captain was a Sea Elf named Hesari. Like all those of the Silisce race, his skin was the blue of a calm sea. Otherwise he looked much like a Silaine elf, with a similar willowy frame and graceful features. He was clad in a blue linen tunic that was open down much of its length, showing off the artistically-sculpted muscles of his chest. His long legs were bare, and likewise revealed wiry muscle. Finally he wore a simple pair of leather sandals upon his feet.

Aela found an open place near one of the waterwheels and sat down. She leaned back against the wooden awning that covered the wheels. The Arvern watched the brown water of the Nakdeok slide by as it fell behind the boat. The turning wheel churned up the otherwise peaceful water, and left a foaming wake behind the boat, marking a trail where it had passed.

Aela felt magic down beneath the water. She closed her meat eyes, and instead opened herself fully to the aether. Allowing her senses to sink below the waves, she was greeted by the powerful scent of an undine. As they cast off from the dock, the water spirit reversed the flow of the river around the boat, so that even though they traveled upstream, they were no longer pushing against the current. Just as with the hulk that had transported them to Veia the week before, The Nakdeok Queen still had to propel herself through the water. Hence the spirecrowns and waterwheels. But the intervention of the spirit insured that the boat would do so far quicker and easier than otherwise.

Aela traced a slender thread of magic from the undine to the boat, and found that it led to the captain. As the Skanjr said, wherever there is an alfar, magic is not far behind. Granted, they did not mean it in a flattering manner. But it was true more often than not. Given the Sea Elves' famous reputation for ruling the waves, Aela would have expected no less.

Still, the journey up the winding course of the Nakdeok River was a long one, even with Captain Hesari's conjured assistance. In spite of it being the edge of the Kye Rim, they came across numerous settlements as they traveled. Every few miles there seemed to be another farming and fishing settlement. All were fortified with strong timber walls, ditches, and moats of course. She doubted that anyone out here had seen a Rasen oathman or Teodon hwarang in years.

A glance to the west reminded her of the Dark Barrow that she and Loria had cleared such a short time ago, with the help of the Frisverd. It lay many miles in that direction, beyond the rainforest, and deep within the strange karst landscape of the Stone Forest. It seemed as if they were retracing their steps, for after the battle, they had taken this same river back to the coast, and from there boarded ship for Veia.

Everything happened in cycles, Aela thought. She had just not expected this particular one to turn so quickly!



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Posted by: Acadian Oct 21 2018, 07:46 PM

A fascinating look at this river ferry that blends much familiar in using draft animals to propel its waterwheels – but with a nice twist of using animals well suited to this part of Aela’s world. Her unknowing but observant descriptions were perfect – I felt I was ‘discovering’ this wondrous ferry as much as she was. Aela’s perceptions moved very much into her arena once the ferry got underway. Indeed, only she could ascertain and trace the undine assist.

I’m ever so much enjoying this story!

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 27 2018, 05:07 PM

Acadian: I was originally going to use horses on the ferryboat, as in the original Seven. But then I remembered that we are now journeying into Kye Rim, so I changed them to hadrosaurs to keep with the mysterious setting of the lizard peoples.

I very much enjoy writing a character with a magician's perspective, who sees things beyond just the ordinary, physical world. It adds more layers to the story, and their way of looking at the world.




Chapter 10.2

Captain Hesari stopped at many of the villages they came across. Their inhabitants all seemed to know him. Sometimes he bought supplies from the inhabitants, other times he sold them things, and often he even carried letters between them. Passengers left at some stops, only to be replaced by new travelers who boarded at other places. It seemed there was always something happening on the Queen.

There was plenty to see within the jungle between settlements as well. Wild hadrosaurs and theropods of all sizes congregated around the river. Of the two-legged saurians, some were as small as house cats, while others such as wild oros rose to height of horses. Aela noted that many of the smaller breeds bore feathers over parts - and sometimes all of - their bodies.

Of the hadrosaurs, some were as small as the fifteen foot long spirecrowns on the Nakdeok Queen. But most were far larger, many of whom stretched nearly three times as long, and rose over twice the height of a human. All had the same ornithopod body type however, with massive hind legs and more slender forelimbs. They all likewise bore the thick, stiff tail that thrust out straight into the air behind them, and finally the wide, almost duck-like bill of their mouths.

But these other breeds had many different forms to their head crests. Some bore tall, sail-like frills that ran evenly along the top of their skulls. Others had a fan-shaped crest that began small, then rose up dramatically behind their heads, only to veer steeply down again. Others had irregular frills and bony plates. Finally some bore no head ornamentation at all.

"The cattle of Kye Rim," Alcheon followed her gaze. "You will find them near all the rivers and streams."

"They like to swim?" Aela wondered.

"No," the young Teodon shook his head, "they just like the edges of rivers for drinking. They get out in the open fields too though. They can eat just about anything, grass or low leaves."

"Their feet are good in water," Hyunsu added. "Your horses with their hooves would never last in our rice paddies. It's too wet for them. But the hadrosaurs do just fine in the mud."

"The hadros thrive in almost all environments." Phereinon's voice rang out from farther back on the boat. Aela turned, and saw that she was sitting cross-legged with a book spread out before her. It was not the oversized folio containing sketches of ancient Tregyn that Aela had seen her studying before. Rather this was a smaller- journal-sized book. As Aela watched, she noted that the white-haired warrior was making notations within in.

"You can even find them along some of Rase's waterways." Phereinon continued to write in her book. "The Rasen have discovered that they can haul much heavier loads than even the strongest draft horse. They are prized for hauling barges along canals. They are really only limited by their food intake, which can be quite substantial. It takes a rich land to support them. For example, the Silmar use smaller ones like the spirecrowns and crumheads on the plains of Glastal. But the steppe there is just too arid and vegetation too sparse for the larger breeds, like the maias or hatchetheads."

"We have plenty of them back home in Hiakwia," Dhasan added from behind them. "Both big and small. I never smelled a horse until I came to Aulerci."

"Their smaller, two-legged thero cousins like the oros are even wider-spread." Now the scarred swordswoman did raise her head to look at Aela and the Teodon. "The oros are smaller, so require less food, and adapt easier to difficult climates. Members of their genos can be found all across Glastal - from the deserts of Tiwanku, and all across the steppes farther south. They live in the rainforest to the north, and up through the temperate forests and prairies of Hiakwia. The frozen north is the only place they cannot survive - there in Hiakwia, or over here in Skanlond. The Sea Elves have even brought them and the hadros to their islands in the Inner Sea "

"You seem to know a great deal about them," Aela thought aloud.

"I have studied life in my time upon this Earth." The ghostly pale woman turned back down to her book, and began writing again.

The Arvern stepped closer, and noted that a small insect crawled aimlessly across Phereinon's open journal. There sketched out upon the same open page was a large diagram of the same creature, with every detail of its form recreated in painstaking detail. It was not a work of art. There was nothing imaginative or aesthetically appealing to it at all. Rather it was a precise and analytical illustration. In fact, it looked just like those she had seen in her anatomy books in school. Except the specimen here was a bug rather than one of the manaborn.

"You are a naturalist then?" Aela said.

"Yes, when time allows." The insect came dangerously close to leaping from the page. With one hand Phereinon gently nudged it back toward the center. Aela saw it was some sort of beetle, with a bright orange design seemingly painted across its shell.

"This is a Tropical Milkweed Leaf Beetle," Phereinon continued. "It has a temperate cousin that lives north in Rase. This particular eidos is interesting, because I have observed that they guard their larvae from predators."

"Don't you have better things to do than draw insects?" Hyunsu spoke with the same bewilderment that Aela had to admit that she felt. "I have smacked thousands on my scales, and found nothing worthy of note in them."

"Ah… he means that a farmer's mind is preoccupied with his work," Alcheon interceded diplomatically. "Planting, harvesting, husking, digging paddies, shoring up the bunds to keep the fields intact, adding water, removing water, the work never ends."

"Farm work is hard work," Phereinon looked up from her illustration to the young Teodon. "From before the sun rises to after it sets. There is little time for dreams on a farm, and no time to make them real."

"I have dreamed much." Phereinon looked to the aging Hyunsu. His green and brown scales seemed so faded and worn compared to Alcheon's lustrous skin. "My dreams have murdered millions, and left this world scarred. So now I seek value in life, that rare spark that so quickly fades. Someday I might be the only one to remember it ever existed."

Phereinon looked away, across the river to the thick rainforest beyond. Then she turned her ghostly face back to stare at Aela.

"I will remember you all," she insisted.

Aela felt a chill creep through her bones, in spite of the bright sun overhead, and the thick humid air around her. The Arvern felt as if someone had walked over her grave. Perhaps someone had?

After that the white-haired woman turned back to her beetle. But the cold feeling persisted within the Witch's skin. She drifted away from the swordswoman, and found herself on the other side of the boat. Dhasan almost bumped into her when she stopped.

"That one's scent is all wrong," the vulpine warrior said in a low tone, nearly a whisper. He gave a brief nod to indicate Phereinon. "I do not like it."

"Why?" Aela whispered back, careful not to turn her head back toward the icy mystery woman.

"She has no smell," Dhasan declared. "No real one at least."

"That's bad?" Aela wondered aloud. "So she bathes…"

"No, that is not what I mean," Dhasan explained. "I can smell the natural odors of your body, of your sweat, of the pomegranate oil you put in your hair, of the vanilla you put on your skin. I smell the oregano and parmesan from the olive oil you dipped your bread in for lunch. But she has no body odor. She does not sweat. She is nothing but oil and leather, and… death."

"Death?"

"Yes," Dhasan breathed. "I was not sure of it at first. It is so... empty. All living things give off odors from their bodies. But she does not. It is as if there is nothing alive there to make a scent."

Aela thought over that for the rest of the day, and added it to the store of strange things she had already noticed about Phereinon. It all pointed in one direction. A direction Aela did not much like.

Aela was silent during their dinner of fried fish, still pondering this. They spent the first night tied up at the safety of a village's dock. She did not speak to Dhasan about it again, nor with Loria. Though she could tell the Light Elf suspected something as well, from the carefully disinterested glances he sometimes sent Phereinon's way, when the white-haired woman was not looking.


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Posted by: Acadian Oct 28 2018, 07:39 PM

A richly detailed study of life along the river. Trading with villages and a wonderful look at the fauna.

Phereinon is absolutely the most mysterious of the group. On one hand, it is clear she has a very different perception of time and life. She also emits an ominous aura (even if odorless). On the other hand, there is something in her that speaks of an inherent. . . goodness – at least some form of goodness. Her almost loving attention and knowledge of animals. Her rather tactful exchange with the young farmer confirming her recognition of the work involved with his profession. Not killing her assailants during that fight back in town despite her clear ability to do so. Yep, White Hair’s fascinating indeed.


Nit? ’There sketched out upon the same open page was a large diagram of the same creature, with every detail of its form recreated in pain-staking detail.’ - - I’d recommend respelling the word to painstaking. But if you feel a hyphen is necessary, remember that she is taking pains, not staking pain.

Posted by: Renee Oct 29 2018, 03:14 PM

Thanks! I'll see if our local Borders has this one. Oops, Barnes & Nobles. I studied witchcraft way back in my teenage years but never really got the hang of it. I'm too much of a surburbanite, I think. Got much more into astrology, meditation and (as you know) tarot cards.



Oops, I was close though. At least I remember Simplicia factored deeply into her background (My memory is not very good).




Nice. And they're all barefoot, why is this? This scene reminded me of one of Darkness Eternal's stories from several years ago, in which a bunch of Morrowind slaves began having a food-fight or something.

I used to know a kid who was really good with ken-do by the way. This was back in high school. We'd watch a bunch of other kids (like four or five of them) grab large sticks out of the woods, and they'd ALL go up against the teenage ken-do master, but the master was really fast! Within seconds, there'd be four or five kids running away, only one left standing.

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 3 2018, 04:30 PM

Acadian: I could have just said "they sailed down the river", but instead I saw this as a golden opportunity to do some character development and world-building. So I am lavishing several installments on the flora and fauna of Kye Rim, and using the time spent traveling to get to know the Seven.

I was also thinking that Phereinon is easily the most mysterious of all the Seven. Venca is a mystery because his past is a blank slate. But because of that, there is not much to truly reveal about him. He is an onion with only one peel. At least until we get much later into his story (which would not be in Seven). Phereinon OTOH, is plainly more than she appears. There is the mystery of what she is, and that of who she is and where she has been. I am having fun peeling back one layer at a time through Aela's eyes.

No more pains staked out like vampires!



Renee: The Teodon and their footwear is something I have explored in previous parts of the story as well. Peasants are not allowed to wear boots or shoes (this is like laws in England where only nobles were allowed to wear velvet or silk, or how only the Roman Emperor could wear purple). Instead they go barefoot. High born Teodon like Sindeok and the other hwarang all have footwear. They literally do not get their feet dirty. I got the original idea from how in Ancient Greece helots and slaves were called 'dusty feet', because they spent all their lives toiling in the dirt.




Chapter 10.3

The next day went on much like the first. Venca and Hrafngoelir continued to provide both instruction and entertainment with their spear-fighting lessons. Phereinon was one of the few passengers on the boat to ignore them. Instead she continued her studies of seemingly insignificant forms of life, such as birds and lizards.

Aela herself took advantage of the spectacle of spear training to break away from the others and find some quiet time at the far end of the boat. It had been far too long since she had worked on her aura - and thus on her body. She may have had all a woman's parts for years. But she still lacked the ideal proportions in many areas of her body.

She sat and stared at her hands. They were too big for a woman's hands, fingers too long, palms too wide. They were man-hands, as she sometimes heard. It was time that changed.

Aela slipped the bonds of the flesh and blood world, and rose into the aether. Her aura was bright and strong all around her, glowing with power. She sent her consciousness into that brilliant display, and felt herself encompassed by warmth. She even imagined that she heard the sound of her heart beating, a slow yet thundering drum, along with the warm winds of air flowing to and from her lungs.

The fibers of energy that made up every facet of her body felt strong and supple in Aela's metaphorical hands. The closer she looked, the more complex the tapestry they wove became. Numerous threads wove in and out of one another in a tangle far more complex than any of her countrymen's knotwork art designs.

Aela recalled that when she had first tried to study her aura in detail, it had all seemed so overwhelming. Now, as then, Turtle showed her the way. She took her journey through her own aura one step at a time. One thread at a time. Just like a turtle walking across a meadow. She would reach her goal in the end. She always did.

She followed thread after thread of power, and finally came to those of her hands. Years of study and experience at the Ingenium's hospital had taught her to easily identify which of the numerous strands of energy governed her muscles, which her tendons, her bones, her skin, her nails, her blood vessels, her nerves, and so on. Most people probably never imagined how many separate systems had to work in perfect concert to perform an act as simple as making a fist. Aela saw them all here, enveloping her consciousness.

So she took the strands of power that shaped her flesh and bone, and went to work. Auras were abiding, not easily altered. They were meant to last after all. Yet they were not utterly immutable. They did change naturally over time. As a mountain was slowly shaped by wind and water, an aura was slowly changed through the natural process of living.

It took energy to pare, and snip, and shorten the filaments of flesh and bone, of blood vessels and nerves. Yet that was the easy part. The difficult part was making those changes permanent. An aura wanted to snap back into its original design. That is what made healing so easy. Aela almost snorted at the thought. Yet the truth was that stitching together arteries and bones with nothing but mana and will was child's play compared to what she now undertook. This felt like she was trying to bend iron with her bare hands.

But what was mere iron compared to magic? Aela willed her reality to change. The mana she now expended was prodigious. More than defending the Frisverd in the Dark Barrow. More than any act of healing. Her power became a forge, her aura the iron, and her will the hammer that shaped it.

So she hammered away at her aura. Not blindly, or even brutally. But with the skill and precision of a master jeweler. She had to be that careful, lest she go too far and literally break one or more of the threads of her aura. Then she might end up maimed, or worse.

She did not know how long she spent there, laboring in the forge of transformation. She did know that she was exhausted by the time she had finished. Her body was covered in sweat, and her hair hung down like wet a mop behind her head. She was thankful for the braids Hrafngoelir had put in, otherwise that sweaty mess probably would have been plastered across her face as well.

She looked around to find that the sun was fading in the west, burning bright and red like a giant torch above the horizon. Loria sat beside her, his cards laid out on the deck before them. He had been playing a game of patience. He took the time to coolly lay down one final card before turning to look at her.

"So how went it?" he asked softly.

"Let us see," Aela breathed. She lifted one hand before her palm flattened outward. The Light Elf raised his own to meet hers. His soft skin pressed against hers, and Aela noted that her fingers were notably shorter than his now, and her palm plainly narrower. Her man-hands were gone. Now they appeared as normal - and evenly proportioned - as any woman's.

"Magic is the quite literally the ability to reshape the world." Her own words to Alcheon a few days before came back to her. "To make reality how you will it to be."

Aela could not restrain the grin that blossomed from her features. Loria wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed gently. Then she hugged him, sweat and all.

"Did I ever tell you that you are amazing?" he murmured. "Almost as amazing as I am!"

Posted by: Acadian Nov 4 2018, 08:28 PM

What a wonderful episode as Aela addresses the man hands that have bothered her for a long time. I love how you described her ability to actually change her body. How the body’s desire to resist change makes healing easier but Aela’s current task much harder makes perfect sense.

Success - as she reveals her pretty little girly hands to Loria! Scenes like the end of this episode make it clear why Aela loves her dear elven friend.


Nit: ’That is what made healing so easy. Aela almost snorted at the that thought.’ - - Looks like one of the two underlined words is a spare remnant of the editing process.

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 10 2018, 03:31 PM

Acadian: I wanted Aela's sex change to be more involved that just waving a wand and saying a magic word. Like anything important in life, I wanted her to work for it. It was also a great opportunity to show one of the ways that magic works in the world, and how it literally reshapes reality in accordance with your will. that is why Camna was so impressed with her. Aela is using magic for how it is ultimately meant, rather than just to sell cheap trinkets to make money. Likewise, that scene also adds more to how aura's work, without it being an infodump.


The that was indeed a fragment of previous edits. Thanks for catching it.




Chapter 10.4

The Nakdeok Queen spent the night pulled up to a clear stretch of shoreline, and the travelers rolled out their sleeping mats on the deck. It was not the comfortable bed Aela had left behind in Veia. The deck was hard, and the air was hot and humid. But the Arvern could still not stop from smiling as she stared at the stars overhead.

The next day they continued their way up the meandering Nakdeok. By now Alcheon had more than proved his worth as a river man, often diving into the muddy brown waters, only to return with a fish clutched in his bare hands. While some might have been doubtful of his fighting ability, all of their stomachs were thankful for the Teodon's presence.

They came across an area where the edges of the river rose up in steep banks of clay. Great flocks of colorful parrots and macaws clouded around the almost sheer surfaces. They darted in and around one another, in a great seething mass. Somehow they avoided colliding. In fact, they seemed to move in a strange sort of unison. Watching them reminded Aela of a rolling and undulating wave, which became almost hypnotic after a while.

"Are they eating the dirt?" Hrafngoelir wondered. Aela looked again, and saw that the Skanjr had been correct. The birds were indeed nibbling upon the earth of the high riverbank.

"Many of the seeds the birds eat are toxic to them," Phereinon explained. "The poisons bind to the minerals in the clay in their stomachs. Then in turn they are safely expelled when the animals… expel."

"How do they know to do that?" Hrafngoelir asked.

"Most populations produce more offspring than their environments can support. So there is always a steady rate of attrition." Phereinon explained. "The first bird to eat the clay gained an advantage over those who did not learn to expel the toxins from their systems. It lived longer, it bore more offspring. At least some of its young learned to do the same. Perhaps this was simply by observing the parent, even if not actively being taught. They in turn lived longer than other birds, and produced still more offspring. In time all the parrots and macaws either adapted, or were replaced by those who had the advantage over them."

"So you subscribe to the ideas of Epicura, from On The Nature Of Things." Loria observed. "That only the most functional lifeforms survive."

"I have seen it with my own eyes," Phereinon contended. "Life is always competing with life. Even the trees in the forest around us fight for sunlight. Only the winner survives."

"What of the Principle of Plentitude?" Loria debated.

"That when the amhranai sang to their sleeping mother Domhan, they created all the plants and animals that were imaginable, because the world would be incomplete without them?" Phereinon said. "That may be. I was not there to see it. But plants and animals do change. Even the manaborn deliberately change them, to suit their needs. Look at the Maelanu breed of horses. They did not exist a thousand years ago. The Arvern bred them from other lineages to create an eidos that is better suited to riding."

"I do not contest that we intelligent races intentionally alter other creatures," Loria said. "We certainly select them to succeed or fail to fit our needs. But do you really think that nature does so by accident? Do the gods play dice with the Earth?"

"It may seem accidental when you look at from a short term perspective," Phereinon said, "in timelines of only millennia. But when you view it over tens of millennia, or hundreds of them, chance becomes certainty. Random become inevitable. Nature's process of selection only moves slower than that of kith. But it does move just as decisively."

"Hundreds of millennia?" Hrafngoelir balked. "That is before even the First Age! The world is not so old."

"I suspect the world is far older than any of us might imagine," Phereinon contended.

"You radical!" Loria grinned. "Even I would not say anything so heretical. At least not out loud."

"But then how could history only go back so shortly," Hrafngoelir argued. "We are only five thousand years into the Third Age. And the Second Age was what, another four or five thousand years long? What was the First Age then, a million years?"

"Perhaps more," Phereinon said. "Perhaps much more. Our idea of history may be only a tiny chapter of our world's story."

"But what of the gods then?" Loria wondered. "What were they doing all that time? And what were people doing? Surely there would be more signs of ancient cities, monuments, roads, and the like."

"Maybe there were no people." Phereinon waved a hand out toward the clay riverbank and the birds clustered there. "Maybe it was all like this, growing, maturing, evolving, into what it is today."

"So maybe creation took longer than a song, but a million years?" Hrafngoelir wondered. "You have some wild ideas my friend."

"The idea of a boat was unheard of once," Phereinon contended. "Yet here we are."

"Since you believe in creatures evolving over time, surely you agree with Gwenael of Alalia's theory of mythic evolution?" Loria asked.

"The physical characteristics of the manaborn races certainly evolve to reflect their own self-image." Phereinon insisted. "Over time - a very short time - mythic values become physiological traits. The Silmar on the steppes of Glastal are a prime example. They did not exist in the Second Age. They evolved from Dark Elves who survived the Great War."

Aela shook her head and pulled Hrafngoelir away while the two talked natural and magical philosophy. Loria could talk about books all day long. When he found the time to read them, she had no idea. Personally, she would rather read a fiction about interesting and relatable people and their successes and failures, rather than dry and dusty philosophy and history.

Still, at least someone was drawing Phereinon out into a social activity. The corpse-pale swordswoman was usually even more distant and remote than Valens. He was merely gloomy and surly! Aela wondered if perhaps that had been Loria's intent with the discussion all along?

Posted by: Acadian Nov 10 2018, 07:37 PM

Nicely done!

You painted a nice feel for life on the river. Heat, humidity, Alcheon's fishing skill and, especially that fascinating scene of the jungle birds eating bits of clay.

Some evolutionary theory mixed in with more character study of Phereinon, Loria and even Aela. Somehow I got the feeling from Phereinon that what she refers to time before history, she has the first-hand creds to back it up. . . .

I love Aela’s pondering near the end of this episode as to whether Loria’s motivation had been academic curiosity or to draw out Phereinon some. I suspect the answer is both.

’Personally, she would rather read a fiction about interesting and relatable people and their successes and failures, rather than dry and dusty philosophy and history.’ - - Heh, I’m with Aela here.

Posted by: Renee Nov 12 2018, 06:06 PM

Whoa. *shivers*

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 17 2018, 05:15 PM

Acadian: I think I learned the part about the birds eating clay from a documentary called Wild China. I get a lot of ideas for the setting from nature documentaries like that.

Phereinon is not quite old enough to remember time before history. She's merely 5,000 years old. Just a drop in the bucket really. But she has had time to watch, and think, and ponder how the world works. Many of the books and authors I referred to in that part about evolution were taken from Ancient History. The Ancient Greeks were thinking about evolution even back in their day. Darwin was only really special because he spent years traveling and amassing a body of evidence to back it up.




Renee: That was just one more hint about Phereinon's true nature. That will eventually be coming to a head, because the other six mercenaries are all smart and perceptive people.


Chapter 10.5

The settlements thinned out as they penetrated deeper into the rainforest. Soon they found that Captain Hesari gave a wide berth to several camps that they passed along the watercourse. Their inhabitants were a mix of humans and Teodon, and all looked dirty, rough, and exceedingly well-armed.

"Bandits," the Silisce explained to Aela when she asked after the second such occurrence. "These backwoods are infested with outlaws and worse. Some will trade for goods and news. Some will cut your throat as soon as look at you."

In one stretch of river the captain even eschewed their usual break to rest the spirecrowns. Instead he continued on, using spells to restore the flagging stamina of the draft animals. He warned them all to be wary of strangers, and not to let anyone on the boat, even if they found them in the water.

"Why?" Hrafngoelir asked. "What is wrong?"

"Necromancers," the Sea Elf explained. He pointed to a scattering of cave mouths yawning within the bluffs to the west. "Those are Black Bog Caves. Some captains will trade with them. But I'll not have any part of such blackguards."

Aela felt a shiver run along her spine, and she could swear that her breath came out in cloud of frost. A feeling of emptiness came over her, like she was standing in a graveyard that went on forever.

She turned, and saw that Phereinon's eyes literally glowed silver-white, like twin stars shining from her skull. She had produced her sword from the aether, and gripped the long weapon in one hand. Now that Aela was closer to it, she noted that its narrow fuller began at the hilt and ran three quarters of the blade. A hand-span of the blade just above the crossguard was dulled, and Aela imagined that would allow its wielder to safely grasp it there, if they wanted to choke up on their hold of the weapon. This ricasso was etched with the design of an owl, wings outstretched and claws forward, as if it was about to snatch up its prey.

Aela knew that the Rasen believed the owl was a symbol of wisdom. It was often featured in sculpture and artwork within the Ingenium. But that was not the feeling that this inscription created within her. Instead Aela was reminded of the Asokar, who viewed the owl as the messenger of the White Bone Mother. To hear its cry was to know death was near, for they guided the souls of the dead to her in the underworld.

Phereinon's eyes burned at the caves, like such an owl sizing up a lost soul. Aela half-expected her to leap from the boat and race up the cliffs to assault them.

Without really thinking, Aela aesensed the swordswoman. As ever, her aura was bright and strong, that of someone magically adept, but otherwise ordinary. Aela knew it was a mask, but she could still not pierce the disguise. The sword in her hand however, was an entirely different story.

It screeched the name Malediction to her, like a great night bird. Aela felt her heart sink into a yawning black abyss as her perception roved over it. She was reminded of how she felt when she was only a child, and Duty - one of the family dogs - had died. Duty, who had slept in the same bed as her for as long as she could remember. She felt that same wrenching emptiness that had haunted her after his death, that same desperate frustration at the unfairness of it all. She felt cursed, cold, alone, and angry at the unfairness of it all.

The caves fell out of sight, and with a silvery glow, the sword vanished from Phereinon's hand. With it went that terrible feeling of loss and loneliness. Watching in the aether, Aela saw the threads of the weapon's aura likewise fade into nothingness. She imagined that they fell into the weave of the swordswoman's aura. But Aela could sense nothing beyond the carefully maintained facade that Phereinon maintained in the aether.

Clearly, she did not much like necromancers.

Soon they passed another set of caverns on the opposite side of the river, which the captain identified as The Lightless Pit.

"That one has vampires," he said. "I've seen them fighting the necromancers by the river's edge."

Aela looked to see if Phereinon reacted once more. But the white swordswoman made no sign of interest. Aela did see Loria taking mental notes however, weighing the danger versus the possible profit. The Arvern Witch had to admit that she was doing the same herself. Perhaps when their quest for the Agrigentans was finished, they might revisit some of these caves?

In time the Nakdeok turned west, and they came to a stop at the bend of the river. Here stood the ruins of an old Rasen castle. Only the crumbling stones of the outer walls remained, and even half of those were missing, with the gaps filled in by wooden timbers. Sweet wood smoke curled up from within, and a mixture of humans and Teodon could be seen standing guard at the single entrance, as well as around the rest of the site. A wooden pier stretched out into the river from the ersatz fortress, and it was here that Captain Hesari docked The Nakdeok Queen head on.

"This is the end of the line for you," the Sea Elf declared. "Welcome to Castle Blackwater. From here the river turns into the Stone Forest."

"Aye," Daehyun said. "I have been here many times. The Rasenna abandoned the castle ages ago. Now it's a trading post, inn, smithy, whatever folk need it to be."

"From here we walk," Ranazu added.

As Daehyun had intimated, he knew his way around the trading post. Many of its denizens - a hard and none too clean bunch - greeted him by name. Aela discovered that the bailey was filled with several daub and wattle buildings of much newer construction than the original fortress. Daehyun led them to one of these, which turned out to be the eating house. A meal of fried sausages and tangy onions filled their bellies. While the wine was hardly Alalia's finest, at least it was not served in mugs.

Since it was late in the day, they decided to stay the night. Another daub and wattle building doubled as the inn. They found the accommodations to be nothing more than a space on the floor and a rattan sleeping mat. Aela decided to use her own bedroll instead, as did many of the mercenaries. Still, she was thankful to be inside the walls of a settlement. At least they did not have to put out watches against night dangers.


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Posted by: Acadian Nov 17 2018, 09:42 PM

A rather ominous transition through bandits, necromancers and vampires (Oh my!) to the end of the river that has seen them safely to this point.

Phereinon continues to mystify, but the fact that she dislikes necrodudes is a good thing. Very impressive how she can maintain a (mostly) Aela-proof aura of privacy to maintain her secrets.

Your descriptions continue to draw us into the story. I could almost smell the wood smoke curling up from what is left of Castle Blackwater and taste the adventurers’ sausage and onion dinner.

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 24 2018, 07:06 PM

Acadian: Now that the river journey is complete, we are just a few more segments away from Agrigento itself. But first we will have the journey overland, in which we will continue to learn more about not just Phereinon, but all the Seven, and get some background on Agrigento and this corner of Kye Rim.


Chapter 10.6

The next day they pressed on overland, heading ever southward. They followed a road that was little more than a pair of ruts worn into the ground by wagon wheels. The trees grew thick around them, and it was only through the occasional break in the growth that Aela was able to glimpse the sun.

"Was there not an insurrection somewhere near here several years ago," Dhasan asked. "I recall hearing of some troubles. But a call never went out for mercenaries, as it usually does in such times."

"Aye, an insurrection," Hyunsu snorted, "at least that is what our fat gyukon in Hansando called it."

"I imagine it felt much different for those who were not provincial governors?" Loria ventured diplomatically.

"Much differently," Daehyun said. "The sublime ancestor in Hansando decreed that our taxes must increase. He needed our hard-earned money to honor the ancestors sufficiently, so they would continue to bless our lands with their good will."

The dubious expression on Daehyun's face showed how little of that he actually believed.

"Apparently the ancestors demanded a new bathhouse in his palace in return for their good will," Vesia muttered. "With marble imported from Rase."

"Thanks to our soju, we were able to pay," Ranazu said. "But only just barely. Many other settlements were not so lucky as we were."

"So the sublime ancestor sent out his dogs to take what could not be paid." Daehyun said.

"That eggless bastard Ugeo…" Ranazu fumed. Aela noted his hands clenching and unclenching into fists.

"He was…" Loria let the words dangle as an open question.

"The leader of the gyukon's company of hwarang - The Celestial Gallery." Vesia explained. "He led the 'pacification' of those villages who could not pay."

"Somehow one of the villages captured him. The hwarang claim that he went in unarmed to parley with them. But who knows if they would tell the truth." Daehyun shrugged. "In any case they tortured him, and put out one of his eyes."

"If only they had killed him when they had the chance," Ranazu fumed.

"So what happened then?" Dhasan asked.

"What do think happened?" Hyunsu said bitterly. "The rest of his nangdo came in and killed everyone. Women, hatchlings, even the oros and chickens. They left nothing alive."

"Some say he escaped first," Vesia said. "That he broke free of his bonds, and ate his torturer's hearts. Then he came back with his men to finish the rest"

"Wendigo!" Dhasan growled.

"So finally Manaha rears her ugly head…" Loria breathed.

"Afterward, when they saw what he had done, even his own men could not abide it," Daehyun said, "nor his master in Hansando. He was exiled."

"After that, most people paid the tax, even though they starved," Vesia frowned. "Those who still could not pay were killed by the Celestial Gallery's new leader, Daeso."

"Let me guess, after that the raiders appeared?" Dhasan asked.

"Yes," Daehyun said. "I think many were farmers who fled the gyukon's soldiers. Either before or after their villages were destroyed."

"I have seen it before." The vulpine shook his head. "A leader's misrule creates his own Fomorians, when before there were none."

"He created Dark Eye," Vesia lamented. "Now he terrorizes all of us, and the gyukon will do nothing about it. It's as if he wants them out here robbing and murdering people."

"Perhaps that is exactly what your provincial governor desires," Venca finally spoke.

"But that is madness!" Loria sputtered.

"Is it?" the Rasen warrior stroked the curled hairs of his goatee. "Now all of the settlements are too preoccupied with raiders to start another 'insurrection' against him. Maybe a real one the next time."

"But how can the people pay the taxes with Dark Eye and his ilk around?" Loria argued. "How can his own servants collect it?"

"His tax collectors have never been molested by the bandits," Daehyun insisted, "not once."

"How convenient," Hrafngoelir spat. "Either the raiders are smart enough to avoid directly antagonizing the governor or…"

"They are bribing him with part of their plunder," Venca finished her sentence. "The sublime ancestor has divided and conquered you all. He taxes you, and then he taxes what the raiders steal from you."

"Aye, like Black Venca over a thousand years ago, when he conquered Aulerci for the Sacerdotium," Loria murmured, "except without the outlaws and cannibalism that time."

Posted by: Acadian Nov 24 2018, 08:42 PM

Wow, the situation the villagers face is grim but rather brilliantly engineered by the evil bastage in charge around these parts.

We see some of Daehyun’s worldliness, Venca’s perceptiveness, Loria’s tact and Hrafngoelir’s temper on display while learning more about what the Seven face.

I recall early in my fanfic writing that it was you who patiently taught me how to write dialogue for fiction. I couldn’t help being impressed by your skill with non-dialogue ‘descriptors’ in these two passages:
- -"I imagine it felt much different for those who were not provincial governors?" Loria ventured diplomatically.
- -"He was…" Loria let the words dangle as an open question.

Sounds like the task ahead of the Seven has some real potential to escalate beyond Agrigento.


Nit: "Much differently, Daehyun said. - - Missing a closing dialogue quotation after differently?

Posted by: SubRosa Dec 1 2018, 05:26 PM

Acadian: I put a lot more work into the background of events this time around. How Dark-Eye became not only a bandit, but a cannibal and champion of a dark goddess. And how he was able to operate unchecked. When working on the local governor, I was inspired by the Native American belief in the Wendigo. It is not only a cannibal, but it is also seen as an allegory for the dangers of capitalism and consumerism - and how the more money and objects one accumulates only makes you need more and more. Dark-Eye is the classic Wendigo who eats the flesh of others. The governor is this second type, who is driven by greed - and untempered by any sense of ethics or morality.



Chapter 10.7

Alcheon vanished somewhere during the trek. Hours later they came across a dead pheasant dangling from a tree limb by a rawhide cord. Dhasan declared that it had been slain by a javelin, the same kind as several which the young Teodon carried along with his spear.

"That Teodon is going to make us all fat before this is done," Hrafngoelir laughed.

They made camp for the night soon after, and were once again rejoined by Alcheon, who now clutched a duck in one hand. While he might have been inexperienced in war, the young Teodon was certainly a proficient hunter.

Venca was even more silent and moody than normal, and Aela realized that he was again entranced by the sunset. The Rasen spent the entire time staring at the falling sun, and the brilliant colors it splashed across the horizon. Aela wondered what it was he saw there, since it was plainly more than just the end of the day to him. Was it his own sun setting that he saw? Did he see his own doom writ upon the firmament?

They struck out again at dawn's first light. The forest grew warmer and damper than even when they had been on the river. Soon sweat began to drip from their skin. Except of course for the Teodon, who seemed more than ever at home in the moisture. It was not the heat that bothered Aela. An Alalian summer was hotter. But the humidity seemed to just suck the sweat from the Arvern's pores, as a vampire would blood.

Soon they came to a break in the trees, and found themselves in a wide field of grass. This was not the short green carpet one would find in Rase or Aulertil however. This grass stood taller than Aela, and came in thick blades, whose edges she soon discovered were razor sharp.

"Well would you look at that," Hrafngoelir whistled.

The Skanjr and the other, taller members of the group came to a halt. Aela stood on tip toes to try to get a look at what the Northerner saw. But the grass was still too high. A moment later she felt Dhasan's furred arms wrap around her waist, and the vulpine warrior lifted her high into the air.

Now that her head was above the grass, Aela saw a herd of wild hadrosaurs wandering lazily through the field. Over thirty feet in length, the adults were easily double the size of the crumheads that she often saw used as draft animals. They lacked the big, bony crests that rose up from the heads of so many other hadrosaurs. Instead they sported a single line of flat, bony ridges running down the middle of their back, from head to tail. The vitamancer within Aela immediately recognized them as elongated projections of bone from the vertebrae in their back bones. The manaborn possessed the same projections of bone of course, just not so long and dramatic.

"Maias," Alcheon murmured.

The maias were munching on the tall grass. The Arvern Witch imagined that with their thick scales, the sharp edges of the grass did not bother them. She could not suppress a smile as she watched the massive herbivores. Somehow by simply doing so, she forgot the heat and humidity. Instead she was reminded of her connection to the natural world, and part of her wanted to rush out and touch one of the gentle beasts.

But her amazement was cut short when one of the hadrosaurs reared up its head to scan the skies above. A moment later a series of short, yet booming roars rose up from one of the maias. It was almost like the moo of a cow, yet far deeper, and much more energetic. The herd scattered, running for the trees on all fours.

Aela reflexively brought the pattern for her arcane shield firmly in mind and called upon her mana. Dhasan set her down upon the ground, and reached for his flatbow. The other mercenaries did likewise, all looking this way and that for the source of the danger.

"There, a cockatrice!" Ranazu cried.

Aela followed the farmer's pointed finger up into the sky. She saw a dragon wheeling high overhead. The scales of its lower body were light green in color, and a row of spines ran down the length of its back, from the tip of its nose to the end of its tail. Its head and back were covered in dark green feathers. Its four legs ended with long claws, and she saw that it clutched a dead hadrosaur within its mouth. Aela could see it was not one of the maias from the clearing below, but belonged to yet another type of duck-billed beast. For this poor victim possessed a large, bony sail that rose up along the top of its head, colored bright orange and purple.

"That is a cockatrice?" Dhasan stared amazement. "I thought they looked like chickens!"

"It does!" Daehyun insisted. "See the feathers on its head."

"That is a dragon with feathers!" the vulpine cried.

"Shhh, will you be quiet," Vesia hissed. "Don't get its attention. Our we might end up the appetizer for his meal."

Dhasan nocked an arrow on his bow as they began to back toward the treeline. The Teodon all looked horrified, and even old Hyunsu raised a hand before the Asokar warrior. They had not noticed it, but Malediction had formed from thin air in Phereinon's hand as well. Aela had felt its cold loneliness enter the air, and hoped that the dragon was too intent upon his supper to sense its presence as well.

"You must not harm it!" the old farmer cried.

"The cockatrice is sacred!" declared Alcheon.

"Well, as long as he feels the same way about us, we shall get along just fine." Dhasan said. The vulpine did not lower his weapon until Aela motioned for him to do so. She said nothing to Phereinon, but looked pointedly at her sword. A moment later if faded into nothingness, as if it had never been there in the first place.

Posted by: Acadian Dec 1 2018, 09:22 PM

No surprise that Alcheon is beginning to show his worth within his home turf.

Once Aela got a vulpine-assisted good view over the tall grass, the epic scene was reminiscent of some of the majestic dinosaur scenes from Jurassic Park.

"The cockatrice is sacred!" declared Alcheon.
"Well, as long as he feels the same way about us, we shall get along just fine." Dhasan said.’
- - Heh, this fox is wise and I fully endorse his thinking!

Posted by: SubRosa Dec 8 2018, 07:45 PM

Acadian: All I need is Aela twisting her sunglasses off and pointing: "It's... a dinosaur!"

Next we learn more about the cockatrice and why it is sacred, as well as find out a little more about each of the Seven.


Chapter 10.8

"I suggest we keep our eyes open," Loria said, "and retire to the trees for a respite. Then perhaps our Teodon friends might tell us more about their feathered friend?"

The cockatrice paid no heed to the drama unfolding beneath him, and in seconds flew on out of sight. Still, the party of travelers moved back into the concealment of the forest. Once there, packs were shucked off, water skins passed around, and a welcome break taken by many.

"This is a very good sign!" Daehyun declared, still looking skyward. "To witness one of the sacred ones as we returned!"

"Perhaps the water flows our way for once," old Hyunsu murmured.

Like the others, Aela stared from one of the scaled folk to another. She had read about cockatrices at the Ingenium of course. But the Rasen books had little to say about the creatures, other than rumors and conjecture of course. The only thing they did seem certain of was that the fantastic creatures only lived within Kye Rim's rainforest. That much was at least borne out by their lack of mention in any other land's history and legends.

"The cockatrice is a part of our oldest stories," Alcheon explained. "Legend has it that thousands of years ago the ancestors of our nine tribes made an exodus across the Inner Sea. They were all that had survived a great calamity in some far off land."

"The Great Dying," Hyunsu nodded. "A terrible time."

"After many days and nights at sea, they came to a bright and green land, overflowing with life. They went ashore, and found a cockatrice egg within. It hatched when they opened the box, and from it a child was born. He shone with light, and all of the animals within the forest danced with joy to honor him."

"They named him Hyeoknuri," Daehyun now picked up the story, "which means 'Shining World' in the tailless tongues. They built Asadal, our people's first city, upon the spot, and named the land Kye Rim, or 'Chicken Forest'. The boy grew up to be our first seonjo, or sacred ancestor, and the cockatrice has been the symbol of the royal family ever since. They share the same sacred bones. So to harm a cockatrice, is to harm the king's family."

"Ahh, I see," Aela nodded her head in understanding. "My people in Aulertil honor dragons as well. My own city of Cymner's flag bears a red dragon.

"Your tale reminds me of one told to me by the orcs of the Alagar mountains," Hrafngoelir said. "Their legends speak of a terrible war across the sea, against the Silor. It ended when the Dark Elves were laid low with fire and thunder. But the land was shattered, and all were forced to flee or be destroyed with it. The Great Migrations began. The orcs spread out across the world. Some went east across the Inner Sea to the Alagar Mountains. They become the Guzuks, or Mountain Orcs. Others went north, and became the Assina, the Forest Orcs of Hiakwia. The remainder fled onto the steppes to the south, only to return decades later, and become the Rouran, or Desert Orcs of Tiwanaku."

"Aye," Venca spoke up as well now. "We Rasenna tell of the Great War with the Dark Elves as well, when all the races rose up to claim our freedom from them. After the war laid waste to the Westlands, we fled across the Inner Sea too. We landed in Old Perusna, to the east of Kye Rim."

"Everyone seems to have a story from back then," Aela noted. "We Arvern were already living in the heartland of Aulerci, but we tell tales of the Dark War against the Silor, and the terrible cost paid by both humans and the other elves to stop them. It is said that the Mound People, who lived in Aulerci before us, were the direct descendants of the slaves of the Dark Elves."

"My folk know the old tale of the war with the Dark Elves too," Dhasan said as well. "We also fled the southern lands to escape the scourging of the Dark Ones from the world. Even today there are whispers that certain places in Hiakwia are cursed, because the Silor once had outposts there. My mother even used to hush me at night by saying the Dark Ones would come to get me if I was not silent."

"It was the Fomorians in my case," Aela laughed.

"My mother said the frost wyrms would freeze me with their breath!" Hrafngoelir declared.

"My mother said an imugi - a leviathan - would come up from the swamps and swallow me whole!" Alcheon cried.

"My father said the Phereinon would strangle me in my bed." Loria spared an amused glance in the direction of the white-haired swordswoman.

Aela noted that while others were offering up their versions of the boogeymen whom their parents had threatened them into good behavior with, Venca remained silent. Instead the Rasen mercenary rubbed the back of his head, and stared off into the trees. Aela wondered if he could remember anything from his life at all. Or was it all empty doubt?

"What about you Phereinon?" Hrafngoelir directed the talk away from her silent Rasen friend, and to the white-haired swordswoman instead. "What did your parents frighten you with when you were acting up?"

"I never knew my parents," Phereinon said. "My owners told me that if I did not behave, I would be sold to the quarries, and die a slow death of toil and starvation."

"Your… owners?" Dhasan gaped.

All grew silent and stared at the pale woman.

"But slavery has not existed since…" Vesia murmured.

"Since the Dark War," Phereinon finished the Agrigentan's sentence. She turned her scarred features to the empty sky. "The cockatrice has been gone for some time now. Let us move."

Posted by: Acadian Dec 9 2018, 12:57 AM

A great deal of wonderfully rich world-building going on here as you share a wealth of well-thought out ‘Aela lore’.

This episode, despite being rife with history and information, flowed impressively from the cockatrice sighting to its significance to the culturally common dislike of the Dark Elves and overthrowing their oppression.

I can’t imagine a more perfect ending to this episode than the stark bits of her history that Phereinon offered. It seems the white-haired swordswoman gave away her quite significant age!

Posted by: Renee Dec 11 2018, 03:52 PM

Yeah, it sounds downright horrible.

I like how all these different people, different races and so on, comparing all these different backgrounds to where they grew up and their facets of lore and whatnot. "Well where I came from it was X".... "it was Y where I was brought up..." etc.

Hope that cockatrice don't come back?

Posted by: SubRosa Dec 15 2018, 05:11 PM

Acadian: I definitely worked hard at showing vs. telling in that last segment, where a great deal of information was dumped on the reader. I wanted to make sure it all flowed out through natural conversation.

Phereinon definitely mic-dropped at the very end there! I had fun with that.


Renee: I really enjoyed writing that second half, where everyone is retelling how their parents kept them in line. It gave me a opportunity to show how multi-cultural this group is, and give every one of the Seven at least one thing to add.

Perhaps the cockatrice should hope that Phereinon does not come back...


Chapter 11

"Come Sindeok, spar with me," Dark-Eye insisted. "There are none here who can give me a good workout."

The former nangdo did as his new leader commanded. He knew better than to gainsay the older Teodon. In the short time he had been in the raider company, it had become very clear that when the one-eyed Teodon spoke, everyone leapt. Failure to do so was tragic.

"I will show you how to use the longsword, as the elves do," the black-striped bandit leader said. "When not using a shield, their methods are superior to our own."

Dark-Eye tossed a wooden practice sword to former nangdo. Like the aetherial longsword that Sindeok had witnessed Dark-Eye summon, the weapon stretched nearly five feet long, with almost four feet of that being the blade. He caught the wooden weapon with one hand, then shifted his grip to both hands when he brought the weapon to a guard position.

It was not as heavy as he expected, nor did it feel at all clumsy. Dark-Eye took a few simple, testing strikes at Sindeok's head, and he easily parried them all. He found himself sliding one hand up past the crossguard, to the lower section of the wooden blade. That gave him more control over the long weapon, and Sindeok soon found, more force to his blows as well.

"Do the elves not use the shield at all?" Sindeok asked. Pure bone aristocrats like himself never used them when fighting in duels. It was considered coarse and crude. But during sieges or set-piece battles, shields were far too effective a defense against arrows for anyone to ignore.

"Their armor makes shields pointless," Dark-Eye said. "Even their simplest fighters wear astril, which will stop any weapon of mundane steel. Their greater fighters wear crystal panoplies, which even enchanted blades are hard-pressed to bite."

"Then how can they defeat one another?"

"With the longsword," Dark-Eye declared. "As you know, every part of your sword is a weapon, not just the point and cutting edge. But with a longsword this is far more the case than ever. Half-swording is much more effective, bringing you far more power and versatility. This allows you to accurately stab into even the smallest weak point of armor."

Dark-Eye emphasized his point by not only half-swording with his weapon, but also by spinning it around, so that he led with the grip. He swung the weapon down in a great arc over his head. This brought the crossguard down at Sindeok's skull like a hammer. The former nangdo brought his own longsword up to parry, also half-swording with one hand upon the hilt, and the other near the point of his sword. Sindeok caught the blade of Dark-Eye's sword upon his own, and they stood there, blades locked.

"This is the morte-strike," Dark-Eye said. "The crossguard itself will not pierce armor. But the physical force from the blow will. Strike hard, and you will break the bones of even an armored foe."

Sindeok was about to push his captain's blade aside when the bandit leader suddenly yanked down hard. The black-striped Teodon's crossbar caught upon Sindeok's blade and pulled it down. Thinking quickly, the younger warrior let go with his left hand, allowing Dark-Eye to harmlessly sweep his point down toward the ground. He imagined that if he had not done so, his sword would have been completely stripped from both hands.

Without thinking, Sindeok followed through with the swinging motion of his blade. This brought the point back toward his body, where he gripped it once again with his left hand part way down the blade. Only now he too was leading with the grip. He twisted slightly to the left, and jabbed forward horizontally with the weapon. His pommel nearly smashed into Dark-Eye's face. But the wily Teodon swept his own longsword in a sideways arc, pushing Sindeok's blade aside.

Continuing the same motion, Dark-Eye took a half-step forward. He thrust his point up toward Sindeok's face. Sindeok was as mindful of the bandit leader's feet as he was his point, and took a half step back. He knew that by coming in so close the red-scaled Teodon was probably intending to trip him. But he was able to get just far enough away to avoid such an opportunity, and parried the sudden attack.

With that Dark-Eye stepped back out of range, and lowered the point of his weapon. "Well done," the bandit leader said. "You have good reflexes, and have trained well. No one else here has ever lasted through an exchange of blows with me. Not even your former hwarang."

"It was you who taught him, was it not?" Sindeok ventured. He had witnessed Dark Eye's duel with Daeso, and his former leader had lasted far more than one exchange of blows. Still, he was not about to point this out to his new captain.

Sindeok had joined the Celestial Gallery company after Daeso had become hwarang and taken command. He had only heard whispers of Ugeo - Dark-Eye now - and those were rare slips of the tongue. None of the older Celestial Flight nangdo had seemed to want to talk about their former leader, and when they did it had been forbidding.

"Indeed I did," Dark-Eye declared. "I trained them all. But in my hour of vengeance, they betrayed me, and cast me out. All because I devoured the hearts of those who did this."

The bandit leader raised one finger to his eye patch, and the scarred scales above and below the leather strap.

"Now that you have tasted the sweet meat of victory, you are cast out as well Sindeok," the former hwarang went on. "Your brothers will now hunt you down and kill you. You now only have one course, as do I. We will take our revenge upon those fools in Hansando, especially the gyukon. They will learn to either eat, or be eaten."

At one time Sindeok would have shivered at the words. But now he simply felt the hunger twinge from deep within his belly. He knew that he should be horrified, but now the thought of eating another manaborn filled him with nothing but craving.



http://www.thearma.org/essays/HT-A&UA_files/image012.jpg

Posted by: Acadian Dec 15 2018, 06:17 PM

An instructive display of sword fighting, when the shield hand is free to optimize more of the weapon’s abilities.

You continue to paint Dark-Eye as an imposing foe – and his appetite for foe-eating renders him more so.

Posted by: SubRosa Dec 22 2018, 06:19 PM

Acadian: Things have really slowed down in the story at this point. So I was hoping to liven things up a bit with a display of sword fighting. It also gave me an opportunity to look in Sindeok, and see what he and the raiders are up to.


Chapter 12.1

The sun had begun to dip in the sky when they came to the valley in which Agrigento was nestled. Their first sight of it was from the top of a ridge north of the settlement. From this commanding height, they could look down across the entire vale. The oval depression stretched at least a mile through the surrounding hills, and was filled to the brim by a brilliant splash of green trees and brush.

All of that changed at the far end of the valley however. There the woodland had been cleared to create wide fields. This open space was divided into a patchwork of dozens of irregularly shaped paddies. Each was separated from its neighbor by low bunds barely half a foot higher than the brown water around them, and just wide enough for a single person to walk along their muddy tops.

The hamlet itself stood behind the paddies, at the far end of the valley. Hills surrounded the settlement on three sides. Except for one rise that was topped in tall grass, these heights were covered with thick stands of bamboo. A narrow stream trickled down from one of the bamboo-crowned hills, snaked around the village, and meandered along the length of the valley. It gained width as it was joined by other small rivulets draining from the hills surrounding the dale, and vanished to the west. Aela imagined that it might eventually join the Nakdeok, and ultimately empty out into the Bronze Sea.

From the heights where they stood Agrigento reminded Aela of a great fried egg. It stretched out in all directions in an irregular glob, filled by over a hundred homes built of brown thatch. A large open field took up the center of the settlement, like the yolk of the egg. At the far end of this plaza rose a stone building in the Rasen style, stretching at least two stories high and roofed with red-glazed tiles. Another wooden structure of plainly Teodon design rose at another side of the town square. This one was capped sided with colorful pillars, which held up a gracefully curved roof. Finally a third large structure squatted along a third edge of the plaza, this one of simple, unadorned wood.

Aela could see that the perimeter of the village was marked by a line of heavy logs sunk vertically into the ground. The top of each was sharpened to a point to dissuade climbers. Aela sharpened her eyesight with a spell, and noted that the barrier had fallen into disarray. Many of the timbers had fallen, and near the main entrance they had vanished altogether, to be replaced by a thin fence of bamboo.

"You have a large village," Dhasan observed.

"This is small for Kye Rim," Alcheon noted. "Mine was over twice this size."

"How many people are there?" Venca asked.

"We are a new settlement," Vesia explained. "I would say about five hundred people."

"Hmmm," Venca murmured. He thoughtfully rubbed his goatee with an armor-plated hand. "Your defenses have seen better days."

"You see the work of the bandits," Daehyun declared. "The first time the thieving worms came to our village we thought our walls would protect us. We were wrong…"

"Let me guess, elemental magic?" Loria said. "Fireballs will incinerate wooden walls quite easily."

"Aye," Vesia now responded. "But that was the least of it. At one time the walls were on top of a rampart we had built up. A good five feet of solid turf. They used spirits to just level it somehow."

"The bastards pulled the very ground out from underneath us." Ranazu spat onto the dirt at his feet. "Then the wall around the gate went up in flames. We never stood a chance."

"We have not resisted since then," Hyunsu said. "What can simple farmers do against such terrible magics?"

Loria laced his long fingers together and stretched out his hands before him. His knuckles popped loudly, and he grinned. "Terrible magics are our specialty. These bandits have not seen anything like Aela and I."

"No one has seen anything like the elf…" Dhasan murmured under his breath.

Aela said nothing. Instead she stared at the ruins of Agrigento's defenses. As if fifty fighters were not bad enough, the brigands had conjurers and elemental mages as well. That made sense however. Otherwise how could they have intimidated a hamlet of ten times their number? Even given that they were experienced killers and the Agrigentans simple farmers, even ordinary folk could stand tall behind walls.

But simple farmers could not counter elemental magic. Certainly not of the magnitude she witnessed here. Her heart sank. This meant she and Loria would not have the spell advantage. Considering the damage the raider magicians had wrought, she imagined that they would be evenly matched at best.

Clearly this battle would not be won by simple magical or physical muscle. They were going to have to outthink the enemy.

"Well, let's get down there and get a closer look at the land," Venca said. "Then we can get a better idea of how to beat these buggers."

The four Agrigentans led them down from the ridge and into the rainforest. The sky quickly vanished behind a dense roof of greenery. The banyans rose all around. Their grey trunks were long and ropy looking, reminding Aela of strands of clay that had been soaked and stretched out before drying. Then there rose the durian trees, dotted with their large, spiky fruit. A host of other trees that Aela could not even hope to identify joined them to blot her view in all directions. All around their feet rose tall grasses, brilliant green ferns, and brightly colored bromeliads. Multi-hued birds flew through the growth or perched upon the trees, where they were kept company by lizards, serpents, and insects of all varieties. The forest was literally an explosion of color and life.

"I thought this place was supposed to be a swamp. But it looks more like a regular forest, just with different trees and animals than we have up north," Hrafngoelir commented.

"There are swamps in places," Alcheon admitted. "But our land is a large one. Here in the west the land is still somewhat high. Farther east things change. In some places between the hills the water pools in great swamps. Sheets of moss hang from the giant cypress and water tupelos, and nearly blot out the sun entirely. In many places there is no solid ground. There is only mud and water and roots and darkness."

"But in other places there are mountains," Daehyun explained. "Well, perhaps not what you northerners would call mountains." He looked to Hrafngoelir. "But they are high enough for us. Perhaps two or three times the height of these hills around Agrigento. They grow as you go east, toward Old Perusna."

"Aye," Alcheon nodded, "and along the coasts there are great mangrove forests. Excellent places for fishing and hunting."

"All of the best things in the Earth can be found in Kye Rim," old Hyunsu crowed.

In time Alcheon surprised them all when he leapt into the branches of a durian tree, and came back down moments later with one of its giant spiky fruits clutched gingerly in his hands. With a deft motion of his knife, he sliced it lengthwise, revealing a creamy pulp within. Even from several paces away, the stench of it curled Aela's nose. It smelled like a latrine filled with onions and sweaty boots. From the expressions on the faces of her companions, she could see that she was not the only one who was less than enticed by the food.

Yet the young warrior dove into the fruit with zest. The other Teodon stepped up to take pieces themselves, and joined him in the snack. Vesia surprised Aela by doing the same.

"Come and try some." The Rasen woman held out a piece of the yellowish-pulp to the Witch. "It's much better than it smells."

The last thing the Arvern wanted to do was eat the revolting fruit. But she was reminded that many people thought the same about haggis, laverbread, black pudding, and other dishes native to her own homeland. Determined not to discount the strange, smelly fruit just on appearances alone, she steeled her stomach for a taste.

Aela found that the creamy pulp was surprisingly good. It reminded of her of custard, with a strong taste of almonds. After the first dab from the tip of her finger, she eagerly took a palmful of the gooey fruit and devoured it with a gusto that nearly matched that of the others. Still, she wondered if the Teodon ate so quickly to avoid smelling the tasty fruit. It certainly was an incentive to gobble the meal down, rather than take the time to savor it!

"Try some Loria," the Arvern offered some to the elven mage. "It really is good."

"I think I should sooner lick his butt," Loria made a face as he nodded to Dhasan.

"For once I agree with the cream cake." The vulpine waved one hand before his nose. "I would sooner he lick my butt as well!"

"You should be so blessed to enjoy my linguistic ministrations!" Loria murmured with a smile.

That brought a chorus of guffaws from the group as they once again made their way through the rainforest. Aela found herself wiping the sweat from her brow in no time at all. It was even hotter than the Nakdeok River had been. Worse, the humidity in the air felt like a wet blanket wrapped around her body. A glance at the others showed that they were sweating as well. Only the Teodon seemed unmoved by the heat, and Phereinon. As ever, the white-haired woman seemed as cool as a glacier.

The path they followed was only a line of wagon ruts worn down into the ground. It was heavy with growth however, and the ruts were little more than grass-filled depressions. When Dhasan asked about it, Daehyun revealed that this was the route they used to take their wagons to sell their soju. It led from Agrigento to the Nakedok River. From there they took boats like Captain Hesari's down the river to Telsin, and finally cogs or hulks across the Bronze Sea to Veia. From the state of the path, it was obvious that they had not sold any soju in a long time…

When Hrafngoelir asked why they did not just sell it in Hansando or some other local city, Daehyun explained that everyone drank soju in Kye Rim, and every tavern or inn brewed their own. But no one in Rasen cities like Veia made the drink. That made it special, and as Daehyun pointed out, special was always valuable.

Soon the group came to a halt again, when Daehyun raised a warning hand from his position at the front of the column. The soft hiss of weapons being drawn came to Aela's ears. Out of habit, the pattern for her arcane shield popped into her mind. She called up her mana, ready to release it and create the ward at a moment's notice. At the same time she felt out in the aether for the dryads that lived in the forest surrounding them. She would need but an instant to pull one of the tree-spirits into the physical world.

The mercenaries fanned out across the path, armed and ready. Except for Phereinon, whose hands remained empty. Of course from what Aela had seen in Veia, the mystery woman hardly needed a weapon to be dangerous. Aela stepped to the fore with Loria at her side. The Silaine had his hands filled with fire, ready to annihilate anything that crossed them. Ahead of them the Arvern saw what had caused the alarm.

It was a snake, roughly six feet long, that slithered across the path with head raised high up above the ground. Its scales were black in color, but lightened to a shade of cream on the underside of its mouth. Its black eyes reflected the light with a gleam, and seemed as devoid of emotion as an opal.

"Forest taipan," Alcheon observed. "It's venom is especially dangerous to you softskins."

"Best just leave it be," Daehyun advised. "We see them often enough in Kye Rim. They hunt the birds and rodents in the forest. So long as we do not go near, we will not be in danger."

"Let's just leave it alone then," Venca said. Aela noted that his longsword Solagea bore an odd blade. Its black steel narrowed toward the middle of its length, then widened again, only to gently taper once more at the point. She would have sworn it was one of her own people's leaf-shaped swords, but for the black lorcras steel of the Dark Elves of which it was comprised. Not to mention the five foot length of the blade and hilt. Apparently the Arvern had not been the first to use that point-heavy design after all.

Aela also noted that a wolf's head seemed to protrude from the weapon's narrow crossbar. It was set so that it appeared that the top of the predator's skull rose from the side of the blade, and its eyes and long snout seemed to look down along its narrow fuller toward the sword's tip. Etched there on the blade before it was the name Solagea . The elvish word glowed softly, as if the moonlight it was named after shone from the sword itself.

A wolf and moonlight, Aela considered, how appropriate.

Venca sheathed the unusual sword, and took a step back from the snake. "We aren't here to kill every wild animal in the country."

As they waited for the creature to slide off of the path and vanish into the underbrush, Aela noted that Vesia stared at the serpent with hands clenched into fists. The Rasen said nothing, but it was clear that she would prefer to hack the jungle predator into pieces. Aela wondered what grudge she held against the snakes. Then the taipan was gone, vanished into the forest. However, the group was careful to stay near the other side of the road as they passed the spot of jungle it had disappeared into.


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Posted by: Acadian Dec 22 2018, 08:58 PM

You really bring the jungle-forest surrounding Agrigento to life here with some wonderfully rich descriptions.

This is surely going to be a bigger challenge than the witch and elf had first thought – particularly after seeing the results of the magicks their foes wield.

Yikes! Time to get busy with battle preparations and hope there is enough time to adequately ready this village to resist the bandit raiders.

Posted by: SubRosa Dec 29 2018, 06:23 PM

Acadian: I expanded on the size of the village this time around, and on that of the entire land of Kye Rim. I picture the country as being roughly the size of the UK. So it will have lots of different evironments, not just all swamp. Everything it is getting bigger in this version of the story.



Chapter 12.2

In time they emerged from the rainforest and came out into the rice paddies. The fields were empty of the green stalks of rice plants, and were filled with nothing but muddy water instead. They followed a raised path that wound through the paddies to the hamlet's bamboo gate. Aela could see that the ground still bore the tell-tale scorch marks of flames around the entryway and flanking walls. As she stepped nearer, she partially shifted her senses into the aether. Now she could feel the burns seared deep within the soil as well, where the timbers of the walls had been incinerated all the way down to their bases.

"This was definitely done by elemental magic," Loria echoed her thoughts aloud. "I can feel the marks it left behind."

"Aye," Ranazu grumbled. "The flames seemed to just come from nowhere."

"Well, two can play at that game my friend," Loria vowed. The high elf rolled up the sleeves of his green robe and raised his arms, but Aela stopped him with a shake of her head. This was not the time for showing off with fireballs. Not when they were making their first impression upon their employers.

However, those employers were nowhere to be found. Daehyun and Ranazu pushed open the bamboo gates to reveal empty streets beyond. The seven mercenaries followed the villagers down silent lanes, flanked by tall houses to either side. There seemed to be little organization to the layout of the village. Houses were scattered about like dice tossed from some giant's hand. Small gardens dotted the irregular gaps between homes, and Aela noted vegetables such as basil, ginger, garlic, peppers, chives, and other spices growing within them.

The homes themselves were raised up above the ground upon thick stilts made from straight durian timbers. Their elevated floors were made of hardwoods, walls were cross-stitched rattan, and the tall peaked roofs were of simple thatch. Few of them possessed any windows, and none had more than a single door facing the street. All seemed to have a small porch before their entrance, reachable by wooden steps or notched logs. Upon every one Aela noted a bench or rattan chairs, and several wide bowls. Pairs of sandals or boots were tucked away beneath the benches at some of the homes. Others were bare of footwear.

Aela felt eyes staring at her from all around, and it was not those of the chickens or other livestock that lingered in the streets. The way the other mercenaries turned their heads this way and that, she could tell that they felt it too. The villagers were there. They just were not showing themselves.

They came to the yolk of the egg that Aela had observed from high on the ridge at the edge of the valley: the village square. A small wooden stage rose at its far end, in front of the temple. The shrine's gracefully curved roof seemed to almost float in the air, held up only by brightly colored columns that both paced around the perimeter of the structure, and rose from deeper within. It had no walls, but rather was open to the air, allowing Aela to glimpse into the interior. It was sparsely furnished, and the wide space was dominated by a large stone-rimmed pool in its center, where water rose in a gentle fountain. Aela felt an undine riding the waves, and imagined it might even be the village's guardian spirit.

Across the corner from the temple stood the high, Rasen-style, stone building. Its only windows were high on what must have been the second floor, and the angled roof was made of red-glazed tiles. On the other side of the plaza from the temple, a large building of thick wooden timbers squatted. This was also constructed at ground level as well, rather than raised up on stilts like the villager's homes. From the wide double doors this possessed, the Arvern Witch imagined that it was either a stable or communal storehouse.

Waiting for them on the wooden platform before the shrine was a single Teodon woman. She was covered in green scales along the top of her head and back, which faded to soft brown under her mouth and down her chest. Rows of black stripes crisscrossed her head and fell down her long neck, only to vanish beneath her clothing. Her eyes were bright yellow slits, and unlike the male Teodon, her head was bare of spines. From the luster of her green and brown scales, Aela imagined that she was young, possibly the same age as Alcheon.

The young Teodon woman wore a simple blue robe tied around her waist with an equally simple cloth belt. When she stepped down from the stage Aela saw that she wore blue trousers underneath the knee-length robe, but her feet were bare as she walked across the hard-packed dirt of the square. In one hand she held a small clay jug, and in the other a simple cup.

"Aecha!" Hyunsu exclaimed. The aging Teodon darted from the group with more energy than Aela had ever seen the farmer display. Taking the younger Teodon in his arms, he scolded the girl. "What are you doing? You shouldn't be out here like this!"

"Why, is she in danger from us?" Alcheon's voice betrayed the same bitterness that Aela felt rising within herself. "We came here to fight for you people, and this is how you greet us?"

"You are right," Aecha answered him, "this is not how Agrigento should greet you." Disengaging herself from her father, she crossed the distance to the mercenaries and stood before them.

Aela felt energy flowing around her like a cool stream. The young Teodon was a magician, the local Witch or priestess no doubt. Aela's attention was drawn to a bright spot of power that hung from her neck. There she saw a curious pendant hanging from a rawhide cord. It was a crystal shaped like an hourglass, surrounded by a latticework of delicate bronze all around. Within Aela could see a blue liquid that glowed with a soft light.

It was a dowsing crystal, Aela realized, enchanted to fortify its wearer's water-based magic. That meant that Aecha was probably a water priestess. Aela had learned about both at the Ingenium, but had never encountered either before. Well live and learn, Aela thought to herself, the Earth always had something new to teach.

"I apologize for the behavior of my neighbors," Aecha said. She poured water from the jug she carried into her cup and took a sip. Then she held it out before her. "I am our mudang, and on behalf of Agrigento, I greet you all and extend the hospitality of our village."

The mudang's eyes went to Aela's and lingered there for long moments. Her aura burned brightly, and Aela realized that the Teodon was sensing her power, just as she could feel the mudang's. Then Aecha's eyes moved to Venca, and each of the other mercenaries in turn. In the Rasen's case, it was clearly the Ravenwheel that drew her attention. The artifact radiated so much power that a magician could no more overlook it than a hadrosaur standing on their foot!

"A mudang?" Hrafngoelir whispered.

"She is their water priestess," Loria answered out of the corner of his mouth. "She purifies their wells, moves the water to their fields, enriches it, and charges it with life and good health. She is the soul of their village."

The Light Elf wizard stepped forward and took the cup from the Teodon's hands. He raised it high over his head for all to see. Then he lowered it and took a long drink. "On behalf of all of my comrades, we accept your offer of hospitality and pledge to honor your village, your people, and your ancestors."

Aela could not prevent a small smile at the Silaine. Apparently Loria had learned more than just smuggling at the Ingenium after all!

"Now that we are all friends," Dhasan murmured, "will the others come out?'

They looked around, and found that now both Teodon and Rasenna began to filter into the square from all sides. While they were of different races, the newcomers all seemed more alike to Aela than not. For whether they had scales or skin, hair or spines, they were all stained with the same dirt and mud. They all possessed the same weather-beaten look that came from years of toiling under the hot sun. They all possessed the same calluses, and the same wiry, lean appearance of one who eats just barely enough to get by. Most of all they had the same empty and defeated look in their eyes. Eyes which few of them raised to meet the stares of Aela and the other mercenaries.

"They do not look like much," Venca said in a voice too low to carry far. "I am supposed to make an army out of this?"

"We all fall," Phereinon pointed out. "But we can all rise again."

"And rise to the occasion we all shall!" Loria declared in a loud, bright voice. The Light Elf leapt upon the stage, and had to coax the others to join him there, where the farmers could get a better look at them. Then the gregarious elf began to make florid introductions.

"Meet the most deadly Phereinon," he waved a hand to the pale swordswoman. "She is a master of armed and unarmed combat, philosopher, poet, and naturalist. One who finds value in all lives, great or small."

"The man all in black beside her is Venca," the Light Elf went on. "He is the Champion of Mhorlor - the Goddess of Magic, a seasoned military veteran, and a great general of Rase." Aela noted the sour face that the Rasen made at the introduction.

"This golden beauty next to our champion is none other than Hrafngoelir," Loria continued. "She has come all the way from the frozen north to fight for you. She has made the ravens sing many times over the corpses of her enemies. Now they will do so again over your foes here in Kye Rim."

"This handsome young fellow with yellow and green scales is Alcheon," the Light Elf proclaimed. "He was going to join the hwarang, but turned them down to become a wandering mercenary instead. He said it was more challenging! And besides, he is far too good-looking for them…"

The final, offhanded remark brought a series of guffaws from the gathered villagers. Aela could see that as always, Loria was working the magic of his personality upon the gathered crowd.

"And of course we cannot forget my own partner of many years, the most inestimable Aela," the Arvern magician had to fight to keep a straight face as the elf piled on the accolades. "She is the greatest Witch who has ever lived. She is the master of spirits, healer of all injuries, reshaper of the world, and best of all, she's not married!"

Aela had to stifle a groan when the Light Elf winked to the villagers at the end. As if any of them would care in any case.

"Last, but certainly not least, there is my humble self, Loria" the wizard lowered his head, as if in humility. "As I am sure you can already tell, I do not like to brag. But since we are all friends here, why not?"

Now he struck a dramatic pose, arms akimbo and head held high. "I am a master of the arcane arts, a graduate of the Ingenium, and being an elf, I am naturally a superior being!"

"And so very modest about it all too," Aela murmured out of the corner of her mouth. She was shocked when some of the others heard, and began to laugh.

"You forgot someone!" the villagers began to shout. Some of them pointed at Dhasan's red-furred form. "What about him?"

Loria made a great show of searching here and there for the Asokar warrior, pointedly never looking directly at him however. He lifted one of Hrafngoelir's braids to check underneath, peered behind Alcheon's shield, and even tried to check down the front of Venca's trousers. But the Rasen shook a finger from side to side in front of him, and the Light Elf thought twice before doing that.

For his own part, Dhasan stood aloofly by with arms crossed, and merely stared at the Light Elf without saying a word. Finally, to genuine laughter from the villagers, Loria walked right into him. The wizard pantomimed seeing the Asokar for the first time, threw his arms up in the air, and screamed.

"It's a wolf!" Loria cried.

The Light Elf fled behind Aela, and now Dhasan growled at the wizard, baring long, vulpine teeth. The Arvern Witch wondered how she had gotten herself into this. A glance back at Loria reminded her. Still, she had to admit to herself that her partner's attempt to lighten the peasant's spirits had indeed worked, for now she saw smiles and heard laughter, where just moments before there had been nothing but empty hopelessness.

"All right, all right!" Venca stepped forward, holding his hands in the air to quiet everyone down. "In spite of what you might think, we really are mercenaries. Well, most of us are, and we really are going to fight for your hamlet."

"But we are going to need your help," the Rasen went on. "We cannot fight the raiders alone. You are going to have to join us."

That cut through the villager's mirth like a Skanjr war axe. Now the somber looks returned, and Aela hoped that the Rasen would not destroy the spirit of the villagers, which Loria had worked so hard to raise.

"We will train you," Venca declared. "We will make armor, and shields, and weapons for you. We will repair the village defenses. Then when the time comes, we will stand beside you and fight. We will crush these bandits, that I promise! When this is all said and done, you won't need to ever hire mercenaries again. Because no one will have the sack to threaten Agrigento a second time."



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Posted by: Acadian Dec 29 2018, 09:50 PM

What a delightful episode as we finally arrive in Agrigento!

The villagers may not know how to fight but they certainly can tell when others are approaching and know how to hide. That is a start, at least.

I loved how the Arvern Witch and Agrigenton Water Priestess silently sized up each other’s likely magical prowess.

I grinned throughout the dapper Loria’s skilled introductions as he described the band’s skills with enough mirthful charm to warm up his audience. And the warm up was necessary, for it was with no such light humor that the Seven’s obvious choice for ‘Training Officer’ (Venca) began to spell out the task ahead in his no nonsense manner.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Dec 31 2018, 05:13 AM

I continue to enjoy this reinterpretation of the Seven Samurai/Magnificent Seven tale.

If I were one of the villagers, I would find Venca’s speech sobering, but bracing. After all, he did promise that the mercenaries would stay with them and teach then want they need to know, make the armor they need, fix their defenses, etc. In other words, the mercenaries would invest in the village. That’s something.

I am looking forward to more.

Posted by: Grits Jan 1 2019, 01:55 PM

I am taking my time savoring this new Seven. (And I just reached Chapter 7.) I very much think that Aela and Loria have open-ended series potential. It’s exciting to see them and the new crew members (Hrafn! Pherienon!!) in their own world. Thank you very much for including the maps, pictures, and illustrations. It’s interesting to see how inspiration comes together to form an original world.

What strikes me immediately even in the heat of battle is how vivid and natural magic is to Aela. I loved seeing the end of the cult leader from afar through Aela’s magic confirmed by the warriors’ cheers!

The conflict with the mercenaries after the battle fills out Aela’s world very well. A lot can be inferred from what is said and how she reacts.

The Teodon descriptions work well. I found myself imagining them as completely new mortals instead of picturing something familiar. Yikes, the making of a cannibal bandit was fascinating, and convincing. Now that they need to consume flesh, they have no other life to consider deserting for.

Ugh, student loans. Easy to relate to that.

Whoop, Persephone!! She is impressive and mysterious from the first sighting. Goodness, Dhasan and Loria play off each other so well. I love seeing this group assemble!

The description of Ravenwheel was perfect. I love this story.

Posted by: SubRosa Jan 5 2019, 05:45 PM

Acadian: Loria's florid introduction was a lot of fun to write. And once again it gave me the opportunity to spend a few moments on each of the seven. It is not easy juggling so many characters.


haute ecole rider: I did want Venca's own speech to come across with that feeling of hope as well. He is going to build them up, physically and mentally, starting with that.


Grits: It has been a lot of fun to create my own world, and write in it instead of Bethesda's. Especially when it comes to writing magic, how it works, and how it is perceived by those who use it.

The new crew has been a lot of fun to write. I have tried to make it as multi-cultural as possible, and have representatives of all the major races/societies. Sadly, to represent every one would bring the group up to 10 or 12 members, just too many main characters to keep track of. I did have a Guzuk orc and Aymaran human characters fleshed out, but I had to put them on the back-burner due to the sheer size of the group. But maybe we will see them someday.


Chapter 12.3

After the excitement in the square, Ranazu offered to host them in his home. It was a simple affair, like all the houses in the village. But before they could even enter the upraised dwelling, Aela learned what those bowls on the porches were for. They contained water, and all who meant to enter a home were obliged to take off their shoes or boots and wash their feet. They then went barefoot within.

Aela found it to be a simple, yet elegant solution to living in an environment where mud and dirt were inescapable. The villagers might have to work in the grime all day long, but they did not take it into their houses with them. Their homes were a refuge from the muck of everyday farming life.

The interior of the domicile was a single large room, with large, flat stones set in the center of the upraised floor to create a hearth for cooking upon. The rest of the house revolved around that, with a sleeping area and space for storage located at the rear of the home, a place for food preparation around the hearth itself, and finally the living and dining space near the door. The tables and chairs were made of rattan. Aela noted that most of the crockery was of earthenware or bamboo, utensils were of wood, and the only metal in evidence was a single small cauldron of dented iron. Ranazu's bed was a mat of woven reeds that had been rolled up and put aside. It was kept company by a second sleeping mat that Aela noted bore a thin layer of dust atop it.

After taking some time to unload their packs and settle into the building, Aela noted that someone was missing.

"Where is Phereinon?"

Exiting the domicile, they looked about from the raised porch. It was Dhasan who saw her first.

"There," he pointed to a nearby hillside outside of the town. "In what looks like the burial ground."

"Maybe she's looking for old friends," Loria remarked dryly. Aela resisted the urge to start. It might have been a joke, but she suspected that the elf was closer to the mark than not.

They donned their footgear once more and headed to the town square. Aela left the others and went to the cemetery instead. The burial ground encroached into the tree line above the base of one of the hills adjacent to the village. Unlike cemeteries in Rase or Aulertil, here the individual graves rose in high, round mounds. These little hillocks were covered in verdant grass, but were free of weeds, flowers, or any other plant life. A single wooden post rose before each internment, painted with the names of those within in the Teodon or Rasen tongues.

The graveyard was smaller than Aela had expected, and she wondered if there might be another, larger cemetery nearby. Unless Agrigento was recently settled. She had never thought to ask any of the villagers their local history. That would have to change.

Phereinon knelt before the rows of grassy mounds, but rose to her feet as the Arvern approached. She reached down and hoisted her pack over one shoulder, and turned to face the Witch.

"I imagine the others are looking for me," she said, more a statement than a question.

"We were wondering what had happened to you," Aela replied.

"I always visit the graveyards when I come to a settlement." Phereinon briefly paused to look back over the green mounds. Then she turned to Aela. "I never know who I might find."

"Old friends?" Aela could not help but repeat Loria's quip.

"Sometimes," Phereinon said gravely, "but not today."

With that the mystery woman led Aela back into the settlement, drawing more than one stare from the farmers. Aela felt the usual flop in her stomach, until she realized that for once she was not the one being gawked at. Instead it was Phereinon - the cloaked woman with a snow-white face - who drew everyone's gaze.

They rejoined the other mercenaries at the village square. Vesia met them there, in front of the large - Rasen-style - stone building. The human villager led them into the structure through its only entrance: a pair of thick wooden doors. Within they found four gigantic copper vats that rose from the stone floor. They were taller than Aela, and tapered to long, slender pipes which bent back downward to feed into great collection pots. A raised walkway ran around the top of the vats, and Aela could see that it could be used to access hatches set within the tops of each vessel. They reminded her of alchemical alembics, only on a massive scale.

"This is where we distill the soju," Vesia explained.

The Rasen pointed to a row of metal cylinders to one side of the room. "It begins in the fermenting bins over there. We mix the rice with water and yeast and take it out into the sun to ferment. From them we take the wash and put it in the vats, where we heat it to boiling. The vapor runs up those slender pipes at the top and starts to condense. Most of it falls back down into the pot as reflux. Only the purest distillation rises all the way, goes across those horizontal pipes, and falls down into the condensers. From there it drips into the collectors as soju. We put it in those doks - brown jugs - over there and age it. Or at least we did in the old days. Now the firking raiders take it and drink it straight from the vats."

Loria whistled in appreciation. "Most impressive," the Light Elf said. "I have to admit, I was not expecting anything this refined."

"Aye, I feel thirsty already," Dhasan laughed.

"Do you run all of this?" Aela asked the Rasen woman, noting her familiarity with the process.

"I do," Vesia nodded, "with a little extra muscle-power from some of the others of course. It was my parents who started it all. You might say brewing is in my blood."

"You must be able to bring in a good deal of coin from this," Hrafngoelir observed. "Yet your people live so sparingly?"

"We have to," Vesia frowned. "The raiders took all of our valuables, even my copper cooking pots from home. All we have left is what we could hide from them. The only reason they do not take all of this is because they know we could not make the soju without it."

"Is there a way up to the roof?" Venca gazed up at the ceiling. "This is the tallest building in the village. We should get a good view from up there."

"Aye," Vesia nodded. "Follow me."

She led them up on the metal walkway that surrounded the vats and took them to one side of the building. There she ascended a ladder to a wooden trapdoor and climbed through it. Aela followed along with the others, and found herself perched on the spine of the roof. To either side of her red-glazed tiles angled down to the edge of the slanted roof. But along the peak there was a flat beam of wood that ran the length of the building, roughly three feet wide.

As Venca had thought, the perch offered a wide view of the village and its environs. The group turned this way and that to look all about. Hrafngoelir pointed to the bamboo-covered hills to the south and spoke.

"Those are going to be trouble," the northerner observed. "The bamboo will give them cover from arrows, and they can get within fifty feet of the village wall before they get into the open."

"We will have to clear it," Dhasan said.

"Perhaps we can kill two Fir Bolgs with one spell while we are at it." Venca thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "We will need spears for the villagers, and that bamboo would do nicely."

"Consider it done." Malediction appeared in Phereinon's hand, filling Aela with a sense of quiet dread. The Arvern chided herself for letting it bother her so. She was going to have to learn to build a mental callous to the weapon, even though it did feel like a curse.

"We'll need shields too." Venca said. "We could make them from rattan, or even bamboo. But I'd like something stronger. It's going to be the primary thing these people have to protect themselves."

"I wouldn't trust the wood from the banyan trees," Alcheon said. "But the durians are strong. I could start felling them and making shields."

"My axe will cut wood just as well as men," Dhasan murmured, "I will assist."

"Good," Venca nodded. "That will give us a start. Once we have those I can start training the villagers. The sooner the better. In the meanwhile we can put them to work on the defenses. Let's go down and take a look at the perimeter."

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Posted by: Acadian Jan 5 2019, 11:43 PM

We continue to learn more about both the village and the Seven here. Nice interlude with Phereinon at the graveyard. And a fascinating description of the actual distillery.

‘Ranazu's bed was a mat of woven reeds that had been rolled up and put aside. It was kept company by a second sleeping mat that Aela noted bore a thin layer of dust atop it.‘ - - I love this mysterious loose end - and can take a guess that the second mat belongs to a mate perhaps slain by the raiders. . . . If we learn more about it that is nice but if not, that is how life is – full of unanswered questions.

’Aela felt the usual flop in her stomach, until she realized that for once she was not the one being gawked at.’ - - Having come to know Aela, I don’t think it gives her much comfort that folks are staring at Phereinon instead of her. At least Aela no longer has manhands to draw attention to herself.

"Perhaps we can kill two Fir Bolgs with one spell while we are at it." - - This delightful turn of phrase on a familiar saying does a wonderful job of emphasizing Aela-lore and reminding us that ‘Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore!’

So, plowshares to swords as the work in earnest begins. Crafting weapons, shields and a (hopefully) capable militia.

Posted by: Grits Jan 9 2019, 07:16 PM

Ooo, in Chapter 8 I hope that’s the whiff of a sequel. Phereinon and the dead city and the Sluagh sound fascinating.

On the boat, Hrafngoelir’s appearance seen from the aether demonstrated how Aela sees the worlds very well. I liked Hrafn’s ritual with the rune stone. Her chat with Aela was informative and simply lovely.

I giggled when Aela asked Hrafn if she used magic to style her hair. As a fellow bearer of unruly locks, I have often looked at other women and wondered the same. Oh, and Aela couldn’t help but start giving birth control advice! That was perfect!

The exchange between Aela and Venca on the boat rang so true to the Aela you have shown us so far and covered a lot of ground. That was excellent! By the way, Kye Rim is one of the coolest place names I have ever heard.

I loved Loria’s quiet support as much as Aela’s hand renovations. The amount of effort and sustained concentration required (not to mention the risks) explain why she hasn’t already completed her physical changes, especially as we’ve just seen how hard it is to get a little time to herself in the aether.

Oh my gosh, Aela’s aesensing of Malediction was breathtaking. Phereinon sure knows how to end a “so, where are you from” conversation!


Now I know we’re not in Tamriel!

I loved seeing the Kye Rim landscape and wildlife along the trip. By the time they got to the village, I had a clear mental picture of what life there might be like.

Posted by: Renee Jan 12 2019, 02:30 PM

Up to 12.2 myself.



THIS is what I always want in Elder Scrolls games! Lots of smaller, non-threatening insects, birds, reptiles, etc. It's what I always envision. Skyrim was a definite improvement in this regard, but still.

The scene when they eat that revolting custard fruit made me gag! And as they stumble through the forest, I keep hoping they don't accidentally come across some trap, after it's too late.

Posted by: SubRosa Jan 12 2019, 06:26 PM

Acadian: I am not sure how deeply we will get into Ranazu's history, and the reason for his abiding hatred for the raidrers. Most of it will probably be inferred.

You are right, Aela is not much more comfortable with someone else being gawked at than it being herself. Though at least she can take some comfort in the fact they were gawking simply because Phereinon looks so unique, rather than bigotry.

I do love taking a modern turn of phrase and altering it to be setting-appropriate. Like betting septims to sausages.


Grits: Phereinon and the City of the Dead is a sequel, and the beginning of what I imagine to be a globe-spanning adventure.

I likewise wish I had the magic power of hair-taming.

What makes Aela's transformation even more difficult is that there is no one to teach her, or even any how to books. She is literally figuring this out all on her own, using just her overall knowledge of arcanism (the study of magic itself) and vitamancy. Someone who was actually trained and had practice could do it much quicker, easier, and safer. But there are no sex reassignments mages in Aela's world.

I worked to figure out how Malediction should both look physically and be felt in the aether. I did not want to fall back on the old saws of skulls and "a feeling of death". I went with the owl inscription on the blade because it is a psychopomp among Native Americans. Then I decided to go back to Aela's own experience of the death of a loved one, in her case that of a cherished pet. It is something I imagine everyone can relate to.

I am glad that all the time spent along the river is paying off. Not only with character development, but also in presenting Kye Rim as a real land. My aim was for the countryside itself to become a character in its own right.


Renee: I got a lot of my ideas for the flora and fauna from watching wildlife documentarys. Whenever I see something interesting I take notes so I do not forget to use them. The Durian trees and their stinky but delectable fruit are a real thing. They are a delicacy in south east asia. Albeit a smelly one.


Chapter 12.4

With that the mercenaries filed their way back down to the distillery floor. Once outside they were joined by Daehyun and Aecha. Vesia stayed behind, explaining that she had to start work on creating their next batch of soju. In her place the two Teodon villagers led the mercenaries to the front gate, to begin their tour of the walls.

There was not much left to look at. While the thick tree-trunks that made up most of the wall were indeed of stout construction, the ground beneath them had sagged, often leaving them pointed this way or that, creating gaps in many places. The bamboo replacement walls near the gate and a few other places were sturdy enough to prevent animals from wandering in or out, but clearly would not stop a determined attacker.

"We'll start with digging a ditch around the entire village and filling it with water," Venca said.

"That will not slow the raiders," Daehyun pointed out. "They are Teodon like us. They move through water and mud just as easily as your people do on dry land."

"Aye," Venca agreed, "but the muddy water will conceal the bamboo stakes we plant in the bed of the moat."

"Oh, he is a clever one," Dhasan murmured. "That will give them a nasty surprise indeed."

"It probably won't kill any of them," Hrafngoelir observed, "but it will slow them down, and force them to take their time through the water."

"It's going to be a lot of work, but I'd like to pull up all those timbers as well, and use the dirt we dig out of the moat to build up a rampart." Venca pointed at the heavy tree trunks that made up most of the wall. "Then we can replant the logs into a solid barrier. With a five foot deep moat, a five foot rampart, and the wall on top of that, we will have a respectable obstacle."

"I can take care of that." Aela closed her eyes, and allowed her senses to drift down into the mud beneath her feet. Almost instantly she found a gnome. While he did not truly sleep, the land spirit was as still as stone, so that Aela was tempted to imagine him dozing in the warmth of the sun's rays. She enticed him to rise up from his home in the aether and take physical form, lending him her mana to make the transition from one world to the other.

A muddy hand rose up from the earth before Aela, causing the others to leap out of the way. All except for Phereinon, who instead watched with great interest. It was a followed by a second earthen hand, and the two pulled up an equally grimy head and shoulders up from the ground. In moments a giant of soil and loose stones rose up from the earth and stood before the Witch. He looked about the group, and finally rested an expectant gaze upon Aela.

She smiled and gently patted his arm. "My friend and I can take care of the ditch and the rampart in no time at all."

She did not fail to notice Phereinon's eyes practically burning on her own. The white-haired woman had wanted her for her ability with earth spirits. Now Phereinon would see what she was truly capable of. Part of her wanted to impress the mystery woman. That same part of her always wanted to be the best she could. But another part of Aela wondered if perhaps she might be better off if the scarred woman decided against procuring her aid after all.

"That won't stop the bandits," Aecha argued. "We had those before. They just pulled the ground out from underneath us."

"They have a mage who can summon gnomes," Loria said. "But as you can see, so do we."

"If anyone can stop them, it is Aela," Dhasan agreed. "She is the finest conjurer I have ever met."

Aela tried not to blush at the compliment. Venca's words brought her back down to earth quickly enough however.

"I don't expect to stop them at the walls," the Rasen said. "They will get through."

"Then why bother?" the water priestess spoke in a placid tone, but from the slight twitch in her tail, Aela could see that Aecha was growing exasperated.

"We will force them to bring their full force to bear upon the walls," Hrafngoelir explained. "They will have to throw everything in, including their mages."

"That is the key," Venca said. "They will reveal their mages. Then Hrafngoelir, Dhasan, and Loria will pick them off at long range. That will take away their greatest strength, and even up the odds."

"Like forcing them to play their trump cards in the first trick," Loria observed.

"Exactly," Venca nodded. "From there we will have a battle in the streets."

The Rasen led them back into the interior of the village. Once within he turned off the main street and wended his way between buildings. "We'll build frises and use them to fill in most of these little alleys. We'll leave just a few routes open to the square. That will force the bandits down channels of our choosing. We'll meet them here in shield walls and smash them." Venca smacked a closed fist into the palm of his hand for emphasis.

"Frises?" asked Daehyun.

"A simple barrier," Hrafngoelir explained. "You take a long horizontal pole. Then take two stakes sharpened at both ends and tie them to the pole like an 'X'. Fill the length of the pole with those spikes, and you have a prickly barrier that you can easily pick up, move around, and sink into the ground."

"That bamboo should work well for that," Phereinon judged.

"And if you do not stop them in the street?" Aecha asked.

"If we do not stop them, then we retreat to the distillery," the Rasen declared. "It's the strongest place in the village."

"But the raiders will be expecting that," the water priestess observed, "will they not?"

"You are right," Venca agreed. "But perhaps we can use that to our advantage?"

The former soldier turned his black clad frame to the direction of the brewery and once again stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "Yes, that might just work after all…"

"I love it when he gets that look," Hrafngoelir whispered into Aela's ear. "It means he's up to something truly devious."

"The smooth hide has an idea?" Dhasan asked the obvious question.

"Well Aecha is right. The bandits will be expecting us all to go in there, including the noncombatants." Venca now gestured with one hand to the distillery. "So that will be their target once they breach the walls. They are all going to converge upon that spot and take it. It would make for an excellent trap."

"But we would be in the trap with the bandits," Dhasan pointed out. "There is only the one way in."

"Not if Aela and her muddy friend there dig us an escape tunnel," Venca now turned to the Witch and her conjured gnome. "We could let the bandits see everyone go into the building, then secretly evacuate to someplace else, like that big wooden building across the square."

"That is the stable. We keep our hadrosaurs and wagons in there." Daehyun frowned. "Well, what we have left of them."

"But what about this trap?" Phereinon said. "Once we have them inside, what do we do with them? We'll have given them the strongest point in the entire village."

"How hot a flame do you need to make soju burn?" the Rasen asked. "And how much of it do you think we could have in the brewery by the time the raiders come?"

* * *

"You want to do what to my soju?" Vesia stared at Venca as if he had just stepped down from the moon. "And the brewery? You'll destroy everything we worked so hard to build here!"

"It won't destroy anything that cannot be replaced." Venca appeared to be unflustered by the other Rasen's exclamation. "You can always brew more soju, put up new stones on the walls, or lay new timbers on the roof. But you cannot bring back the dead."

The mercenaries stood back in the heart of the village, with Vesia, Ranazu, Daehyun, Hyunsu, and Aecha before them. Some of the other villagers loomed nearby, just close enough to listen in, but not so near to be truly part of the conversation.

"We all expected to fight with the mercenaries we hired," said Daehyun. "But not to see our own village burned down in the process!"

"Why cannot you fight the raiders in the fields, or in the forest?" Hyunsu asked. "Why fight here, in our homes?"

"We'll be slaughtered if we fight them out in the open," Venca said plainly. "They will surround us, pick us apart, and finish us off one at time. The only chance we have is with fortifications to fight behind, and narrow streets to prevent them from flanking us. We may not even have to use the brewery as a trap. We might stop them before that. But if we don't, we have to be prepared for the worst."

"The worst seems like the best we can hope for," Vesia grumbled. "Either way it seems our village will be in ruins."

"Venca is right," Aela came to the Rasen's defense. "Using the brewery as a trap won't destroy your village. Buildings don't make a community, people do. New wood can be cut, new wicker can be woven, new buildings can always be put up. People are the only thing that cannot be replaced, and that is what Venca's plan will save."

"Isn't that why you decided to fight after all?" Loria moved to stand next to the Arvern Witch. "For one another? We came here to fight for you, not for your houses."

"How is burning down our homes going to save us?" Hyunsu railed. "We were better off with the bandits!"

"No we weren't," Ranazu growled. The Rasen looked pointedly from the old Teodon to his daughter Aecha. "If we don't make a stand now, who will be next?"

"Sometimes you have to be willing to sacrifice everything you have, in order to save everything you are," Aela said resolutely. "Houses, possessions, wealth, none of it really means anything. All of those things can be gained, lost, or traded away."

Aela stepped up and laid a hand over Vesia's chest. "The only things that really matter are in here," she said, "and no tyrant or thief can ever take them away from you."

"That is easy for you to say," Aecha argued. "When the battle is over, all of you will leave. We Agrigentans will be left with ashes."

"Aela has sacrificed far more than you can ever fathom," Loria declared in a decidedly prickly tone. "She-"

Dhasan interrupted the high elf by laying a friendly hand upon his shoulder. "We will all remain to help rebuild." He looked from the other mercenaries to the villagers. "None of us will leave until the village is fully repaired and back to normal, agreed?"

Vesia frowned, but nodded in agreement. The other villagers followed suit, as did the mercenaries. Aela could see that the Agrigentans were not happy about it. No one ever looked forward to losing the things they valued. That was why it was called sacrifice after all.

"That's settled then," Venca said. "Let's get to it."


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Posted by: Acadian Jan 12 2019, 11:57 PM

Venca and particularly Aela really proved their worth here. Venca for his solid (and clever) plan and ability to see what needs to be done and Aela for her magnificent muddy magicks that can actually transform the land to suit Venca’s plan.

It was reassuring to see the Seven stand unwavering with Venca as the villagers began to realize the likely cost of an effective defense.

Ahah, more teasers about a sequel with White Hair and the dirt-moving Witch!

Posted by: Grits Jan 15 2019, 12:58 AM

Today I ate a delicious new (to me) fruit and thought of Aela.

Yikes, Venca’s plan was tough to swallow. But it makes sense, and the Seven did commit to helping with the rebuild. Venca’s plan was very interesting to watch unfold, but Aela’s gnome friend was the highlight here for me. His entrance was outstanding!

Posted by: SubRosa Jan 19 2019, 06:05 PM

Acadian: Now Aela gets to step up and show what she can do, something we have not really seen since the beginning of the story.

All of that verbal sparring and fencing we saw earlier in the story is starting to pay off as noted, the Seven are standing together behind Venca. They managed to build up some trust after all. Though it is certainly not over yet on that score.


Grits: I hope you new fruit was not quite so stinky, but just as delicious as I am told Durian Fruit is. I cannot remember when I first heard about it, but it was so unique that I took a note about it so I could write it into a story some day.

Venca's plan is indeed a hard one to take. But that is just reality. Luckily he is equally hard, and ready for the task.

One nice thing about stepping outside of the Elder Scrolls universe is that I am no longer bound by their "put a hand in the air" to summon something. It does look cool. But there are other ways you can describe a summoning taking form in the physical world.



Chapter 13.1

Aela and her summoned spirit went to work digging the moat. The gnome easily moved the turf and loose stones aside. He did not so much dig it up with his hands, as he did wave it to one side, bidding the element to follow his will. So the earth spirit easily piled all of this dirt up on the inner side of the ditch. But rather than covering the bamboo fence and timber wall there, the dirt moved under those objects, actually pushing them up so they stood atop the tall rampart being constructed.

In the meantime the others split up and went about their own tasks. Phereinon and Hrafngoelir marched off to the bamboo-covered hills on the far side of the hamlet, while the rest ventured into the forest they had all traveled through to reach Agrigento. Aela noted the latter now carried wood axes as well, and imagined that Daehyun had supplied them from the village.

Loria vanished soon after, and Aela expected that the wizard would begin preparing mana gems as reservoirs for extra energy, or perhaps scribe scrolls to aid in the defense. The latter struck her as a good idea for herself as well. She could create scrolls to summon undines and pass them out to the villagers. They would go a long way to putting out fires during the battle. Perhaps there might even be time to brew healing potions?

Soon Aecha appeared, and the mudang summoned an undine to stop the water from the nearby paddies from prematurely filling the ditch that Aela and her own spirit were digging. The water priestess said nothing, but Aela could feel the Teodon's bright yellow eyes boring holes into her back as they slowly moved around the edge of the village.

"So are you going to spill those beans," Aela finally asked, "or are you saving them for dinner?"

"It is strange," the Teodon finally rasped. "Even for the scaleless folk, its energy makes no sense."

"Well that is one I have not heard yet," Aela sighed. "How pray tell, does its energy disturb you?" the Arvern said in as neutral a tone as she could muster.

"It is upside-down!" the Teodon spat out. "Its body is male, yet somehow it is not. Here its water is female, there it is not. Its spirit is wrong, like its tail is on its head and its feathers on its feet."

"You have no two-spirit people in your village then?" Aela had not failed to notice the way the mudang continued to refer to her at 'it'. "No ardhanari?"

"Ardhanari?" The black stripes that lined the Teodon's head bunched in concentration. "That is for the elves, not round-eared humans."

Aela laughed. "Well it's just a word," she said. "The Rasenna call people like myself semnotatoi, after the two-spirit priestesses of Nyktera. The Aymaran's use the term igerramen. The Asokari call us alyha. Everyone has a different word."

"It means the labarindja?" Aecha cocked her head to one side as she considered the Arvern. "Those are holy people, blessed by the ancestors to live in the third gender. Apart from man and woman, they are both, and neither, and beyond."

"Well think of me that way then." Aela waved a hand is dismissal, thinking that was the end of it.

"But it is not labarindja," the water-priestess declared. "They are special, chosen when their very eggs are laid. They bear the sacred ones' signs upon their shells. They are taken to the capital so that they may serve the emperor from the moment of their hatching."

"But it does not bear the marks," Aecha looked down her long snout at Aela. "Nor does it serve the sacred one, or whatever the round ears have that passes."

Momentarily at a loss for words, Aela stared blankly at the mudang. She had thought she had heard all the excuses for why people hated her for being a two-spirit. But she had never heard that she was not good enough for the honor! It would have been humorous, if Aecha were not so gravely intent, and her words not such spiteful claws.

"You are serious?" Aela finally sputtered under raised eyebrows. "You think I don't deserve to be a two-spirit? Because I don't have some sort of birthmark? Or my skin is the wrong color?"

"Of course it is not worthy!" Aecha insisted. "It is trying to claim an honor not rightfully its! It is unnatural! Most shameful! How can it presume to be what it is not, as if it had the right!"

"I have the right be whatever, and whoever, I am." Aela growled back. "My identity is my own. It isn't determined by my body. It sure isn't determined by you!"

"But did its ancestors not make it a man?"

"No," Aela's eyes narrowed. "I was, and have always been, a woman. I was just not lucky enough to be born perfect, like you apparently were."

"But why cannot it just be what it was born as? That is what its ancestors wanted. Otherwise it would not have been that way."

Aela was not certain if Aecha was genuinely puzzled, or if the Teodon was baiting her. She could not count the number of times she had this same conversation with so many others. No matter where she went, there was always someone who felt the need to tell her how wrong they felt it was for her to exist. They all seemed to think that she had been waiting with baited breath for her entire life for them to share their opinions. Aela wondered how the water priestess would feel if everyone around her constantly forced her to justify having a tail?

"If a child is born with a cleft lip, should it live out its entire life that way?" Aela fought the anger that was welling up within her, and tried to play nice with the water priestess. It is time to be building trust, she told herself. "Or with a club foot? Or with under-developed lungs? Or with an infection? Shouldn't we use our magic to heal them?"

"But it was not born with a sickness, or a split mouth," Aecha contended. "It was simply born a man. It should not pretend to be a woman. It is unnatural."

"First off, my name is Aela, not 'It'." Aela stared back at the priestess with narrowed eyes. If the mudang wanted to start this, she would end it. "Secondly, my spirit and my body are not yours to sit in judgment over."

"A turtle cannot make itself into a crocodile, no matter how hard it tries," Aecha fired back. "It will always be a turtle. It is a freak, and its ancestors will-."

The Teodon was cut short when a cascade of mud splattered across the front of her body. Aecha sputtered, and wiped the grime from her features. Aela turned to see that her gnome had stopped digging, and stood with a fist packed full of oozing slime.

"You had better go," Aela said, "you're making the crocodile angry."

"How dare you!" the water priestess cried.

The gnome raised his mud-filled hand, and it took every ounce of Aela's will to contain the outrage that welled up within her. She knew that the spirit was merely reacting to her own feelings. If she could not control herself, it might do more than just sling mud…

"There is far more to the worlds than what you dream of Aecha," Aela carefully answered. "If you cannot accept the fact that there are people and things different from you, and don't follow your ideas of how the multiverse was meant to be, then a little mud is going to be the least of your worries in life. If I were you I'd take a long walk and think that over."

The Arvern Witch purposely turned her back to the water priestess, and concentrated upon her gnome instead. She willed the earth spirit to ignore the Teodon, and return to his work of clearing the ditch. Aela heard the squishing of wet feet fading away behind her, and was thankful that the priestess had taken her advice.

A moment later water came flowing down into the ditch. Aela reached out for the water spirit that Aecha had just released. Gently entreating the undine, the Witch found that the elemental spirit was more than happy to assist her. The water stopped flowing into the ditch, and instead flowed up its sides and back into the nearby rice paddy.

In the meantime her gnome dissolved into the dirt beneath her feet. Aela sighed. No one could control more than one spirit at a time. At least that is what they had said at the Ingenium. Rumors existed that it could be done of course. But given that summoning created a mild telepathic link between spirit and mage, she was not sure how anyone could keep the commands between more than one straight. Her own near loss of control over the gnome just moments before showed how difficult it could be to direct even a single conjured being.

Climbing to the top of the ditch on her hands and knees, Aela emerged to stand upon the dike of the neighboring rice paddy. The field was denuded of rice, and filled with ankle-deep brown water. She imagined the undine moving the water into the next paddy, and a moment later she watched it rise up on the opposite banks and flow over the bunds into the other paddies beyond.

She would just have to alternate between summoning the gnome to dig the ditch, and then the undine to empty out all of the paddies adjacent to it, and back and forth again until she was finished. It would take longer, and require twice the energy. But no one had ever told her that being an ardhanari was easy.

Posted by: Acadian Jan 19 2019, 09:07 PM

’One nice thing about stepping outside of the Elder Scrolls universe is that I am no longer bound by their "put a hand in the air" to summon something.’ - - Heh, I don’t recall this ever binding you while writing TES fiction. You have always convincingly described magic and casting as you see fit and it has always seemed natural for your characters to do so. I do get what you mean though about some advantages inherent when doing your own world building.

*

Grrr, what a frustrating encounter for Aela – made even more so because it is well-familiar to her. That water priestess has no business being a priestess of anything. One can only hope that before all is said and done Aecha will consider her good fortune that Aela’s reaction did not include withdrawing the Seven’s support from Agrigento. Should Aela have chosen to do so, I have no doubt that Loria would have joined her. With no magic support, the rest of the team would have no choice but to leave as well. We know Aela well enough though to realize that abandoning this whole village is not in her makeup.

Posted by: Grits Jan 20 2019, 12:42 AM

I like that keeping two aetherial beings summoned is too much for Aela. It keeps her from being a super-summoner, and it reinforces the idea that the summoning is a cooperative bond rather than fire and forget.

I love that Aela was able to rein in her temper during the turtle/crocodile chat and had the presence to tell the local priestess to go take a walk rather than going for one herself. This is after all not Aela’s first encounter of the kind by far, and she knows her worth to herself and to the village. What a great segment!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jan 21 2019, 12:54 AM

I rather enjoyed the exchange between Aecha and Aela regarding what is "natural" and what is "not." I myself have a co worker who is trans, and is going through the real life version of the process Aela is putting herself through. They have my respect, since in spite of the pressures they suffer, they maintain good cheer, kindness and helpfulness toward others, much as Aela does. Thank you for writing such a interesting character, and reminding me of this friend of mine.

Posted by: SubRosa Jan 26 2019, 05:52 PM

Acadian: Sadly, many people IRL would say that Aecha's views are the sole qualification needed for being a holy person and community leader. I wanted to show that with her, and also throw in a little TERF attitude as well (if you don't know the term, https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=TERF)

You are spot on about Aela's unique position to save or destroy Agrigento. I was not thinking so much that she might decide to leave. As you said, that is not in her nature. But I did run several possible scenarios through my head of Aecha and others calling for her removal, or attempting to murder her with poison or other methods. The best endings were Aela leaving, Loria and Dhasan leaving out of their friendship with her, Phereinon leaving (because she is only there to recruit Aela to begin with), and Venca, Hrafn, and Alcheon leaving because as you said, with no magical support there is no point fighting. The worst options ended with Phereinon killing everyone. We'll see how things shake out.


Grits: Some day Aela might learn to summon more than one spirit. Possibly by not trying to control them, but simply calling them in the world and relying upon their goodwill to follow her orders. In any case I want to leave that out there as something she can work toward. And as you said, to show she is not an Uber Mary Sue.

I had not even considered the fact that it was Aela who stayed and continued the work, while Aecha was the one who walked away. It just seemed like the obvious result when I was writing it. Aecha is not the first person to love their bigotry more than their city, or country, neighbors, or even themselves. So I never considered that she would remain and help rebuild Agrigento's defenses.



haute ecole rider: I have been through that natural/unnatural conversation too many times. It is ultimately pointless, as transphobia (or homophobia, or racism, or mysigony, etc...) is not really about logic or philosophy or religion at all. That is all just pretexts invented to excuse their behavior. It is a purely emotional thing, a pit that many people fall into - and often are deliberately pushed into. No amount of debate or reasoning will ever change a bigot's mind. Like love, you cannot talk someone out of it.

I chose to write Aela so long ago for the same reason I did Teresa. So few people will write a GLBT protagonist. Tbh, I think it sits in my favor, as it is something different I bring to the table. Also, as the old saw goes, you write what you know. Being trans and a lesbian myself, that is what I know best.



Chapter 13.2

The sun hung low over the western horizon when Loria appeared over the rim of the ditch that Aela and her gnome were digging in.

"I don't suppose you found any gold down there?" the elf called out, "or precious stones?"

"None as precious as you my friend." Aela looked up with a smile. She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. A glance down revealed that not only were her hands stained with dirt and mud, but her clothing as well. She could only imagine how grimy her face must be. Part of her thought of pulling out her hand-mirror to look. But another part was too afraid to see.

"Well, that goes without saying of course…" the Silaine beamed. He waved at her to come up. "Come on out of there. It is time for dinner."

Aela clambered up the steep slopes of the ditch, and in no time at all slipped and fell face-first into the dirt. She closed her eyes, and thought of the gnome below her. A pair of massive hands gently flowed under her feet, and she felt herself lifted into the air. A moment later she found herself standing upon the embankment before Loria. A glance back found her conjured spirit dutifully waiting behind her. Without having to say a word, she gave him her thanks, and bid the gnome a quiet evening. Then he faded into dust.

"Oh my, you really are quite a mess," Loria said. "All of this hot, sweaty work is simply unconscionable for mages of our stature."

"I notice that you avoided getting dirty," Aela observed.

"That is because I know how to take care of myself." The elven mage made a grandiose flourish with his hands, and Aela felt energy grow within his slender fingers. A moment later he set his hands upon her shoulders and gave her a little shake. With that the dirt and grime all fell from her clothing, leaving them looking as if they had just come from the laundry tub. At the same time the sweat and grunge vanished from her skin and hair as well, and she felt completely refreshed.

"You always were good at materiality," the Arvern Witch murmured.

"So what have you been about?" the Arvern asked as they headed into the village. Aela noted that now quite a few villagers were out and about. Most were gawking at the high palisade that she and her spirit had been building around the edge of the settlement. A few simply walked to and fro through the settlement however. All of those nearby stopped to stare and her and Loria.

"I assisted our trusty axemen in the forest," Loria practically boasted.

"You, swinging an axe?" Aela's eyes goggled. "Now that I wish I had seen."

"Oh Theut forbid!" the high elf proclaimed. "I would never debase myself with manual labor. No, I was there to cast lighten spells upon the lumber. I am sure it made things much easier for those sweaty, muscle-bound fellows. Speaking of easier, I thought that the water priestess was going to be helping you with the moat?"

"If by helping, you mean lecturing me in how unnatural it is for me to exist - then yes - she was of great assistance," Aela frowned.

"Oh my," Loria sighed. "I should have thought better from a priestess. But then perhaps that just makes things worse."

"Apparently I am not worthy of the honor of being a two-spirit." Aela grumbled. "The gods didn't decree it at my birth. So I am just a pretender, not good enough to determine my own identity. It is supposed to be the way Its ancestors made It."

"We are all born not capable of holding in our wastes," Loria murmured. "That is how the gods - or our ancestors - made us as well. I suppose she thinks it's blasphemy to potty train children then?"

Aela could not restrain a smile. "I'll have to remember that for the next time," she said dryly.

"My wisdom is a light to the world." Loria raised his nose high and affected his most dignified prince-of-parchment pose. That brought an actual chuckle from Aela, and in no time at all one from the Light Elf as well.

"Still, do you think she will be a problem?" Loria kept his voice low, so as not to be overheard by any of the nearby villagers.

"I really don't know," Aela sighed. "I'll be watching out, just to be sure."

"I wish I could say that was just paranoia, but we both know better than that." Loria murmured. "We had better start thinking of an exit strategy, just in case."

"Actually, Venca already thought of it for us," Aela smiled as they approached Ranazu's home, which now doubled as the mercenaries' base. "He just does not know it yet. I should have it done within a few days."

Dinner turned out to be a dish called bun cha - rice noodles with sausages and bean sprouts, and spiced with numerous herbs. Best of all, a study in the aether revealed that it was free of poison. Thanks to years of experience, detecting toxins was a technique Aela could now accomplish with ease.

The Arvern noted that the hearth was cold and the cooking ware was clean. So clearly the meal had been prepared elsewhere and brought in. She wondered who they had to thank for their dinner. But she soon forgot as she dove into the tasty dish.

Naturally the entire thing was washed down with soju, which Alcheon poured for them in small cups. The Teodon explained to them that one never poured their own soju, and that a glass could never be refilled until it was completely empty. He further revealed that when pouring for others, one must hold the bottle by the right hand, with your arm supported by your left hand at the elbow. Then there came a host of other rules, such as how to hold your cup, who could drink before others, and more that Aela simply could not be bothered to remember.

"When do you find time to drink with all of these rules!" Dhasan laughed.

The others seemed to like the soju. Aela found the clear liquid to be slightly sweet in taste, which she enjoyed, but it had a kick like a hadrosaur. For someone who was used to drinking nothing stronger than wine, Aela knew that it was something she had best take only in moderation. A great deal of moderation. She vowed to see if Vesia had any tea the next morning…

Ranazu himself was nowhere to be found, and Aela noted that one of the sleeping mats that she had seen rolled up against the back wall earlier was now missing. Only the dusty one remained. Dhasan said that the Agrigentan was sleeping in another home. Aela felt a twinge of guilt at his feeling obliged to leave his own home. But given how crowded it was with all seven mercenaries under one roof, Aela was thankful there was not an eighth person competing for space.

Posted by: Acadian Jan 26 2019, 10:27 PM

"None as precious as you my friend." Aela looked up with a smile.’ - - Aww, methinks it is Aela who is the precious friend. This whole encounter between Aela and Loria was lovely. We already know how Aela frets to ensure Loria is up and about in time to make his engagements and that the two mages rely on each other in combat. You make it easy to see right through Loria’s manner to the depth of his friendship for Aela. He injects insightful humor just when his friend needs it. My earlier assumption that if Aela pulled out of this quest Loria would stand with her is quite confirmed in this episode. It is clear that Loria has stood by Aela through her transition and unwaveringly continues to support her. True friends indeed.

"We are all born not capable of holding in our wastes," Loria murmured. "That is how the gods - or our ancestors - made us as well. I suppose she thinks it's blasphemy to potty train children then?" - -

Nice touches you introduced regarding the customs associated with drinking soju. Quite oriental, and they fit wonderfully here.

Posted by: Renee Jan 28 2019, 02:56 PM

The earth gnome shall be the key, methinks. Now let me go make some soju before I read on.

Posted by: Grits Feb 1 2019, 02:13 PM

The Aela and Loria parts give me such a warm friend feeling.

I love what the soju rituals show about local culture (and the potency of the beverage!). This is not a mead hall.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Feb 2 2019, 04:24 PM

I continue to enjoy reading this tale of unlikely heroes and friendships and new relationships being forged and new challenges being faced. Everyone else has already touched on the things that entranced me in this segment.

I only have this to add:
[quote He further revealed that when pouring for others, one must hold the bottle by the right hand, with your arm supported by your left hand at the elbow.[/quote] Did you know that this is because in olden days, they were holding their sleeves out of the way while pouring soju? In other words, it was a gesture of respect to keep your own clothing from touching the glass you were pouring into. Typically, it was the junior who poured soju for the senior first, then if the senior liked the other, they would pour the junior's soju.

Korean/Oriental society is full of such rules, it is how they manage to live so close to each other without killing each other ;P

Posted by: SubRosa Feb 2 2019, 04:46 PM

Acadian: I sometimes worry that I am not giving enough screen time to Loria, as he is a huge part of Aela's life. It is difficult when juggling so many characters. So I am glad that the warm 'feels' show through when I am able to put the two of them together in a scene.


Renee: Aela's elemental summoning will indeed be a key facet in the story, and those that follow. It is a much more important part of her abilities than it was in the ES version of her.


Grits: I am glad there are more feels to be had with Aela and Loria's relationship. His charm, optimism, and good nature is the rock that keeps Aela sane. While she is the one that keeps him down to earth.

I found the soju rituals worked perfectly with the Teodon society that I created, which places such great emphasis on respect for elders and ancestor worship. As Dhasan noted, they also help keep people from getting too smashed! Or at least they should.


haute ecole rider: I remember you saying that about the long sleeves from the original story. I don't really have Teodon wearing such sleeved garments, so I did not directly attribute that as the reason for holding the elbow. Although that might have been the case in the past. Or it might only be something found among the nobility, that filtered down to the commoners without them even understanding why. I also did not want to go into too much detail, and risk boring the reader. I am afraid I do too much of that already. Instead I just hope that what people take away from it all is an example of a society that places emphasis upon proper decorum and respect for elders and leaders.



Chapter 13.3

They woke early the next morning to resume their previous tasks, only to find the fields quiet and empty around them.

"I thought farmers started the day before sunrise?" Aela wondered aloud.

"Not in Kye Rim," Alcheon explained. His eyes searched across the rice paddies to the line of the trees beyond. Then a smile crested his crocodilian features, and he pointed with one hand. "See the crested ibis? The day does not begin until they fly into the fields. It is a good sign for the village."

Aela and the others watched as first one, then more, of the large birds swept into the rice fields. Their bodies were covered in snowy feathers, and their heads resplendent in crimson plumage, creating a striking image. They spread across the flooded paddies and began hunting for frogs and insects.

As if summoned by the birds, the Agrigentans emerged from their homes. With no more fanfare they began the day's work. The other mercenaries split up with them to perform their own chores, leaving Aela alone on her ditch-digging enterprise. Except for the spirits of course. She had to admit that she did prefer their company to that of most mortals anyhow. They accepted her without reservation or question.

She did not remain alone for long however, for in no time at all a few of the village children came to watch. Doubtlessly they thought that they were being clever, hiding above the embankment and peeking down at her from over its rim, only to lower their heads whenever she turned to look. But while she could not see them, Aela could easily hear their poorly-hushed voices from down in the ditch.

Eventually the Witch could not resist prevailing upon her gnome to do something about the spies. At her behest, he stopped his digging and turned to face the children. Then he began to jump back and forth from one foot to another, while rubbing his hands under his armpits in a pantomime of a monkey. That brought a loud chorus of giggles from above the embankment, and Aela had the spirit continue his show by sticking out a great pebbly tongue at the children. Then he pretended to moon them by turning and bending over to reveal the rocks in his rear. In no time at all the children were standing in the open and laughing as the spirit continued his amusing antics.

"Take a bow for the audience," Aela eventually said, loud enough that her voice would carry to the onlookers above. The gnome complied with a deep bow to the youngsters. Then he turned to go back to the somber business of digging out the deep trench.

"Perhaps later we'll give another show," Aela called out as the children let out a collective sigh of disappointment. She turned back to the work at hand herself, and when a trickle of water began to spill down into the ditch she scrambled up its outer edge. As she had the day before, she dispelled the gnome and summoned an undine to turn the water out of the nearest rice paddy. Once it was drained, she returned to the ditch, and reconjured her gnome to continue digging and building.

By now more than children were watching her with rapt attention. Human and Teodon adults also clustered along the already-built embankment behind Aela. They pointed and spoke in low tones, clearly amazed at not only the spirit, but the massive amount of soil it was able to move and reshape.

By midday Aela had worked her way behind the village, and the digging picked up speed. There were no rice paddies on that side of the settlement, so she did not have to split her time alternating between spirits. She saw Hrafngoelir, Phereinon, and a group of villagers working on the hills above, chopping down the forest of bamboo that grew there. Already the lowest slopes had been cleared, leaving nothing but sharpened stumps behind.

Aela took a few moments to watch, and saw that the white-haired swordswoman chopped down each stalk of bamboo with a single, diagonal slice from Malediction. After felling several of the stalks, she and Hrafngoelir would gather them up and drag them down the hill, where a waiting group of villagers would take them into the village.

The Skanjr herself wielded a borrowed saw. Aela knew that her sword - Frostbita - would ruin the stalks with its frost enchantment. That made her wonder about Malediction. Out of curiosity, she aesensed Phereinon and her weapon. The white-haired woman's aura was its usual perfect mask. This time however, her sword did not fill the Arvern with a deep sense of dread and loss as it had every other time she had aesensed it. Rather it felt blank, nameless, as if its power had vanished.

For a moment Aela wondered if Phereinon was deliberately masking its aura as well. Then she remembered that Loria had once told her about suppressing enchantments. It was a technique taught in the advanced enchanting classes to make working with magical implements safer. The Arvern suspected that the mystery woman had learned to do the same, along with her other diverse talents.

In spite of the heat Phereinon still wore her full mail armor, leggings, and cape. Yet she showed no sign of minding the temperature. Hrafngoelir on the other hand, was clad in nothing but a crop top and a loose, short skirt that left much of her athletic frame on display. Aela had to admit that she was quite easy to look at, especially given how the sweat glistened upon her fair skin.

Soon Aela found herself coming across their path, and was obliged to leave a break in the ditch so that the transport of bamboo could continue. She vowed to remember to come back when they were finished, so that she could dig out that section of the village perimeter. Still, she had no doubt that Venca would remind her if she forgot. When it came to military matters, the Rasen seemed to miss nothing.

The mercenaries took a break at mid-morning, and Aela had to once more use her Cleanse spell to make herself presentable. Except for Phereinon, none of them wore their armor for the back-breaking labor under the hot sun. Aela did note that Hrafngoelir's hair was still perfect, and now her skin was clean, dry, and smelled faintly of flowers. So either she had found a way to bathe and dry quickly, or she knew a Cleanse spell of her own.

Even Venca had discarded his armor for a simple breech cloth, albeit of a characteristic ebony shade. His hard, muscled body gleamed under a layer of sweat. But Aela's eyes were drawn to a curious birthmark over his heart. After staring at it for a few moments, she realized that it was shaped like a rose. Yet it was completely black. The goddess of magic and night could not have marked her territory more plainly…

Aecha was waiting for them with a jug of cool water and cups for all. Aela made an effort to remain upon her best behavior, and just to be extra careful dispelled her gnome before approaching the priestess. That way there would be no further mud-based incidents. Of course Aela sensed for poison before drinking. For her own part, the Teodon was not especially antagonistic. Though she was hardly friendly either. Rather her face seemed to be set in stone, and she said nothing to the Arvern.

Many of the villagers joined them, including all of those who had aided in the labors. Aela noted that the four Agrigentans who had journeyed to Veia to hire them - Vesia, Ranazu, Daehyun, and Hyunsu - were representative of the community. It was all Rasenna and Teodon, with nary a member of another race.

Because of that lack of diversity, Aela found that for once she was not the one being constantly stared at. Instead the Agrigentans seemed delighted with Dhasan for his fur, and Loria for his pointed ears, red hair, and creamy skin. Hrafngoelir likewise drew attention among the dark Rasen for her golden hair and fair skin. Phereinon also stood out with her deathly pallor and snow white hair. But her frosty demeanor did not invite admiration for long.

Loria ate up the attention of course. There was nothing he loved better than to be the center of attention. In no time at all he had his deck of cards out and was performing tricks for the villagers, adult and child alike. He followed with other sleight-of-hand illusions, such as drawing copper coins from behind the ears of children, and even producing a live chicken from beneath a startled Hyunsu's tail.

"Your friend certainly knows how to win people over," Vesia smiled as she watched the impromptu show beside Aela.

"It is one of the things he is best at," Aela admitted. "I wish I had even half of his charm."

"Oh, I think you do just fine," the Rasen woman said softly.

For a moment, Aela wondered if she detected a tone of longing in the other woman's voice. But then it was gone, and Vesia burst out into laughter at Loria's latest antic.

The wizard had tried on a villager's conical reed hat, and was having some trouble taking it off again. No matter how hard he pulled, pushed, twisted, or turned the hat, it seemed glued to his head. It was only after enlisting help from the audience that their combined efforts were able to pry the headgear loose. Then after wiping the sweat from his brow with a hand cloth, the high elf ran into the same difficulty, as it too refused to budge from his fingers afterward.

"Your water priestess might disagree," Aela could not help but mutter under her breath.

"You mean the mud-slinging incident?" Vesia smiled and turned to look at Aela. "Knowing her, I'm sure she had it coming."

"Knowing her?" Aela raised an eyebrow.

"She's rather… hidebound," Vesia replied. "Her mother was very traditional, and Aecha's a draught from the same cask. She hides behind religion like a warrior does a shield. Anything that doesn't fit into her narrow view of how the world is supposed to be is 'unnatural'."

"That is exactly what she called me," Aela frowned.

"I am not surprised," Vesia sighed. "We have never had a two-spirit person here in Agrigento. Not one that admitted to it at least. I doubt anyone who was would come out with it. The truth is, people are very conservative here. They aren't used to change, or anything different at all. Half of us being a different race from the other half is radical enough as it is!"

"So people are talking about it then?" Aela sighed. That was just what she needed. Now the entire village would be gossiping about it- and her being a two-spirit - behind her back.

"It came up." Vesia looked away from Loria and his show, and turned to face Aela directly. "I am not sure if I should tell you this or not. It does not make our hamlet look very good. But I think you deserve to know the truth."

Aela's heart doubled its pace. Here it comes, she thought, the inevitable declaration that she was abnormal, and not wanted.

"Aecha called a secret meeting of the village leaders last night," Vesia frowned. "She demanded your expulsion."

"Well that did not take long," Aela said.

"We all told her to stuff herself," Vesia beamed. "Even her father. I think it may be the proudest I have ever been of my neighbors."

"You… what?" Aela could help but stare, and had to make a conscious effort to shut her gaping mouth.

"Well, not in so many words." Vesia kept her voice low, so others did not overhear. "Actually in Ranazu's case yes. He told Aecha that if it came down to choosing between you and her, she had better pack her bags. I tried to say it more… diplomatically. You are such an admirable person Aela. You have every right to be here, and I won't live in a place, or fight for a place, that says otherwise. We all want you here."

That hand that Vesia laid upon her arm was warm, and Aela saw a sparkle in the other woman's eyes. It was not the first time the Arvern had noticed that like Hrafngoelir, Vesia was not hard to look at…

"I…" Aela stammered, at a loss for words. For the thousandth time, she wished for Loria's wit. He would say exactly the right thing. All she could do was stare like an idiot, and turn red as a beet.

Still, Aela wondered if their response would have been the same if she had not been a master of vitamancy and spiritism, let alone warding. Or if it might not have caused a schism with the rest of the mercenaries? Was it really acceptance, or just pragmatism? After all, the Frisverd had been amiable enough when she was shielding them from fireballs. But once that was no longer needed, she saw how accepting they really were.

Aela silently cursed the world that forced her to even think in such a way.

"What's wrong?" Vesia bit her lip. "I shouldn't have told you. I'm sorry. I just thought that you would, well, be happy?"

"I am," Aela smiled. Vesia seemed earnest enough at least. She might at least be someone she could trust.

Posted by: Grits Feb 2 2019, 07:22 PM

For the sleeved garments and elbow support, perhaps ornamental arm bands with long fringes could be a thing? I could see having to hold beaded grass strands out of one’s soju as readily as a silken sleeve.

I love the crested ibis calling the Agrigentans to the fields with their morning arrival. Loria and Aela’s gnome charming the villagers made a good backdrop for the sour news that Aecha had indeed made a play against Aela and been overruled by the village leaders. Though Aela has too much bitter experience to be certain that they would all be so welcoming if they didn’t need her, at least the episode ended with warmth between her and Vesia of the sparkling eyes.

I am of course in favor of all the muscly sweating. Theut (or a more appropriate deity) bless a warm climate!

Posted by: Acadian Feb 2 2019, 08:39 PM

This continues to be a joy to read! Despite the sober backdrop of preparing defenses to ward off an expected attack, you wove plenty of fun antics and neat observations into this episode.

I cheered when I learned how Aeecha’s own village had properly rebuked her, then saddened as Aela struggled to embrace her acceptance at face value. Her life experience has taught her to be suspicious – probably a helpful survival aide but sad nonetheless.

Vesia emits a good aura though and I’d bet that Aela will find a reliable friend in her.

While his charm, quick wit and silver tongue serve Loria well, it is exactly the lack of those things that serve Aela well. Her slight awkwardness and struggles with self-confidence simply render her more endearing to those who take time to learn a bit about her.


Nit: ’She did nor remain alone for long however, for in no time at all a few of the village children came to watch.’ - - I’m sure you meant not vs nor.

Posted by: Renee Feb 8 2019, 04:57 PM

I think I've been mooned by a gnome at least once. I was at a Grateful Dead concert at the time though, so that probably doesn't count.

WHAT? THey wanted to expel Aela???? For cryin' out loud. She's the one who helped them so!

Yes, I am with Aela on that one. If she didn't have all those talents, maybe the others might not have spoken up for her.

Posted by: SubRosa Feb 9 2019, 04:40 PM

Grits: That arm band idea with colored beads or streamers sounds like a great idea!

The crested ibis came from a documentary called Wild China. There is an indigenous people (Dai or Tai I think), who do not go out to work in the fields until the crested ibis fly into them first.

Theut is a god of magic (like RL Hermes), so he would not be the one to pray to for sweaty muscles. Though he would probably appreciate them as much as Loria...



Acadian: We will indeed see more of Vesia, and lean more about her, and Agrigento in the process.

I do hope that Aela's awkwardness makes her more endearing. My hope is that it will give most people something to relate to in her. I am sure we have all felt awkward, and not known what to say or do, at some time in our lives.

That was indeed a not, not a nor. Thanks for the catch!


Renee: Given what might have been floating around in the air at that concert, there is no telling what you may have seen!

I didn't think someone like Aecha would just let things drop, so I worked in her end run play against Aela. Whether the other villagers are more accepting than her, or just more practical, is one of those things we will probably never truly know.



Chapter 13.5

Aela finished digging the ditch that day. As she predicted, Venca reminded her to dig out that little land bridge she had left for moving the cut bamboo into the village. He seemed impressed with her work however, and they took a tour of the breastworks as night fell. He even approved of how she had set the timbers of the wall to alternate between chest height and head height, like a crenellated parapet on a castle. She knew from experience that the higher sections would give the defenders refuge from missiles, while the lower ones would give them positions through which to attack with their own bows or spears.

"It would have taken hundreds of men to dig this out in the time you did it. Not to mention to reset the timber wall. I'm impressed." Before Aela could let the words of praise go to her head, he continued. "Tomorrow you can dig that tunnel between the distillery and the stable."

So the next day Aela found herself toiling within the bowels of the earth, with only a spell to see by. More than ever she was thankful for the gnome, who did not so much dig the soil out of the ground as shift it aside to create the passage. That made it unnecessary to cart wagonloads of dirt out of the ground. The earth spirit also took the local stones and fused them together into single, seamless pieces of rock. From these he created braces every six feet or so to prevent the ceiling from collapsing.

As the tunnel ran a much shorter distance than the moat, Aela finished her work by noon. She emerged to find Venca leading the effort to build shields from the timber they had felled in the previous days. At his direction the villagers cut the wood into planks. These they laid over one another in a crisscross pattern of two layers, held together by fish glue. These half-inch thick cores were cut into round discs just under three feet in diameter. A hand grip was added to the interior by way of a long strip of wood that ran from one end of the shield to the other. The edges were rimmed with rawhide, and the outside was faced in linen glued to its surface. Then finally each finished shield was treated with oil to waterproof it.

In the meantime Phereinon continued hacking the bamboo they had collected into spears, poles, and spikes for the frises, and punji sticks for the currently dry moat. The taciturn woman appeared to take the task as seriously as she did her battle in the streets of Veia, and her face remained a mask of razor-sharp focus the entire time.

They took a break for a simple lunch of rice flavored with what Aela had come to think of as Teodon brown sauce. It was a condiment which the saurians put on nearly everything. So far as Aela could tell, it was a fish sauce spiced with garlic, basil, and lemongrass.

Alcheon showed them how to eat the meal with Teodon kuaizi sticks: two slender bamboo sticks held between the fingers and thumb in lieu of a fork or spoon. At least he tried to teach them. Of all the other mercenaries, only Dhasan was able to master using the sticks. The fumbling attempts of Aela and the others brought amused giggles and chuckles from the villagers. Aela imagined that she would have an easier time using her bare fingers, and like most of the others, she eventually surrendered and used a wooden spoon. Phereinon did not even try, nor eat any of the lunch at all. Instead she continued working upon the bamboo.

The next day Venca was training the villagers in the use of spear and shield. Only the children and the elderly were left out. Even old Hyunsu, who tried to beg off the combat training, was dragged into the line by Ranazu. The Rasen pointed out that despite his age, the Teodon was still as fit and capable as a marsh croc.

Unlike the individual training that Venca had offered on the Nakdeok Queen, this was something entirely different. Instead he taught the villagers to stand in line and form a shield wall. The first rank would kneel and ground their round shields. They were so tightly packed that the edges of their shields overlapped with those to either side. The second rank would then step right up beside the first and hold their shields high, so they filled the gaps left above and between the first rank's shields. The end result was a double row of overlapping shields that faced Venca, appearing as immovable as the timber wall surrounding the village.

The Rasen tested the strength of the wall with a single kick from a lorcras-armored boot. The entire wall collapsed under the blow, and the villagers fell hither and thither. Even those nowhere near the Rasen's kick scurried away like mice. Venca was left in the aftermath, shaking his head in dismay. It was clear to Aela that the drill instructor had a great deal of work ahead of him…

* * *

Dhasan took a break from planting punji stakes in the ditch surrounding the hamlet. He climbed the dirt wall of the dry moat on hands and feet, frequently slipping in the loose soil. He wanted to curse at the difficulty. But the thought of his enemies having to make the same climb while he fired arrows at them made it all worthwhile.

Once he had reached the top, the vulpine easily scampered over the crenellated wall. Settling down inside, he drew forth a short piece of bamboo bearing a single line of holes along its length. Taking out his carving knife, he cut a final hole in the shaft. Once he was satisfied it was just right, the Asokar held the flute sideways to his lips, and blew a gentle breath of air through the instrument.

A soft whistle issued from the flute, like the sound of a bird. Working the key holes with the pads of his fingers, Dhasan transformed the simple noise into a haunting melody. As he played, his memory fled back to his days as a kit, when his mother had first taught him the flute.

Thoughts of Kye Rim, Agrigento, and bandits fled from his mind. Dhasan found himself sitting on his mother's lap outside their home in Hiakwia. The hot sun warmed his fur, and his tail danced in delight as his mother played for him.

"Let me play, mommy!" he cried, pawing for the slender flute in his mother's hands. The golden-furred vixen smiled back him, and obligingly lowered the musical instrument to his lips. Yet the sound that issued forth was anything but musical!

"Who farted!" his father laughed. He was tall and lean, with dark red fur that faded to soft white under his chin. Today he wore his ironleaf armor, and carried his flatbow bow strapped across his back. He bent down to lift Dhasan in his paws, and the young Asokar responded with a contented yip as his father held him to his shoulder. But in no time at all he felt himself lowered to the ground, and then it was his mother who embraced his father.

"It is time then Skiriki?" she said with a dread in her voice that the cub could not understand.

"Aye Taipa," his father responded grimly. "The tuskers have been drawn out near Serpent's Bluff. Today we shall finish them, and avenge what they did last winter."

"Will the round-ears assist?"

"Aye," his father nodded in assent. "Their fighters will meet us on the road. They will probably bring those chariots again."

"Then don't try to ride them this time!" Dhasan's mother admonished. "And stay behind the shield-bearers, and don't be a hero. One father is worth any ten of those."

"Aye, aye woman," his father threw up his paws in surrender. "And I won't drink the water, or talk to strangers. Cannot an Asokar have any fun?"

"Just bring yourself home alive," his mother fretted.

"That is Skiriki's promise," he declared. "And you my little kit, when I return from chastising those orcs, perhaps I shall teach this one to use the bow? Then my son shall become a real Asokar warrior!"

"Yes I will!" Dhasan cried.

"Until then, watch for serpents, and defend the house," his father said. "I will be back before my scent fades in the air."

But of course he never returned.

"Dhasan!"

The voice snapped the Asokar out of his reverie. He looked up, and found that the Teodon trader Daehyun was walking up earthen rampart. He carried a self-bow made of bamboo in one hand, and a brace of bamboo arrows rose up from the quiver slung over his shoulder.

"I was about to go hunting," the Teodon said. "I thought you might wish to join me."

"Aye," Dhasan grinned. "Anything to get away from these stakes. Though I suspect they will still be waiting for me when I return."

"If we return with a pig, or sika deer, the work will go much easier."

"At least our stomachs will be full eh?" Dhasan smiled. "Let me get my bow and quiver…"



https://i.imgur.com/uvd0uXn.jpg

Posted by: Acadian Feb 9 2019, 10:09 PM

Another episode full of busy preparations as you continue to build tension for the likely big battle. Aela’s mud-buddy is even better at digging tunnels than moats! Shields, punjii stakes, spears all being crafted. Venca’s testing of the shield wall was both proof of progress as well as a humorous reminder that much remains to be done.

Kuaizi sticks and the frustration that comes with learning to use them. I think most folks can identify with that!

A poignant memory from Dhasan that gives us another tantalizing morsel of his background – nicely done.

Posted by: Grits Feb 12 2019, 04:55 PM

Oh dear, and that shield wall shaped up so nicely. Now Venca needs to make some warriors to put behind it.

What a lovely and haunting glimpse into Dhasan’s past. Their vulpine ways and phrases felt perfectly natural.

Posted by: SubRosa Feb 16 2019, 03:37 PM

Acadian: I really liked Dhasan's flashback to childhood. So much of who he is today is rooted in his feelings toward his father, who never came home.

And I have never been able to use chopsticks myself!


Grits: Venca definitely has his work cut out for him. But then again, doing so shows just what he brings to the team, besides just a sword and a strong back.

I love taking modern terms and phraseology and adapting them to different cultures and species.




Chapter 14

"This is the Sepulcher of the Voracious One?" Sindeok breathed quietly.

"It was," Dark-Eye murmured.

Sindeok started, he had thought his voice had been too low to hear. He hoped his captain would not take offense. He had worked hard to stay in Dark-Eye's favor, much to the displeasure of the other raider lieutenants. The last thing he needed to do was incur their master's wrath. That would prove fatal.

"What has happened here?" Girim, the leader of the band's mages spoke. "A battle?"

Sindeok looked over what had once been either a settlement or fort. It was too crude to be called a castle. In some places the wooden walls that surrounded it were still intact. But wide swaths of the fortification had been battered down, or burnt to ash.

A spring bubbled outside of the walls, and ran off to form a narrow stream. It wound away out of sight between the high pinnacles of the Stone Forest, which rose up all around the site. The irregular stone columns jutted into the sky like broken bones from a skeleton. In some places brush and small trees sprouted from footholds in the stone towers, but most were as barren as old corpses.

They ventured deeper into the ruins, to find stone and wooden buildings in various stages of decimation. Some only had doors broken down or windows smashed in. Others had roofs burned out, and one or more walls tumbled down. A few were nothing but piles of scorched rubble. The structures ended at a large open square that was littered with broken spears, splintered boards from shattered shields, and other detritus. A tall mound of earth and stone rose beyond. A dark opening yawned within its side, rimmed with unmortared stones.

A tall pile of bones rose beside the mouth of the tunnel. The remains looked odd to Sindeok. They all lacked tails, and their necks were unnaturally short. He imagined that they must have been from humans, and mused that the soft-skins looked even stranger with their flesh off than with it on.

"This is the work of bounty hunters!" Dark-Eye spat.

"How can you tell?" Girim wondered.

"The heads are missing," the captain explained. "They took them for proof of the kills."

The other bandits looked about with unease. The site of the massacre did not aid Sindeok's nerves either. But something smelled different about this place. It was not the soot or few rotting strips of flesh left on the skeletons. It was something more subtle, yet infinitely more potent.

There was magic in the air, he realized. Powerful magic. Its savory aroma filled his nostrils like the smell of a roast duck once did. His stomach murmured at the thought, and at the sight of the bared bones. This was a holy place. But he suspected a place only sacred to those like himself, who had feasted upon the flesh of the manaborn.

"It appears our brothers are no more," Girim frowned. "Yet perhaps we can still salvage something from the ruins?"

"Aye, spread out, see if the bounty hunters left anything of value!" Dark-Eye cried.

Sindeok doubted that they had. Whoever had caused the massacre appeared to have been as skilled at looting as they had been at killing. But he was not about to voice that opinion. In fact, he kept his lips very tight. Dark-Eye had led them here to find allies for the fight to come. Discovering their potential friends dead did not weigh in their captain's favor. He would be looking for any opportunity to reaffirm his authority over the men. Sindeok did not much like the idea of something dramatic happening to him, to prove their leader's power.

"You two, come with me." Dark-Eye looked to Girim and Sindeok, and without another word led them into the mound.

Sindeok quickly realized that it was not a natural formation. The ceiling was held up by massive slabs of irregular stones. The walls to either side were of smaller stones, so carefully fitted into place that no mortar was needed. The former nangdo suspected that mortar had not yet been invented at the time this was built. He had read about the ruins of the Mound People, who had lived in the lands to the north before the time of the Rasenna, before even the Arvern. He imagined this might be one of their creations.

The others made no light as they stepped into the darkness. As he guessed they must have done, Sindeok focused his mind, and channeled his mana into his Dark-Seeing spell. He had learned it years before, when he had first joined the Celestial Flight company. All hwarang had to be able to fight in total darkness if need be after all.

The fragrant smell of magic came much stronger here, filling him with a feeling of strength. It was as if the air itself was charged with an energy that found a home in his bones. It was almost like a drug, and Sindeok could not help but to bare his teeth with predatory joy. This place made him want to hunt, to kill, to carve flesh from bones and devour it. Not any flesh of course, only that of the manaborn would do.

"This is a place of great power," Girim said beside him. "The Devourer has sanctified it with her presence. I can see why your allies made their stronghold here."

"Aye, this barrow has long been a holy place to Manaha, and our brother eaters," Dark-Eye said. "It was here that I learned to fight with the longsword, and the true depths of the Voracious One's power.

Sindeok looked about, and finally realized that the tunnel was indeed a burial place. Now he saw small niches in the walls. These played host to dusty bones that must have been thousands of years old. Several times they passed by corridors that ran off to either side. But Dark-Eye paid them no heed. Instead he led them directly to the end of the tunnel.

There it widened into a semicircular chamber. A great cauldron was knocked over on its side near the center of the room, with the skeletal remains of legs jutting out from within its wide lip. Ribs and a spine were scattered about nearby, and a pair of iron shackles hung from the ceiling overhead, with wrists and hands still bound within them.

A second, headless skeleton lay nearby. Scorch marks scored the walls and floor, and other bits of charred bone and other debris littered the end of the room. Sindeok could still smell the faint trace of magic in the air. Some sort of arcane bolts, he imagined. To mundane eyes it would have seemed like lightning. But he could still feel the power that had lurked beneath the elemental force. Whoever had destroyed this place had possessed great magical strength.

Dark-Eye ignored the cauldron and skeletons, and crossed the room with a handful of confident strides. He stepped into a large pile of scorched detritus, before a short pedestal of stone. Sindeok wondered if some sort of idol or shrine had stood atop the stone, only to have been shattered into the wreckage on the ground.

Dark-Eye leaned down over the pedestal, and seemed to hunt around it with his hands. A click came to Sindeok's ears, followed by a rumble of triumph from his captain's crimson-banded throat.

"The bounty hunters did not find the barrow's real treasures after all," he said, satisfaction plainly evident in his voice. Straightening up, he turned to reveal a book and amulet in one hand, and a small egg-like object in the other. Sindeok smelled power in all three items, especially in the egg. In fact, the latter nearly overwhelmed his magical senses.

"Take this Girim." Dark-Eye handed the bone amulet to the raider mage. "It will shield you from enemy spells."

"This is for you Sindeok." The bandit-lord gave the book to the former nangdo. Sindeok noted that the binding was made of leather, and it took only a moment for him to realize that it was human leather. This brought a smile to his face, and he casually opened it to the title page.

"Recipes For A New Age, by Pherein Phonon." Sindeok read aloud. He wondered if it was some form of cannibal cookbook?

"It is a copy of a treatise on spellcraft," Dark-Eye said. "The original was written by the Scale-Breaker herself, over five thousand years ago. The binding is newer however." Dark-Eye winked. "It will teach you the arts of concealing your aura, summoning aetherial blades, creating enhanced poisons, and other techniques useful for a revolutionary, or an assassin."

"The Scale-Breaker herself?" Sindeok stared at the tome with new-found respect. Then his eyes narrowed. "But it is written in our tongue? Was the Phereinon not a soft-skin?"

"The writing changes to match the language of whomever is reading it," the raider captain explained. "An elf will see it in elvish. A Skanjr will see their runes. It can be used by one of any race, to overthrow any power."

Sindeok stared at the page with rapt fascination. Like all members of the Celestial Flight company, he had been taught the basics of magic and sensing the aether. This would teach him so much more. It was power, something he had quickly learned equaled life in Dark-Eye's company.

He looked back to his captain, and saw that the red-scaled Teodon had lifted his eye patch, revealing the scarred, gaping ruin beneath. In his hand was the egg-like object. Sindeok saw that it was blood red in color, and seemed to be made of some sort of resin, like an insect's secretion. It stank of magic, like a pile of rotting corpses. Just sensing it made him hungry…

Dark-Eye raised it up and placed the object directly into his empty eye-socket. He screamed then. It was the only time Sindeok had ever seen him acknowledge pain. A searing noise came to the former nangdo's ears, like that of burning flesh. Dark-Eye hunched over, with both hands covering his face.

Girim reached out to steady the captain, but the black-striped raider batted the mage's hand away. Even now, he would accept no assistance. After a few moments the sizzling noise abated, and Dark-Eye rose to his full height once more. For a moment Sindeok thought he saw something within the new eye's crimson surface. A tenebrous landscape of dread and corruption. Then Dark-Eye drew his eye patch down over the terrible artifact, and the nightmare vision was gone.

"Nothing can stop us now," Dark-Eye crowed.

Posted by: Acadian Feb 16 2019, 09:11 PM

"This is the work of bounty hunters!" Dark-Eye spat.
"How can you tell?" Girim wondered.
"The heads are missing," the captain explained. "They took them for proof of the kills."
- - A grisly but reasoned observation.

This episode was suitably ominous and disconcerting as the reptilian cannibals discovered the looted site.

By Azura! Dark-Eye just got a lot darker – literally.

The Seven wield some potent magicks but here, we learn that so do their foes. . . .


Nit: "Aye, spread out, see if they bounty hunters left anything of value!" Dark-Eye cried.' - - the vs they?

Posted by: Grits Feb 17 2019, 05:15 PM

Yikes, the raiders have an instruction book written by the Scale-Breaker herself. That and the artifacts made things a lot scarier!

I loved this chapter! The sense of dread just kept creeping up to the last line!

Posted by: SubRosa Feb 23 2019, 05:30 PM

Acadian: This part of the story is short on action. So I added that last interlude with the bandits as a way to increase the tension, and remind the reader that yes, the bad guys are out there. I also used it as an opportunity to show where Dark-Eye got that oh so deadly artifact he later uses. Finally, it will give Sindeok an opportunity to grow in power and threat himself.



Grits: I liked making the book one written by Phereinon, teaching all the things you need to overthrow the Dark Elves, or any other despot for that matter. It is a great example of the kind of thing that would be held in the restricted library of a university. Since the powers that be would not want that kind of knowledge out - how to cloak auras, summon weapons, etc...




Chapter 15.1

Aela woke during the night with an odd feeling. Something was tickling at the back of her mind. It was like a sound just too quiet to hear, or a scent too scarce to smell. She could not put her finger on just what it might be. Whatever it was, it did not feel threatening. It just seemed that there was something she was not paying attention to, that she ought to notice.

Asaryl had always encouraged her to follow her intuitions. "Some people say it is your mind trying to tell you something," the old elf had said. "Others say it is the amhranai, gently plucking at the strings of your soul. Either way, it is wise to listen."

The Arvern sat up and looked around. Nothing appeared untoward within the single room of Ranazu's abode. There were no lights, or loud noises. The other mercenaries were scattered around asleep on their bedrolls or mats. Except for Phereinon, who was nowhere to be found. That did not surprise Aela, as she had long ago noted that the white-haired woman often woke during the night. She had found her on other occasions quietly reading, or outside taking extra watch shifts and practicing with her sword.

Aela rose from her bedroll and did her best to tip-toe across the room. Still, boards squeaked underfoot. She was obliged to make a contrite face at Dhasan when the vulpine lifted his head when she tried to pass. Clearly she was no sneak thief. The Asokar said nothing, and simply lowered his head back to his sleeping mat as she went by.

Aela stepped outside and closed the rattan door behind her with a muted sigh of relief. The village around her was quiet. But Aela noted that across the town square a figure sat upon the wooden platform in front of the brewery, near the alarm bell. She pulled her boots on and descended the steps from the porch to the earth below. Then she made her way to the mysterious figure.

As she drew near, she was able to make out the hood and cape that the figure wore. It was Phereinon, as she had suspected. The other woman sat with her back to Aela and seemed to be hunched over, doing something in her lap.

Aela did not bother trying to aesense Phereinon. She had long since learned the futility of that. Nor did she try to mask the sound of her approach. She was not here to pry. She was simply following her instincts.

From just a few feet away Aela saw that the white-haired woman held a dagger in one hand. It was a simple, thin weapon, with no crossbar and a plain handle. She imagined it could be easily concealed in the fold of a legging or up a sleeve. As Aela watched, Phereinon drew its blade across her arm, slicing her corpse-white flesh open as if it was butter.

The cut went deep. Deep enough for Aela to see bone, and something else. Something that did not belong in any living body. It looked like thin tendrils of crystal, that spread this way and that throughout her flesh. Even without actively aesensing, and even through the mask upon Phereinon's aura, Aela felt the power flowing through the unusual material. It reminded Aela of criosaine, the glowing crystal of the Light Elves. But where the elven crystal was warm and bright, this felt cold and piercing, like veins of ice.

That thought made Aela realize something else. She saw no veins or arteries within the rent flesh, nor was there any blood. Instead the crystal had replaced all of Phereinon's blood vessels that were visible.

As Aela watched, the sundered crystalline structures from either side of the wound reached out and welded themselves back together. Flesh was drawn after it, sealing the injury closed in just a moment. Not even a scar was left behind. If she had not seen it, Aela would never have guessed the injury had ever existed.

Her mind reeled. What on earth was that crystal? What was Phereinon? That she was undead had been clear for some time. But she had never heard of a deadwalker like this.

"You know that is not healthy." Aela slipped back into years of training and experience as a healer. That was at least a safe, familiar ground for her to tread upon. One in which she could think, and act, with at least some certainty.

"As you can see, it will heal." As if to underscore her words, Phereinon drew the knife across another portion of her arm. Again, the Arvern Witch saw white flesh slice in twain, only to knit back together as healthy and perfect as before. If the word health could even be applied to a person like Phereinon...

"I did not mean physically," Aela said. "I realize that cutting might feel like it is helping you right now. But it is not a positive behavior. It will only bring more issues in the future."

"That is not why I do it." Phereinon took the knife - still completely free of blood or any other form of detritus - and tucked it out of sight within one of her leg wrappings. She looked back at Aela.

"Tell me, do you dream?"

"Yes." Aela sat down beside the other woman. "Since I was a child, I dreamed of a world where I was as normal as everyone else. Lately, I dream of a world that does not care that I am not."

"That is not what I meant," Phereinon shook her head. "I mean simple, ordinary dreams, at night, when you sleep."

"Well of course." Aela fought the urge to feel foolish for waxing philosophical over such an entirely mundane question."Everyone dreams, even if they do not remember it."

"Everyone who sleeps," Phereinon corrected her. "I have not dreamed for five thousand years. I can still remember them, sometimes. I dreamed of seeing the sky again, of feeling the wind on my face again, of playing with my sister again..."

"Tell me, when you dream, do you feel pain?" she asked.

"No, never," Aela shook her head, "fear, anxiety, doubt, yes, but never actual, physical pain."

"Sometimes I cut myself, to remind myself that this is real," Phereinon said. "So I know that I am not still back in that lightless cell, or strapped to that table. The pain tells me I am not imagining all of this, to escape from reality."

"I did not think that the dead could feel pain," Aela said without really thinking. She almost caught her breath afterward. She had finally acknowledged the pink hadrosaur in the room. Now the dice would fall where they would.

"Our pain is what defines us." Phereinon's eyes glowed brightly in the starlight, as if they were stars themselves, plucked from the sky and planted within her skull. "We become trapped in what we were feeling when we died. Pain, terror, hate, fury, whatever it was, we sink into it like the Kye Rim mud. Most of us are consumed by it."

"And you?" Aela ventured a more carefully considered question.

"The pain is always burning down there, with the anger, the outrage, the longing to strike out." Phereinon said. "I try to rule it, and use it constructively. But I do not always succeed. Accepting the horror of what I have done helps. It reminds me that there will always be consequences for my actions."

"What of yourself?"

"I have my darkness too," Aela found herself nodding with the dead woman. "I get so... furious sometimes. When I changed to living female, my roommate and his friends tried to murder me. Afterward the school put me on trial for it. The truth did not matter. I only got through that because one of my teachers fought for me."

"That wasn't the only time something like that happened of course," Aela fumed. "Not only to me either. Later I found out from one of the girls at the school that the same ones who attacked me had raped her, and many of the other female students. Naturally the school never did anything about any of it, because they were all from good families. It wouldn't be right to ruin their lives after all..."

"It makes me not trust people," Aela said. "Sometimes it makes me want to lash out, and kill them, to just kill everyone who threatens me."

"But you don't?" Phereinon asked.

"No," Aela said, "not yet at least. I'm not a beast, and I won't be the monster they try to pretend I am. I have to be better than them. I am better than them."

"I envy you for your restraint," Phereinon said. "I have drank deeply from the cup of vengeance. I still bear the scars upon my soul, just as the Earth still bears the scars upon its surface."

"Are you the real Phereinon then?" Aela asked bluntly. "The White Death, who killed the Dark Elves and turned Tiwanku into a desert?"

"Not all the Dark Elves it seems..." Phereinon murmured, almost too low to hear. Then her voice rose strong and firm. "Yes, I am. I did not do it all alone of course, and it wasn't called Tiwanku then. But I started the war. I would not listen to reason. I would not allow for mercy, or conciliation. I was ready to die, again, for my vengeance. I reveled in it. I choked on it. I nearly drowned in it. It was only after a mountain of lava obliterated Moctragloir that I saw that I was not the hero of my tale. I was the villain. I was the monster. The stories are true, I created genocide."

"Moctragloir?"

"Dawn's Glory," Phereinon explained, "the ancient capital of the Silor. It was once the greatest and most beautiful city in the world. Or so the elves said at least. Now it is nothing but ashes and nightmares."

Aela laid a comforting hand upon the dead woman's shoulder. "You just made me realize something," she said by some imp of the perverse, "you make me feel normal."

Phereinon laughed.

Posted by: Acadian Feb 23 2019, 07:44 PM

A fascinating look into a bit of Phereinon’s history as well as who/what she is.

"I did not think that the dead could feel pain," Aela said without really thinking. She almost caught her breath afterward. She had finally acknowledged the pink hadrosaur in the room. Now the dice would fall where they would.'
- - Pink hadrosaur indeed! I understand Aela’s concern about the words she just loosed but, but I’m quite confident that Aela’s ability to sense life and death is no surprise to Phereinon.

'Aela laid a comforting hand upon the dead woman's shoulder. "You just made me realize something," she said by some imp of the perverse, "you make me feel normal."
- - What a delightfully obvious but unexpected observation from Aela! I love it – as well as Phereinon’s laughing response.

Posted by: Grits Feb 26 2019, 02:13 AM

I think I held my breath throughout the entire conversation between Aela and Phereinon. What an exquisite scene. Phereinon’s laugh at the end was perfect. *standing ovation*

Posted by: SubRosa Mar 2 2019, 04:29 PM

Acadian: That glimpse into Phereinon's nature, and her history, was fun to write.

Of course she knows that Aela knows she is undead. In fact, she is counting on it, because Aela will have to know if she is going to help her in the City of the Dead. But Aela does not know that Phereinon knows that she knows... But there was just no pretending to ignore it anymore.



Grits: I loved writing that conversation of Aela and Phereinon bonding. It humanizes both of them so well. The laugh at the end was my favorite part too. That was not part of my outline. I just got to that point and it was exactly the thing Phereinon would do.




Chapter 15.2

"Will this work for making your potions?"

Aela smiled as she looked over the black lacquered alembic and its attendant jugs and pots. It was far larger than she would normally use for making potions. The alembic itself stood several feet high, and sat upon a simple oven created by a stone cradle with an open space beneath for firewood. Likewise, the terra cotta pots and jugs would hold gallons of liquid, not the usual sip-sized doses one normally brewed.

"It's a little big, but I think it will work," Aela judged. "I'll just make it all in one big batch. Thankfully I gathered a quite a bit of white lotus yesterday afternoon. I can start making healing potions with that. I saw water lilies and swamp rosemallows on the walk here from the Nakdeok. Maybe tomorrow I can gather some up and make a batch of endurance potions, and another of armored skin brews."

"I am afraid we probably do not have enough bottles to go around to put it all in," Vesia spread her hands out. "I suppose we could just keep each in a different jug."

"Just so long as no one mistakes them for soju, and drinks them all!" Aela winked.

"The sacers forbid!" Vesia laughed. "Why don't you come in and have some tea before you get started?"

"I was hoping you would say that," Aela admitted. Ever since she had sampled some of Vesia's Teodon White Tea, she had been thinking of little else every time she took a drink.

Like Ranazu's abode, Vesia's home was a sparely furnished affair. It was laid out in the same manner, with an area for sleeping mats in the back, hearth and kitchen in the center, and living space by the front door. Aela noted that unlike Ranazu, Vesia kept a small case of books. She noted several alchemical volumes, a few on history, and finally a dozen novels by Juna Austenos and others. Her eye also noted that there was only one sleeping mat rolled up in the back of the home.

"I read many of these books at Ingenium," Aela thought aloud, "that alchemical one by Menalis, and Gokan's Ingredient Guides of Kye Rim and Rase."

"Those were my father's," Vesia said from where she sat at the hearthstone, where she struck up a low blaze. The Rasen filled a simple iron teapot with water and set it on a metal grill above the hearth. Then while the water heated, she produced a pair of worn clay cups and a jar of crushed tea leaves. "He was one of the original founders of Agrigento."

"So yours is a new settlement?" Aela lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

"Yes," Vesia admitted. "Well relatively. Our parents came here from Alalia over three decades ago. They were joined by many Teodon when they reached Kye Rim, and together they created Agrigento."

"That is quite a change," Aela said. "To go from a city as large as Alalia to here."

"You mean from the cosmopolitan heart of Rase to the middle of nowhere?" Vesia said. "Perhaps not quite as much as it might seem. My parents - and the other founders - were not rich. They were all laborers. They scraped up every last coin they could save or steal for the journey. The same was true of the Teodon. They were all copperless mud tails: third sons and fourth daughters, and others with nowhere to go. For them, Agrigento was a chance for a new start."

"They did well for themselves," Aela said honestly. She had seen Alalia's slums while she had attended the Ingenium. Thousands were crowded into six and seven story tall tenement buildings that were likely to catch fire or simply collapse at a moment's notice. That of course was for those lucky enough to afford such a place, and were not left to sleep in the alleys. A little farming village like Agrigento was charming in comparison.

"So where did the soju come into it?" Aela wondered.

"My father had worked in a brewery," Vesia said, "sweeping, carrying jugs, things like that. But he paid attention to what the brewers were doing, and made his own at home. When he got here he learned of the Teodon's native drink. Since they had the rice, he started making it with that cookery behind the house. Daehyun's father got the idea to sell it in Veia, where it would bring in the most coin. One thing led to another, and the whole village ended up pitching in. In time they had sold enough soju to buy the copper for one vat. That brought in the money for another vat, and so on."

"It sounds like Vinos truly blessed you," Aela said. Yet she could not tie that story of prosperity to what she saw when she looked around the simple interior of the Rasen's home. The Agrigento in Vesia's tale seemed to have nothing in common with the one she resided in.

"I suppose the wine god did, until the raiders came," Vesia frowned. "They took everything. I used to have a lovely ceramic tea service painted with cranes. Now I just have this old rubbish."

Vesia opened the lid of the teapot with a bunched up cloth, and a steady line of steam rose up from within.

"Almost boiling," she observed.

Lifting the pot from the grill, Vesia laid it aside on the hearth stone. Then she set a chipped infuser into one cup, added tea leaves, and poured hot water within. The Rasen spent a few minutes gently raising and lowering the infuser to swirl the leaves around. Then she did the same with the second cup.

She offered the first cup to Aela, who took a tentative sip of the hot liquid. The Arvern found the delicate, slightly sweet taste of the tea to be a wonder on her taste buds. The Rasen led her to a pair of chairs near the front door, with a small round table between them, all of rattan.

Aela leaned back in her chair with cup in hand and relaxed. "This is lovely," she breathed. The Rasen accidentally brushed against her as she moved to the other chair, gently sliding her fingers through Aela's long brown hair. The other woman's touch felt as inviting as the tea, and Aela wondered how accidental it might have been.

"So what happened to your parents?" Aela asked, glancing to the single sleeping mat. "I noticed that you live alone."

"My father died ten years ago," Vesia scowled. "He was bit by a taipan in the forest. By the time they had carried him back to the village, it was too late…"

"I am sorry to hear that," Aela said softly. Now she understood the Rasen's clenched fists when they had come across the venomous serpent on the way into the village.

"My mother…" Vesia shrugged. "Well, I never really knew her. She left when I was just a few years old."

"Why?" In spite of her decision not to pry, Aela could not help but to ask. "Did she return to Alalia?"

"I don't know," Vesia sighed. "One night while we were sleeping she just packed her things and left. We woke up in the morning and she was gone. I have no idea why she left, or where she went to."

"That must have been very difficult," Aela said honestly.

"I suppose," Vesia frowned. "But as I said, I was so young, I barely even remember her at all. I just grew up…, how I grew up. But what about yourself? How did your family take you being a semnotatoi?"

"In a word: badly," Aela stared into her cup. "I was born in Aulertil, and people like myself are no more welcome there than in Rase."

"Do you face a great deal of trouble because of it?" Vesia set her cup down on the table between them, and let her hands linger there.

"At times," Aela admitted. She brushed an errant lock of hair from her face, and followed the Rasen by setting her cup down on the table as well. "There always seems to be someone who notices, and cannot live without reminding me how of how wrong it is for me to exist."

"That must be frustrating," Vesia breathed. Her fingers reached out ever so slightly, and brushed against Aela's. "Some people can be so narrow-minded."

"Well, it is a relief to meet someone who is not," Aela let her fingertips gently caress those of the other woman.

Aela's heart was a hammer in her chest, and she had to fight to keep her breath calm and even. Was Vesia really interested in her, that way? Did she feel that way about the Rasen? After all, her experience with romance consisted almost entirely of observing Loria and his adventures with other men.

"Well, I look at you, and I see a woman." Vesia drew her hand away. "I did not even realize what you were at first. But even after I did, I cannot say it really changed much."

"It changes everything for most people," Aela frowned.

"What about Loria?" Vesia asked innocently. "The two of you are… close, are you not?"

"Loria and I?" Aela mused. "He's my best friend. He has been since we met at the Ingenium."

"So he's..."

"Just a friend," Aela insisted. "He's not interested in women. And I have never been interested in men."

"Really?" Vesia seemed to mull that over for a while, prompting Aela to continue.

"So what about yourself?" the Arvern asked. "With all of the men around here, is there someone special?"

"No," Vesia said, crossing her arms in front of her, "not at all."

Aela resisted the urge to lift an eyebrow. Not so much what the Rasen had said, but from what had been left unsaid. Vesia looked to be nearly thirty, an age which few Rasen women seemed to reach without becoming married. On one hand Vesia appeared to be almost screaming that she was sapphic. But on the other hand, Aela had been wrong before. She of all people knew that no one was entirely what they appeared to be...

* * *

Alcheon and Aecha stood atop one of the hills ringing Agrigento's small valley. A field of white orchids stretched out around them, lending their sweet scent to the air. To the west, the lowering sun splashed a brilliant shade of gold across the horizon, drawing the gazes of both Teodon.

"So you are Hyunsu's daughter?" Alcheon turned to the water priestess.

"I am," the water priestess said. "He did not tell you and your companions this?"

"Nay," Alcheon shook his head. "Your father never mentioned anything at all."

"Why am I not surprised?" The Teodon woman sighed. "He wanted me to hide when you arrived."

"Why?" Alcheon scratched the scales behind his head in confusion.

"He feared that those who were hired might be little different from the raiders," Aecha said.

"What if that had been so?" Alcheon asked.

"Daehyun would never bring such to our village," Aecha stated plainly. "Nor would Vesia. Besides, my dowsing crystal told me that your company meant us no harm as soon as you arrived."

"It did?" Alcheon eyed the curious pendant that dangled from the other Teodon's neck. Shaped like an hourglass, the clear crystal was sheathed with delicate strands of bronze. The blue water contained within glowed with a soft light, just as it had the first day he had laid eyes upon the water priestess.

"What does your crystal say of me?"

"It says that his tail does not waver in the face of danger." One of Aecha's hands slid across the male Teodon's wrist. "That his scales are strong and fit, and that his heart is true."

Alcheon stood a little straighter at the compliments. Aecha's words made him feel like he was taller, that his shoulders were wider, and his chest was deeper. He turned his arm so that her fingers slid into the palm of his hand. Moving it ever so slightly, he found her fingers intertwining with his own.

"It is unfair that you can see so much with your powers," the Teodon observed, "while I am but a mortal Teodon."

"Good!" Aecha smiled wryly. She briefly turned to watch the sunset, then looked back to the young warrior. "This is how it should be between males and females."

"Says the female!" Alcheon laughed. Then he turned seriously once more. "How did you become the mudang?"

"It was always meant to be," Aecha replied. "My mother was a water priestess before me, and her mother before her. Some day my daughter will also be the priestess after me."

"You seem very certain," Alcheon noted.

"Our destiny is our destiny," Aecha said plainly. "We are as our ancestors made us. We can be nothing else."

Alcheon thought about that, but said nothing in reply. He had left the rice fields of his home to make his own destiny as a warrior. Meeting the dry-foot Aela had only proven to him that his fate was his own to make. Yet here he was back in the rice fields once more, albeit this time with a spear rather than a basket. Had his ancestors preordained him to live and die in a rice paddy? Or was his future still his to make?




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Posted by: Acadian Mar 2 2019, 07:48 PM

You open this episode with some welcome easter egg humor. Juna Austenos and Vinos the god of wine indeed! It looks like Aela will be doing some potion brewing on a grand scale!

Then a delightfully delicate dance of exploration between Aela and Vesia. A dance left unfinished – for now. I rather like Vesia’s attitude regarding semnotatoi that I would summarize as, ‘If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, who cares how it got to be a duck?’

Finally, a scene between the two Teodon that showcases the eternal question of how much of one’s destiny is fate and how much is self-made. Aecha is consistent in her absolute certainty of her view whereas Alcheon has seen enough of the world to question that view.

Posted by: Grits Mar 5 2019, 03:26 AM

I love the big potion jugs. This is after all a gigantic community effort, as it turns out getting the soju operation going was as well! Neat.

Vesia’s way of connecting with Aela was as delicate and lightly sweet as her tea. Aela’s reserve is perfectly understandable given what she has shared about her past.

My tea olives are blooming right now, so I can imagine what a field of blooming orchids must smell like! Alcheon’s thoughts in the last paragraph flowed so naturally from their conversation, it was a joy to read.

Posted by: Renee Mar 7 2019, 08:40 PM

Sounds like they're using chopsticks!

I really enjoyed Chapter 14...always wanted to go on some sort of excavation like that. The "no mortar" part sounds just like the way original pyramids were made. Like giant jigsaw blocks which somehow fit together perfectly. Wow, a book that automatically translates itself. That's creepy!

Posted by: SubRosa Mar 9 2019, 05:14 PM

Acadian: I could not resist keeping in the Jane Austen reference from the Elder Scrolls version of Seven. I cannot remember if Vinos is just a humorous creation of mine, or if he is a reference to some real life obscure deity. I think the first. But I don't remember anymore!

That last episode was mostly about setting up a future romance or not-romance between Aela and Vesia. Vesia is indeed one of those rare people who can accept people for what they are, rather than looking for excuses not to.

The Alcheon/Aecha scene was indeed meant to juxtapose those two worlviews - that everything is determined by Fate vs. we make our own Fates. I hope it also stands out that as the town's water priestess, it is very convenient for her to believe that her possessing her position - one of respect and authority - was ordained by the Universe. While Alcheon - a simple mud-tailed farmer - wants very much to believe that he can make his own destiny, one that does not entail being a nobody with muddy feet.



Grits: Besides doing some 'shipping between Aela and Vesia, that last episode was about giving the reader some more back history on Agrigento, so the entire hamlet (hopefully) seems a bit more grounded and real.



Renee: They were using chopsticks. I wanted to add some more racial/cultural flavor to Kye Rim, so went with them instead of forks and spoons. I did not want to sound too colloquial, so used the standard Chinese word kuàizi instead.

The Dark Barrow / Sepulchur of Sepulcher of the Voracious One is based upon Bronze Age tombs, which were built before mortar was invented or at least common. So it is all massive stones fitted together. I spent a lot of time looking at https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/americas-stonehenge-mystery-hill in particular. Places like that have a wonderfully spooky feel.




Chapter 15.3

Aela sat back after their meal of stir fried rice and bamboo shoot noodles, and sipped her white tea.

"You should have some soju," Hrafngoelir reinforced her words by drinking the native beverage. "It is really good. I'm tempted to take some back north to sell in the longhouses of my people."

"Aye, have some," Dhasan barked. "It will put hair on your chest!"

"Indeed, look what it's done for him," Loria remarked dryly, nodding to the vulpine's red fur.

Aela tried not to laugh, and noticed Phereinon rise from her spot in Ranazu's cramped house. The pale woman's bowl was still half-full of rice and noodles, and her cup of water barely touched. She left without a word, prompting several of the others to pass silent glances back and forth.

"There she goes again," Hrafngoelir murmured in a low voice. "She eats like a bird. Less than a bird, and then always leaves after dinner."

"She is going to vomit," Dhasan said.

"What?" Alcheon stared wide eyed.

"Aye," the Asokar nodded. "I have followed her. She does it every night after dinner. She regurgitates everything she ate and drank during the day."

"She... purges?" Hrafngoelir's eyes beetled in surprise. "If it is to stay thin, I don't see the issue, given how little she eats."

"I don't think that is it," Dhasan shook his head. "The food, it is not digested. There is not even any bile. It looks like it was chewed and spat back out."

"So she really does not eat at all." Now Venca spoke. "She does not sweat, even after all day working in the sun."

"While wearing a cape..." Alcheon added.

"I'd melt if I tried that," Hrafngoelir murmured.

"Sometimes I think she forgets to breathe," Venca continued, "and to blink. Then there is her skin..."

"It's white as a corpse's," Hrafngoelir said.

"Because she is a corpse," Venca declared. "I am sure we have all seen it for days now, since we came here at least. Phereinon is undead."

"Our mages seem strangely silent in this matter," Alcheon looked to Aela and Loria. "Surely if Phereinon was what you say, they would have seen it sooner than anyone?"

Loria did not reply. Instead the elf looked pointedly at Aela.

"Phereinon is unique," Aela said carefully. She took her time, concentrating on controlling her breathing and remaining calm. How did you face this conversation Asaryl, when I was the subject?

"She is not a vampire, living off others either psychically or through blood. Loria and I have watched the villagers carefully, as have Aecha and Vesia. There are none of the tell-tale signs of unexplained weakness or debilitation."

"I did not think our local mudang was so... eager to lend you her assistance, in any matter," Venca said diplomatically.

"Not after the mudslinging..." Dhasan smiled.

"She didn't know it came from me," Aela admitted. "I had Vesia ask for me. Neither of them know the real reason why."

"So what then?" Hrafngoelir asked. "She's no again-walker like we have in Skanlond. They are plainly dead and decayed."

"She's no bekaak, as we have back home," Dhasan said. "You can see through their skin, what little they have."

"Obviously she's no ghost or wraith," Venca said. "She is physical enough after all. Her visit to the graveyard made me wonder if she was a ghoul. But it has not been disturbed. Not that I have ever heard of a ghoul that looked as good as her. She might be a lich of some kind, though certainly a well-preserved one."

"It does not really matter what she is," Aela declared. "It only matters what she does - and doesn't - do. What she has not done is harm anyone."

"Why am I not surprised that you defending her?" Venca grumbled.

"I don't understand," Alcheon interjected with what Aela could tell was genuine confusion. "Undead are monsters, that must be destroyed. Do they not?"

"That is exactly what they said about me in the Ingenium," Aela frowned. "A monster, evil, everyone knew it. I won't treat Phereinon the same."

"This is nothing like that," Venca rolled his eyes in frustration. "You are allowing your own past to cloud your judgment. This isn't about you, or some damned fool gender-bigots."

"Her judgment is not clouded," Loria finally spoke. "The two of us have studied Phereinon for some time, since we first laid eyes upon her in fact. And just for your edification, this very same conversation did take place in the highest halls of the Ingenium. The entire school learned of it, and eventually the rest of the city as well."

"Aela, I do not doubt your sincerity," Dhasan held his hands together, fingers interlaced in the Asokar symbol for peace. "But has it occurred to you that Phereinon might be deceiving you? Can you be sure she is not playing the long game? What if she is taking the time to gain our trust now, so that she can betray us later when our guard is lowered?"

"She doesn't need to do that," Aela declared. "If she wanted to kill us, we would all be dead already."

"Don't overestimate her," Venca said. "We are not exactly tyros here."

"I know," Aela said. "But I have seen her in action, and she was holding back then."

"I want to believe you," Hrafngoelir said. "You want us to trust her. But what is wisdom here?"

"Would you, a Skanjr, trust an elf?" Part of Aela loathed to pull upon that thread of Hrafngoelir's past - to the elf Ryolin - whom she had confessed some form of relationship with. It was personal. But she suspected that much of this argument was personal, and that appealing to emotion might be more important than to logic.

"That is exactly the question is it not?" Loria spoke before the Northerner could answer. "Can we trust Phereinon? Since we are asking it, why not ask other, just as relevant questions?"

"Can we trust a Rasen?" The Light Elf turned his gaze upon Venca. "After all, they are the homicidal zealots who created the Sacerdotium. For over a thousand years they tortured and murdered hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions, in their twisted conception of religion."

"And what of you," Loria turned to Hrafngoelir. "Everyone knows the Skanjr are bloodthirsty marauders, who place no value on life, and will betray even their kinsmen for wealth and power. They are practically beasts."

"Then there are the Asokar," Loria turned to Dhasan. "They are not even practically beasts. They are the real thing!"

"Let us not forget that elves, aside from being arrogant and foolish, always have their own agendas." Dhasan crossed arms before his chest, but he did not seem angry. Rather Aela thought he actually looked satisfied. "One can never trust an elf."

"Exactly!" Loria cried. "He understands - which is a small miracle considering... Prejudgments could be made upon all of us, based upon nothing but willful misrepresentation and racial or cultural bias. None of us are beyond one imputation or another. Only a fool judges another by the skin they wear. It is the individual's actions that tell the tale of their hearts."

"I have no heart." Phereinon's voice sliced through the house like an icy wind. "It was cut from me five thousand years ago."

Along with the others, Aela turned to face the dead woman. She stood in the doorway, still wearing her armor. Her hood was thrown back, and her gray cape spilled down across her shoulders like a frozen waterfall. Aela noted that she did not have her sword out. She would have felt its presence in the aether after all.

"I expected this conversation to come sooner." Phereinon stepped fully into the house and let the door shut behind her. "Maintaining the pretense of life is no longer as important as it once was."

She crossed the room. As Aela and the others stared, she casually sat in her usual spot and moved her half-eaten dinner aside. She seemed utterly oblivious to the tension in the room. Given what she knew of the deadwalker, Aela was sure that was not the case. Clearly, her confidence knew no bounds.

"You want to know if I plan to kill you," she said calmly, as if she was discussing the weather. "If I will drain your life energy, or devour your souls, or simply rip you limb from limb. I have no need to do the first, I cannot do the second, and will only do the third if you force me to."

"Well you have stones, I will give you that!" Dhasan laughed. That relieved Aela. If he could joke, she knew the Asokar had not closed his mind.

"We want to believe you," Hrafngoelir said. "Give us something to help us."

"Very well," Phereinon turned to Aela and Loria. "Look, and tell them what you see."

Aela slipped her awareness into the aether, and beheld the deadwalker. The cloak that had so inviolably shielded her aura had vanished. Now Aela saw it all, saw it for real. It literally chilled her to the bones.

To begin with, the pale woman had not been merely boasting when she said she had no heart. The organ was literally absent from her chest. Instead Aela felt a frozen mass where it should have been, as if a glacier was buried there. As before when she had witnessed Phereinon cutting herself, it reminded her of criosaine, the glowing crystal of the Light Elves. But this was different, altered. Where criosaine was warm and cheering, this was cold, and cast dark shadows across her soul. It burned there as only ice can, and spread out through Phereinon's aura like a spiderweb of frostbite.

Aela could see that the strands of the horrific crystal did not grow out from the core of her undead heart at random. Rather they clearly followed the lines of her blood vessels. Aela followed the threads of power to be certain, and saw that indeed, her entire circulatory system had been replaced with the magical substance.

As she watched, Aela felt mana flow along that crystalline network. It streamed through both arteries and veins, down into the capillaries, and from there soaked directly into Phereinon's body. The Witch traced the mana back to its source, the dead, frozen heart that shone so terribly within the swordswoman's chest. But the heart did not create the mana. That was impossible after all. Instead Aela felt the power falling into that nexus from the outside world. It reminded her of a bottomless well that soaked up all the rain that fell into and around it.

Aela noted that her former veins did not return mana or anything else to the heart, as they would do with blood in a normal circulatory system. Within Phereinon both arteries and veins now performed the same task of distributing energy. As she watched even more closely, she noted that the energy was not being drawn in by just the heart alone after all. Instead mana was soaking directly into all parts of the crystalline lattice. It was just that being larger, the heart attracted more power than the arteries and veins. But it appeared that even if somehow this undead heart were cut out or annihilated, the rest of Phereinon's crystal vessels would carry on without it. Perhaps even regenerate it, as it seemed to do with every other part of her body.

"She is right," Aela said. "She does not need to steal anyone's life energy, or devour souls."

"Amazing!" Loria breathed. "She absorbs the mana from the air around us, the same as any mage. But it powers her body. Like a tree absorbing energy from the sun. Did you do this yourself?"

"No," Phereinon replied curtly. "I never asked for this. I never wanted this."

Aela continued to study the deadwalker's aura. She had faced undead before. But had never had the time to just look at them, to intensely study how they worked. Part of her wanted to peer into every nook and cranny of Phereinon's being, to learn, to understand. But another part of her recoiled at violating the other woman's privacy. How would she feel if someone else did the same, and treated her like an insect on a page?

With that Aela snapped back from the aether to her meat body. That was enough. She would look no more unless Phereinon asked her to.

With her flesh and blood eyes, Aela saw that the deadwalker's own eyes now glowed silver-white, like twin moons shining brightly from the snowy slopes of her face. Apparently this was her natural state, and only the cloaking of her aura dampened her eyes to make them appear normal as well.

Aela wondered if this was what normal people felt like around her. Which side was it better to be on?

"I have never met an undead who simply sat and talked," Dhasan said. "Mostly I have just killed them. Does that make me narrow-minded?"

"I have killed undead as well," Loria replied, "as well as the living. I have killed Teodon, Skanjr, Arvern, and Rasenna. Does that make me prejudiced? The common thread here is not the what, but the why. We all have our reasons, usually because they were a threat to us and others. Not because of their race, or their... state of being.

"So what is your reason for being here?" Venca looked at Phereinon. "It cannot be for the money."

"I am here for her." Phereinon looked pointedly at Aela. The Arvern suddenly felt uncomfortable, as all eyes fell upon her. She hoped that she was not blushing like an idiot.

"To tell the truth, I am here for her as well," Hrafngoelir said.

"So am I," Dhasan admitted, rubbing one paw behind his head.

"And I am here for Hrafn," Venca declared.

"I am here for Loria," Aela spoke up.

"Well I am here for the money," the Light Elf insisted. "I think these outlaws will pay out well. The last band of miscreants did."

"What about you Alcheon?" Aela asked the young Teodon. "Why are you here?"

"Because I cannot spend my life planting rice," he responded quietly.

"Well, don't we make for a motley collection?" Venca seemed to almost laugh. "I don't know how we will fight together."

"We will fight very well," Aela found herself saying. "Not in spite of our differences, but because of them. That is what makes us strong."

"I cannot track someone over miles of woodland, or sneak through a fortress with less sound than the wind, but Dhasan can." The Arvern looked from person to person around her. "I would probably chop my own leg off if I tried to swing a sword like Hrafn's, let alone Venca's. Speaking of him, I could never train and organize people to fight as he can. Loria would dislocate a shoulder if he tried throwing a javelin like Alcheon's, and we'd all starve if he was hunting for us. But I daresay none of you can throw a fireball or break a spell, or reattach a severed limb."

"So what can Phereinon do?" Dhasan asked.

"She draws insects," Loria said dryly.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Mar 9 2019, 07:24 PM

Nice conversation about the pink (or should I say white) pachyderm in the room! I quite liked how Loria and Aela turned the others' arguments back on themselves, especially where biases are involved. Not all vampires are evil, as Julian learned so long ago. Not all undead are unthinking monsters. Not all Rasen are zealous proselytizers. And so on.

I am still enjoying this story, Rosa - I may not comment as often as others, but do count me among the Seven's fandom . . .

Posted by: Acadian Mar 9 2019, 07:29 PM

An absolutely wonderful episode! It flowed perfectly from a nice dinner into a discussion of the undead White Hair.

I’m sure Aela was uncomfortable being placed in the spot of confirming Phereinon’s status as undead and what it meant to the Seven. This time however, words did not fail her; rather, her phrasing was magnificent in its truth and simplicity:
"It does not really matter what she is," Aela declared. "It only matters what she does - and doesn't - do. What she has not done is harm anyone."

Phereinon’s opening herself up to Aela’s ‘inspection’ was fascinating and sheds much light on the undead woman. Just as Aela’s self-imposed limits of intrusion and her simple description of the results speak well of Aela’s good nature and how the witch embraces the responsibility that comes with her abilities.

I’m so glad the Seven seems up for keeping Phereinon – to intentionally lose over 1/7th of their combat power would be pretty self-defeating.

"So what can Phereinon do?" Dhasan asked.
"She draws insects," Loria said dryly.
- - Well done – very clever, creative and perfect to finish on a note of humor.

Posted by: Grits Mar 12 2019, 01:09 PM

Oh my gosh, this scene is fantastic. I don’t think I breathed until the end. This felt like the natural culmination of Aela’s reflections about herself and Phereinon so far.

Phereinon’s mechanics are fascinating. Finding out some answers about her was even cooler than I could have guessed. Aela’s sensitivity made me check my own curiosity. That was beautiful.

"Well I am here for the money," the Light Elf insisted.

I laughed out loud. Leave it to Loria, he can bring the attention back to himself just by being Loria.

Whew! What a scene!

Posted by: SubRosa Mar 16 2019, 03:57 PM

haute ecole rider: The silver eyed white pachyderm in the room! That whole conversation was all about biases, including those held for good reason, such as killing undead as a matter of course. So Aela and Loria tried to put the whole thing on an emotional level, which is where our biases live.




Acadian: It is nice that Aela found the right things to say, when so often she is tongue-tied. Perhaps because she was not talking about herself? In an case, not always being so glib does make it come across as a victory when she does find the right thing to say.

Aela knows what is like to be on the other side of that intrusive study. Like when Camna was studying her, like a bug on a page. That kind of thing has taught Aela a measure of empathy and ethics. She does not want to treat other people they way they treat her.

I think losing Phereinon would mean losing about 6/7ths of their combat force!

Loria's ending remark was one of those things that just spilled out onto the page without any thought. It was Loria speaking through me.



Grits: Phereinon is basically a magical cyborg. I had fun working on what makes her tick, and how she is different from all other forms of undead. The nearest thing to what she is would be a Lich. But even Liches don't work like she does.

Just like the bug line, Loria's money line just came right out without me having to think about it. That is just who he is.

It is always fun writing scenes with Phereinon in them. Many scenes are not exactly filler, but they are just serving a purpose of getting from one place in the story to the next, perhaps adding in some interesting tidbits of information about the characters or locale. OTOH, every scene with Phereinon is a big deal. There is always some major payoff in events or revelations, that make you hold your breath.




Chapter 15.4

Dhasan picked up a slender bamboo shaft from the pile beside him and eyed it carefully. First he looked it over from end to end to insure its straightness. Then his gaze roved over it in search of defects. He noted the weight of the arrow, and painted that in ink at the base of the shaft. Then he found the tiny holes that Daehyun had drilled into each node of the bamboo stalk. Dhasan knew that this was to release the steam that would have built up within the hollow tube and burst it while it had been heat-treated.

Once he was satisfied that it would fly straight and true, he lifted a length of sinew from his knee and put it in his mouth. He wet it with his saliva, then carefully set it to one end of the shaft and began wrapping it around the front end of the arrow. He took his time, and covered the bamboo with the tough fiber. He knew that this would reinforce the arrow and absorb some of the impact when it struck. Once he was finished, he secured it with a layer of fish glue bubbling in the pot next to him. Then he flipped the arrow around and did the same for the nock end of the projectile. Finished, he picked up another arrow shaft and began the process all over again.

He heard the steps of the porch creak outside as someone small climbed up. They were too light even for Aela. He did not look up. Instead he concentrated upon his work. Then his nostrils caught a scent, and he smiled.

"Gyeong, have you brought more arrows from your father?"

"How can you tell it is me," the young Teodon's voice was loud and strong in Dhasan's ears.

"A hunter's magic," Dhasan smiled. "Perhaps one day you will learn it too."

"I don't know what I will learn…" the youth murmured.

That prompted the Asokar to finally lift his gaze to the boy. Like his father, the spines that grew along his head were orange and banded with black. Unlike him his lustrous scales were not green and brown. Instead they were entirely emerald in hue, darker on his back and lighter along his belly. His mother's contribution, Dhasan mused, and a good color for a woodsrunner.

"What is this you speak of Gyeong?"

The youthful Teodon dropped the bundle of unfinished arrow-shafts he carried into the small pile Dhasan had yet to start working on. His tail seemed to drag, and his spines hung low against the scales of his head.

"I just wish my father was brave, like you," he sighed.

"Is your brain in your tail?" Dhasan set the half-finished arrow down and give his full attention to the boy. "Your father Daehyun has no shortage of bravery. He is a man to be respected!"

"He's like all the others," Gyeong frowned. "They all bow and scrape and beg when the raiders come. I never thought he and the others would fight."

"Oh you foolish young man." Dhasan rose to his feet and laid one hand on the young Teodon's shoulder. "Is that what you think? That all of your parent's are cowards?"

The youth said nothing. He merely stared at the planks of the floor.

"I wish I had a father who was brave enough not to fight," the vulpine warrior declared. "It is easy to rush into battle. What is hard is swallowing one's pride, and thinking of one's family first, instead of one's ahuacatls! I wish my father had that kind of courage. I wished I did as well."

"But Dhasan!" Gyeong protested. "He and the others run when the mercenary in black kicks their shields with his boots!

"That is because he wants to live for you!" Dhasan could not resist smacking the young man against the side of his head. It was not a hard blow. Just a tap really, to get his attention. "What will happen to you if he dies? If your mother dies? He is responsible for you and your sisters. He must sacrifice, and suffer whatever cruelties and indignities that fate chooses to hurl upon him. And he does it gladly, to protect you! That is true courage! That is real courage. The rest of us are just swaggering crumheads compared to the people of your village."

"Now return to your father and appreciate the good you have in your life!" Dhasan waved the youth toward the open doorway. "And bring me more of those pheasant feathers, I will begin fletching soon!"

* * *

As she did every morning, Phereinon performed one of her many fighting routines. This time she went back to one of the first she had ever learned - the orcish form of Ayi, or bear. It taught one to fight multiple opponents from all sides. It was filled with quick, flowing motions of parry and riposte, along with energetic footwork and body movement. She followed the intricate choreography around the empty space of the square, and for not the first time she was reminded of the dancing lessons that she and Shiryn had received when they were children, so long ago...

She pushed thoughts of the Silor down, as always. Some things did not bear to dwell upon, not even five thousand years later. Instead she concentrated upon the kata, and lost herself in the dance of steel. By the time she was finished she felt loose and limber, ready for a new day.

As she had every morning since arriving in Agrigento, Phereinon noted that she was being watched. This time the spy finally decided to approach her however. It was Ranazu, the young Rasen whose home she and the other seven were living in. Well, residing in at least.

"You're incredible!" the Rasen proclaimed.

Phereinon simply stared at the farmer. She never liked people complimenting her. It usually meant they wanted something from her. Something she would likely be unwilling to give.

"Will you train me?" Ranazu continued when it became obvious that the deadwalker was not going to reply.

"Train you?" Phereinon finally did speak. "What is wrong with the training Venca is giving you and the others?"

"It isn't with the sword," Ranazu sighed. "He's teaching us to fight in a mass. There's no skill to it! It's all about standing in place, or walking forward, or walking backward. We're not learning anything!"

"That is how you fight in a shield wall," Phereinon said bluntly. "Individual skill means little in pitched battles. It is all about how well you keep to your formation, and how you endure. Follow Venca's instruction. You will live, and be victorious."

"But that is not enough!" the young Rasen's eyes glowed with a light Phereinon had seen far too often. She could see that he did not care if he lived or died. Ranazu only wanted blood.

"It is more than enough!" Phereinon snapped. "I will not teach you."

The swordswoman turned away from the farmer, and began to walk away. She was stopped by a hand upon her shoulder. She suppressed the urge to crush his ribs with a back kick. Or to take his arm with Malediction. Instead she turned to look at Ranazu, and then his hand. After a moment, the Rasen withdrew the offending member, but not before he spoke again.

"Why not?"

"Because if I do, you will die," Phereinon said. "Or you will live, and become a monster like I am. I will be responsible for neither."

"Monster?" the farmer sputtered. "I saw you in the street, back in Veia. You're a hero!"

"Beating others unconscious does not make one a hero, just a violent thug." Phereinon growled. "A hero sacrifices for others. A hero gives of themselves. I have nothing to give, but my hate, my rage, and my pain. I look in your eyes, and I see the same."

"I am not kind enough for you, is that it?" Ranazu fumed. "I am not gentle enough? That's a fine thing for a hired killer to say! Why should I not be able to fight like you? I could kill them all!"

Before she knew it, Phereinon found her hand wrapped around the Rasen's throat. She restrained herself from crushing it, but not from lifting him as high into the air as her arm could reach.

"Then who after that?" she hissed. "The other villagers who did not fight hard enough to satisfy your bloodlust? Those who criticize you? Those who still have what you have lost? How many would you put under the ground? A dozen? A hundred? A million?"

"I have trained boys like you before," Phereinon went on. "They were all just as angry and self-righteous as you are. I saw them grow to become cruel, hateful men. I filled a thousand graveyards with the bodies they left behind."

"Not again." She released him, and allowed him to fall to the ground, clawing at his throat for breath.

"Do you think those raiders who murdered and ate who was it… your wife… your sister, are monsters?" Phereinon said. "They know nothing of horror. I am horror. I will not spread that evil upon the world, not again."

"Be better than that," she insisted. "Be braver than me. Make a new life, like Aela. Don't hide behind revenge. It will consume you like an endless glacier, and leave you a cold, lifeless husk."

Posted by: haute ecole rider Mar 16 2019, 04:50 PM

I was interested in Dhasan and Gyeong's conversation. TBH, I had been waiting for that one, as it is one of the most powerful moments in The Magnificent Seven, when Charles Bronson has almost exactly that same conversation with the village boys. It's wonderful, as always, and I am glad you used that scene with your own twist.

Ah, Pherenion, she is her own story. Not part of the lore that is the Seven Samurai/Magnificent Seven but interwoven into it quite nicely. She supports this story beautifully, and yet . . . and yet, there is another story being told between the lines, so so speak. You are doing an amazing job doing this, and I am enjoying these scenes where she really shines (and I'm not talking about her crystalline glow, either).

Posted by: Acadian Mar 16 2019, 10:44 PM

The scene with Dhasan and Gyeong was beautiful. Dhasan shows deep wisdom by imparting words that were perfectly tailored to the youth’s situation. Dhasan gives the lad a gentle nudge toward an honorable agrarian life that will likely yield more years and a better chance of having a family of his own someday than that of a warrior.

A wonderful contrast as Phereinon then deals with the envious Ranazu for whom playing his role in protecting his village is not enough. Her firm counsel was also just what was needed. Unfortunately, I imagine she knows the chance of Ranazu heeding her wisdom is slim. But at least she knows she is not contributing to what he seems intent on becoming.

This episode was not only fascinating to read, it adds to the depth of all four characters involved.

Posted by: Grits Mar 19 2019, 09:53 PM

Two conversations that balanced each other beautifully. Phereinon’s graveyard and glacier imagery suits her perfectly. I had to read this section a few times for the sheer joy of the language.

Posted by: Renee Mar 20 2019, 03:29 PM

Awww....

They all start gossiping about Phereinon, and it turns into a near-argument. The whole time I'm thinking she's going to hear them, and then she does!

That farmer hopefully learns a lesson too.

It is interesting Florens, the way you have built this collection of differing personalities, all with abilities distinctly separate from each other in ways. Because I know you're not so keen on having followers in the actual games, but this is mostly due to wonky AI (them shooting yours in the back for instance). So it's just just interesting that you indeed have the vision to include more than one... maybe if the AI in the games was better, some of yours might seek companionship.

Wow, I've never heard of Mystery Hill. I'll read about that too, hopefully today.

Edit: Nice, I'm all caught up! Woo hoo!

Posted by: SubRosa Mar 23 2019, 04:31 PM

haute ecole rider: I cut the original version of Dhasan's conversation, and almost cut this one too. It is a little too close to the movies for comfort. I would like this story to stand on it own, as inspired by, but not a copy of, the Seven Sam/Mag Sevens. I did keep it in because it shed some more light onto Dhasan, and on the Agrigentans in general.

Phereinon is definitely her own story. Her history, and her motives, are a dark and brooding presence, always lurking in the shadows.



Acadian: Dhasan's conversation with the young Gyeong was a way for me to sneak in the continuing preparations for battle behind the more important (I think) view into the minds of both Dhasan and the people of the village. It is easy to cast the villagers are cowards for being under the thumb of the raiders for so long. It is not so easy when you have loved ones of your own that you are responsible for. During both the American Revolution and Civil War, there were many patriots who had to leave the service because their homes were literally falling apart without them there to work the land. I don't look down on them for making that choice. I cannot imagine how hard it must have been for them to do so.


Grits: I did put the glacier and graveyard terms in there specifically because it was Phereinon speaking. She is always easy to write. She is like an oncoming glacier herself.


Renee: Gossiping is an understatement, they were talking about killing Phereinon because she is undead. Phereinon has been wanting that to come to a head for some time, so she can get it out in the open. She knew it would be messy no matter how it came about. So she decided to let them come to the issue on their own.

I love companions in other games, like Pillars of Eternity, Mass Effect, Dragon Age, Wasteland, etc.... In those games the followers are not a constant source of frustration. I enjoyed creating a diverse cast of characters for Seven because it gave me an opportunity to really showcase the differing races and cultures in the world.

Mystery Hill is probably a fake, at least in parts. But it is still a really neat megalithic structure here in the US. There are a lot of standing stones and the like in New England. But Mystery Hill really takes it to eleven, with a dark, brooding feel.




Chapter 15.5

"You write in Elvish?"

Hrafngoelir almost leaped out of her skin. She looked around to find Aela standing beside her, looking sheepish. The Skanjr set her quill down, and looked over the page in front of her. It was covered from top to bottom in the graceful, flowing handwriting that the elven language practically demanded from a writer. One way or another, that would have to do.

"Aye, I learned years ago, from Ryolin," she explained.

"The elven prince who did not sweep you off your feet and carry you off to his tower?" Aela smiled wryly.

"The very one." Hrafngoelir laughed. "Though I would have been more likely to do the carrying. You know the elvish script?"

"Yes, and the tongue," Aela answered in the language of Loria's bright folk. "It is very similar to the language of we Arvern. Many say our speech began as theirs, and gradually changed across the years. So it is very easy for my people to learn. I find your own people's tongue, and runes, much more difficult."

"Nothing about Skanlond is easy," Hrafngoelir murmured. "Some say the gods meant it to be so, to make us warriors. But perhaps we only say that out of an abundance of pride, and a lack of common sense."

"Common sense?" the Arvern asked.

"Spend one winter in the Jotunfjeldene mountains, and you will likely not wish to spend another." Hrafngoelir's face fell into shadow. "It makes us cold, hard, uncompromising."

"So who is it that you are writing to?" The Witch sat down beside her, and Hrafngoelir took in her soft mango and orange scent. The Skanjr had seen both growing in Agrigento's valley. Apparently between potion-making, Aela had taken the time to create a perfume from those fruits as well. She had to admit that it smelled pleasant, and entirely like Kye Rim.

"It is a letter," Hrafngoelir finally said. "To my sister. I was telling her all about the new friends I have made. He would have liked you."

That brought a look of bewilderment to the face of the Arvern. She always seemed so surprised whenever anyone showed any friendliness or esteem for her. As Hrafngoelir had come to expect, a guarded look then replaced the moment of surprise. It was as if the other woman did not trust any act of kindness for its own sake.

Sadly, Hrafngoelir did not have to wonder why.

"To Hetha then?" Aela said, "the one who enchanted your medallion?"

"Aye." Hrafngoelir carefully folded the page into a palm-sized rectangle. Lacking wax, she bound a length of twine around it from top to bottom and side to side to seal it shut.

"How old were you when Hetha went from living as a male to a female?" Aela asked quietly.

Hrafngoelir almost started again. But she was not truly surprised that the Witch had been able to deduce the nature of her sister. Aela was not only a siedkona, but seirberendr after all. Just as Hetha had been, for a while at least.

"Only fifteen winters," Hrafngoelir said. "He was a few years older than me."

"I imagine that was a difficult time," Aela said as diplomatically as Loria would have done. "It must have been hard for you, and your family."

"I didn't know what to think," Hrafngoelir said. "It was like the person I knew all my life was really someone else. I didn't know if I should be angry that he had been lying about who he really was, or if I should be ashamed of myself for making him pretend to be male all that time."

"I know it was hard for my family too," Aela said quietly. "I embarrassed them. No, shamed them, to the whole community. I heard that they lost business because of it. One of my sisters was to be married, but her betrothed broke it off because of me. So far as I know, she remains unwed. I think all of my sisters are because of me."

"When was the last time you saw them?" Hrafngoelir felt a lump forming within her throat. This was sounding all too familiar...

"The last time I spoke, or saw, any of my family was when I left for the Ingenium. I was fourteen." Aela stared off across the rice paddies to the forest beyond. "I have never been back since. There have only been a few letters, like the one telling me I was disowned."

"You must hate them," Hrafngoelir breathed sourly.

"At the time I did," Aela admitted. "But now... I think I finally understand how difficult I made life for them. It was very selfish of me. I sacrificed all of their futures for me. Just so I could be who I wanted to be, who I yearned to be. I think it is one of the most selfish things a person can do."

"The only thing more selfish is to force them to live a lie, for the sake of your own convenience," Hrafngoelir lamented. "To take everything from them, because if you don't, others will take everything from you."

"Hetha's dead isn't she?" Aela laid a warm hand upon Hrafngoelir's own.

The Skanjr shook off the warm touch out of reflex. Or was it shame? She rose to her feet, letter in one hand. She felt tears drip from her eyes, and tried to will them to stop. She did not deserve to cry for Hetha. She who had failed so miserably as a sister. She, who was such a coward.

Hrafngoelir could only nod. She could not look at Aela. Instead she walked to the moat that surrounded the village, and eventually wove its way out of sight into the trees beyond. She cast the letter into the water, and watched silently as it carried her words away into watery oblivion. She was only dimly aware of Aela coming to stand beside her, and lay a comforting hand upon her shoulder.

She saw Hetha, standing there upon the edge of the cliff by the sea. Hrafngoeilr stood as if turned to stone. She wanted to cry out. To raise her hand. To tell Hetha to stop. But her body would not obey her will. She was weighed down, as if the very mountains crushed down upon her.

Then Hetha stepped off the edge, and vanished into the waves below...

Posted by: Acadian Mar 23 2019, 06:10 PM

I tend to think of this as Aela’s story, so it was a delightful change to have this episode written from the perspective of Hrafngoelir. Not only did we get to learn more of the Skanjr’s background, but the nature of Hetha provided a point of common reference. I can see now part of why Hrafngoelir so readily accepts and even admires Aela. Aela is a wonderful example of what Hrafngoelir probably now wishes Hetha could have been. Hrafngoelir doubtless feels, in part, responsible for allowing Hetha to be overcome by the despair brought on by disapproval of his change. She likely admires Aela’s strength, even as she is quick to support her Arvern friend.

An interesting discussion and contrast the two had regarding selfishness. Hrafngoelir’s source of guilt about Hetha’s change seems clear. We now have more insight into Aela’s different source of guilt regarding her own change.

And lastly, by being in Hrafngoelir’s perspective, it was fun to learn some of the Skanjr’s impressions of Aela.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Mar 25 2019, 02:32 PM

Honestly I did not mean to read this story as a retelling of the Seven Samurai - but it does show how certain elements of the human experience are so powerful that they come up in many stories. The conversation about the courage of fathers is one such example. Charles Bronson was so powerful in his portrayal of the mercenary who respects fathers, it was one of the high points of the movie for me. I suppose it has made me more sensitive to other versions of this same conundrum, including your well done scene.

And you do it again in this segment - touching on the meaning of selfishness. When does selfishness become a self fulfilling prophecy? When you do what you want without regard for the impact your choices have on others? Is that selfishness? Or denying another the choice to be what they want or need to be? Balancing the needs of self with the needs of others (i.e. family, which is very strong in Korea, for example, that individuals are lost) is a classic dynamic that makes for thought provoking scenes such as this.

And like Acadian, I quite enjoyed reading this from Hrafngoelir's perspective.

Posted by: Grits Mar 26 2019, 07:59 PM

Ah, here is an important look into Hrafngoelir’s heart that only she could give us. It was lovely to see (and smell!) Aela from Hrafn’s perspective. I admired Aela even more when after being shaken off once by Hrafngoelir, she continued to stand by and offer silent comfort. What a quietly powerful scene between the two women.

Posted by: SubRosa Mar 30 2019, 04:28 PM

Acadian: As that old saw goes about good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgment, this was Hrafn's bad judgment. That gave her the experience she needed to grow beyond who she had been, and open her eyes, and her mind, to the wide world around her. It is sad that it had to come so tragically. But Hrafn is no more a perfect person than anyone else.

And as you observed, it also does show some growth on Aela's part. As now she has come to see the world from more than just her own perspective. Even from the view of those she previously damned. It is an evolution that she and Hrafn both share.


haute ecole rider: Well, it is a remake of Magnificent/Seven Samurai. That is one of the things that always gives me second thoughts about this story. The plot really is not mine. I try to change it to fit the new setting, but I do not always succeed. I always really liked that Bronson conversation too. I think it was one of the improvements over the Seven Samurai, which did not have its equivalent. I think it was a very mature thing, because it showed that the real world is not so simple as morality tales of white hats vs. black hats.

I enjoyed (maybe enjoyed is not the right word) the discussion of selfishness. Like the courage of fathers, it is not something that is so simply delineated between good or bad, brave or cowardly. It comes in degrees, and is entirely subjective to every individual and society. It isn't right, it isn't wrong, it just is.


Grits: I believe Acadian once said a long time ago that I said that if you are going to change POV characters, it should be for something that is really worth it. This was something that I felt was worth it. As you said, only Hrafn can tell this. It would not have worked from any other POV. It is her confession, and is the root of so much of who and what she is today.

I have a lot of second thoughts about Hetha's suicide. On one hand it is a depressing example of several bad tropes, such as Women In Refrigerators and Bury Your Gays. But sadly both those are often Truth in Television. The latter won out, because in reality, a hugely disproportionate amount of GLBT people commit suicide because of the bigotry arrayed against them. I did not want to shirk from that, because it is a reality that Aela always has to grapple with.




Chapter 15.6

One by one, the days slipped by. When Aela was not busy brewing up potions with the small soju cookery behind Vesia's home, she watched Venca as he trained the villagers in the square out front. It had taken some time, but now the Agrigentan shield wall held up under the drill instructor's boot. Yet when he charged straight into the formation and crashed into their shields with a lowered a shoulder, the farmers once more reeled away in disarray.

Vesia often came by to see how Aela was doing. When the Rasen was not practicing with the other villagers, she was working in the distillery to insure her new batch of soju was brewing well. Aela still was not sure what to make of the other woman. On one hand Vesia seemed to frequently brush against her by 'accident'. But on the other hand the Rasen often seemed standoffish, and took a defensive posture, often with her arms closed. It made Aela wonder if the brewer truly knew what she wanted.

Days stretched on, and the defensive preparations continued, along with Vesia's dance around Aela. By now the moat had been long-since completed, and was laced with punji stakes hidden beneath the dark water that filled it. The front gate had been replaced with timber, and all of the bamboo that had once been used to fill in the sections of ruined wall had been replaced with thick tree trunks. The alleys and other narrow passages between buildings had been filled in with spiked frises, leaving only a few passable roads leading through the settlement. Even the escape tunnel between the brewery and stable had been outfitted with sconces to hold torches along its length. Trapdoors were set in the buildings at either end, and wooden stairs built to lead down into the subterranean passage.

Aela also had several jugs of magical brews ready for the battle. Some for healing, others for armoring skin, and more to resist fire. Loria had even enchanted over half-a-dozen necklaces with night sight, so that the village sentries could see in the dark.

More weeks passed, and Venca continued drilling the Agrigentans in the shield and spear. In time they did not flinch when he hurled his body against their wall of shields, nor when he pelted them with stones, sticks, even buckets, chairs, or anything else he could pick up. Now he spent more time training them to advance in the shield wall, or retreat, all without losing their cohesion.

The Rasen drill instructor divided the Agrigentans into four harads (although Aela could plainly see that their numbers came nowhere near a hundred each, in spite of what the Skanjr term implied). One of the Seven had been assigned to lead each as hersirs: Phereinon, Dhasan, Hrafngoelir, and Alcheon. At the same time Ranazu, Hyunsu, Vesia, and Daehyun respectively had been appointed rathningar - second in command - to each as well.

Finally Venca, Aela, and Loria would act as a reserve, ready to move to any point that needed extra muscle, magical defense, or firepower, respectively. Aela and Loria found this made them thegns (after the Arvern style), and soon everyone was joking that Venca was the drottin - or general - of their hird - or warband.

When asked privately if Alcheon was ready for the task of leading a harad, Venca simply said: "If he's not, we'll find out."

Hrafngoelir pointed out that all that the leaders really had to do was act as a symbol for the villagers to rally around. They were there to lend courage to the Agrigentans, and more than anything else see to it that they did not flee. Aela could not argue that while Alcheon might have been lacking in experience, he seemed to have no shortage of confidence.

Each harad was given a wall to defend, and when Venca trained them to move in their shield walls, he did so in each harad's allocated section of the village. So they practiced advancing and retreating through the very same streets that they would soon by fighting within. Even the noncombatants were drilled in evacuating their homes to the distillery, and then traveling through the escape tunnel beneath it to the stable.

Aela and Loria had watched one such training session, when Vesia approached them after it was over.

"Aela!" the brewer cried. "I was hoping I might see you."

The Rasen doffed her wicker helmet, allowing her jet-black hair to spill across her olive-skin in a riotous mane. The Rasen absentmindedly pulled it back from her face with a sweaty hand, but it only plastered itself against her equally sweaty skin. Her entire body glistened with perspiration in fact, and her cheeks were rosy from exertion.

"I had an idea for potion bottles," the brewer said as she stepped up to the pair of mages. "I was hoping we could go over it together, in my home."

"Now where did I put those mana gems. I could have sworn I had them a moment ago…" Loria patted up and down his green robes with both hands, apparently in search of said items. He looked up to the two women and shook his head. "I am afraid you will have to excuse me, I know I left them somewhere…"

Aela tried to hide her smile as Loria scampered off. She hoped his excuse to give her and Vesia some privacy was not as transparent as she thought. Then again, perhaps it was all for the better if it was?

"Those practice sessions look grueling," Aela said as the Rasen led the way to her home. "I do not think I could endure it. Not without a spell to fortify my stamina at least!"

"I didn't think I could either!" Vesia said breathlessly. "But here I am, a rathningar fighting in the skjaldborg."

"When did you become a Skanjr!" Aela laughed as they approached Vesia's home.

"Venca says our shield wall is more Skanjr than Rasen." Vesia gestured to the door with her spear, for Aela to precede her. "He says in spite of all that talk of axes with blades big as the moon, most Skanjr fight with spear and shield, just like we are doing."

"Well, he would know," Aela nodded as she climbed the steps and paused to take off her shoes. Vesia did the same, and followed her into the upraised house. Once inside, the Arvern took the bamboo spear from Vesia's hand and set it against a wall.

"Oh thank you dear," Vesia sighed. She let her wicker helmet fall from her fingers, and leaned back against one wall. Aela noted that the other woman was careful not to put her weight against the rattan sheeting that comprised most of the wall, but rather upon one of the support beams of strong durian wood.

"You look done in," Aela noted. "Would you like me to come back later?"

"No, just give me a moment to get my breath," Vesia fanned herself with one hand. "I guess that took more out of me than I expected!"

The Rasen moved to sit in one of the wicker chairs, and leaned back into its frame with her eyes closed. Aela stepped to the kitchen area, and produced a chipped earthenware pitcher and poured water from it into an equally battered cup. Walking back to Vesia, she set the cup into the Rasen's hand.

Vesia's skin was warm and damp under her fingertips, and Aela allowed her hand to linger there. The Rasen did not object. Rather she smiled and did not open her eyes. She moved her other hand to take the cup, leaving the first still clasped with Aela's fingers. Vesia finally opened her eyes to take a long drink, then rolled the cool surface of the cup across her sweaty forehead.

"That is just what I needed," the Rasen said. Aela wondered if Vesia meant the water, or her touch? Her heart picked up its pace, and she had to resist the urge to lick her suddenly dry lips.

"We should get you out of this armor," Aela said quietly, nodding to the simple cuirass made up of vertical slats of bamboo that encased the other woman's torso.

"Splendid idea." Vesia leaned forward, and reached down to start undoing the cords that tied it together down her side. Aela bent forward to assist, and in no time at all the two women pulled the light, but sturdy armor from Vesia's body. The black tunic that the Rasen wore beneath it was soaked through with sweat, and clung to her frame like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination.

"Why don't we get this off as well?" Aela breathed, and gently tugged at the linen. Her heart was in her throat, and she prayed to Cliona that the Rasen would not be offended.

"Yes," Vesia said in a husky voice. She raised her arms above her head so that Aela could whisk the garment from her body. The Rasen rose to her feet as Aela pulled upward, so that a moment later she stood just inches way. Her naked chest glistened in the light that slanted through the windows, and her hands found their way to Aela's sides.

Aela dropped the tunic, and the next thing she knew her hands were sliding across Vesia's back, pulling her close. She leaned her head forward, and the Rasen's lips met her own. They were soft as rose petals, and Aela rejoiced in the feeling as she planted one kiss after another upon them. She felt the Rasen's hands racing over her bodice, and paused to help her undo its laces. A moment later it too fell to the floor, followed by the white chemise that Aela wore underneath.

Somehow Aela had the presence of mind to focus upon a spell to enhance her strength. She lifted Vesia in her arms, and was gratified to feel the other woman's legs instantly lock around her waist. Carrying the Rasen across the single-room house to the sleeping area, she gently laid her out upon the floor.

Vesia pulled her down, and Aela found herself rolling across the wooden planks. Now Vesia straddled her, and showered her with kisses. She reached up to caress the other woman's breasts, then let her hands drift down between her thighs.

Vesia stiffened then, and sat back on her haunches. Her arms crossed over her chest, hiding her bared breasts.

"What is it?" Aela felt her heart sink like a stone in the Bronze Sea. "What's wrong?"

"I can't…" Vesia shook her head, and turned away. "I can't do this."

Aela closed her eyes, and felt the other woman's body slide off of her own. The taste of Vesia's skin, which had just moments before been sweet as honey, now turned to bitter ash on Aela's lips.

"Because I am a woman?" Aela asked softly, "or because I was not born one?"

"I…" Vesia stammered. "I don't know Aela. I really don't know. It just, doesn't seem right."

"It seemed right a moment ago," the Arvern fought to keep the exasperation from her voice.

The Rasen rose to her feet and walked across the room to pick up her tunic. Hoisting the sweaty garment over her head, she pulled it down over her olive skin.

"You don't know what it's like," Vesia sighed. "Do you know why I run the brewery? Because my father did. Aecha is water priestess because that's what her mother was. Ranazu is a farmer because his father was. Our lives were all laid out before we were even born, and having a woman for a lover was never part of that. It's…"

"Unnatural?" Aela finished the sentence for Vesia. "That's Aecha talking."

"I'm sorry, but that's what I've been taught all my life." Vesia's voice began to rise. "Maybe I am just as narrow-minded as our water-priestess after all."

"No, you are not," the Arvern argued. "You are whatever - and whoever - you want to be."

"That is easy for you to say," Vesia snapped. "When this is over you will go on to the next hamlet or city. I have to live here. I have to spend the rest of my life around these people."

The Rasen leaned over to pick up Aela's bodice and chemise, and held them out to the Arvern. When she spoke again, her voice was soft once more. "I am sorry Aela, I really am."

"Nothing about it is easy for me," Aela replied just as softly. She rose and took her chemise from the other woman with a sigh, and slipped the loose garment over her head. Afterward she laced on her bodice. "Everywhere I go, I meet those same people too."

"You're a mage, you can protect yourself," Vesia sighed. "I am not so lucky. What happens when someone decides they have to murder me to please the sacers, or their ancestors?"

"You are right," Aela admitted. She had a similar conversation when she transitioned to life as a woman. Now she knew what it was like to be on the other side of it. "No one can live your life but yourself. You have to decide what is right for you, and what risks you are willing to take to live it. I have no right to tell you what to do. All I can do is support you, no matter what path you take."

Vesia blinked, clearly, support and understanding was the last thing she expected. In spite of the bitter sense of rejection that stabbed through her heart, and the hot anger at the unfairness of it all, Aela still had to repress a chuckle. The irony had not failed to escape her. Coming out to Asaryl so many years ago had taught her just how to handle this situation. She wondered if her old teacher had intended that at the time as well?

"So we can just be friends then?" Vesia's tone reminded Aela of someone cautiously sticking a toe in the bath water to see if it was ice cold or burning hot. "Like two normal women?"

"We are normal women!" Aela's tongue lashed out before her brain could stop it. Shaking her head at her own loss of temper, she sighed.

"I am sorry. I know this is difficult," Aela said. "I will always be your friend Vesia."

The same as with everyone else in the world.

Aela brushed her long hair back into some semblance of order. Then she looked back to the other woman. "You said that I am a mage. Perhaps it is time you were one too…"

Posted by: Acadian Mar 30 2019, 08:35 PM

What a wonderful job you did covering the passage of significant time without imparting the slightest feeling of rushing the story. What this village and its people are undergoing is significant and, as the Romans say, 'Fort Agrigento' wasn't built in a day.

The ongoing combat training and preparations transitioned very smoothly into the scene with just Aela and Vesia. Once again, Loria shows his perceptiveness as he creatively excuses himself.

Poor Aela. Her hopes for the obvious mutual attraction between the two women were sharply raised then dashed. It seems her earlier noted ‘mixed signals’ about Vesia perhaps not really knowing what she wanted were accurate. In the face of bitter disappointment is where Aela’s nature really shined as she selected her words to support a very confused and conflicted Vesia rather than expressing her own pain and frustration.

A painful irony is that Aela has worked very hard and earnestly to be the woman she is; yet in this case she is rejected precisely because she is a woman.

Posted by: Grits Apr 2 2019, 08:26 PM

I love how the villagers’ progress with their shield wall showed the passage of time. I could imagine the montage when they make the movie of this story.

Loria knows when to make a swift exit!

Oh, dang. Well, Aela is no stranger to Vesia’s concerns.

"We are normal women!" Aela's tongue lashed out before her brain could stop it. Shaking her head at her own loss of temper, she sighed.

I’m glad she said it. That was something Vesia needed to hear.

Aela shows immense character here, reaching out to Vesia with support and kindness even while she is stung and hurting. I’m hoping for the best for both of them.


A nit: Aela said breathed, When she was helping Vesia get naked. I was almost too breathless to catch that.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 6 2019, 02:55 PM

Acadian: It is ironic that Aela being so successful at her transition is now stymieing her. Irony can be pretty ironic sometimes.

This Aela is a different one than the one we knew from the TES stories. I have had the opportunity to do much work in her history, especially at the university. Thanks to that, she has the presence of mind to be supportive of Vesia, hearkening back to a conversation she had about coming out to her mentor. This gave her the chance to say the same words back to Vesia that he said to her.



Grits: As I mentioned to Acadian, Aela had that same conversation in reverse when she was in university. Except time it was about her transitioning. That experience taught her how to respond from the other side. Though the ability to suck up her own pain and be understanding is all her of course. I was really happy with that when I wrote it, because it shows how she has evolved as a person.

Thanks for the nit. That was a remnant of a former edit that got left behind.





Chapter 15.7

Later that day Aela found herself and Loria standing before Vesia, Daehyun, and Alcheon. The Light Elf had tried to make excuses not to attend, but Aela had quashed that. "There is no way I am going to do this all on my own," she had said to the Light Elf. "Venca has Hrafn to help him train, I will have you. Besides, it will be a chance for you to show off."

So as she had done before with Alcheon, she first taught the others to feel their mana. Then came a lesson on how to create an arcane shield. Afterward Loria stepped up and showed them how to cast an arcane bolt. Just as Venca and Hrafngoelir sparred together to offer examples in fighting, Aela and Loria did the same with magic. The elf blasted with arcane bolts, and Aela defended with her shield. Every day their new apprentices practiced using magic together, just as they did with shield and spear.

As word spread, the tiny group of prospective mages grew. Hrafngoelir was the first newcomer to join in. Having some experience with using magic, she took to the spells with ease. Then Dhasan joined in as well, and with him a smattering of villagers, from children to elders. Even Phereinon joined the group, and displayed a knowledge of arcane shields that made her a perfect assistant to demonstrate their use. That allowed Aela to give her full attention to the class.

Aside from the deadwalker, Aela knew that she could not turn them into true, fully-fledged mages like herself and Loria. That would take years. The fact that none of them could devote all of their time to study and practice only exacerbated matters. Being a magician, like being a warrior, or being a farmer, was a full-time profession. To truly be one left little time for anything else.

Still, the Arvern knew they could learn some simple things. They might be able to spend a little time practicing. Someday, even years from now, that might just be enough to save a life. That life might even be her own. So she never doubted that it was worth the time and effort.

Soon Aela had another idea to aid in the village's defense. In no time at all she was handing out small, rolled up pieces of parchment to each new hersir and rathningar.

"Since we know that our enemy likes to use fire magic, I decided to make some scrolls to summon undines," the Arvern Witch explained. "They can put out the fires. Go ahead and unroll them and practice. I have more I made to hand out later."

"I have used summoning scrolls before," Phereinon said.

"You are excused from class then goodwoman," Aela said in her best stuffy professor voice. The white-haired swordswoman almost smiled at that. Almost. Then stalked off. Aela wondered why Phereinon had attended the classes at all. She clearly knew a great deal about magic. Aela could not see how any of the lessons could be new to her. It was as if the deadwalker simply wanted to be around her.

Perhaps she still wanted Aela to accompany her to the City of the Dead? Was she trying to win her over? Was that why she had been so callous in protecting the secret of her being undead? Did she hope that if Aela knew everything, she would be more likely to join her in her quest to unravel the secrets of the Sluagh?

"Undine." A chorus of voices broke her from her reverie. The village square filled with women comprised of shimmering water. Their hair waved like seaweed, their eyes were deep and murky like algae-soaked pools, and their bodies flowed like gentle streams.

"Now controlling a spirit is actually rather simple," Aela explained. "The act of conjuring forms a mild telepathic link between the two of you. Simply think of what you want them to do, and they will do it. You do not need to say a word. But you do have to be careful not to-."

Aela's words were cut short when Dhasan's undine suddenly leapt above her. A torrent of water splashed down upon the Arvern, soaking her to the bone. Aela sputtered for breath, and took a moment to push aside the long brown hair that plastered itself against her face.

"-Think errant thoughts," Aela finished as a chorus of laughter erupted from all around. The other villagers in the square stopped to gawk as well. Even the villagers training with Venca across the square pointed their spears and hooted.

Aela smiled, and raised a hand toward the guilty undine. The spirit stopped dead in her tracks, then rushed upon Dhasan, engulfing the Asokar in a small tidal wave. The vulpine warrior staggered under the onslaught, slipped, and fell into a widening pool of mud. That brought more laughter, and Aela had to raise her voice to be heard above the din.

"A scroll has the mana I placed in it, formed into the pattern for the spell I chose. But it has no Will." Aela shouted over the racket. "So they are easily dispelled or banished. A skilled conjurer can even take control of them. So don't try to use them against enemy magicians. Use them to fight fires."

But it was far too late for any attempt at seriousness. Soon undine after undine was splashing and drenching everyone present. In no time at all they were all rolling in the mud and water, and flinging both at each other with their hands. Others came to join in the impromptu mud fight, including the water priestess Aecha, whom Aela could feel had summoned her own undine to add to the chaos.

* * *

"These villagers certainly eat well!" Loria commented. Aela nodded in agreement as she chewed on a mouthful of pork, fried rice, and kimchi made from cabbage, radishes, and green peppers. She washed down the first spoonful of the spicy dish with a cautious sip of soju. She was pleased to find that the strong Teodon drink was not as rough as it had been the first time she had tasted it, over a month before.

Vesia had explained that the first soju of any batch was always harsh. The best came from the middle of the brewing, and the dregs leftover at the end were often reused for the next batch rather than drank. Now that the brew mistress had been at her work for several weeks, she had supplied them a cache of soju from the ideal part of the process. Though since it had not been given time to age, it was still not at its finest.

"Aye, if I had known farmers all ate so well, I would have never become a warrior!" Hrafngoelir laughed. "Probably for the best though, I'd be fatter than a hadrosaur!"

"Do you think the Agrigentans eat the same fare?" Alcheon broke up the guffaws from the other seven with his somber words. "Do you know what they eat? Plain rice, if they are lucky! Many of them have not tasted meat in years. While we sit here and feast like the sacred ancestor himself!"

Aela stopped chewing. Suddenly the kimchi tasted like ashes, and the soju like pond scum.

In no time at all the seven mercenaries had gathered up the meal and taken it outside of Ranazu's home. Soon the children of the village were gathered, and one at a time, the seven passed out bowls of the sumptuous fare for them.

Aela noted Daehyun standing off to one side, beside Hyunsu. "Now, we are one," the Teodon trader said in a low voice.

Aela smiled wryly. Daehyun was right. They had a reason to fight for Agrigento, and it was not for a bowl of rice and a cup of soju.

Posted by: Acadian Apr 6 2019, 08:17 PM

Progress continues as Arigento, under the guidance of the Seven, trains, practices and refines . I very much enjoyed Aela’s magic lesson – even as it deteriorated into a hilarious undine-fueled mud fight.

White Hair continues to be a mystery but I wouldn’t be surprised if her attendance was simply a show of support for Aela since we think her objective here is to recruit Aela for follow on service.

’In no time at all the seven mercenaries had gathered up the meal and taken it outside of Ranazu's home. Soon the children of the village were gathered, and one at a time, the seven passed out bowls of the sumptuous fare for them.’
- - This turning point and the ending to the episode that followed was very well done and shows us clearly that the Seven have now embraced their task more as protectors and part of Agrigento rather than purely as mercenaries.


Nit? ’Though since that it had not been given time to age, it was still not at its finest.’ - - Unless I am missing something here, the word ‘that’ seems awkwardly extraneous here?

Posted by: Renee Apr 11 2019, 07:23 PM

Aww, love has gone awry. Sounds like life can be just as complicated in their land as it is here on Earth.

My thoughts too. Something is going on there. I love this deadwalker character, and how you have brought her to life.

What a funny class!

Posted by: Grits Apr 12 2019, 09:30 PM

I love how the magic lessons show that spells can be studied and learned by regular folks, but that becoming a mage is a full-time commitment. The reader can infer a huge amount about the world from just the beginning of this scene.

The undine mud fight was charming and hilarious. The perfect lead-in for the mercenaries learning about the food situation, and then truly joining the village.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 13 2019, 04:04 PM

Acadian: That was one of our last progress montages. Ending of course with the seven protagonists truly joining the village, rather than remaining simple hired help.

Thanks for catching that nit. Fixed now.


Renee: Love is complicated everywhere, even without phobias thrown in.

It was nice to write a light-hearted scene, given how serious so much of this story is. It shows that people can still enjoy life, in spite of everything else.


Grits: I did want to show exactly what you mentioned. Magic is not just for special people, born the right way or chosen by fate. It is something anyone can learn and master, just like swiging a sword, or laying bricks. It just takes time and effort. The same as any other skill.




Chapter 16

"Junhu still sees no reason for his band to join with yours Dark-Eye. He has done just fine on his own, and will continue to do so."

Only his years of training and discipline allowed Sindeok to keep a straight tail. Was this nom actually referring to himself in the third person? Did he think he was the sacred ancestor himself? Sindeok was glad it was Dark-Eye's gang of raiders he had fallen in with. At least Dark-Eye was a leader he could respect. This Junhu was nothing but a mudskipper with pretensions of grandeur.

Still, he must be a dangerous mudskipper, to lead a band of thirty some bandits. His scales were yellow and green - unusual for a commoner, but still nothing but a mud-foot peasant. They gleamed with bright color, revealing his youth. A long scar ran down the middle of his face, seeming to separate it into two halves.

The raider captain wore a straight bladed ring-sword, which Sindeok was certain came from a hwarang given its elaborately carved crossguard and hilt. A bronze lamellar cuirass protected his torso. The rectangular pieces of metal were burnished to a bright reddish orange. But the bronze guards on his arms and shins were less resplendent, and had gone green with verdigris. Sindeok imagined they must be centuries old Rasen cast-offs, like so much of the gear that Kye Rim's bandits and other lower classes used.

"I am thinking that Junhu does not see very much," Sindeok growled. "Given that his head is up his hindquarters."

"Junhu hears the buzzing of an insect," the yellow and green bandit said with his nose in the air. "It would be wise for it to keep silent, lest it be squashed."

"Junhu will be most silent when I have cut out his tongue." The members of both raider bands stepped away, leaving the pair alone within a wide ring of saurian faces. Dark Eye himself stood silent, arms crossed, and watched the exchange with interest.

"Who is this corpse who seeks Junhu's blade?" The other bandit leader emphasized his words by drawing forth his sword. The steel blade glimmered in the sunlight that streamed down through the leaves of the trees around them.

"I am Sindeok, hatched of Yeonsa, who was daughter of Geonbhwa." Sindeok drew his own sword and held it before him. "I call for the greatest among you to face me, that we may settle this with honor."

The former nangdo knew that there was no honor to be found in either raider company. But he also knew that now that he had called Junhu out, the other Teodon had to fight him. If he did not, he would lose face among his subordinates. It did not require an astrologer to know how that would end.

Until now the rival captain's intransigence had been running headlong toward creating a pitched battle between the outlaw bands. That Dark-Eye's group would win Sindeok had no doubt. But it would cost lives they could ill afford to spare. If he could settle this man to man, then the rest of the newcomers might still be integrated into Dark-Eye's company. All they needed was something dramatic to inspire their loyalty, and more importantly, their fear.

Without another word Junhu attacked. He went from perfect stillness to an explosion of action. Clearly, he had practiced a quick draw. It was not quick enough however, and Sindeok parried, then countered with a thrust of his own. Junhu side-stepped, taking himself off line, and kicked mud up into Sindeok's face.

Sindeok ducked under the brown missile, and was ready when Junhu came in with a chop that came straight down at his head. Once again he parried. This time their blades locked, hilt against hilt. Before Sindeok could rise, Junhu took advantage of his higher position to shove down, both hands upon his sword. Sindeok felt himself being pushed down into the mud. In a few moments he would lose his balance, and be on his back.

He remembered what he had read in Recipes For A New Age. He followed the Scale-Breaker's writing, and filled his scales with mana. Focusing on the image of the blade she had described, he released his power, and willed it into reality.

A brilliant dagger of what seemed to be pure lightning formed in his free hand. Wasting no time, Sindeok pushed the aetherial blade under both their swords and cut from side to side. Junhu screamed, a high-pitched and most unmanly sound, as the arcane weapon neatly sliced off both of his hands.

The rival bandit chief staggered back, staring at the bloody red stumps of both his arms. Sindeok followed, and once again swept his aether-blade from side to side. This time it took off the front of Junhu's mouth, tongue included. A kick sent the bandit sprawling into the mud, still writhing. Sindeok took care not to deliver any instantly mortal wounds as he further dismembered the pathetic creature. Still, it was not long before life fled the bloody fragments that had once been Junhu.

"Who else will face me?" Sindeok hissed. He turned to the members of Junhu's band. He clutched his own ring-sword in one hand, and aetherial dagger in the other. "Anyone?"

No one answered, no one dared move a finger to a weapon. The question of whether or not they would join Dark-Eye's band had been settled.

Sindeok turned to face his master, and saw a smile cross the older Teodon's features. Dark-Eye walked to his side, and cut the heart from Junhu's mutilated remains. He took the first bite, and offered the second to Sindeok. The former nangdo dispelled his manablade and eagerly accepted the succulent meat, glorying in the hot blood that splashed down his throat.

Then Dark-Eye took the rest of the heart, and offered it up to the new members of the raider company. Many blanched at the sight, and turned away. Dark-Eye allowed this to pass, at least for now. They needed men right now, and could not afford to butcher so many. But Sindeok knew that sooner or later, they would all partake of Manaha's Dark Communion.

The rest of Dark-Eye's band cut up Junhu's remains and began passing the meat around. As they feasted, the bandit captain laid one arm around Sindeok's shoulder, and led him away.

"Very well done my friend," he said. "Very well indeed. I knew you would make the most of the Scale-Breaker's wisdom."

"Thank you my lord," Sindeok replied. He kept his head down, as a dutiful nangdo would when praised by his hwarang.

"I want you to take command of these new ones," Dark-Eye said. "Whip them into shape, and show them how things are done among us. Soon, we will take them into battle. I will be counting on you most then."

"I was thinking of that my lord," Sindeok ventured carefully. "If we are to face the gyukon's forces, would it not be best if we trained? These men are killers yes, but they have no discipline, no order."

Dark-Eye laughed.

"If they were capable of taking orders, of doing what they are told, they would not be bandits in the first place. You can turn farmers into soldiers. They are used to following commands. But not scum like this."

"But how will we face the gyukon - the Celestial Flight - with such a force?" Sindeok questioned.

"Just like that book I gave you says my friend," Dark-Eye explained. "We will fight with stealth, surprise, and ferocity. We will not line up in the open like a Rasen army. Instead will be like orcish night raiders - moving swiftly and silently, attacking where our enemy is weak, fading away when faced with strength. Every time we will take weapons, equipment, and food from the enemy. He will be our quartermaster, and as he weakens, we will grow stronger."

"Tell me Sindeok," Dark-Eye continued in a lower tone, "do you miss the old days, when you were among the hwarang?"

Sindeok knew that this was a dangerous question, and that his life might hang in the balance of his answer. But he felt that lying would be the crime most unforgivable to Dark-Eye.

"Yes," he admitted. "Sometimes I miss being a man of honor, among other men of honor. I miss… it was not the friendship… but the loyalty. The absolute trust I had for every other man in my company. That cannot exist here, in this sea of blood upon which we drift."

"An honest answer, from an honest man," Dark-Eye sighed. "We are both men of honor, in a world where honor does not exist. I will tell you a secret. It never truly existed when we were members of the Celestial Flight either."

"Do you know much of the Skanjr?" Dark-Eye asked. When Sindeok shook his head, he continued. "They put much stock in oaths, such as those between warrior and lord. This is why the Rasen and other folk prize them as mercenaries. They can be trusted to keep their word. Well, most of them at least."

"But these oaths do not run in one direction only," Dark-Eye explained. "Both parties - master and servant - swear fealty to one another. If one breaks faith, the other is freed of all obligation. Gaesomun - our gyukon - never had that faith with us. He never had any loyalty, except to his own greed. He piddles his money away in games of chance. Then outlaws a noble or a merchant, takes his wealth, and uses it to pay his debt. He raises special taxes to gild his palace in greater splendor, then sends us out to kill the peasants incapable of paying. He plays us like the cards in a game of gabo japgi."

"Gaesomun has betrayed his obligations to all of us, noble, farmer, and outlaw alike," Dark-Eye declared. "We are not adrift in this sea, I assure you. Our course has always been his destruction. Let this be the object of your honor. Not service, but vengeance!"

"Now I grow thirsty," Dark-Eye said, "and I know just to place where we can stop for some soju."

Posted by: Acadian Apr 13 2019, 07:11 PM

Wow, this was brilliantly-written!

I could cut the tension in the air building between Sindeok and Junhu with an aetherial blade. Then a quick, dirty and bloody fight – gruesome even. Sindeok is a terrifying opponent!

Dark-Eye was right – the situation was very well-played by Sindeok to eliminate a rival while, likely, increasing his own band’s numbers.

This episode really locked in for me what makes both Dark-Eye and Sindeok tick and crystallized their motivation. They have each become vividly memorable characters now.

Ahah, some soju to wash down the hearts of their foes. It looks like all the work and preparations in Agrigento are going to be put to a deadly test.


Nit: “It never truly existed when were members of the Celestial Flight either." - - Looks like this is missing word before ‘were’. Perhaps ‘we’?

Posted by: Grits Apr 14 2019, 04:16 PM

I love Sindeok’s Teodon expressions (straight tail, mudskipper).

If I didn’t know Aela’s team, I could almost root for Sindeok after this scene. Outstanding, this section should be in a class about how to create compelling antagonists.

I love that the Scale-Breaker’s writing allowed Sindeok to learn how to create his very scary aether-blade, and that she might see it if he uses it against the villagers.

Posted by: Renee Apr 20 2019, 02:18 PM

Urrr urrr cripes!!! Ewwwww he ate the guy's heart!!!

Yeah I think I'll skip my next soju break....

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 26 2019, 04:17 PM

Ah, here we go eating hearts again . . .

And I must apologize for being so delinquent in keeping up with this most excellent story.

I smiled at one of my favorite scenes, the one where the Seven take their most excellent meal out and share it with the kids.

I did see one nit, from Chapter 15.6:

For a second there I thought Vesia is a man in drag?? Then I realized that an 'r' had gone AWOL.

I sense the big fight is coming soon - as the villagers are quite advanced in their defense preparations, and Dark Eye's band grows larger through absorption . . . there is a sense of anticipation that is growing by leaps and bounds at this point in the story.

Looking forward to more!