Author Archives: Ca’armine

About Ca’armine

Son of a country priest of Raiden, Ca'armine was the pride of the family when he was admitted to the Academy of the Raidensblud, and began training to join that prestigious order. He learned to his chagrin, that the group had been infiltrated and taken over from within, by the Dark Hand! His true heart and devotion to Raiden could not abide him continuing in that path, so he escaped to the trees and timbers. Now he is on a quest to save Aegir from the corruption the Raidensblud is spreading. His mission in life now, is to redeem Aethelred, purge the evil from the Raidensblud, and stop the entrenchment of evil will on his beloved homeland. Tall order. It will be a miracle if he can pull it off-- the kind of miracle one should never expect to survive. That's fine with Ca'armine. The mission is more important than any one person. It is irresistibly necessary to Ca'armine, that he succeed-- or die trying.

The Precipice

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After so long… the destination is before us. Ca’armine feels deeply. He cannot deny the fear– this team has faced horrible dangers and lived, but now they are preparing to assault the keep of their long-sought foe, attack his stronghold, force the confrontation. Complete victory, he knows, will be a miracle.

During his watch he contemplates each of his companions in turn. Alexis, who has transcended his magic-trained mentality, by accepting Raiden as his protector and guide. He smiles, warmly, feeling the genuine joy of the blossoming of his relationship with the team leader. He and Alexis are synchronized now, through the blessings of Raiden. He looks at Gus, and realizes that Gus will do anything to preserve his team and achieve the goal. Uncomplicated, undramatic, focused, and powerful– though he does not utter the Holy Name, he is a child of Raiden and Raiden loves him dearly. Is Ethelred even sleeping? His eyes are closed, but Ca’armine sees them moving behind his eyelids. Studying a scroll that is only scribed in his mind. Ca’armine shakes his head in wonder. Red is so different from Ca’armine, but also just as dedicated as any of them, to solving the puzzle and defeating the foe. Then Rask, his first true comrade in this band. The road Rask has traveled! He feels pride, sinful as it is, in the distance Rask has traveled. He reminds himself that, though he provided guidance and encouragement, the true toil of soul was Rask’s alone. Though Ca’armine cast the ritual, if Rask had not had the strength of mind and heart to throw off the Black Blade and Zithrak, this adventure would have been a short one indeed. Now the team knows that Rask will carry them to victory if it is with his last breath.

He looks up. Inspired, he prays: Raiden, show me myself. Show me, what I would see from outside myself.

Determination and focus. Belief, in Raiden and in the righteousness of the cause he is so close to completing, this night. There is a blurriness there too, a leap of faith– he has to admit to himself that he became convinced that this path was his destiny, and once convinced, chose never again to examine the goal or the path toward it. He cajoled these men, preaching when reason didn’t work. Converting Rask to his own vision of Raiden worship, then Alexis, maybe even Gus– and in so doing, forging a commitment in them, to the same ends.

Stop the Dark Hand. Confront Bandesingh. Purge the taint from the Raidensblud.

He realizes the pride in the center of this: seeking vindication for running away from his commitment to the Raidensblud. He still feels, that he was right about the priesthood, right about the subversion of the king, but that blurriness, the leap of faith, is still one that he must make every time he examines himself like this.

As usual, he shakes that off. This is fallibility, he thinks. Even the wisest, must accept not knowing, as a component of knowledge. He realizes that this is a self-justification, that it does not answer all the questions, but that faith is sometimes its own answer.

For a moment his vision whirls, and he feels as though his vision is spinning. He stomps the cold ground to make sure his feet are firmly planted– they are. He wraps his arms around his chest, reassuring himself he stands still. The vertigo persists a moment, then clears– and he feels as though he is floating.

One deep breath, inhaled and then exhaled. Eyes closed. Raiden Hear my Prayer!

Guide, protector, warrior, priest. Raiden, I have striven all my life to know you and follow you. Now I know that you are with me, and that, fallible as I may be, you are holding me up and through me, my team-mates.

Our cause is just, but our foes are powerful. I beseech you, to aid us in this hour of need! We cannot walk away, we cannot step aside, we cannot falter, we must persevere– and only with your guidance, your strength, and your inspiration will we defeat the foul foe.

Guide us– show us the way! Show me the way, to enter this fortress and defeat the foe.

Protect us– save us from harm! Though we may falter, hold us up long enough, that we can defeat the foe.

Lead us– keep our feet on the righteous path. Inspire us to overleap the pitfalls that await.

Bless us– our cause is just, our hearts are stout, our resolve is strong. Help us to step past the fear!

Strengthen our arms, our spells, our faith and our resolve.

Raiden we need you now more than ever!

I May Have Erred

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Thing happen fast, sometimes. Even when one can stop time! Battling Ezrin– a foe my companions used to trust– I used the time amulet received when we entered this new world, to pause the flow of time, heal my grievous wounds from fighting the undead minions the wizard deployed, then ran to a fighting position, where I joined Rask in battling the wizard at sword point. Rask dealt him a flurry of mighty blows, maiming him grievously. He teleported away, leaving his severed arm in the dirt, and we ran him down to deliver the coup de grace.

Even as his last breath left him, Ezrin’s body split and a demon came out of the accursed armor he wore! I was preparing to Dismiss the demon, when a rider appeared! She dispatched the demon with her powerful magic sword, before I could cast my spell.

My fellows knew this warrior woman, and they spoke. She told them she had now dispatched the last of the Abyssal Lords (meaning, the demon she had destroyed in front of us), and that she was now resuming her quest to “kill the gods.”

My fellows tell me that she is in earnest. She was gifted a uniquely powerful magic item, the sword chaotic, to accomplish this quest. My fellows tell us (for Rask, also, did not know this warrior) that they convinced her to kill the Abyssal Lords first, before starting her quest to kill the gods. With that quest complete, however, by her words she vowed to kill Hood, the God of Death.

Could I have stopped her from riding off? Could I have dismissed the demon more quickly, and in so doing, prolonged her quest?

I have a holy charge, to free the land from the corruption of the Dark Hand, and I cannot turn aside from that quest. But in all the world, only we few people know, that a fell warrior woman now seeks to kill the god of death, and if she succeeds, the world will be forever changed. How? We don’t now know. But to me it seems clear, this would be a Bad Thing.

If I did not have the power to roll back time, my dismay over this turn of events would feel less onerous to me. But I alone could turn back time, giving up years of my life to do so, in order to repeat the moment when she dealt the mortal blow that killed the demon. Not only did I err, by letting her kill the final Abyssal Lord, but– though it took minutes for the tale to be recounted to me– I also failed to turn back time and try once again to prevent these events from unfolding.

Raiden help me, I am weak– I could not give up those years of my life to roll back the relentless tide of time’s passage, for a possible intervention in those sudden actions. The certainty losing years of future life, in exchange for only a possibility that, knowing what I know now, I could have stopped them from unfolding, was not a worthy exchange.

Add one more quest to the growing list of wrongs to right. If we eliminate the Dark Hand, without dying, and if we fulfill our promise to retrieve and turn over Dauntless, then I have a deep conviction that thwarting Earica’s quest, must be in my future.

Mushrooms

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Ca’armine has trouble settling down, the first few days in the wild.  The last few days his world—did he even think of “world” in the same way before?—has been turned upside down.  The sense, of not feeling Raiden’s presence, haunts him.  And now?  Raiden is there when Ca’armine reaches out, but it’s different somehow.  He doesn’t know how exactly, yet. Things are different. 

The monastery wasn’t there anymore.  Tumble down stones, he imagined– but they weren’t there.  Every member of the team, walked past the clearing.  All of them saw it.  All of them looked a second time.  None of them stopped. 

We knew things were different right then.  We were back in the world.  But things were deeply different.

On the third day—praying to Raiden every day, communing with his god, but on a level that maintained, rather than grew, their bond—he realized that he was different. 

Not the person who had walked into Nodden-Tor. 

First he prepared his spells for the day, then he checked in with his team to let them know he would be away.  He put on his pack, with nothing in it but a water skin and a blanket, strapped a knife on his belt, and set forth.  After a few minutes, he picked up speed and ran across the clearings between trees, to get space between himself and the area he had already explored, hunted, and knew well.

He did not stop to forage or hunt on the first day, so when night came he laid down hungry.  He woke up with the sun, already feeling better.  Today he did not commune with Raiden.  He got up and started running.again.

Before the sun got back to midheaven, though, he felt the fatigue start to slow him, and he started hunting instead.  The knife was the wrong tool, so he made a spear.  He found a muddle of rabbit tracks in a bit, and held still by a maple tree until the rabbits felt confident to leave their holes.  He got two.  Tying them up he started looking for  downed wood and a place to build a fire. 

Along with the wood, he found some mushrooms.  Intrigued, he examined them.  When crushed the stems turned blue.  He gathered all of them, and he moved on with cooking.  Why not grab some salt on the way out of camp!  Ca’armine laughed at himself and ate the damn coneys.  With some of the mushrooms.

Things got different then. 

Eating the bluing mushrooms, had been an important point in his first months away from the Raidensblud.  Long ago, there was a random night at a random inn, when a fellow-traveler had offered him a soil-bound cluster of the same type, warning him they were “strong.”  They roamed around together that night, until Rion—Ca’armine thought he was probably a thief by trade though he said he was in “real estate”—said he needed to lie down.  That was the night Ca’armine realized that, he must be a servant of Raiden, without being a tool of the Raidensblud.  It was compicated, it was intense, it was revelatory.  For awhile he thought he might be a druid.

Ca’armine spent the whole night under the stars that night, communing with Raiden and feeling the earth.  The mushrooms made him vomit of course, they always did—so in the morning he felt the pangs of hunger intensely.  When the partridges came out in the early morning he knocked one down with a well-aimed stone, and cooked breakfast in the same fire.  He started walking back to the party’s loose encampment.

When he resumed his training the next day, and rejoined his comrades in training activities, he found a change in his perspectives.  An additional dimensionality—time, frequently, fittingly—using greater spell complexity to achieve greater effects.  Finding capacity for closer and more frequent communion with Raiden.  Expanding on the ability to protect from, and even to purge, evil attachment. Growing more powerful.

This world might be different from the one where he was born.  But it’s the world where he lives.  Where he serves Raiden. 

Thereafter, he spends time every day seeking out components from the forest around, especially bluing mushrooms, and making incense with those components. 

Ca’armine’s Dream

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On the final night at the end of two weeks of rest (and leveling), Ca’armine does not drift into sleep. He kneels. He prays. Not his morning prayers, simply a choice to connect with his god before he drifts off to sleep.  It has been a good two weeks in this Westland wilderness, on the side of Mt Lanos. It has been so peaceful that even with the howling of the undead in the woods to the south, Ca’armine has enjoyed some real bonding time with the other members of his party.

The world grows sharp.The air becomes thin, and cold like standing at a mountain pass in winter. It’s not a painful cold, but it does make Ca’armine feel alive, and awake. When he opens his eyes Ca’armine stands upon a high ridge overlooking the Red Wastes.

The wind roars off the red wastes, kicking the crimson sand into the air and making the sky seem smeared with blood. Not chaotic. Some fear the winds. This seems purposeful to Ca’armine. Countless groups of humans are leaving the wastes and finding shelter below in these first lands. Behind him, footsteps. Heavy. Measured.

Raiden stands there. Not a god of light and glory. Not crowned. Not radiant. He stands in travel-worn armor. Leather scarred. Cloak torn. A longbow across his back. A sword at his side. His ears are slightly pointed. His face weathered. His eyes are very human. And tired. Perhaps even sad. But resolute.

Raiden Speaks…“This is but the first gate, as they have taken to calling it.  Many will wish to stay here after our long journey. Yet we still have so far to journey before we can build again. I know that this is not what you seek, but it is important for you to remember. I can sense, beneath your guise of peace and calm, an anger burns.” The wind does not drown his voice. “Good. You wish to fight the corruption of our order, to fight the disease that attacks our roots. But first we must remember what is worth saving.” He gestures to the Red Wastes below. Ca’armine sees visions in the sand:

Large groups of humanity are fleeing from a scene of mass destruction, cities falling, civilization destroyed…Orc hordes cresting the Middlebarr pass and pouring into the land…Sutheron in ruin…Humanity scattered.The last scene, a young family, a man and woman and child, hiding in the woods as dark murderous forces move past…they are silent, not just in feart, but in determination. “We survived because we did not break.”

The sand shifts again. Now Ca’armine sees a scene between two figures, one of them familiar, Tarkus, in a familiar warehouse in Ghanil..Red iron shipments are discussed. A need for dark rituals. The importance of gathering power. The mysterious figure is clearly in charge.  As they speak Ca’armine notices shadows coiling around an image of a broken crown that seems to ethereally sit over the head of the unknown figure, commanding Tarkus to obey him.

“The enemy believes humanity is weak.” Raiden says. The sand turns to glass and in the reflection Ca’armine sees himself after one of his more taxing battles with the Crimson Casling. Bruised. Wounded. But standing. “We are not weak.”

Raiden steps forward. The world swims and a new vision comes into focus. Now Ca’armine stands in a ruined city, perhaps Sutheron centuries ago from the look of it. Orcish warbands approach the gates. The defenders are few. Raiden leads them, but does not charge. He does not shout. He plants his banner. “Hold” he tells them. These human kin, they are resolute, and you know already that they win in dominant fashion, finally driving the hordes from Sutheron, and eventually over the Middbarr pass.

“Strength is not domination.” the world weary Raiden says to Ca’armine. The wind rises. “Strength is endurance.”

The vision swims and fractures again. Ca’armine now sees something he was not expecting: A new figure, a member of some kind of unknown imperial army by the looks of it, preparing to defend against a large force of elves and dwarves, that upon further inspection looks tired, hungry, and desperate. It is hard to make out specific qualities of the figure that the vision is focused on, but elements of his character shine through. Brilliant. Driven. Certain. He routes the enemy army and those around him swarm to him in celebration. Yet the figure quickly moves away. While the others celebrate, Ca’armine watches as this mysterious figure wastes no time returning to his tent and planning…always planning his next move, and the one after that, and the one after that…so many plans stretching far into the future.  Raiden watches him with no hatred. But you detect your god does feel sorrow for this figure. “He may have destroyed the last empire, if you can believe such things are the result of a single person’s actions, but he is not chaos.” he tells you. “He is conviction without humility. Even as the others celebrate they are blind and lost in his web of dark desires. And while he is long from this world, from a time before now, you must prepare for his return for his machinations have never ended.”

The wind stops.Everything becomes silent.

“You will face men who believe they are saving humanity.They will sound righteous.They will sound necessary.They will sound like me.” Raiden grips Ca’armine’s shoulder. It is solid. Real. “You must remember the difference. Like when you left the Order, with purpose, no longer willing to be deceived…determined to fight for me, for us, for humanity. For the good that we can all do. That is why, no matter the darkness they can bring, or the evils they can choose to do, our people must be saved, for the good that we must encourage them to foster, on each other and the world around them.”

The scene shifts one final time. Ca’armine stands before a massive storm rolling in from the north. Black clouds. Lightning. Shadows moving within. Banners of the Dark Hand on a towering citadel surrounded by snow, ice, and black rock.  A reoccuring figure again, the one who spoke with Tarkus in that warehouse…maybe Bandesingh. There is a ritual underway.  You hear echoes from another time resounding as the ritual continues. Something awaits in the long ago and far away dark…something returns…something that will spell doom for all mankind while trumpeting it’s defense and salvation.

Raiden draws his blade. It does not glow. It does not blaze. It is steel. Simple. Reliable.“You will not stop the storm. You will stand in it. You will anchor the others. You will not bend. You must not break.”

The wind returns. Now fierce. Now glorious. Ca’armine feels strength surge through him…Endurance. Rootedness. A mountain stance.

Raiden’s speaks one last time to Ca’armine…“When you doubt, remember all of this, the struggle and the desperation, the power of choice and the need to stay strong in the face of all that which wishes to undo the good that we sow into this world.”  There is a spear in Raiden’s hand which he entrusts to Ca’armine. Ca’armine grasps it with intense determination and it glows with the power of Raiden.

The vision fades to a final image. The Middlebarr Pass. Raiden is standing alone at its narrowest point but you can tell it is simply an ethereal vision of him which only you can see. This is a possible future. Behind him is an army of sorts, the tired, the hungry, the desperate. Other humans like Ca’armine. The rebels of Aegier…refugees most of them, not true warriors. They are preparing to fight, yet you can smell the fear emanating from all of them. Before Raiden stands a horde unlike anything Ca’armine has ever imagined, spreading down the pass and far off into the north…as far as Ca’armine can see.  Orks, goblins, bugbears and hobgoblins, banded together from countless tribes to form a massive indomitable army. They are not there out of greed, or a desire to pillage. This is a host bent on the destruction of every human in the lands. The blood that they will spill will be like oceans to feed the appetites of their dark gods. Raiden does not move but you can tell he is speaking to those who can not see him, trying to give them courage in the face of so much death and destruction and evil.“Hold.”

That’s the Power of Raiden

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Facing the bole of a beech tree, Ca’armine sits cross-legged in repose. He’s staring at the silver shield of Raiden in front of him. His body is relaxed. His mind is elsewhere.

Alexis asked him, “can the energy that pushed away the demon, be used to draw in a similarly powerful good creature?” Or something like that. Ca’armine said no, quickly, or at least, not through his agency, but now, he realizes, that in a profound communion with Raiden, he does walk beyond the boundaries, not of the plane, but of the visible world. Maybe more is possible than Ca’armine had believed!

He walks in the garden of Raiden’s delight. It’s not a place, he’s not walking with his feet on any ground, but this is the vision in his mind as he communes with his god. Raiden seldom speaks to him here, but he senses the Presence. “Raiden, please hear me. My team walked in, and out, of a dark place, looking for a powerful artifact. Is this something we can use? Will this help us defeat the enemy?”

When he says “the enemy,” a ripple runs through the vision. Ca’armine raises an eyebrow.

“Raiden I feel you guiding me. When I reach out for your power, you give it freely! I believe I am following a path you are laying in front of me. Are you guiding me toward the enemy? Can my team and I defeat the enemy? With your power I feel anything can be possible.”

“Raiden thank you for guiding me, for empowering me, and for leading me forward. I trust you will help me and my team, and guide us in your righteous path. I pray you give me strength that I might access– or the team might use– the power in the artifact! I pray you show us the enemy, and guide us to defeat him!

A spear of light arcs into Ca’armine’s chest, filling him with bliss. It is the same spear he throws when he heals a fallen team-mate. The beam illuminates him and then disperses.

Let’s Go Back to Church

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Morning in camp. Ca’armine finishes his watch, and wakes Alexis, who as usual had taken the first watch. “Camp is secure, nothing to report overnight. If you’re awake, I’m going to retire to pray.” Alexis rubs his eyes, and nods, pushing up on one elbow. Once Alexis is up, he’s up– and the two have made this exchange many times over the months they have been together. Ca’armine moves off from the group, and finds a tree to sit beneath.

“Raiden, brother, protector, hear my prayer!” He starts, as he always does, with his silver shield in his two hands. He thanks Raiden for protection and guidance, and asks that Raiden continue to bring these gifts to him and to his team.

He becomes distracted, though, as he calls the faces of his comrades into his vision. Alexis asked to be taught the ways of Raiden yesterday! Ca’armine thanks Raiden for the opportunity and asks for the gift of wisdom in this matter. Forming a congregation, was not the path he foresaw for himself, when he got the call to go south and find the Crimson Calling. But in the midst of battle, something was changing with the spirit of his team. Rask is depending on Ca’armine, for spiritual guidance and more. Gustav is offering his trust, and asking Ca’armine to consider the burden on his soul, of accepting magic from gods other than Raiden. Ethelred is not talking much about religion, it’s true, but he did join in the cause of helping Rask by crafting a holy symbol of Raiden for Rask to hold. And now Alexis the Av worshipper, the one who calls on Av’s power for spell work, is showing interest in Raiden worship and asking Ca’armine to be the guide. Ca’armine feels giddy as he thinks about the team coalescing, not only in purpose, but also, in inspiration. Raiden be praised!

He feels things shifting in this group. Only a week ago, he was still nursing a plan to leave the group and head north and east, to the region of Fjellsby where he felt sure, he would find his opportunity to thwart the Dark Hand’s evil plans. He did not feel he could push Alexis any harder than he already was, to take that path, and Alexis was still clearly ruminating on unfinished business in Southron. He wondered if, in that moment, Rask would join him. But more he wondered if, without the rest of the team, he could survive long at all, in his quest to find Bandesingh.

But Alexis took the path to the North East without any further discussion, and the team had all followed along. In that moment, Ca’armine realizes, he finally felt he had found his place on the team.

“Raiden, protect us! Protect humanity from harm. Protect us from the evil workings of our foe!” In his mind’s eye he sees, but vaguely, a powerful and evil magical working, and imagines Bandesingh looking on in satisfaction. He envisions himself interposing his body, sacrificing his life to stop the evil from gaining sway in this plane. Then he tries to imagine having his whole team with him, resisting that magic. Stronger, yes. So much stronger.

Strong enough?

“Raiden hear my prayer! Help me to guide my team in spirit, so that we can, together, find the foe and cancel his evil plans. Help me to bring them together as comrades, as soldiers in your army, to defeat the foul foe. Help me raise up their souls in your light, so that we can do your good work and save humanity!”

In his mind’s eye, he sees Alexis, pointing out across a plain, and sees Rask, blade held high, charge past in the direction he’s led. He sees Gustav moving out in a flanking maneuver. Red, circling around the other way. He himself, following behind Rask, holy shield in one hand, sword in the other. The team, charging into battle, to the end, together.

“Raiden please let it be so!”

In Game 09072025: Ca’armine’s dream

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That night after the ritual, feeling deeply connected to Raiden, Ca’armine sleeps well and slips into dreams. 

You find yourself standing in the plains, stretching beyond sight in every direction, at night with the stars bright above. A warm wind from the east carries murmurs…”soon the false god shall ride again, clothed in shadow, born into this world on the blood of innocents. Time is running out. The sands in the hourglass are nearly spent and the gate of skulls will soon have a new lord. My time is nearly spent. If the shadow returns, the night will never end.”

Shadows grow and blots out the light of the stars. You awake, heart pounding.

Ca’armine seeks Gustav’s Vow

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Ca’armine, moving through the group as we walk along, pulls Gustav aside for a word.

“My friend, we have a problem.  I need your help to solve it—though we may both perish in the attempt.

Rask has a cursed sword, and his increasing disquiet—even with the sword out of reach—tells me he may be hosting an evil soul.  Perhaps Zrithak is joined with him.

I am asking him to give me his swords, to fight with batons only for now, but this is a stop-gap.  If the evil inside him concludes he must move against the party—and Red heard him say as much in his sleep!—there will be serious trouble, mainly for me as the keeper of the Black Blade.

Please keep close to me and be ready to defend me if he tries to take the sword from me?

In my prayers it has become clear to me that the sword, and perhaps the evil soul, are avid to destroy us all.  If Rask is under the thrall of these evils, he is the most dangerous foe we have faced together, and we will need to be resolute.

In Raiden’s name I charge you—NONE OF US may wield the black blade even one more time, and he that attempts it, must be stopped, even if his death is the only way.  Will you accept this charge?”

Raiden our Protector

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Ca’armine catches up with Rask as they walk along. “Alexis told me that he was asking you about the Protector aspect of our great god Raiden, and I came up with a song for you.  It is short, I’m not the bard, but maybe Alexis can spank it up for us a bit?”

Ra-a-aiden, brother, protector! 

Shield us from the foe!

We stand behind you, weak and vulnerable

Save us from the Blow!

Raised by Anashar,

blessed with glory

Resolute and Strong

Wield thy sword to help the lowly

As we make our way along!

Raiden Doesn’t Like This Place

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My friends– as we approach the heavy fortifications of the West Gate, I feel compelled at last to tell you. Throughout this journey I have been tortured by visions, including glimpses of the silent and stern visage of Raiden. I have felt that our steps were taking us away from, not closer to, the goal for which I asked my Lord’s guidance– the defeat of the Dark Hand.

Dennos has taunted me. He identified me as a priest of Raiden, from the outset, and as we traveled further and further into the west. I ignored him while he was challenging my God. But as we walked further west– and my visions grew more intense– I realized his taunts and my visions echoed each other. Raiden beseeching me to turn back. Reminders of the desolation visited upon his armies, long in the past.

Now that we stand in sight of the fortress, I need you all to hear and believe me, for I know as well as my own name– we have deceived no one. Drennos of the Dark Hand leads us gleefully into a trap. This fortress is so well defended, despite being in the wild lands, we have to ask ourselves, why? Maybe this is where Bandesingh and the Dark Hand are making weapons and training armies.

But maybe this is a prison, and we are about to be locked inside.