Category Archives: Conversation

Post-Gate Reflections

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The group is almost back to E’armos from the First Gate. The group has traveled through the Howling Wastes, but has made it out of them. Alexis is walking beside Ca’armine.

“You know,” Alexis said, eyes on the horizon, “I keep thinking about the Gate. About what we walked away from.” He hooked a thumb toward the north-west without looking. “They knew Bandesingh’s name there. They knew his allies. We tracked the weapons being made to there. That wasn’t nothing; we had a trail, and we left it cooling.”

He glanced sideways. “You’ve said Raiden wanted you to turn back. Maybe. Or maybe… it wasn’t about turning at all. Maybe it was about where to put our eyes. We were looking one way, but the truth was sitting right there in front of us. Or maybe going to the First Gate wasn’t the most direct way to get to Bandesingh, but perhaps it could have been the quickest way, that Raiden knew-if asked, to disrupt his working, or to topple the Hand.” Alexis shrugs at his thought that will never be known and was never tested.

“And Drennos. You said he taunted you. Maybe he did. But it sticks with me—reminds me of that beggar in Sutheron. ‘You may have killed the snake, but the wolf still hunts, the spider weaves, the king behind the throne is coming.’” Alexis pauses to gather his thoughts. “Whatever that poor beggar was trying to say, Rask certainly took it as some sort of curse or threat. But sometimes messages come in ugly wrappers. Perhaps Raiden was working through Drennos.”

Alexis kicks a stone forward, watched it skitter. “And those visions—the ruins of Raiden’s long-gone armies? They don’t have to be warnings. That could have been a clue or an omen of both weal and woe. When his armies fell, they almost certainly left something behind. Power. Tools. Maybe even a key to tearing the Hand apart or to stop Bandy’s evil master plan.”

“So maybe the Gate was a pit.” Alexis nods his head towards Ethelred, to emphasize ‘pit.’ “Fine. And we climbed out. And we carried things with us when we did. Maybe doom wasn’t the only story written for us there.”

Alexis keeps walking beside Ca’armine. Letting the words hang between them as the group moves closer and closer to E’armos.

Who Are The Allies of The Wilderness God?

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While the group travels across the Westlands away from the First Gate, Alexis addresses Gustav across the campfire one night.

“Gus, level with me.

Last time I asked why you’ll take favors from non-human gods but turn your back on the Grand-Matron of humanity. You sidestepped it, pressed the VahnYir bracers into my hands, and paid the price yourself—a brave move, but it felt like cutting off your nose to spite your face.

Since then, you’ve kept refusing the Grand-Matron’s workings, and then turned down a solid tool against Bandesinge and blood magic, and yet you’re fine with the collegium’s spells and Ca’armine’s gifts. I’m not here to put you on trial—I’m here to get this team through the the trials we face in one piece. To do that, I need more than a yes-or-no list. I need your why. If there’s a line you won’t cross, show me where it runs and what it protects. Your compass matters.

Ca’armine takes blessings from the other human gods. I understand that map. Help me read yours.

So talk to me, Gus: why turn down help from allies? What do you trust, what don’t you, and how can I lead so your convictions make us stronger—not weaker?”

Alexis patiently waits for Gustav’s answer. There is no rush on his face or in his body.

The Hobgoblin of Little Minds

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Rask approaches Alexis as the group prepares to follow the hobgoblins tracks into the grasslands.

“Boss, I’m not going to be able to use a sword, given what happened to Ca’armine this morning…”

Rask pauses, and looks apologetically at the priest, then the Ethelred and Gustav.

“I think Zrithak has… influence over my sword arm… I’m pretty sure he was one of the escaped chained creatures connected to that crypt in Sutheron, and somehow his soul is… more aware? stronger? than the others trapped in… my sword.”

“I’m concerned simply destroying the sword will free the all the souls trapped there, including Zrithak. My preference would be to force him out of my body and back into the sword somehow and eventually to turn the sword over to the Hoodites.”

“In the meantime, I’m afraid I need to fight with just my hands, and perhaps a bow.”

Demons In Our Midst

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While riding away from the Spider of Illceros’ ruins and bridge, Rask approaches Alexis and Ca’armine.

“When was last time we heard from Balls Wrecked? Back in Ghanil, right? It seems the demon’s interest in us vanished as we approached the First Gate? He only works in crowded places?

The Cycle of Neef

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A bit after their conversation about dwarves and mountains, Rask perks up suddenly, looks around and approached Alexis.

“Alexis, do you remember the song Grimsby Thorne was signing when we first met him? The Cycle of Neef? Neef was the squire right? But Igvar, his master, was a holy crusader of Raiden and founded Fellsbee… right? There was something about a wizard too…”

Legends and Lore: Raiden… Of the Storms?

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Rask approaches Alexis in moment where the others are busy.

”Alexis, have you ever heard of Raiden being named a Storm God?”

Rask looks around warily, “My connection to Aegir is lost here, and it has been difficult…”

He gestured at the tattoos on his chest and back. Clearly a saddened and a bit lost.

“I have a vague… memory? “My… grandmother? Referring to Raiden as the Storm God…”

Rask’s brown furrows… Alexis gets the sense that’s not quite right, and that Rask is hoping for help understanding…

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.

The Reality Under The Copper Hills Fort

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The Crimson Calling is sailing on the Gilded Zephyr, having been smuggled from Sutheron and heading to Llanos port. Alexis kneels down next to Ethelred, who is continually studying the documents from the Collegium, holds the red jasper around his neck, and chants something while his other hand forms precise forms and seems to get a little blue.

For the next many hours Alexis sits next to Ethelred, thinking. Occasionally one of the Calling will ask him for something, or about something, and he will respond and then go back to his focused thoughts. For some portion of his reverie he writes or draws in his book.

The next morning at breakfast clears his throat to get the group’s attention while he idly walks a copper coin across his knuckles. “Yesterday I studied the ritual room with the demon under the Copper Hills Fort. As we had suspected it was human magics calling upon demon magics. Nothing about the magics was anything I’ve ever encountered before. Not the sorcery on the sword, not the summoning. But I could clearly make out two intertwined magics: one demonic, and other was of Avv.”

Copromancy and the Raw Power of Aegier

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One more morning, shortly before Gustave rejoins the group, Rask approaches the Aegierian ranger.

“Brother Arrow, if I may, your thing,” Rask grimaces as if bearing down to defecate,

“I’m sorry, I just… there’s something about you and your thing that… feels more like my tattoos than other… things…”

Rask shrugs a little, sheepishly.

“‘The Raw Power of Aegier,’ that’s what Mage Eye and Ursul called it… but it’s Raiden too, right?”

Rask looks at Gustav for a moment,

“So anyway… sorry to bug you…”

Rask pauses for a moment to see if Gus has anything to say, but is clearly growing uncomfortable with the whole conversation, and regrets bringing it up.

A Humble Request

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One evening after dinner, after a full 15 days have passed since the group arrives, Rask looks at Ethelred and inquires:

“He- Mastercraftsman, would it be possible for you to make a me fine wooden sword, like a practice sword, perhaps out of a dense wood like ironwood, that I could wield as it were mine own Blade?

Rask unconsciously nods at the bundle tucked in against his bedroll, where it has lain except when so recently examined by Ca’armine, Blessed Priest of Raiden.

“Should we find the right wood of course, and perhaps wrapped in leather like the cudgels Brother Blade has been using.”