Late into the two weeks of contemplation, exercise and study, Rask approaches Ca’armine while the others are busy with their work.
“Ca’armine, do you have moment to talk?” Rask asks quietly and nods his head to the side a bit to indicate privacy.
The two step away from the others a bit and Rask continues quietly.
“Things have changed. This… is not the same world we left. We all can see it, I can feel the raw power of Aegir again, you can feel Raiden again right?”
Rask pauses for Ca’armine to affirm.
“I have been focused on stopping the Dark Hand, stopping Bandesing, it’s why we joined this group. What if Bandesing doesn’t exist here Ca’armine? Did we defeat the Dark Hand by changing history? Is there a new enemy we don’t even know about?”
Rask is confused, uncertain and concerned, even vulnerable.
Category Archives: Exposition
When Did the Sky Break?
A few nights into the camp east of Nodden-Torr after the group has left the time-vault, well out past the fire. A pale shape sits on a branch a little above him, about the size of the owl. Alexis paces below.
“Vorgoth told me no mortal had crossed his bridge since the sky broke.”
“I’ve been taking that for the Great Betrayal. Two other possible dates. The Great Upheaval. The Time of Wyrms and Darkness. Both of them sit well before the Second League.”
“But the coins in the griffins’ nest were second age. Every one of them. Whoever built that place, almost certainly built it in the second age, so both the other dates are too early.”
“Or something inside the second age…”
Alexis shrugs. He turns the Collegium ring, thinking of all the history books he now wishes he had actually read.
“But maybe I need to look at this all different.”
“He’s a fire giant. A giant’s words, a human calendar.”
“Some in the Collegium say fire giants live in volcanos. Some say they come from an entirely different plane.” A pause. “I had him in front of me and there was so much I would have liked to have asked him.”
“If the sky broke and put him here… then it’s his people’s word for their own arrival and it has nothing to do with our second age at all.”
Alexis gestures farewell to his audience, but it’s not there. Surely he would have heard it fly away. His hearing has been much better since he started wearing the ring of the Spider.
Mushrooms
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.
Meditations and Movement
Rask helps set up camp, hunts and gathers with Gustav and Ca’armine. He prays to Raiden joyfully everyday, and does the short forms of exercises as usual until enough stores are gathered. Once stores are gathered and camp is set, he prays even more often. Whenever it seems appropriate asks the others questions about nature, plants, survival, focus and concentration.
His solo prayer and training become meditative. He talks deeply with Ca’armine about strength of will, how to maintain focus and resolve. He speaks of these same things with Alexis and Ethelred. He watches Gustav but only asks the ranger about nature, tracking and the like.
He talks with Ethelred about the crafting of weapons and armor, sharing his perspective as a warrior and learning about the basics of the methods of building, shaping, joining the materials to make arms and armor.
He sets aside his spiked gauntlet entirely at some point as the weeks pass. He makes it clear that he is happy for it to become raw materials again if no one is excited about using it.
Those who know go to look for such things may notice that most of his fighting maneuvers are focuses on subduing the opponent with the flat of the blade, the pommel, even and knee or elbow. The moves are precise and clearly powerful, there are no movements that sacrifice precision for power, and his focus is clearly not on deadly slashes and thrusts. He is steady and deeply focused throughout the forms.
Rask is calmer, more focused at the end of the three weeks. He walks a bit more quietly, reacts a bit more quickly, and is more nimble.
Thalia’s Lament
I was a daughter of the House of Wrens,
Where the wild roses climbed the wall,
I spoke the tongue of root and stone and stream,
The old grove taught me all.
I wore the green robe of the standing circle,
Walked the paths my teachers walked before,
The foxes came to eat out of my palm,
The ravens knew me at my door.
Sweet Corwen waited at the chapel door,
With a ring his grandmother wore,
He built me a trellis of white and red,
Said my roses were what he loved me for.
Oh, stone hands, don’t reach for me now,
Oh, cold eyes, I beg you, allow
One more bloom before the silence comes,
One more spring, before I’m lost to this…
A man in violet robes came calling,
Admired the garden that I’d grown,
He asked me for a cutting of my roses,
Smiled like he already knew my name.
He said the old grove’s magic ran too wild,
Said a gentler shape should hold my power,
I did not know his tongue was poison,
I did not know the binding in that hour.
He led me down to a garden of statues,
Where nothing living blooms with age,
He took the wildness that the grove had given
And twisted it into a cage.
Now Corwen searches every roadway,
My mother tends the beds we made,
They do not know what waits here for them
In this cold and thornbound glade.
I still know the name of every root and leaf,
But my cures cannot undo my own,
So I sing instead, in case he hears me,
In case he finds this garden, overgrown
Oh, don’t come closer, love, don’t you dare,
Oh, don’t look up, don’t meet my stare,
I am not what the wizard has made me seem,
I am still the girl who loved a rose, somewhere…
A Dungeon With A Theme
As the Crimson Calling crests the stairs and takes in the fire lake, Alexis pauses. He tilts his hat back and wipes his forehead.
“When we first got here, Red said the griffin ‘room’ had a sense of air about it.” He gestures back down the stairs. “Mist. Bare ground. We’d felt air magic before, so it tracked.” Another gesture downward. “Then the next level. All that vegetation. Earth.” He looks out over the fire lake. “And now this.”
Orcs as the legions of the downfall
While the group has a little downtime on the lush forest level in the tower-out-of-time of Nodden-Torr, Alexis muses out loud.
“Something’s been sitting with me.” He waits a moment. “The orcs that tore through Nodden-Torr had black veins running through them. Unnatural. Shadow infused in them, or some-such. Clearly altered by Shasharak. And that shadow creature we fought under Nodden-Torr, same thing: Black veins.”
He glances at the group.
“And Bandesingh uses orcs too. Different mark, same foot soldier.” He glances back. “Why orcs for both of them? Not stink lizards, not hobgoblins, not gnolls. Orcs.” A beat. “Did Bandesingh learn that from Shasharak? Is there a connection between them, or did two men arrive at the same answer separately?”
Another beat.
“There’s a spellbook tied to Shasharak that nobody’s seen in an age. I’d very much like to know where it is. I wonder if it’s being held by the Dark Hand.”
History Lesson?
Four or five days into Elthered’s Compass project, Rask approaches Alexis while Alexis is between tasks and the group is resting after Ethelred has been working on his Magic ‘Compass,’ the in the misty first ‘room,’ or level of this strange place, he waits for Alexis to acknowledge him and then respectfully speaks:
“Alexis, do you think it would be useful to us all to better understand what you know or have heard about Sasherak, this King Illceros, and that ‘Kobos’ place the dwarves,”
Rask pauses and glances down, a little ashamed of having slaughtered the dwarves so brutally,
“mentioned?”
Rask pauses breifly, before resuming his inquiry.
“The Dragon and Spider,” the warrior glances at Alexis’ ring briefly, “they are connected to King Illceros, right?”
“Was… Handonis telling the truth about the Time Magic? Do we really need giant hearts as anchors?”
Rask is confused and perhaps even a bit frightened.
Cut Off From the Raw Power of Aegir
“There’s something happening here, but what it is ain’t exactly clear.”
While Ethelred crafts his magical compass, Rask keeps watch, cleans his gear, tends to camp, and does his exercises much as he always does when the group camps. He prays to Raiden before and after his exercises and before he settles in for the night. He often joins Ca’armine in ritual prayers to Raiden. Those that might notice such things may see the look of concern and disappointment that occasionally flashes across his face when he uncharacteristically falters during his exercises, or even more rarely stumbles during chores. It is similar to they way he carried himself in the Grasslands on the way to the First Gate, but missing the bitter fury he carried then.
After a few days, and shortly after a round of prayers to Raiden, before settling in for the evening, Rask speaks to Ca’armine and Gustav.
“Ca’arm, do you understand what is going on here?” The question seem somewhat Rhetorical, and the warrior continues before Ca’armine can start to answer.
“I’m cut off from Raiden, or Aegir I guess?
Rask looks to Gustav briefly.
“Mage-Eye did say that my tattoos channeled the Raw Power of Aegir… Like I was in the Grasslands, I’m not as fast or as tough here. It feels like part of me is missing. I’m getting more used to it, but that… worries me that much more.”
Rask pauses and looks at the ranger and then the priest, more sad that worried, really.
“You two can stall call on The Power though, and when you do, I feel that connection again…”
Rask smiles wanly, recalling the comfort Raiden’s protections bring.
“I think Hadonis may not have been completely lying Brothers. This place… something is different here…”
He pauses, clearly asking for Ca’armine and Gustav’s thoughts this time,
“What do you think is going on here?” Rask guestures broadly
Hadonis’ Inevitable Betrayal
Rask settles into the comfortable chair, having scraped his battle-weary battered body off the floor. He slows his breathing and closes his eyes and seems to be on very of sleep when he mutters, “Hadonis… giants…”
His eyes open and he sits up.
“Hadonis was in league with the giants from the beginning! It was a win-win for him,: if we survived great, we are more powerful allies, if we died, potential rivals were neutralized and he would gain our treasures.”
He pauses, clearly tired to his very bones.
“His hearts-anchor thing must have been ruse…” Rask trails off, tired and deeply body weary.
He looks around for a moment to see if anyone registers that he has shared what he, in his exhaustion clearly believes is an important revelation, and collapses back into the chair. The warrior begins to snore softly.