What the What?

After tending to the horses on the groups’ first return to the to top of the stairwell, Rask approaches the rest of the group:

“This,” he gestures all around them, “what… I’m not even sure where to start…”

“Hadonis… those giants… this… that five-eyed thing…” he gestures downward, and looks to Alexis, Ethelred and Gustav.

“You’ve explored dwarven ruins before, right? How are they different or the same? Were they this infested with magic? What do you make of all this? Anything Ca’armine and I should know?”

Warrior in a Garden

Rask tends to the horses and helps set up camp in the calm grove, free from the unnaturally cold mist. The cherry tree in bloom, soft grass and moss underneath it is inviting. Rask finishes unsaddling and brushing down the horses and begins to set up his own camp. It is safe here, calm, the owl, the white wolf, the hawk, all at ease.

Rask takes off his pack and sword belt and a sits on the grass beneath the cherry tree, amid the blossoms on the ground. He focuses on his breath at first, pausing between exhale and inhale. He turns his mind to Raiden, the protector. There is a connection between Raiden and the land. He can feel it. His own tattoos, Runes of Raiden, described to him by Mage Eye as the Raw Power of Aegir. It is strong in Gustav, and part of Ca’armine’s connection too.

The feeling of gentle southern breeze brushes over Rask, the thought of an early fall day, warm and sunny, ‘Raiden’s Summer!’ Rask insisting to Brude and Yon, who called it ‘Zephrus’ Goodbye.’ Thater, so clam and peaceful in the afternoon light.

Children singing songs about Raiden… farm animals, gentle and kind… farm and village dogs, sweet and protective…

The clarity and mercy of every strike in his recent battle, the Gift of Raiden’s Mercy flowing through him…

Rask’s eyes are open, focused gently at nothing, a middle distance, his mind at peace, his vision taking in the garden in general and in detail. A cherry blossom floats to the ground, wafting through his field of vision. The thought of a lesson, from his mother perhaps, perhaps a chaplain… the sleeping goddess… cherry trees, the white hawk… kindly defense, the sword unstained… Tai-Lynne…

Alexis approaches the white wolf, it growls at him, and moves away as Alexis slowly continues his approach. Alexis backs off.

Rasks stands slowly and deliberately. He unpacks his bedroll and removes his armor, taking great care in each movement. When his camp his set, he returns to meditating under the cherry tree, his back and chest bare, the top two thirds of the Iron Tree runic tattoo visible.

Rask’s eyes are open, focused gentle at nothing, a middle distance, his mind at peace, his vision taking in the garden in general and in detail. A cherry blossom floats to the ground, wafting through his field of vision.

Gustav’s Crow and the owl greet each other and begin to play some sort of game of tag or follow the leader.

Rask breathing settles into an easy rhythm, his mind wanders through peaceful memories, visualizing defensive and non-lethal combat forms, children playing a fighting, a peaceful wind wafting through white tree blossoms, a hawk soaring in white clouds, cherry trees in full bloom with petals perfect beyond belief, gentle bees buzzing in the boughs, tree branches bent under the load of pale flowers, the breeze as ceaseless as the peaks of the mountains are lofty, Brude and Myrsky young and laughing in the sunshine, families working the land on warm spring days, preparing the soil, sowing the seeds, tending to calves and foals, gathering wax and honey from the hives, playing with puppies… peace like Rask has not known in a very long time.

A harsh black rage interrupts Rask’s calm with a silent howl. Rask is jarred to a specific awareness. Alexis and Ethelred are talking. Something about cooking and gardening. The rage is quiet.

Rask sighs, and returns to measured, controlled breathing, pausing between each inhale and each exhale. His mind quickly returns to its peace, families harvesting in the warm fall, breezes wafting gently, non-lethal combat forms, playing with dogs, milking gentle mama goats…

Again! Another harsh black rage and a silent howl. Ethelred is looking at some of the plants in the grove, they are withered and dead. Alexis removes a necklace and tries to clean up the withered plants.

Another wave of rage. As Alexis attempts to clean, black waves of wrath flow over Rask. The white wolf whines.

Alexis stops and begins to make camp at the edge of the garden. The wolf whines. Rask asks Gus if he can calm the wolf, and the group sets watches for the night.

Before laying down to sleep, Rask sits once more beneath the cherry tree and returns again to measured, controlled breathing. His mind returns to its peace, families sharing a meal in a warm house in the winter, a cold morning, warm breath wafting gently away from young boys excited to explore the freshly fallen snow, a white panther fearlessly leaping from ice cover rock to ice covered rock with joyful focus, defensive combat forms, playing with dogs, tending to the farm animals in their stalls, making candles in a warm work-room… Kark Bergthison’s songs of Raiden, the protector of humanity, sung at the hearth in the Worn Stone Tavern…

Rask’s breathing settles into a natural rhythm. His mind wanders to children playing at fighting… Yon and Sten… to defensive combat forms… to non-lethal combat forms… Raiden… the Protector.

“Praise Raiden” Rask intones and moves to take his rest in the Garden of TyLin, his first truly peaceful rest in far, far too long.

What About Raiden?

It’s the morning after the group camped at “Ty-Lynn’s Garden”. Morning settles soft over the camp, the mist clinging low to the bedrolls and the blackened stones of the fire. A crow mutters somewhere in the trees. Alexis stands near what’s left of the coals, warming his hands more out of habit than need.

“Since Warder Yule,” he says, eyes on the faint embers, “and especially after what happened last night, I’ve been thinking about where my magic comes from.” He straightens a little, turning his hat absently in his hands as he speaks. “Avv’s realm has its uses—finding what’s hidden, drawing the unseen to light. But I’m not her servant. Never was. And since we left Ghanil, treasure-hunting hasn’t been high on the list.”

He looks up then, toward Ca’armine, but his voice carries to all of them. “The name of Avv… tends to make people uneasy. You’ve felt it. Yule certainly did.” He gives a small, crooked smile—more acknowledgment than humor.

“I trained with the Collegium,” he goes on. “They teach you to touch where you choose, not a servant any one realm. And I’d like to be in greater harmony with you; my Raidenites.”

Turning to face them fully, the mist curls around his boots, “Are you willing to help me make the shift?”

Varis? Verisimiss? In Vivo Veritas?

One evening after a long day of careful travel through the forest North of Gahnil, Rask quietly asks the group,

“What do we know about this Veris-a-miss? That’s the same as Varis right? The one Sheyeeni worked under who is hunting us? He’s a mage and he has access to scrying magic, but it is not portable scrying magic right? He’s got a henchman named Thraan? The cousin of that… mage who ambushed us in the collegium? Thraan’s a bit of a duelist, Shyeeni is probably a sneaky assassin type fighter…”

“The have the orcs, what other resources could they bring to the fight? You’ve defeated or suborned several of his people already…”

Rask looks at Alexis first, but glances at Elthered and Gustav, as well as Ca’rmine and Alikimo.

A Little Here, A Little There

Eight days out from Ghanil, four since driving Zrithrak from Rask, the group settled in around the fire. Alexis sat half-lit at the edge, the brim of his hat dropping shadow across his eyes. A copper coin rolled steady over his knuckles, flashing, disappearing, flashing again. The red jasper at his chest shifted when he breathed, catching firelight for a blink before sliding back into dark.

He speaks without raising his voice. Mostly to Ethelred, but clearly others need to hear this as well.
“I’ve been thinking—we need to start setting caches. Supply stashes, marked so we can track them later. Something queer in each one, something that doesn’t belong—a child’s top, maybe. Close enough, we’ll find it again.”

The coin paused, balanced between thumb and finger.
“Gus will know where we left them. But if he’s not there, we’re not left blind.”

He leaned forward, letting the fire catch half his face, the rest still in shadow.
“After Ghanil, who knows? Greyfax land. Grasslands again. North of Sutheron. Every road takes something from us. Better to have reserves waiting.”

He turned the coin once more, then let it vanish into his palm.
“What do you think, friend?”

The fire cracked. The shadows shifted with it.

Another Sally Update

The grasslands spread wide, sea-wind threading faint salt through the air. E’armos is still a ways away. Alexis has finished talking to Ca’armine and walks ahead of the wagon next to Gustav, hat brim angled against the sun. His whip hangs coiled at his side. A copper coin rolls steadily over his knuckles, an old rhythm as familiar as walking. The red jasper pendant shifts at his chest, hidden more than shown.

While looking straight ahead, he speaks—voice carrying just enough.
“Way up north, before the troll attack, you told us about Sally. How she only knew ‘go’ and ‘come.’ You said you’d train her to see more. Roads, rivers, maybe even her own trail back.”

The coin moves finger to finger, smooth and sure.
“I’ve been asking for updates as we’ve gone, and it’s that time again, friend.”

A sidelong glance at Gustav, a hint of dry amusement in his eyes.
“How’s her training coming?”

With Horn And Canyon Can a Sending Make?

It’s the day after their second night watching Tarkus Vell’s warehouse. The camp sits on the ragged edge of Ghanil, tents pitched close but without order. To the west, the Westlands stretch out under a clear sky.

Ethelred keeps his watch, cloth in hand, working over the wooden spyglass. The fittings look sturdier than when they first bought it, the grain smoother, edges tighter, as though time and use had only sharpened it.

Alexis stirs, props himself up, voice low.
“Evening, Red.”

“Dreams again,” Alexis says. “Running corridors that turned back on themselves. Always ending where I began. A woman’s pleading voice all the while.”

“Red, I’ve been excited for you to finish the scrolls and take your new craft to the next level…” his voice falters, just for a breath, as if there’s more he wants to say — something personal. He pushes on. “…but I need you in the here-and-now too. So much I want to say to so many people.”

He starts counting on his fingers.
“About Zrithrak. The howling winds. The undead on the edge of Ghanil. The Spider of Ilceros. And more.”

He ticks them off the way Ethelred does his inventory: precise.

“We need a way to get word out. A way to send messages over distances. I don’t know when we’ll see another proper town.”

A breath. Then another matter.
“And there’s Verisimus, always watching through his pool. Gustav managed to blunt it for a while, but…” Alexis shrugs “We need cover from Verisimus. Something that moves with us.”

Alexis quietly pushes out of his bedroll. The red jasper at his neck catches the daylight, burning faintly.

Raiden’s Grove Again?

The group is about 9 days out from Ghanil and three days since driving Zrithrak out of Rask. Ethelred is in the back of the wagon studying, Rask is riding his horse, and Gustav and Alexis are leading the cart horses.

“About what we talked on yesterday,” Alexis says. “Can you make another grove, wherever we stop next? Could Ca’armine help?”

Alexis keeps walking with Gustav, waiting for his friend to answer in his own time.

The Forest Fortress From the Grasslands

The group is about 10 days out from Ghanil and two days since driving Zrithrak out of Rask. Ethelred is in the back of the wagon studying, Rask is riding his horse, and Gustav and Alexis are leading the cart horses.

“Have you heard anything from the grove up north?” Alexis asks

“It’s been months since we were up there and you were pretty worried about it dying of the flame.”

Alexis keeps walking with Gustav, waiting for his friend to answer in his own time.

Killer Sees Killer: Gustav and Rask Go A Walk

A few days after the Ritual on the Road, Rask approaches Gustav away from the others after camp is set and horses are tended to.

“My Brother, it felt like our battles in Sutheron against the agents of the Dark Hand, the mercenaries in the alley, and against the Raidensblud Blade in the sewers were some of the first times you struck the fatal blow against a fellow human.”

Rask pauses and looks away from Gus, giving the ranger all the space he needs.

After a few moments of silence, he quietly speaks.

“Gus, my Brother-in-Raiden, and true son of Aegir: Anything you need, I am here for you. I’ve been there. I’ve lost count at this point, anything you need to get off your chest or talking about, you will get no judgement from me.

“Anytime. If you need to talk, or just go for a walk with a friend, you tell me, and I will do everything I can to do it. You’re a good man. Killing a fellow human is never easy. Not the first time, not the hundredth time.”

Rask is a bit sad, but most of all, focused on Gustav.