The group is moving away from their camp back towards Nodden-Torr ahead. Alexis falls into step beside Ca’armine.
“Something came out of my studies this past fortnight. A name I didn’t recognize.” He glances over. “The Inner Watch. Some kind of sect inside the order.” He watches Ca’armine’s face. “Have you heard of it?”
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.”
As the group moves deeper past the sarcophagus room, Alexis glances back at Ca’armine and Rask.
“Help me understand something. You wanted an honorable death for that hyena thing. But the bugbears, we slit their throats. What’s the difference?”
As the group files out of the sarcophagus room, first key in hand, Alexis falls in beside Ethelred.
“Had a thought. You still haven’t made me that new focus… I’m working with whatever I can scrape together.” He pulls the coin from his pocket, the one they used on Hadonis’ demon. The one that cracked its prison. “When you carve me something for Raiden, work this into it. Seems fitting.”
The Crimson Calling decamps to recuperate and solidify what they have learned from their recent adventure after their initial forays into the ensorceled dungeons of Nodden Torr.
Rask asks Gustav and Ca’armine to teach him more about survival and ranging, he wants to help the group more and better connect with the horses and other animals. Whenever they will let him, Rask prays, studies, hunts and gathers with the two Holy Rangers of Raiden. He learns from them what berries, mushrooms and plants can be eaten, the basics of tracking, and how to connect better with animals. He focuses much of his time hunting with them on being stealthy. His ability to hide and move quietly both improve over the two weeks the group spends in the forest.
Rask continues his practice with his sword, fists and other weapons. As has become his practice, he does so in his loin cloth, and he prays to Raiden before and after, and many of his forms focus on less than lethal applications of his weapon. He meditates afterwards, and makes a point to sit near Alexis when when he does so, his back, chest and thighs exposed, the arcane Iron Tree runic tattoo visible.
He spends the every moment of his remaining waking hours tending to and working with the horses. He feeds and grooms them daily, and works with them to better understanding their training and commands. He talks with Gustav and Ca’armine both about animal training methods and how to connect with both tame and wild animals. He is kind to Gustav’s crow, but always deferential to the grumpy ranger, and pays close attention to how Gustav treats and trains the magnificent corvid.
By the end of the two weeks, Rask is noticeably quicker with his attacks, somewhat able to to track and gather food from the forest, and much more connect to the horses and other animals. He is more centered and at peace than he has been, other than the evening in the Grove of TyLin.
Before venturing up the stairs above the Monasterynof the Eagles, Rask approaches Ca’armine:
”Ca’armine, those giants… if it weren’t for you sending me Raiden Blessing in that moment, I’m sure I would be dead. They are… it’s almost like they’re made of stone. Strong like stone too. Getting hit by the boulder they threw wasn’t as bad as the blows they dealt up close.”
Rask is a little nervous. It has been a long time since he last took a beating like the on the stone giants delivered.
”Anyhow, thank you.”
Rask makes the same prayer to Raiden before his goes to sleep, before he eats, and before and after he does his morning exercises:
Praise Raiden, The Great Protector, Raiden Shields us from our Foes,
We stand before Him, weak and vulnerable. Raiden will shield us from the blows.
Praise Raiden, Raised by Anashar, blessed with Glory, Resolute and Strong
I wield my sword to help the lowly as we make our way along!
The Light of Raiden shine upon Us, as it shines upon me and all of Aegir
Let it shine on me, and through me, let the Light purge the taint of my sorry soul.
Praise Raiden, The Great Protector, Raiden Shields us from our Foes,
We stand before Him, made strong by Raiden. None to save them from our blows.
Praise Raiden, Raised by Anashar, blessed with Glory Resolute and Strong
I wield my sword to help the lowly as we make our way along!
Praise Raiden.
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.
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!”
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?”