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Hishik BW XXXVIII

2023-01-21T14:44:21Z

2A00:23C7:BF83:A101:C954:4846:AE42:5436: Created page with "Hishik was woken by a female’s voice, “Hail, Queen Merrinien, thank you for granting us audience,” it called and the Gnome at once became alert, though he knew he was still dreaming. “So Milai, you have come home, and we welcome you gladly.” Hishik saw a magnificent white hall, the length of which was bounded by two rows of blue, marble pillars. The floor was in two halves: the upper (as Hishik viewed it) was inlaid with silver stars, and the lower, a wonderfu..."

Hishik was woken by a female’s voice, “Hail, Queen Merrinien, thank you for granting us audience,” it called and the Gnome at once became alert, though he knew he was still dreaming.

“So Milai, you have come home, and we welcome you gladly.” Hishik saw a magnificent white hall, the length of which was bounded by two rows of blue, marble pillars. The floor was in two halves: the upper (as Hishik viewed it) was inlaid with silver stars, and the lower, a wonderful depiction of a vast galleon, was fashioned with inlaid precious metals and gems. The galleon carried elves over threatening seas to a green landscape beyond. The pillars supported a huge, vaulted roof which – at the centre – rose to a massive dome, the top of which was open to the stars. The dome was burnished silver on which six dragons were depicted, again, with wonderous precious metals and stones. Directly below the centre opening of the dome, rising from the marble floor was a vast platform, shaped to represent the forecastle of a warship. Sat on a magnificent golden throne in the centre of the platform was a stunning sea elf whose long, blonde tresses flowed like a fountain from her head and cascaded to her shoulders and finally pooled on her lap and on the throne. She wore simple ceremonial, scale male under robes of sea-green silk.

Her huge green eyes regarded the visitors kindly. “You have had a difficult journey and have borne a great weight for the Prime. Now that your task is over and you have chosen the purest route, would you not stay here and take your eternal rest amongst the beauty of the sea and under the shining, silver stars?”

Standing just before the forecastle, heads bowed, Hishik saw Milai, Dafydd and another, much smaller elfin figure flying close by, who was not bowed but instead was looking around in wonder. This figure, Hishik realised, was not completely corporeal; instead her form was in outline only, coloured in (as it were) deepest shades of blue, green and indigo, which moved and swirled to make her even more indistinct.

“My Lady, I still have much to do on the Prime, to ensure that Odin’s wishes are carried out. I return here with the Sylph, Lulna,” Milai indicated, unnecessarily, the floating miniature blue elfin figure next to her, “and have a request.”

“We welcome Lulna,” the Queen stood and bowed, “what is it that you ask, Milai?”

“As you know, Lulna is a Flore, the most ancient and wise of the Sylph,” Milai started, carefully regarding the Lady on the platform, looking – it seems to Hishik – for signs of mistrust, “and is now…homeless, I suppose.”

“And you seek for her a home? Or should we say a host?”

“I do my Lady, someone that understands the seas, rivers, lakes and wonderous waterfalls that exist on the prime. Someone who knows the rhythms of the tides and can calm turbulent waters whilst understanding their powers, be that for good - to irrigate the land, for example, or as a destructive force to re-shape and mould the Prime.”

“And you believe one such host might reside here in the seven heavens?” the Queen asked as she descended the stairs that lead down from her throne to the marble floor.

“Perhaps, my Lady, one of your folk who has crossed the silver seas from Gladsheim? I no longer have the voice to entreat Aegir, whose Flore this is.” Milai looked down momentarily and it seemed to Hishik that there was regret in her eyes.

“My Lady Milai, we will ask Aegir for you, for without his permission Lulna may not take up a new host.”

“I thank you, my Queen.” Milai said sincerely. “My Friend Dafydd, a good Priest of Odin, has asked for counsel in the matter, and the All Father has reached out to the God of the Seas.” Milai paused to allow Dafydd the opportunity to speak.

“My Lady,” began the Cleric, stammering slightly, in awe of the wondrous beauty before him, “Odin has requested that Aegir comes to your realm, at the edge of worlds, to meet us and consider our proposal.”
Milai interrupted, “We hope that, at that meeting, you might have a host for Lulna, which Aegir might accept. I’m afraid we cannot dally on the matter as we believe all evil Flore have hosts and, apart from one, all have serpents – one being that of your neighbour’s most hated foe.”

“There are few that reside here that understands and respects the balance of things – we all weep at life lost. However, one flows to mind…” the Queen paused to think and looked into Dafydd’s eyes for long enough to make him blush, “Yes, yes,” she whispered as she walked past the trio towards the entrance to the Hall. Milai, Dafyyd and Lulna all followed her at a respectful distance behind. As she arrived at the end of the Pillars, Hishik saw two huge wooden doors open before her magically. When closed they resembled the stern of a galleon, now open Hishik looked out onto a polished, pale wood deck, raised high above the waters which lapped at it gently.
Suddenly, just as they step from marble to wood, the deck moved, rapidly forward, but the acceleration was not felt by the small group. Dafydd, unaccustomed to normal sea travel, reached for the low rail which ran the length of the deck. As Hishik looked around him, a ship seemed to form, complete with sails, rigging, and crew; a ship propelled by non-existent wind, to incredible speed. Even Milai looked impressed.
Before long, the company arrived at a long, beautiful shoreline, broken only by small clusters of rounded rocks at the base of which pebbles danced and jostled in the surf. Just behind one such grouping where the land rose steeply from the pebble-dashed beech and water fell from a more distant cliff top, to pool and snake towards the surf, stood an elf. Surprisingly, for one of her race, she had auburn hair, tied high on her head, and she wore the leathers and boots of one more accustomed to the land rather than the sea. Standing upright, she was much taller than her kin too. Milai liked her instantly. There was something so different about this elf, something that reminded Milai of her own youth, before the woes of the Prime descended to her shoulders at the death of her father.

“Hail, Tordinnyar, I have brought a visitor to you.” Called the Queen.

“Hail, Queen Merrinien, I gladly receive your visitors;” a wide, beautiful smile split the elf’s face - who seems overjoyed to have company, “who are they, prey tell?”

The Queen introduced the Party and explained why they had come; however, as she began to talk about Lulna and what she was, the sea behind her bubbled and boiled, sending great plumes of water high into the air. A huge club, fashioned in the shape of a woman, which Hishik believed was a galleon’s figurehead, broke the surface, before being joined by the bearded face of an enormous Norseman. As if rising from the depths, the Giant figure strode towards the ship, which gently bobbed in the shallows, revealing more of his vast, naked torso. All on the ship bowed but the she-elf hopped from rock to rock, finally leaping onto the deck staring up at the huge man, and calling, “All hail Aegir, God of Sea, feeder of storms, smasher of rocks and extinguisher of fires!”

The giant’s voice boomed, gurgling like many rivers flowing to the sea and crackling like waves hitting rocks on the shore, “Odin bid me here, what of it Ladies?”

“We seek you blessing, my Liege, blessing for your Flore here – Lulna – to be joined with the elf you know as Tordinnyar.”

Tordinnyar, whirled around, smile suddenly leaving her, “What?” she asked the Queen incredulously.

Ignoring her, Queen Merrinien addressed the God again, “we have urgent need of a host for the Flore, before it is too late.”

“Me?” asked the auburn-haired beauty again, “why me?”

Milai spoke, “Because you are like I once was, you love the seas, rivers and lakes, you understand their natural forces and we have great need of you on the Prime.”

The Giant bent down to regard the chosen one carefully, “You are a good choice Tordinnyar; it has my blessing but in this realm I would not force anything upong the unwilling. It is also Lulna’s decision.”

All eyes turned to the sylph who floated close to Milai. The two exchanged looks and, again, Hishik saw regret in both their eyes. Milai said, “She agrees…”

Takeda BW XXXVIII

2023-01-21T14:43:07Z

2A00:23C7:BF83:A101:C954:4846:AE42:5436: Created page with "Takeda recalled his last thoughts before sleep engulfed him – the loss of the gold dragon disturbed him but he wondered if he had abandoned his Lord’s instruction to recover the family’s standard. The dream that followed seemed very real… Kneeling, Takeda touched the grass as if to ensure that he was on the Prime. He looked at his folk, loosely scattered in what cover they could find. The grass was wet and cold – as were his followers. It troubled him, was th..."

Takeda recalled his last thoughts before sleep engulfed him – the loss of the gold dragon disturbed him but he wondered if he had abandoned his Lord’s instruction to recover the family’s standard. The dream that followed seemed very real…

Kneeling, Takeda touched the grass as if to ensure that he was on the Prime. He looked at his folk, loosely scattered in what cover they could find. The grass was wet and cold – as were his followers. It troubled him, was this a future, or was it the past that he had altered? It was clear that his men were beaten, broken and in disarray. What had they been through? They were running from some great peril, but what? Whose dominion was this? The land of some ancient Gods? Perhaps Heimdall himself? Had this newly discovered God enjoined him to take up the fight against those who had taken what was his? Strength began to pour through him, warming away the chill of despondency and offering new hope. He knew what to do…

“Nishiki-san!” he called, standing and shaking as if to remove a robe of despair, “We fight! We can no longer run.” Nishiki noh Matawara was an entrusted samurai, someone Takeda had known from childhood. Was he the Daimyo now?

Nishiki nodded, as if he understood exactly what had just happened. “We must be close and swift, save our arrows and make all count. We must choose the weakest point in their defence and break through. Then we do not look back! Our destiny lies in the North, to find those my cousin failed to find and bring to them their Queen.” Nishiki bowed and ran to pass on the orders.
Takeda walked quickly up the slope, which he now realised, but a moment before, he had used to keep his company’s movements from the enemy. Crouching at the top, as best he could in what armour he was wearing, he looked over the rolling plain before him.

Nishiki and two Bushi joined him, “Takeda-sama, they are less than a league from us. I am convinced that they know of our path,” the captain said.

“They do. I know not how, but they do.” He did not turn to look at his fellow samurai; instead he continued to stare fixedly at the enemy. “I count eight score Gith, perhaps a few more and some fell beasts from the north. A scouting party of some considerable strength…” he was lost momentarily in thought.

“Your orders Sire?” Nishiki gently prompted, nervous that he might have interrupted some vital cognitive process.

“Kill them, Nishiki, kill them…” The venom in his voice froze the captain, and he continued, “look how the Gith sweep left and right as they cross the ridge before us. As they weave, they leave a gap between them and the Trolls on the right flank. That is where we will strike. We will kill those that dare interrupt our path but we will not tarry. Strike hard and fast, create the gap and run as swift as the wind as close to north as we may. Assemble and pass on my word – they are to wait for my final order. I’ll see you on the other side or in a more blessed place.”
The order was passed swiftly, the warriors moved to the ridge and, crouching, they took up an arrow formation. Takeda paused momentarily as if doubting himself before leaping up the slope and whispering as if in prayer, “For Heimdall, Mandur and Amorsland…”

His movement, failed to draw the attention of the Gith, less than a mile away and in plain sight. They covered the ground easily, leaping over the odd rocky outcrop or tuft of long, course grass which pockmarked the Great Plains. He was thankful that he was not encumbered by his O-Yori but wondered whether he would regret his choice of speed over protection. The samurai were difficult to see, wearing the dark green of the woodland folk, even at less than half a mile range, blending in with the natural colours of the landscape. They were quick to bow range not releasing a single shot until the very last minute. The Gith’s weaving southerly drive created the gap that he had hoped for. The slower and more clumsy trolls were late to react to the appearance of the band, leaving one hundred yards between the most easterly flank of Gith and the nearest of their number. Obeying the order to conserve arrows, the warriors did not return the hasty salvos launched by the Gith and the ill-aimed rocks thrown by the trolls. Instead, they ran for the gap.

Only a few Gith were mounted and they charged the elves, seeking to slow their progress and allow the company to prepare for the battle. The samurais’ arrows found their mark well, culling the first half dozen before they came within 40 paces. Without stopping, Takeda’s own skill with a bow proved to be the demise of two of the evil creatures. Short of arrows and closing rapidly to the gap, Takeda drew both his katana and his wakizashi, wheeling them in each hand to gain balance, judge their weight and time his blows. He struck down the first foolhardy Gith to come within range, barely pausing to make sure of his aim. Each weapon, circling in a blur of steel, found their mark to skull and neck. At his side, Nishiki struck down another with his katana, defending his liege’s left flank as he continued his sprint.

Half through the gap, the Gith were upon them. Many of the enemy’s number were already dispatched to Hel by the warriors’ unerring arrows but they came on, threatening to close the void on which Takeda had relied. Would this be his undoing? A huge troll, twice his size, swiped a spiked cudgel at the samurai’s head, whilst a Gith stabbed at his side. But he was too quick: leaping forward he rolled over the Gith’s cruel sword whilst ducking below the Troll’s wayward swing; somersaulting he landed on his feet and kept going. Nishiki took his opportunity and, skipping to the Gith’s left, whilst he attempted his lunge at Takeda, cut the evil beast down with a succession of well-aimed sword blows before running to catch his Daimyo.

Others were less fortunate, becoming embroiled with the Troll as it flung out its cudgel in a wild, frenzied attack furious that it had missed the samurai leader. The first blow proved too powerful to be deflected by one samurai’s wakizashi and, catching his left rib cage, winded the man. Unable to slip away, the second blow was more damaging, striking down hard on the his shoulder, shattering his clavicle and dislocating the joint. Still the samurai struck with his right arm, cutting the troll’s head from its shoulders. Realising his doom, however he screamed, “Fly my Lord!” and, turning to see those that followed he called, “Rally here all too ail to continue the pace!”

Many of the wounded saw the sense and dragged themselves to the man’s side. None escaped with their lives. Because of their sacrifice, Takeda and more than five score of his company broke free, briefly turning to use up what remained of their arrows in the defence of those less fortunate.
Looking back down at his fallen followers, Nishiki said what Takeda could not, “Come! We must fly! They will not be forgotten lest we fail to remain alive to tell of their bravery and sacrifice. Come, we run north!”

Whilst subconsciously grateful to be free and for the moment’s peace, he could not think of much more than the image of his wounded followers being slaughtered. At that moment his heart hardened once more – there would be no mercy.
Even in this dream Takeda knew that this was but one example of the sacrifice he would have to make in the coming years. He was driven off course to save others; to do what his relative failed to do years before. So, not only was he sacrificing his men, his kin, he was sacrificing his mission – in the same way Lanzi had before. Was he right? Was that all there was to this? If the last few months had taught him anything, it was that the Prime had more pressing needs than the renewal of his family’s honour. Takeda lay, half awake, conflicted.

Fawn BW XXXVIII

2023-01-21T14:42:17Z

2A00:23C7:BF83:A101:C954:4846:AE42:5436: Created page with "Fawn felt transported through time and across the rolling countryside to a cliff top. With the sea on his right and the sun setting slowly over the great forest to his left he looked across a natural harbour. Suddenly, standing next to him was another great white wolf atop of which sat another dwarf whose beard was not yet full, who was shorter than the average of his kind and who was slenderer. His hair was long and black as night, plaited in part and threaded with s..."

Fawn felt transported through time and across the rolling countryside to a cliff top. With the sea on his right and the sun setting slowly over the great forest to his left he looked across a natural harbour. Suddenly, standing next to him was another great white wolf atop of which sat another dwarf whose beard was not yet full, who was shorter than the average of his kind and who was slenderer. His hair was long and black as night, plaited in part and threaded with simple multi-coloured ribbons. His armour, shining in the sun, was well crafted and, despite its significant protection, did not look cumbersome. On his chest plate Enrodire’s symbol was embossed in gold. His rounded (Greek style) helmet had nose and cheek guards which obscured the dwarf’s features. Turning to look at Fawn the dwarf spoke, “Hail Mage,” his gentle tone belying the menace of a race long forgotten by normal folk, “you seek assurance?” Stretching out an arm, the dwarf pointed his axe toward the top of the slope above the harbour, “Look then.”
As he peered into the gloaming, Fawn detected the movement of hundreds of dwarfs seeking hiding places near the ridgeline. “There are more on the way”, said the dwarf matter-of-factly.

“What will happen here?” Fawn asked.

The dwarf leveled his big green eyes on the Mage, “The Drow will land and head west…”

“It is likely that you will be outnumbered”, Fawn whispered, “This has happened, has it not?”

“Indeed, but we were resourceful; we merely wished to buy time to prepare more adequately for the defence of your castle. Mandur herself has ordered this; she understands well your plight and the need to ensure that Milai has a
stronghold once more.”

“But what happened? Why are you showing me this?”

“this sealed our fate, Bringing our forces here allowed Malor to escape and gave the Drow easy access to the Dragorald. They side-stepped us and, instead of heading to Fontainver, they sped North to aid Malor.”

Darkness crept in as Fawn slept once more; it was not long before he heard a familiar voice and seemed to wake to find he was looking at Rhionne. “Friend, wake up! Wake up! Look!” As he shook off the receding drowsiness, Fawn felt as though he came out of a cloud and before him was his old friend; the Ranger stood on a rolling plane of deep green grassland, dressed in winter furs, pulled closely about him. Fawn’s eyes were drawn to where Rhionne was pointing and, in the distance, he saw a dwarf riding a great wolf coming over a ridgeline. Seemingly awake now and turning back to face his friend, Fawn asked who it was, but the elf had vanished.

The dwarf’s red hair was tied back and plaited, threaded with silver ribbons that hung down his back. His small helm was beautifully made - a simple dome with cheek and neck guards it was ornately decorated with a scene of a mountain range where dwarven kings stood proud. His burnished mithril coat was studded with emeralds, over which a breast plate of burnished gold had been drawn, carved in the shape of a large tear drop. His cloak was fine blue cloth (enhancing the colour of his eyes), trimmed with ermine and embroidered with a depiction of an owl. His legs were covered by riding britches of hard leather onto which had been fastened thigh and shin guards, both highly decorated and studded with gems. His boots were armoured with metal, though pliable enough for riding. His axes were across his back and he carried a crossbow. At his sides were full quivers, slung like bandoliers. Fawn recognised Enrodire, leader of the lost souls.

He was approaching rapidly despite the wolf’s long slow gate. As it approached Fawn realised that the wolf was large enough to look him in the eye. Leaning forward in the saddle, the dwarf shouted, “My folk have failed! Our Queen is lost! Raise your friends bring them.”

“We have Enrodire, your Queen is safe…”

Once again, the image changed, and Fawn was plummeted beneath the earth to a darkly lit cavern of immense proportions. Another wolf lay within. This wolf was truly monstrous, with a disproportionately large head. However, it is not until Fawn sees the great gold dragon, chained and muzzled, lying a little further into the cavern that the true size of the wolf becomes apparent. At least half the length again than the dragon and with a head twice as large, the wolf is vast. Its fur is mangey, its eyes as black as coal, and its teeth unnaturally sharp and yellowed. It stirs as if sensing Fawn’s presence, sniffing the air as it rises and stretches. It growls as its huge head moves from side to side searching. A sound Fawn will not forget; seemingly overcome with fear, Fawn wakes with a start, covered in sweat.

Baldir BW XXXVIII

2023-01-21T14:41:37Z

2A00:23C7:BF83:A101:C954:4846:AE42:5436: Created page with "Baldir sees the lined face of an aging Norse warrior reflected in gently rippling water. His long white hair is neatly plaited and held in place with bejewelled platinum filigree, which weaves into his beard and holds it firmly despite the strong wind that carries a flurry of snow about him. With furrowed brow, leaning forward from a stone perch he stares intently into a rock pool at his feet. Still hunched forward, in a pose that accentuates both his physical and men..."

Baldir sees the lined face of an aging Norse warrior reflected in gently rippling water. His long white hair is neatly plaited and held in place with bejewelled platinum filigree, which weaves into his beard and holds it firmly despite the strong wind that carries a flurry of snow about him. With furrowed brow, leaning forward from a stone perch he stares intently into a rock pool at his feet. Still hunched forward, in a pose that accentuates both his physical and mental prowess, he looks up into Baldir’s eyes.

“Come and see,” he says gently as if it were perfectly ordinary to be communicating with someone in a dream, “there is much to learn here.”
Seemingly taking a few paces forward, Baldir climbs the gentle, rock-strewn slope before looking down into the pool before the old warrior. The waters gradually clear from the centre outwards showing first an image of a palantir glowing faintly purple, before revealing the half-lit face of an oriental man.

“This is indeed an honour my Lady, to what do I owe the pleasure?” the man says, speaking directly into the orb. The light emanating from the globe is insufficient to enable him to discern the dimensions of the space into which he looks, seemingly unnoticed.

“We have need of your assistance, as I once assisted you.” Despite its obvious confidence, the female’s voice, which barely carries into the space, is weak and distorted.
The man leans even closer to the orb, “What can I do for you Inwe?” he asks without hint of doubt.

“There is much we need and you know that it is also in your interest to help us; we need you to send more forces south – our plan seems to have unravelled,” the disembodied voice rises in both pitch and strength as she continues,

“we have been blocked, they guessed our treachery.”

“You continue to have my support my Lady – at least my plan worked well.” The oriental turns away from the orb as if to conceal his expression, whilst lighting a long clay pipe, “the Dwarves no longer have a queen.”

“Oh? Is she with our mother?”

“No, she is well hidden – I will extract her symbiont first,” Baldir sees the man’s eyes twinkle, as the splint touches the dry weed in the pipe.

“That will be the end of her. How will you do it?”

“That I was going to ask you…Didn’t that happen to your mother?”

“By Hel’s will, yes. Meghan was old and ineffective; our Lady saw more potential in me.”

“So, what price, Inwe? I can get you more Gith to strengthen your fleet and deliver more bushi, now they no longer need to protect me.” He pauses to let the message sink in and elicit a response; when none is forthcoming, he continues, “In return, I need assistance with the extraction and knowledge of the necromantic arts.”

“Arrgh, to the heart of it then Malor,” the voice seems nonplussed, “Now is not the time. We have to face the threat that comes from the Efferedil – have you not seen? Nega has come to the forest!”
The man again draws on the glowing pipe, turns to face the Palantir and points at it to reinforce his barely concealed anger, “With respect Inwe,” he begins, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “once we have the powers that our enemies possess, we can exert greater authority on the Prime and begin to ensure our influence is felt further afield – do not limit your vision for our Lady!”

“Ahah, then you wish to create a Lich for yourself with a corrupted symbiont?” her voice taunts.

“Why shouldn’t I? Think of the shock to the Gods – this sylph was donated by Thor himself!” Another fiery glow illuminates the Oriental’s face as he draws on the pipe before continuing loudly, “Inwe what will it take to get this done?” the Oriental’s question carried sufficient smoke to shroud the Palantir. “The Great Battle will soon be upon us and we must help our Lady secure the souls she needs. Do not underestimate your foe, there is fight left in them and they have powers both arcane and other-worldly.”
With no sign of irritation or indignation the smooth voice nevertheless carries menace, “I have considered carefully this battle and have not underestimated their strength. You must keep your word and your nerve Iki-san, otherwise we will fail. We must have your full strength brought to bear from the North; our Lady expects it also.”

“I will provide what support I consider necessary; in return, I expect the knowledge you so jealously guard!” His smoky retort is almost a rant.

“I see,” Inwe keeps her composure, “you would remake the dwarf, corrupt the symbiont and expect her to walk the Prime doing your bidding. No doubt the hidden dwarven rings would adorn her fingers as you take up the others. And what of the Sword – Rakos ¬– would that also be hers?”

“Why does that concern you? The Sword was destined to be unmade in any case – keep it separate, I say; your puppet can keep Fastlor and mine, Rakos.” Calmer now, the Oriental is making his case plainly. More sparks illuminate his expressionless face as he listens intently, trying to detect a weakness.

“Dispatch your forces and bring the dwarf to me…”

“I will not come to your lair, as a fly to a spider; let us meet on neutral ground.”
It is Inwe’s turn to let her emotions show in her voice, “Are you scared Iki-san?” she taunts again, “of a helpless, little she-elf…”

“Not of you, no, of your creation, perhaps…”

“Would you risk delivering her to one of my sons?”

The Oriental’s tone was sharp, demanding, “Our Lady’s eyes are on this Inwe, the deed is done with her blessing and I am to benefit - not you, this time.”

Changing the subject, Inwe continues, “What have you done with her beast?”

“Our Lady introduced it to Garm,” the man chuckled.

“And how did you orchestrate that?”

The vision fades leaving Baldir with the image of Malor’s smiling face as he takes a last draw on his pipe.

Hishik BW XXXVII

2023-01-21T14:40:35Z

2A00:23C7:BF83:A101:C954:4846:AE42:5436: Created page with "A song comes to Hishik as he slips into a dream: What of the light, the sun, its faded just as the crystal is spread and jaded? But what of the sword, its platinum plates to steer Destiny, thee of shapes? My Lady would not change easily, as you weave the crystal freely. But don't you see that we are set with the glow of the sword Regret. But life, for you, would slip away if you were given the sword Decay, But Destiny, whom knows one true, Would give this..."

A song comes to Hishik as he slips into a dream:

What of the light, the sun, its faded

just as the crystal is spread and jaded?

But what of the sword, its platinum plates

to steer Destiny, thee of shapes?

My Lady would not change easily,

as you weave the crystal freely.

But don't you see that we are set

with the glow of the sword Regret.

But life, for you, would slip away

if you were given the sword Decay,

But Destiny, whom knows one true,

Would give this crystal to so few.

For some of us, the light would shine

to radiate off our decline,

While the crystal is built, its many facets,

who of us can change the sets?

The platinum though, seems threatening,

but to some it’s of a dream,

And Destiny, whom beside we walk

will show us the sword and whom we stalk.

Be them with this platinum sword

to pace beside a foe so near,

Or be it with the crystal matrix,

To path our future, forever fixed.

“Well, we can go no further here,” whispered a dwarf, who was just visible to Hishik even though his eyes were already adjusted to the dark. His red hair was tied back and plaited, threaded with silver ribbons that hung down his back. His small helm was beautifully made - a simple dome with cheek and neck guards - it was ornately decorated with a scene of a mountain range where dwarven kings stood proud. His burnished mithril chain coat was studded with emeralds, over which a breast plate of burnished gold had been drawn, carved in the shape of a large tear drop. His cloak was fine blue cloth, trimmed with ermine and embroidered with a depiction of a barn owl. His legs were covered by riding britches of hard leather onto which had been fastened thigh and shin guards, both highly decorated and studded with gems. His boots, though pliable enough for riding, were armoured. His axes were across his back and he carried a crossbow. At his sides were full quivers, slung like bandoliers.

“Perhaps we should return?” asked a second dwarf who stood behind the first in the cramped passageway. This younger dwarf’s beard was as red as the first’s but less well kempt; he was taller than the average of his kind but slenderer. His hair was also long and red as fire, plaited in part and interwoven with gold wire on which multi-coloured beads were threaded. His gently glowing armour was beautifully crafted and, despite its significant protection, did not look cumbersome. His helmet was obviously Norse – little more than a bowl through which a ram’s horns had been poked. Hishik could plainly see his blue, overly-large eyes which seemed to give him a permanent expression of curiosity; these orbs were fixed between pronounced cheek bones and a round-bulbous nose. Instead of an axe, he carried a two-handed sword, nearly taller than he. This second dwarf smiled as he spoke, clearly teasing the first, “or surrender?”

It appeared to Hishik that these dwarves had been travelling for a long time and had seen much battle. Their water flasks, that hung from their sides like bandoliers, were nearly empty; their furs and armour were caked in a mass of blood and grime. Images of the dwarfs’ recent past sprung into Hishik’s mind:

“Let us stand firm brother and become the force that makes legends! Take the battle to the enemy – let us make them think twice about coming south for the winter – drive them back to their bleak and dreary lairs, untouched by the sun’s watery gaze…” The younger dwarf put an arm over his brother’s shoulder and, leading him towards his riding winter wolf, pronounced, “To arms Lord Enrodir, ‘tis time we taught the Gith a lesson!”

The moon was full and rode high over the down-land where they had assembled a winter wolf cavalry. The stars shone brightly, oblivious to the odd smudge of cloud that hung in the night sky. The night was cold and the grass covered in a crisp layer of frost. Here and there patches of mist filled in the dead ground, flattening the otherwise rolling landscape. What wind there was had a bite to it. Using flags and gestures the mounted dwarfs rode off, careful to limit their noise but moving with reasonable haste nonetheless. As they departed, Hishik saw crossbowmen moving into position behind cleverly constructed defences, so well camouflaged that only their movement distinguished them from the surrounding terrain.

In the light of pre-dawn, the dwarves crested a ridge and looked down into the valley below. Their approach had not been unnoticed. The Gith had drawn up infantry and archers in ranks and were marching up the slope towards the dwarf cavalry. From each of the enemy’s flanks came medium cavalry and horse archers looking to close swiftly. Behind the assembled mass, more of the foul creatures hurried to join battle. Mounted dwarven crossbowmen fired their first volley into the ranks of the Gith infantry, setting many alight and creating brief pools of fire that melted the frost, revealing blackened grass beneath. Their shots, however, did not go unanswered and the dwarves suffered their first casualties.

Adopting a wedge quickly, the dwarves elected to strike at the periphery, allowing a brief cavalry engagement and more fire to rain down on the Gith. The noise was deafening: the barking of the wolves; dwarves shouting encouragement in maddened voices; all mixed with the screams of the dying. With cold wind burning his cheeks, the dwarf leader filled his lungs and screamed, “Do now what yea have promised me! Do now that dreadful deed that would save us from eternal damnation and slavery! Kill them swiftly then ride before them like the wind so our brothers can enjoy the continued demise of the Gith on this terrible day! For Thor!”

Suddenly, the leader engaged the enemy directly, the explosive shock of high speed combat echoed to the highest mountains. Their splendid array of colours shimmered in the early morning sunlight (that now peeped through the gap between broken horizon and cloud): purples, indigoes and violets - the main themes in the enemy’s dark montage – facing blue, green, white, silver and gold. The dwarfs’ steeds, white as snow, snarled and growled as they ran, eyes widened – black with anger - ears pinned back. The pale skins of the Gith clashed with their dark garb making them appear almost luminous. The contrast could not be starker between two opposing forces.

Axe blow after axe blow struck deep into those unfortunate enough to cross paths with the dwarves. The silver sickle-shaped edges of their axes flash wildly, cutting down many at first contact, throwing great spouts of their dark red blood into the air. The smell of sweat, blood and metal filled Hisik’s nostrils and the deafening roar of battle threatened to put pay to all rational thought. Then he is brought back to the dark chamber…

“Fuck off, brother! Think will thee?!”

“Now, now…Squeeze over, and let me see.”
The armour the younger dwarf wore burst into a silvery light, as he pushed his way past. They stood in a narrow passage, carved from smooth black rock, which was only just high enough for the dwarves to stand upright. Hishik could see a line of dwarves in precession down the corridor, all similarly armed and armoured.

They faced a much wider cavern, in the centre of which was a large tomb surrounded by eight expertly-carved black statues. The lower half of each was human, but the upper torso varied considerably; each had a different head – canines, birds beasts the like of which Hishik had never seen before. The cavern’s ceiling was hundreds of feet above the tomb; shot through with tiny holes, it appeared to be the only source of light (other than the dwarf’s armour). Most mysteriously there was no floor – the room was bottomless as far as Hishik could see. The tomb appeared to float.

“Ahh, we are proper fucked this time.”

“Thanks for your considered opinion, brother.”

At that point, Hishik heard voices which did not seem to be part of this vision – they are distant, disembodied and clearly not in context:

“Come into the light, leave your cruel mother; we will look after you.”

“But you will kill me for what I have done.”

“We know that you have been defiled; Elwe’s folk are strong and you have been through much.”

“Oh, why am I so forsaken? Where do I belong?”

“With us, my sister. You are from the house of Erewen, daughter of Elwe, sister of Amradire the father of Aerandir. Your blood is true – few could have survived the attentions of our enemy for so long.”

“Amradire chose another path; why am I so lost?”

“His path was true - a calling of love so pure…Not one corrupted and spoilt by doubt and loathing. He did not love you, he used you”

“No! Why would he use me?”

“He is the enemy.”

Shaking involuntarily, Hishik dis not wake, instead his dream continued:

“There seem to be gold bowls in the laps of each of the figures, what does that mean?” asked the younger dwarf, still staring into the room.

“How the fuck would I know?”

“You have brought us through similar devices so far…”

“Well, I can’t now brother, I am spent.”

“Oh, that’s great. What the fuck do we do now?”

“Well, we can’t go on…”

“Yes, you said…Hold on, I might be able to jump onto the tomb…” the tall, slender dwarf shifted his weight from front to rear foot and back again as though practicing.

“Don’t be an arse, you’ll fall, and we will be no further. No, on second thoughts, be my guest – more rations for the rest of us.”

“Shut up. Give me a push – I’m sure I can do it.”

Visions

2023-01-21T14:39:14Z

2A00:23C7:BF83:A101:C954:4846:AE42:5436:

== New Party Visions ==

<div style="float: left; width: 20%">
* Baldir

[[Baldir BW XXX]]

[[Baldir BW XXXI]]

[[Baldir BW XXXII]]

[[Baldir BW XXXIII]]

[[Baldir BW XXXIV]]

[[Baldir Post-Yarlug]]

[[Baldir BW XXXV]]

[[Baldir BW XXXVI]]

[[Baldir BW XXXVII]]

[[Baldir BW XXXVIII]]

</div>
<div style="float: left; width: 20%">
* Fawn

[[Fawn BW XXX]]

[[Fawn BW XXXI]]

[[Fawn BW XXXII]]

[[Fawn BW XXXIII]]

[[Fawn BW XXXIV]]

[[Fawn Post-Yarlug]]

[[Fawn BW XXXV]]

[[Fawn BW XXXVI]]

[[Fawn BW XXXVII]]

[[Fawn BW XXXVIII]]

</div><div style="float: left; width: 20%">
* Takeda

[[Takeda BW XXX]]

[[Takeda BW XXXI]]

[[Takeda BW XXXII]]

[[Takeda BW XXXIII]]

[[Takeda BW XXXIV]]

[[Takeda Post-Yarlug]]

[[Takeda BW XXXV]]

[[Takeda BW XXXVI]]

[[Takeda BW XXXVII]]

[[Takeda BW XXXVIII]]

</div><div style="float: left; width: 20%">
* Hishik

[[History]]

[[Hishik BW XXXVI]]

[[Hishik BW XXXVII]]

[[Hishik BW XXXVIII]]

</div><div style="float: left; width: 20%">
* Rhionne

[[Rhionne's Story BW XXX]]

[[Rhionne BW XXXI]]

[[Rhionne BW XXXII]]

[[Rhionne BW XXXIII]]

[[Rhionne BW XXXIV]]

[[Rhionne Post-Yarlug]]

</div>

== White Council Visions ==

<div style="float: left; width: 16%">
* Dafydd

[[Dafydd Dor Vision]]

[[Dafydd Calahar Vision]]

[[Dafydd Vision in Nagrad|Dafydd Nagrad Vision]]

[[BW XIX - Morwath]]

[[BW XX]]

[[Dafydd Malek Vision]]

[[BW XXIII - Dafydd]]

[[BW XXIV - Dafydd]]

[[BW XXV - Dafydd]]

[[BW XXVI - Dafydd]]

[[BW XXVII - Dafydd]]

[[BW XXVIII - Dafydd]]

[[BW29 - Dafydd]]

</div><div style="float: left; width: 16%">
* Hintzu

[[Rings & Hearth]]

[[Tana'ri]]

[[Samurai]]

[[Plot vs Elves]]

[[BW XIX - Hearth]]

[[In Calahar]]

[[Hintzu BW XX]]

[[Hintzu Malek Vision]]

[[BW XXIII - Hintzu]]

[[BW XXIV - Hintzu]]

[[BW XXV - Hintzu]]

[[BW XXVII - Hintzu]]

[[BW XXVIII - Hintzu]]

</div><div style="float: left; width: 17%">
*Lan Zi Bao

[[Elerienne finds Zundar]]

[[Lan Zi BW XX]]

[[Lan Zi in Malek]]

[[BW XXIII - Lan Zi]]

[[BW XXIV - Lan Zi]]

[[BW XXV - Lan Zi]]

[[BW XXVI - Lan Zi]]

[[BW XXVII - Lan Zi]]

[[BW XXVIII - Lan Zi]]

[[BW29 - Lan Zi]]

</div><div style="float: left; width: 17%">
* Merc

[[Fastlor]]

[[Imrahir & Ezollach]]

</div><div style="float: left; width: 17%">
* Milai

[[BW XV]]

[[Milai Gorgoroth Story]]

[[Milai Malek Vision]]

[[Milai BWXXIV]]

[[BW XXV - Milai]]

[[BW XXVI - Milai]]

[[BW XXVII - Milai]]

[[BW XXVIII - Milai]]

[[BW29 - Milai]]

</div><div style="float: left; width: 17%">
*Morwath

[[Morwath in Sutur]]

[[Morwath Vision in Nagrad|Morwath in Nagrad]]

[[Frastor's Bane]]

[[Morwath in Vikrain]]

[[Balrog's Death]]

[[Death of Ynis]]

[[Dordraug's Capture]]

[[4th Age White Council]]

[[Malor defeats Guerin]]

[[Malor and Ranak]]

[[Milai's Defeat]]

[[Morwath's Story]]

[[Morwath in Malek]]

[[BW XXIII - Morwath]]

[[BW XXIV - Morwath]]

</div>

== Object Readings ==

<div style="float: left; width: 33%">
* Artefacts

[[Morwath - Sarnim Stone]]

[[Morwath - Shard 1]]

[[Morwath - Shard 2]]

[[Morwath - Shard 3]]

[[Morwath - Shard 4]]

[[Morwath - Gem of Benevolence]]

[[Milai - Gem of Truth]]

[[Morwath Palantir Readings in Nagrad|Palantir in Nagrad]]

[[The Sword changes Bavarik]]

[[Fawn - Gem of Law]]

</div><div style="float: left; width: 33%">
* 2nd Order Artefacts

[[Lanzi - The Staff]]

[[Lanzi - The Claw]]

[[Morwath - The Staff]]

[[Milai - The Orb of Dragor]]

</div><div style="float: left; width: 34%">
*Visions of the Enemy

[[Orcus and the Palantir]]

[[]]

[[]]

[[]]

[[]]

[[]]

[[]]

[[]]

[[]]

[[]]

</div>

== Clues ==

<div style="float: left; width: 33%">
* Letters & Notes

[[Note to Gundleus]]

[[Note to Barass]]

[[Code for Dor]]

[[Drow note in Glade]]

[[Drow Orders Efferendil]]

[[Lastar to Yagrik]]

[[Lastar to Yagrik v2]]

[[Rathon to Quorune]]

[[Letter from Renash]]

[[Gith Orders in Vikrain]]

</div><div style="float: left; width: 34%">
* Other Clues

[[Bolgar Parchment]]

[[Text from Renash Pocket]]

[[Inwe & Guerin]]

[[Iron Mountains Parchment 1 of 3]]

[[Iron Mountains Parchment 2 of 3]]

[[Iron Mountains Parchment 3 of 3]]

[[Yarlug Prisoner - Nethiel]]

</div><div style="float: left; width: 33%">
*Info from Oggie

[[Minas Aarda Notes]]

[[Minas Olga Notes]]

</div>

Takeda BW XXXVII

2023-01-21T14:38:52Z

2A00:23C7:BF83:A101:C954:4846:AE42:5436: Created page with "A Paladin sat atop a mighty white charger, larger than all around; he was dressed in field mail of burnished silver, shining in the sun, tabard proudly displaying the rampant horse of the men of Gos - Takeda knows he is Bavarik. At the head of a phalanx of cavalry he looked down from a ridge at the enemy below – devils from the lower planes of the Abyss. “On this day,” he shouted, “we press home our advantage!” Expertly controlling his feisty steed with his..."

A Paladin sat atop a mighty white charger, larger than all around; he was dressed in field mail of burnished silver, shining in the sun, tabard proudly displaying the rampant horse of the men of Gos - Takeda knows he is Bavarik. At the head of a phalanx of cavalry he looked down from a ridge at the enemy below – devils from the lower planes of the Abyss. “On this day,” he shouted, “we press home our advantage!” Expertly controlling his feisty steed with his knees, his sword arm held aloft bearing his Avenger, he continued, “Sutur was set free by thy hand and thy heart. Today we rout thine enemy! Today we send them back to Alon! Today we free the mountains of Kaled Zem!” He turned his horse and trotted across the lines of cavalry. “My friends,” his tone softened although his words carried, “I have been with you since the beginning; we have driven the Demon Prince from this land and the Devil before us will meet with a similar fate!” He pointed with his huge sword to the enemy below. His path took him in front of a group of mounted archers, “Make certain of thine aim my friends, I would not wish to feel the weight of thine arrows in mine hind.” Laughter from all close by was met with his raised voice, “Stick them like the foul beasts that they are! Drive them from this land! Destroy every one of their foul ranks! We shall prevail! As Athena is my Lady, my counsel and my heart, we shall prevail!” With that he turned and charged his horse down the slope screaming, “Make this, the battle of Helfellion, a battle to remember!”

Only adorned in a white toga, held at the waist with a golden belt, and brown leather sandals, the Grecian God carried no arms nor armour. His white hair was short, well kempt and was held in place by a circlet of platinum. Neatly trimmed, his beard and moustache partially covered his tanned, care-worn face. His deep green eyes were fixed on the man in the distance as he whispered, just loud enough for Takeda to hear, “So, you believe that this is the one, daughter?”

“Yes Sire, I do,” replied a beautiful woman, similarly dressed in a lose, cream toga, edged with gold and tied at the waist with a silver belt. Long, flowing golden hair was tied in a low plait. High cheekbones and full, ruby lips accentuated her beauty. As her green eyes watched the man below, her expression flicked between curiosity, concern and conviction – this was the right choice.

“And he is the recipient of the Sylph that is able to become part of him and deliver our message to the Prime?” ask the older man.

“He is perfect…”

“He is able to wield the sword, will he not?”

“Father?”

“The Sword, the one that my brother covets so…”

“Why would you ask that?”

“I want my brother to be free of that Sword.”

“This has nothing to do with Hephaestus’ game?

“Of course not!”

“Father?”

“Well, if Hephaestus wants to give away Olympus’ most valued possessions, then I want something back; something valuable.”

“Is it that simple? Is that all you desire?”

“Of course not. They will fight over these treasures for millennia; during which they will pick you or Hephaestus, or even me to worship.”

“Oh father, this is about their lives – the youngest, who have the briefest moment to live on the Prime.”

“Then we have little time to ensure their souls turn to us! Look, you have chosen well; he is a great warrior.”

“Why did you not stop Hephaestus?”

“His wager was good – he demanded excellence but, by all our will, lost a fair contest.”

“Fair? You helped the Gnome. How could Hephaestus equal or better you without incurring your wrath?”

“My wrath?! My wrath! Why would I care? You presume too much daughter!”

“You knew, or wanted, him to lose. You wanted that stone to be in their hands. Was it just so you could have that Sword? Just a sibling rivalry?”

“Who cares if it was! Daughter, you had better leave me as I am tired of this conversation.”

“I will go, but you will know that I will do everything in my power to ensure the Sword does not come to you.”

“Then I will ensure the stone is also lost…”

“You are so petty; I have no interest in trinkets – no matter their power or origin.”

Fawn BW XXXVII

2023-01-21T14:37:43Z

2A00:23C7:BF83:A101:C954:4846:AE42:5436: Created page with "Fawn imagines himself floating through a cold, dark mist; he drifts along, hundreds of feet above a deep, rift valley, bounded by ice walls and glaciers. As far as he can tell, the valley floor is strewn with jagged rocks, covered in ice and snow. Ahead, a vast construction appears ice-wall by ice-wall, tower by tower, out of the gloaming. Drifting like detritus on a wide, old, dark river, Fawn heads inextricably towards an opening in a tower from which a slightly bri..."

Fawn imagines himself floating through a cold, dark mist; he drifts along, hundreds of feet above a deep, rift valley, bounded by ice walls and glaciers. As far as he can tell, the valley floor is strewn with jagged rocks, covered in ice and snow. Ahead, a vast construction appears ice-wall by ice-wall, tower by tower, out of the gloaming. Drifting like detritus on a wide, old, dark river, Fawn heads inextricably towards an opening in a tower from which a slightly brighter shade of grey struggles to penetrate the gloom. Gently nudged by some unseen hand, Fawn enters a sombre room through a glassless gothic-style archway.

At the farthest end of the leaden room stands a tall, slender, pale woman with silver-white, lifeless hair, clothed in grey silk which clings to her perfect form. Fawn can’t help but notice that the fine silk of her dress occasionally glistens and shimmers in harmony with her movements, reflecting what little light creeps in. Apart from these random sparks of clarity, she blends in with her surroundings perfectly; almost chameleon-like, it is hard to tell where she begins and the colourless, sombre room ends. However, as Fawn watches, she turns to address another entity in the room, revealing the other half of her face and body. Hideously disfigured, this half is stark against the indistinct background: black, burnt and rotten skin, appears stretched over strong, prominent bones into a hideous, sickening form of death.

The other figure in the room is equally tall and lithe. Dressed almost entirely in black, his clothes starkly contrast the dull surroundings. Over the dense, black furs, the man wears gold and silver jewellery of intricate Norse design. His high, soft boots, hose and gloves are also all coal-black and sparsely bejewelled. The man’s finely chiselled features display a likeness to the woman opposite, except that he is not disfigured. His long, black hair is well kempt, tied and plaited at the back, and woven with golden threads. For Fawn, the greatest similarity between the two is in the bottomless-black of their eyes; it is clear they are related.

“Are you certain, father?” asks the woman, briefly looking at the man and displaying the blackened half of her face.
Nodding, the man slowly drifts to a lounger, placed between the two, and slides into it, serpent-like, before answering, “All outer planes agree.”

“They all side with Anubis?” the grey female snaps; the flash of anger makes the pale side of her face darken.

“They do,” her father answers, offhandedly, without lifting his gaze.

“And Odin?” presses the lady.

“Haha,” the man chuckles, teeth flashing brightly, “He has turned his eye from the Prime.”

“And you?” the woman pouts, childishly.

“You know, Hel, I do my best work where my father decides not to look,” the man’s tone is serious, although his eyes shine mischievously.
Hel regards her father closely, gauging his answer before asking the question, “Then you will help?”

“Of course, daughter,” he answers not unexpectedly.
Intrigued, one of the woman’s eyebrows lifts slightly, “How?” she asks suspiciously.

“Well,” the man’s teeth flash again as a smile breaks across his face, “I have learned from you.”

“Oh,” Hel’s brow plummets and her eyes narrow, “how so?”
The father stands swiftly, making Fawn jump, and pronounces loudly, “You have taken a Sylph, so will I.”
Fawn notices the woman take a pace back, before recovering her composure, “Oh?” she asks as nonchalantly as possible.

“Yes, my malevolence,” the man confirms, pacing back and forth between them, confidently, whilst continuing the discussion, “you have aligned yours against the elves, I will align mine against the second born.”

A smile, or was it a grimace, threatened to split the daughter’s face, “Which Sylph will you choose, father?”

“Bál,” the father answers without breaking pace, still seemingly deep in thought, plotting a future act of mischief.

“The one that resides on the Plane of Fire,” Hel confirms to herself whilst looking at the dreary floor, “that explains the young serpent’s interest” she muses before looking up again at her parent who continued to pace, “and your ability to move the Gate. What cleverness have you woven there, father?”
The man stops and regards his daughter as if with new eyes, “They use fire in so many ways, I thought it would be fun to discover how it might be influenced for our gain.” It was the man’s turn to examine the floor, deep in thought, “Of course, Surtr was delighted,” he mutters, before raising his eyes once again, “The serpent is named Rantor the Red by those new to the Prime and is young in their realm.”

“He is joined with Bál I presume?”

“Yes.”

She waits for further explanation that never comes, “Those of Olympia will resist…” she tests.

“Their father is as disinterested as ours,” the smile returns, along with the pacing, “And, since Anubis’ withdrawal, no other Gods consider the Prime worthy of interest. This is where Ragnarok will begin.”

A troubled expression flashes across the woman’s sullen physiognomy, “We are not ready.”

“No,” the parent confirms, “but the seeds have begun to be sewn.”

“You know many have failed, from both the Abyss and the Hells, despite your assistance,” she tests again.

“But perhaps I was looking too far from home,” the man replies, with arms outstretched as if to embrace this dreary place, “…perhaps, as some prophecies foretell, it is from within your own realm the power to turn the tide against them shall come.”

“Anubis forebode it” shoots the woman, “and even the mighty Hades has yet to convince him otherwise.” As if to a child she continues, “Look, the Egyptian power over the Path is too strong. We have not the worshippers to overcome them.”

Fawn detects the merest hint of malice in the man’s rejoinder, “We have no need of worshippers,” he states before smiling confidently again, “just cunning and guile.”

“Of which you have plenty;” Hel laughs cheerily, “do tell father, what is it that you have done?”

“Always direct…” he sneers testily.

“Because you are not, father.” It was the daughter’s turn to sneer.

“Well,” the man began to explain slowly, “we no longer need the use of the Egyptian’s Pylon to move the dead to the Prime.”
Hel knew her interruption would be unwelcome, “How so?” she needles.

“Bál has negotiated with Imix and agreed safe passage through his lands for our chosen allies,” the man states triumphantly, as if it were the end of the matter.
But it clearly had not satisfied the daughter, “In return for what?”

“Our assistance when he, or one of his powerful friends, asks,” answered the man disinterestedly and once again reclining in the chaise longue.

“What might that entail?

Exhaustedly her father replies, “He said that he might, from time to time, have need of something or someone to be liberated from the Prime.”

“Really?” she stabs, “Someone? Something? Alive or dead?”

“He didn’t say,” the man replied simply whilst twiddling is thumbs. Noticing this was not going to satisfy his daughter the man continues, “I saw no reason to disagree. Besides, in exchange for my help with your plan, I need something from you.”

“What?”

“Your servant to kill the Paladin,” the father waits, anticipating a protestation that did not come, “and I want his sword.”

“You want his sword?” the woman asks incredulously.

“No, not me; it’s for another realm – another deal.”

“Keep your mysteries, father,” Hel chides, before moving on, having (seemingly) accepted her end of the bargain, “How does my chosen one travel from my realm to the Prime?”
Fully at repose, the man knows he has won, “Bál will lead him to an Azer-owned hall, close to the Fountains of Creation, which is where the Gate to the Prime exists.”

“Oh yes, the Prime Gate you changed just after I had secured access for the Arch Devil – he was not best pleased.”

“Yes, my baleful one,” the man’s pace quickened as if he feared being drawn into an old argument, “Imix needed it there, so I moved it from beneath the gnome and dwarf halls in the far east of the lands now known as Everinstar.”

“You tricked Dor into using his Ring to help move the Gate from Nagrad to Crag Ûn, who did you need to trick to change the Gate again?”
It seemed to Fawn that the man grew tired of explaining his deeds – their glory should be obvious, “Dor told Ishtur what he had done when they met in the defence of his tower against the Devil; I simply suggested that to stop it happening again they could combine the power of their trinkets…”

“So, they swapped the access points from the inner planes to the Prime,” the daughter interrupts again.

“Well, not really swapped…” the man seemed to squirm slightly as he had to admit some failure.

“I know, father; you set off a random chain of events across the Prime. The Lords of the other Planes are not happy with you.”

“Hmm,” was that concern Fawn witnessed on the man’s face? If it was, it was very short lived, “oh well. I think something worse may come from this.”

“Worse!?” screams the woman.

Yes, they now know this can be done,” as he speaks, the man examines the blue-grey cushion on which he sits, “they are also putting in place a mechanism that will attempt to control it. I understand Hephaestus is very pleased with himself.”

“How long will I have access to Crag Ûn?”

“Not long, child.”

“And to where will the Gate move thereafter?”

“Only Orodruin knows.”

Baldir BW XXXVII

2023-01-21T14:36:16Z

2A00:23C7:BF83:A101:C954:4846:AE42:5436: Created page with "The frenzied sea whirled, bubbled and crashed from below where Baldir floated to the horizon, where the broiling waters smashed against the towering cliffs of a distant volcanic island. Frequently, the sky for miles around was torn apart by blue-white light that streaked in all directions, chaotically. The massed, black, purple and grey clouds swirled, built and crashed into one another, releasing vast blasts of energy: electricity, heat, light and a thunderous cacopho..."

The frenzied sea whirled, bubbled and crashed from below where Baldir floated to the horizon, where the broiling waters smashed against the towering cliffs of a distant volcanic island. Frequently, the sky for miles around was torn apart by blue-white light that streaked in all directions, chaotically. The massed, black, purple and grey clouds swirled, built and crashed into one another, releasing vast blasts of energy: electricity, heat, light and a thunderous cacophony. Baldir was not sure where the cloud stopped, and the great ash plume began but the fiery rim of the caldera, from which spewed forth great streams of lava, was stark against the darkness. There too, Baldir saw another bright crimson glow – a serpent, at rest, part in lava and part on rock, watching the storm. Below, the sea raged, and great peeks of salt water rose and smashed together to create huge plumes of water, like vast, chaotically interspersed stalactites reaching to the sky. Baldir’s eyes were drawn to a point closer to the island where a great whirlpool, flattened all such pinnacles – stretched at the edges, pulled along and downwards in a never-ending spiral. The dark depths were revealed by the gaping, black ‘eye’ at the centre of the maelstrom. The warrior-priest was convinced this was a mockery of Odin – the eye all-consuming, not all seeing…

Close to the edge of this gigantic maelstrom, and immediately below Baldir’s imagined vantage, was a pillar of rock that towered above the watery tumult and pointed up at the sky accusingly. On the sea-encased stack stood two female figures, illuminated by the white-blue lightning flash and the distant fiery-orange of the volcano.

“You wished to look upon it my child?” asked a tall, slender, pale woman adorned in grey silk that, in places, clung to her form and, in others, billowed wildly in the wind. The fine silk of her dress, in part, glistened and shimmered and, elsewhere, was dull and lifeless. She appeared ethereal, not quite part of her surroundings, like morning mist that obscured vision but remained just out of reach, insubstantial. Her grey-white hair too was ill-defined, blending into its storm ravaged surroundings, although it was occasionally illuminated starkly by the flashes of lightning that shot across the dark, threatening sky. As Baldir watched, the lady turned to address her companion revealing the hideously disfigured half of her face: black, as though burnt and rotten, what was left of her skin was stretched thinly over strong, prominent bones into a hideous grimace of pure hatred.

“Yes, Lady, it is quite spectacular,” agreed the darkly clad female elf that stood next to the grim, wraithlike vision. Much shorter in stature but far more beautiful, the elf looked on – seemingly mesmerised by the churning sea. Her deep, charcoal-black eyes mirrored the depth of the maelstrom on which she gazed. Her strong cheekbones and jawline accentuated the intensity of her gaze and gave her the appearance of possessing a keen, sharp intellect. But there was more – something of pure evil was inside her very soul. Her long, black hair was neatly plaited and, despite the howling gale, hung simply down her spine. She wore a heavy, sable cloak – secured at the shoulder to her dark-purple studded-leather armour. Onto her short, pleated, leather skirt was sewn strips of metal which momentarily reflected the lightning, which reminded Baldir of a fish fleetingly escaping the surface of a dark river. She wore gloves, thick tights and high hard boots, all of which were black.

“Can you hear Ulva call to it?” the wraithlike female asked returning her gaze to the sky.
The elf paused briefly and looked down to the sea, before answering, “Yes my Lady, she is part of me now.”

“Good, you will need her …This is from where our power will be unleashed on the Prime; however, for now, it is too distant from the Eastern Realm for it to be of significance. That’s why he is here.” Again, the ‘grey entity’ tilted the dark side of her face towards the elf as she nodded to the distant volcano.

“The Serpent? He draws power from your realm, though he is not so aligned.”

“Yet…” the grey mist paused cryptically before floating nearer to the elf and answering more directly, “My father has reached out across the outer Planes to summon all who would aid in the destruction of the Prime to come to us.”

“How so, my Lady?”

“Access to the Prime from Niflheim, and other lower realms, can be made through the mighty Olhydra’s domain. My father has struck a deal, which suits her, for now at least.”
Silence pervaded while the elf seemed to think; Baldir could almost hear her consulting with her own inner demons. Finally, she asked, “Then to where do you mean to have it moved?”

“To Crag Ûn, my dear. To enable us and our allies to bring to the Prime those that would help us secure our future, nearer to those that would thwart us.”

“Is there a Gate there?”

“Not yet, but my father has spoken to the dwarves who reside under the Mountain and played on their fears of the third born. They have already built a tower to forewarn them of the coming of other planar creatures from the sea. They will welcome our assistance, at least until it is too late.”

“And its movement would prevent those from Celestia to continue to arrive?”
Seemingly taken aback, the wraithlike figure appeared less certain, “It may, temporarily,” she replied, before turning again to face the volcanic island, “we may need to place something even more powerful in the dwarven hall once we have achieved our first task.”

“Of more power than the vast depths?” mused the elf, looking up at the grey figure swirling nearer to her.

“Hmm,” answered the ghost-form, considering how to explain better, “it is not just the elemental power of which I speak.”
The elf seemed not to grasp the wraith’s subtlety and she gave voice to her more immediate concern, “So, we can return my love to the Prime and ensure that he sees the folly of our continued support for all that should disgust us…”

“Exactly, my daughter,” the answer was too hasty thought Baldir, as if it were not a given, “but, for now, we need to focus on assisting the lower planes.”
The elf pressed, sensing some obfuscation, “They would strike down those who came from Lunia first?”

“Yes,” the spirit concurred, “then we control the seas – as you have always wished. You will build your dominion on the Prime there, on that island.”

“And its name?”

“In my tongue the place where fire and ash meet water and steam is known as Nagrad.”

“So be it; we shall build a city there, from which we shall control the seas.”

“Yes, you will. The first-born son of the half-gnome King will help. They are skilled in many crafts.”

“Thank you.”

The females looked on in silence for a moment, each lost in their own treacherous thoughts; finally, the grey, spirit-form spoke, “Ulva speaks to him; can you feel it?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

Then it came, darkening the sky even more, crackling with lightning and wreathed in hail-bearing cloud, the monster that Baldir had heard stories of, Milai’s torturer, the bane of her fleet and murderer of countless thousands of sea elves – Tun Mi Lung.

Visions

2023-01-21T14:35:26Z

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2023-01-21T12:02:18Z

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<big>'''This is the new home for all the known Lore in Oggies World.'''</big>

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