Howdy, there was a lot to include in this and I didn't want to push a forum post to the limit so I included a link to a Google Doc.
Prince Tywen? Lets try It. (My Documentation)
Name: Papa Tywen
Current Rank: Duke
Rank Desired: Prince
Build Count Total: 332
Sanctuary Study of the Priestess of Wenna in Hyperion
7/31/2020
Helios
The Helian Tour was on hold for five years after the end of the Iron Moon War, it was only reinstated when Ursa Mazlan VI became head of his house. That same year his brother Sir Ugar Mazlan the Bitter Winter, won.
7/31/2020
Isara
Slavery is strictly outlawed in Isara, and they do not suffer slaves to come through their ports, but it is still common for slave to be trafficked through the realm, marched in secret through the deep desert rather than sailed through the canal.
As of July 12, 2020 Berg is formally advanced to Knight by both the Lore and Infrastructure ministry.
July 13th, 2020
Helios
The nearly blind Tarun people are an oddity to most foreigners, but the Tarun women, known for dressing in beautiful yet revealing outfits have begun to be fetishized by outsiders. Artwork depicting them has found its way around the world and piqued interest and libido. Little do they know, that the reality of Tarun aesthetic is far more terrifying than artwork depicts.
I wish I had been more vocal in the early days about my dislike of such an open ended grandfather clause. We have a very mechanical system for growth and as it stands if that is something we want to keep we really need to be fair to all members who participate in that system. The Community aspect created by the server is a benefit gained from participation.
While I understand real life has to take priority over the game that means that real life has to take priority over all aspects of the game not just the building. If your life is too hectic then maybe taking a few months as an inactive or Np member is the way to go, it takes all of these issues off your plate until you are more able to participate in the whole of the game.
Aldemeria is dead, and like the Alde-memories channel it should be divorced from the community and world we are building NOW. If you are held up only by the works of a place that a large chunk of the active member base has no connection to, a place that is ultimately gone forever, then are you really a participating member in THIS server, in THIS world?
7/28/2020
Helios
The Penitent Legion of Alkourie, Also known as The Chains, is a fanatical group of fighters who have given their lives to Alkourie. They are known for wearing permanently locked manacles round their neck or wrists. They are chained to the battlefield. They only know freedom from the legion in death, when the shackles are cut off. Those who join do so for many reasons, fanaticism, repentance for gross cowardliness, or even as a form of punishment after a crime.
The amphitheater that served as the meeting hall of the trade council was older than even the canal itself, it had always been used for some form of government purpose. The carved stone pillars rose high and red fabric was stretched between them to offer some shade to the occupants below. Household banners danged from lines stretched above, some new some old, each a different color and pattern and bearing the written name of the house on it in the ornate Isaran script.
Everyone there bustled in conversation, the stranding of the Semperdataria was holding up trade on both sides of the canal and everyone feared the worst. Every day meant a loss of coin for some merchant and a windfall for another who would charge exorbitant storage fees. Crime was expected to sore as more and more goods became backed up on both banks. Some measure of safety came from the swiftness that goods moved through the canal.
A knocking came from the dias at the center of the amphitheater and the noise died down at the caucus was bought to order. All around the upper landing were people keen to watch and glean what they could form the talking and decisions made.
“The Semperdataria is the only topic for discussion.” The head of the caucus said, and signed although he fumbled through the name of the ship. “Goods move via camel east to west, but it is slow and only serves to drive transport costs higher. Some effort has been made by the maintenance crews to dislodge the ship from the walls but only so much can be done.”
He sighed and leaned against the Dias. “ideas?”
The room was largely silent until a woman stood up near the back. She was not as dark skinned as the rest, and had hazel eyes that seemed too bright when the sun barely touched them. Her broad build and height marked her as E’Dorn, a mixed blood Isaran/Helian. There were some grumbles at her rise but she was a citizen of Isara and Helios both and held more sway than others would like.
“Yes Ambria of Teshal eh Helios.” The head of the caucus regarded her with both word and sign and gestured to her to speak.
She took a deep breath and raised her hands and sighed a few greetings to all present. Her gestures were perfect; it was no mistake that she was one of them. She was third generation after all, she had only been to Helios once in her whole life. “Representatives. We have ten heavy Drafts between the east and west end of the canal. We could have them to the wreck and properly harnessed within two days. They are strong creatures as you know and at the least may be able to drag the vessel from its current place, enough at least for it to be pulled to the side for repairs or towed out if it is still sea worthy.”
There was some more vocal grumbling, some in agreement and others not wishing to rely on them.
“If that is not satisfactory I could defer to Commander Frakes, he told me only this morning he intends to slam one of his warships into it, easier to clean up pieces than trying to salvage the ship.”
The whole Caucus was silent. She Did not sign the former statement and they knew she meant it to be as factual as she could.
Another rose and gestured to her. “We have the Hawks patrolling the east, and the Dorn but be keeping the West safe if they are willing to sacrifice a ship to slam into this, Semper-Dat-amia, This may be the best option for now. I say we let them try.”
7/29/2020
Helios
Brigandine, also known as a "Coat-Of-Plates," is a style of armor made from small metal plates riveted to canvas and leather in an articulated fashion. It has grown in popularity in Helios among those in Helios unable to afford higher end armor like chain or half-plate. As the population has grown in recent years keeping pace to armor and arm the populace has given rise to this easy to produce and protective armor.
I'd Like to extend and offer to join in Helios, the Dawn's Land." We are a realm that pride ourselves on vivid story telling and cohesive building. The framework of the Realm is such that stories can come from many avenues and a good story is far more important to me than building without purpose. Hopefully the brief information below, and the more detailed information on the Wiki will peak your interest and you will consider Helios in your search for a realm.
Helios is a land shaped by the brutality of its surroundings, and the protection of the Gods. Helian's are strong and dependable and the very culture is tempered by horrors that would break a lesser peoples. The Six Gods of Helios shape every aspect of life for Helian people. Sol the Chief, Wenna the Goddess of good and light, Lorna the Goddess of dark and secrets, Alkourie the God of war and violence, Omar the God Nature and death, Zayl the God of magic and knowledge.
Helios as a nation was fractured for generations, besieged on all fronts by monsters and violence. Only in the last century have they come together under one banner again. This unification has seen the lands of Helios prosper and grow as trade became safer and more resources could be shared for the common good. None of this could have been done if not for a group of monster slayers known as the Knights Valiant who are blessed by the gods to be holy warriors. If not for them the horrors of the wilds would still be endlessly ravaging the Helian populace. Even with the renewed strength of the Knight Valiant the wilds of Helios are filled with monsters and other horrors and only the strongest and most resourceful have survived through it all.
Expansion looms on the horizon as the Great Houses of Helios finally become fully connected and look to their fractured peoples and crave to bring them together. They have stretched their hands to the far reaches of the world and have left their mark on the land as a nation of strength, determination and wealth, but like anything to do with the warrior Helian's they have also brought their fair share of violence as well.
I have always felt that Helios is a framework to tell stories. The grim dark of the land can feed uplifting and terrifying tales. Helios is shaped by it's people, and as such character driven storytelling is something that is paramount. While the general application process has you create a character to plop into a realm, Helios implores you to make a native Helian to explore the world with, rather than an outsider who may supremely struggle with the foreign and brutal landscape. While this isn't required it is something that could help to more easily tell stories within the realm.
Builds. As important as the story telling. The land is sprawling and there are ample opportunities to build both small and large scale projects through out. Helios has several counties that each sport a unique, yet unified build style and culture. You can spend time in one or perhaps branch out to many. There is no set path in Helios and the goal is to get you invested in the realm either through builds or storytelling (ideally both) Those who stay with Helios in the long term are afforded large amounts of creative control over many projects both building and story so there is a fair amount of progression to be had.
Ultimately what mark you leave on the realm is yours to decide and I, and the other Helian's will be here to help you realize that mark. Reach out to me for a tour of the realm and an abridged background.
“Momma! Momma!” Isme heard his voice before her son Ethan slammed the door open with far too much gusto and it shook some dust from the tiled roof and the sill above the wooden slatted door. He didn’t cross the threshold but stood there breathing hard, trying his best to spit some words at her through it all, but she quickly cut him off.
“What have I told you about the door Ethan!” His mother snapped. She was sitting at their dining room table, pulling small round leaves from thin stalks preparing the herbs to place into medicinal tea pouches.
“I’m sorry. But Tommy’s mom said to come and get you, and the big ox. There is a HUGE man on the beach, and a bunch of pieces of a ship!”
He was about to spin around and head out and around the house to the barn, but she stood up and slapped her hand against the table top to get his attention. It rattled some glass bottles against each other and the sound was drowned out by her voice. “Stop right there!” She yelled. “-What?” Her tone softed with the question and he quickly hung his head.
“Mrs Hunter. She’s on the beach with a bunch of us and there is a huge man in armor just half buried in the sand. I’m pretty sure he’s dead, but she thinks he’s not so she sent me up here to get you...and the ox.”
She thought about it for a moment, Evaline Hunter wasn’t one to over react, the man must still be alive if they were sending for her, a healer is of little use to a corpse. “Get the Ox. And take him down to the beach.”
She swept the hem of her brown dress up in her left hand and scooped up a leather bag that was just on the mantle of their hearth and went out the door, pulling it closed behind her, it slammed much as it had when her son entered.
Coming up the road was Evaline Hunter, she was a heavyset woman with thick brown hair that was always done in a brain that wrapped around her head like a crown that showed off her round youthful face. She was huffing and puffing long before she made it up the top of the hill. “Isme, did Ethan tell you? I told him to grab the oxen, there is a man stuck on the beach. I can’t tell if he’s alive but he’s completely covered in armor. I went to get his helmet off and remembered you told me to leave them be if they are out like that.”
Isme smiled, her friend was a talker, perhaps the biggest talking in their whole village, and it was often very suspect if she was listening when others spoke, so to hear her parrot back a tidbit of medical information Isme had told her, was a nice token. “You did the right thing, Evaline.”
“I got the Ox Momma.” Ethan said as he came around the corner of the house with the wide horned creature in tow. Their ox were big, easily six feet at the shoulder, but even with their huge size they had been bred to be docile animals, easily controlled and easily guided by the ring in their nose.
“Go on ahead. Mrs Hunter and I will go down there right after you. And if you see any of the men along the way grab them too.” She said. Ethan nodded and swung himself up onto the back of the Ox, who protested only for a moment before taking the ginger trot down the hill towards the beach.
“Ok, Evaline tell me everything.” She said as she let her skirts go and swept her arm into Evaline's, giving the woman someone to lean against as they turned around and walked back down the hill towards the beach at a much reduced pace so Evaline could catch her breath and tell her everything she needed to know.
The white sands of their normally tranquil beach were marred with chunks of wood and metal, clearly the remnants of a ship, but not of a style any of them recognized. Their land had few ships that could rival the size of the one that had destroyed itself against their shore. There were some bodies present but none that could be mistaken for being alive. All of them were bloated and green from the sea. Isme could tell where this mysterious armored man was because it was where everyone was gathered. She parted from Evaline’s side and swept the hem of her dress up into her hand again and gave a ginger run across the sands. She parted the gathered group although they all made way as soon as they realized she was there. The village healer, she was easily the most knowledgeable in the area about any injury or ailment. She expected to see a man in chainmail or maybe even a few pieces of plate armor but upon seeing him truly she was given a moment of pause. He was huge, even half buried under sand and wreckage. His armor was resplendent gold and had intricate tiny script carved on nearly every inch of it. The tiny recesses were home to sand and dirt and made it stand out all that much more against the gold. His helmet was closed faced and it looked like part of it was dented which would explain why no one was able to lift the visor.
She released her skirts and kneeled next to him and learned over so that her ear was next to the helm. She waited for a moment but the chatter of the gathered group was too much. She leaned up. “If you can’t be quiet then you can go back to work. I’m sure some of you are dodging chores.” She let her gaze circle the crowd and it ended on her own son who quickly found his shoes to be far more interesting. She put her head back towards the helmet and listened. She expected nothing. She thought it would be silent. After a moment though, she could feel the hot moist air pulse from behind the grill, the breath was slow, but it was there.
“He’s alive.” She looked at his lower half, it was well buried under the sand and ship. “Lets see if we can’t get some of this off him. Kids start digging at his legs. Ethan hook the oxen to those timbers and see if she can’t pull them off.” She stood up and no one was moving. She clapped her hands twice. “Hurry up now. God is watching this deed. Work well!” She clapped them again and the words spurred everyone to fervent action.
Before long the man was dug out and much of the wood was moved. Some rope was tied around him, put under his arms so that the ox could pull him free. He was too heavy for them to move with just the women and children who were there. Some of the men had been summoned from the fields but likely they were dragging their heels, sure it was a tall tale. Ethan spurred the ox forward and the rope became taught but after only another grunt he was pulled free and back several feet so that he was away from the wreckage and the hole he had once occupied.
Isme lowered herself down to his side again and fished into her pouch. She produced a small bundle of herbs and dabbed them across the visor of the helm, small bits of dust from within fell through the holes in the helm and she was lucky to lean back as quickly as she did because He shot straight up at the waist yelling so loud it seemed to silence the ocean.
Everyone scattered back away from him. All except Isme who was still kneeling next to him, and Ethan who was frozen with fear, not of the man but that he might be about to watch his mother murdered by the golden foreigner.
He gave a panicked look around until his gaze fell on Isme who seemed unphased, even if deep down her heart was racing.
“You are safe. You don’t need to fear.” She said, sure he would not understand. The slight tilt of his head answered that he did not.
She pointed to herself. “Isme.” He repeated the gesture a couple of times.
He grunted and coughed, his voice was hoarse, and he said “Agrias” and gestured at himself with a gauntleted hand. The gesture though came with a considerable wince. He moved to stand and he groaned all the way to his feet. Fully standing he was indeed huge, perhaps a foot taller than even the largest man in the village. The rope that had been around him feel to the ground and he stepped out of it. He moved smoothly at first, but the stability on his feet lasted only until he tried to take a real step and quickly dropped to his knees and then fell onto his hands, leaving him on all fours.
“Ethan. The Ox, he can lean against it.” She said as she repacked her satchel and got to her feet. Her son was still frozen, moreso when he saw the man stand. “Ethan!” She said with a snap and he blinked hard and gave his head a slight shake. He brought the oxen closer and Isme moved to the other side. “Agrias” She said, stumbling over the sound somewhat. He looked to her and she mimed leaning against the ox a couple of times. He nodded and got to his feet again and leaned against the ox, who did not expect the weight and gave some bleats of protest but eventually it calmed.
The crowd didn’t follow as Isme, Ethan and the stranger limped their way up the hill towards the village. Many thumbs were pressed to lips and subtle prayers muttered under hushed breath.
Isme watched him limp up the hill perched against the Ox, noting every little thing. He had only a dagger at the small of his back, but she did see that he had broken loops at his waist where there likely had been weapons. The other dead on the beach were armored as well, were these men attackers? Was she aiding someone who would have seen her dead or worse.
The Ox knew where to go and guided them back to the barn. Agrias released the creature and took some staggered steps towards a trough of water and dropped to his knees and dunked his entire head into the water with a great splash. Isme didn’t think much of it but it lingered longer than she felt was comfortable and she rushed up the last leg of the hill. She was going to reach out to grab him by the back of his body armor and try to yank him out but he pulled his head out from the water with a gasp just as she got close. She stopped in her tracks and pulled her hand back and clutched it to her chest, the first sign of any real reaction to him she’d given. Water poured from every hole in the helm and down the front of his armor, washing away a swath of the sand that had found itself nestled in the grooves of the script on his armor.
She took a step back and he squared himself to her. They stared for a long time until the Ox bleated down at Ethan who had run up behind his mother. He hid behind her for a breath before stepping in front of her as if to protect her from the golden warrior and she put her hands over his shoulders.
People had begun to follow by this point, although they stayed well away.
Agrias reached up and undid a hidden catch and a couple of straps and loosened his helm with a slow pull and a bit of wet suction sound; the golden helmet was removed and he held it under his arm. Even wet and sandy he was gorgeous, square jaw with only a small bit of brown stubble. His eyes though were what took her attention. They were so bright and golden they made his armor seem dingy in comparison. She felt her breath catch in her throat, and could have sworn for just a moment a light radiated from him that dulled the morning sun.
The fog over the bay was heavy, thicker than it had been in years. One could barely see more than five feet in front of themselves at the best. Sailing in the weather was tantamount to suicide so the the docks were largely shut down. The little beacons of lamp light were the only points to mark the edge of the docks and the start of the blackness of the ocean.
The Kohese guards on duty were far from the most attentive, getting the shift as soon as more capable men realized the night would be foggy and boring. No captain in their right mind would try to sail in that kind of weather anyway and the need for more diligent eyes was far from necessary.
“Bior...do you see that?” He slapped his friend's leg, trying to rouse him from the rather light slumber. Bior coughed and sputtered awake going to grab his weapon but realized it was just Tam. He got to his feet and stared off in the direction that his friend was looking. He rubbed his eyes and then leaned against the railing and squinted against the fog.
“I see fog.” Bior quipped.
“No, there!” Tam pointed, and Bior tried his best to follow his friends pointed gaze. The fog out further was whipping around being pushed about by something cutting through it quickly. It made areas just clear enough for them to see the mast of the ship whipping up eddies in the fog. They could tell it was coming in fast and was already too close. They couldn’t even move as the scene unfolded before them.
The sails were in tatters and the flapping fabric snapped like whip cracks as they pushed the fog in every direction. It slammed into the dock and the sound of wood shattering and metal twisting was akin to an explosion and nails on a chalkboard. Given the watchtower was attached to the docks when the ship hit it also shook and the two men. They held on for dear life as the tower they were in shuddered and bent back and forth threatening to fling them over the railing. The ship cut clean through the wooden docks and destroyed even the stone portion of the docks by the time it came to a full stop. Its front end was out of the water and a house was in ruins.
Everyone nearby should have heard that horrible sound and felt the impact, but they had a job to do.
Bior steadied himself again and reached up and began to furiously sound the alarm bell. The pattern he used let the others know it was an emergency but not specifically an attack. The bell alerted other towers and other posts and their own bells began to ring out in response until there was a chain all around the docks and well into the city.
“I’m going down to see!” Tam said excitedly, he was burning with adrenaline and his voice quivered with it. Bior quickly grabbed his friend’s arm.
“Are you serious? A ship just crashes into the dock and you want to go running right for it?” Bior pinched his brow, but Tam was already at the ladder and sliding down the smooth rungs. Bior pretended he wasn’t going after but when he heard the sharp whistle from below he followed down the ladder and towards the wreck. The ship groaned and creaked against the docks, wood that was strained, snapped now and then sending ear splitting echos bouncing from the buildings.
The two were not alone when they came upon the wreck, others had come down, mostly other guards, but a few dock hands and average citizens. Bior was surprised by the numbers. He had been quick to stay where they were but it seems others were far more like Tam in their desire to run towards the trouble to try and offer aid.
“You two! With me!” They heard the sharp voice and knew it was a sergeant. They watched the man quickly jog up to them and pointed right to the ship. His eyes were filled with zeal. They knew he lived for moments like this, while they would have lived to avoid such things. They both stammered some objection but were immediately rebuked with a sharp finger jabbed into their chests and an admonishment that was a mix of both Anemos and Kohese slurs. Bior and Tam straightened their backs and gripped their weapons just a little firmer. The sergeant led the way and they followed, their hesitation clear in their steps.
The ship bobbed up and down as dockhands were trying to lash it to the broken foundations best they could with ropes tossed and tied to anything they could get purchase around. Letting it potentially wash back out to sea only to slam into a more vulnerable portion of the city was what they wanted to avoid.
The three men jumped from one piece of broken dock to another, Bior and Tam’s hesitation melted away with each leap. They were perhaps not the best soldiers but they were decently trained and the closer they came to the danger the more they were able to fall back on the training and the discipline it imparted. They made sure leaps from broken pilon to broken stonework until they were on the deck of the ship. The sergeant drew his short sword and a small center grip buckler from his hip. There was no light on the boat but the illumination of laplights was enough to show them there was ample blood, and it did not appear it was from the wreck.
“Keep your eyes open.” The sergeant said, as he found a staircase down to the lower decks. There was little light except that which was cast through the broken hull of the vessel and illuminated it in thick bands that were accentuated by the thick haze of dust that swirled with the fog that was spilling into the ship's interior. The Sergeant gestured towards the stairs and Tam was the first to step up, his spear pointed down into the darkness. Bior followed to his side, and the Sergeant took up the rear.
They inched down into the bowels of the ship, and they were faced with a scene of utter carnage. The floor was slick and sticky with blood, the walls were coated in ofal. In the limited light they could only see some, but when they made it into the main hold of the ship where a giant hole had been torn in the side the light illuminated a scene of horror, broken bodies that looked like they were wrent by a beast were strewn about. This was far more than could have been done by the wreck alone.
“What could have done this.” Tam said without looking back to his friend, at least until he heard the sound of vomit splashing against the still wet floor. Bior was leaning against his spear spewing his light dinner onto the woodwork.
“There!” The sergeant yelled as he turned to a still dark recess at the head of the ship.
His exclamation and the focus on the area was met with a low growling reply. It was far too deep and heavy to be a wolf or even a bear. It snapped Tam’s attention from his friend and to the sound coming from the darkness. He leveled his spear. Bior wiped his mouth and did the same, but his hands were shaking so much the tip of his spear looked to be writing in the air.
“Out!” The sergeant yelled, stomping his lead foot against the deck and swiping his sword in a flourish, in an attempt to perhaps goad whatever it was out of the darkness. If it was an animal they needed to assess if it was salvageable or if it needed to be put down.
“Out.” A slow baleful voice replied, as if the darkness itself was learning to speak. From the blackness a form skulked forward, its eyes a glowing pink. At first it seemed smaller, maybe eye level to them, but then it rose and the eyes were feet above them. It stepped forward and the boards below it groaned in protest of its weight. The lights cast through the ship illuminated it’s shaggy muscular body.
The sergeant looked stoic and brave to the two behind him, but in the face of the monster before him he was unable to move, frozen by his fear and the realization that this thing was beyond any bravado he had.
The violence was so fast Bior couldn’t even see what really happened until the creature had stopped to stare at him, the body of the sergeant in its huge clawed hand and the head and upper torso torn off and hanging from it’s maw.
His spear was dropped and he turned and ran. Tam was right behind him, they barely knew where they were going.
“RUN!” Bior screamed as he practically bounced off the walls in his breakneck sprint to the exit of the ship. The two men scrambled up the broken stairs and to the top deck. The careful jumps they had made to get to the ship were forgotten and they used their full sprint to leap from the bobbing ship to the solid landing of the pier.
Tam hit the ground and didn;t stop running. He split the crowd and was off into the misty darkness.
Bior slowed and looked at the ship and then the people, his eyes were wide with fear. “Run! Run you fools! The ship!” Run!” He couldn’t even get his word together to describe the thing he saw on the ship. What could he even say to get his point across, he had no frame of reference for it. Such a thing shouldn’t have even existed in the first place.
The gathered group, murmured in response. Some weren’t sure what he was saying, others were too busy trying to wrestle heavy ropes to moreing in an attempt to keep what was left of the ship from being drawn back out to sea. Their sounds were immediately silenced by the thump of something heavy and wet on the stonework. They all panned their heads to the sound, and standing more than ten feet tall, was the hulking furred form of the werewolf. .
No one moved as it looked from person to person with a slow pink gaze. “Run.” It half spoke and half grumbled, the voice seemed disjointed form the monster, sad and angry all at once. But one thing was for sure, it was much more clear than when it had spoken on the ship.
Ropes slacked in hands, and knees quaked but no one moved. They were frozen in their disbelief of it all.
He stepped forward and roared at them again. “RUN!” The yelled voice seemed painfully human, strained and fearful, but as the word trailed off it became bestial until it was just a growl.
The crowd broke, everyone was running in every direction. A few people jumped right into the water, risking being crushed by the bobbing broken ship instead of being devoured by the monster before them.
The werewolf grasped its own face, groaned and whined a pink crown of energy flared to life around his head and then it howled into the swirling thick fog.
Shane winced and rolled over in the wet grass that swaddled him. He was naked and covered in blood and grime. He coughed and felt the pain in his stomach. He grasped his bare midriff and rolled over onto his side and threw up. A stream that seemed to never end. He shut his eyes, he had stopped looking when this happened, he didn’t need to see the disgusting mix of wet chunks that came from him. When it finished he rolled away and started to crawl and found a bit of water, a pool of something stagnant but he didn’t care, he drank some, it tasted slick but it didn’t deter him. He splashed his face and wiped his hands and the pool turned a red with it.
He got to his feet and looked around, the noon sun was partially obscured by the clouds, but was doing its best to burn away the lingering fog and cover. He had no idea where he was but he could see a city not too far away from where he was and black swirls of smoke were rising from it. Between him and the smoking city were some farmhouses that were dotted between well kept fields.
He made a run towards the nearest farmhouse and skulked up to it at the last moment. It appeared to be empty so he jumped it’s short fence and got closer. He walked to the door and tried the handle, it was open. He stepped in and through some rummaging he found a pair of pants and shirt and a thinning cowl. He donned it all and a pair of sandals that barely fit him. He left and headed from the farmhouse and towards the city.
There was still chaos there. Fires were mostly contained but some still raged with bucketmen trying to douse the neighboring structures to keep them from catching. He could see the tail end of destruction that exited the city. A few houses were reduced to rubble, a couple around were burned but seemed to be contained. Shane inched his way through the city, heading towards the docks, he thought maybe the ship was there and he could get his things...but the deeper he made it into the city the more he realized that the odds the ship was intact was lower. When he came to the port he saw what was left of the ship, its mast stuck out of the water and a few chunks of hull that clung tightly to the stonework where they were lodged onto the docks themselves.
The damage there was extensive, claw marks, and blood stains that must have been bodies at one point. The sight made him sick to even look at. A guard with two pails pushed past him and wanted to question who he was, but had more important things to do and went on his way just as quickly as he had come. Shane pulled his cowl up and headed off into a side street.
Shane moved out towards the edge of the city again and found what appeared to be a triage station for the injured. His eyes went wide when he saw the dozens of hurt people, and then the rows of sheet-covered dead. He prayed that there had not been wounded by him, he prayed that these were all people hurt by debris. He moved closer, language was a barrier but he had a little knowledge and eventually found someone who he could talk to in a language they both shared. Shane pretended to have medical knowledge and the basic first aid he had learned in his military training proved to be enough to fool them.
He slid from bed to bed, and then when he ran out of beds to check he walked down the rows of soiled bedrolls and their occupants. Some were sleeping and others writhed in pain only just covered by the limited medicinal herbs. He continued to walk from bedroll to bedroll until he felt a pull in his chest, like something was tugging him by the front of his shirt, he weaved between bedrolls, drawn by the unseen hand, until he came to a young woman with a nasty wound to her torso, it was wide and uniform, a claw wound. His heartbeat was racing by the time he came to her side and was kneeling next to her.
He reached out to touch her and flashes of images stabbed him in the head. Each one a vision of armies of werewolves pouring over the port city, then more tearing through the countryside. Then the final one lingered in front of his eyes. A wolf that he recognized as himself. A pink glowing crown of light over its head, eyes nearly aflame with the same pink glow. He was clad in black armor that had glowing runes etched across its surface.
He clutched his head and could feel the moisture of tears on his hand. He looked down to her again and saw a scratch on her arm, something superficial slowly close. His eyes went wide, was this what he was bringing to this land, was this the curse he was bringing. He winced, and clutched his head again as more painful flashes came to his mind. He leaned over her and wept, his hand over her nose and mouth and his forearm over her throat. Her wounds were bad enough that her gentle struggle against his pressure went unnoticed as people looked away from the hooded man seemingly weeping over a corpse.
He felt her breathing stop and he wept harder, less for her loss and more for the fact that she was not so far along that she would shift at death. He laid there for a moment, offering prayers to the Six for their mercy on the foriegn woman. He felt that they did not hear him. He no longer felt the tug and felt safe that she was the only one.
He eventually left, supplied with the kindness of others who saw a poor man covered in blood and thought he was just another victim, not the cause of this destruction. He left the city before the sun fell. He kept going ,heading further west. He felt he could just walk until he got to the very edge of the settled world, until there were no more people to encounter just the vast endless nature.
@kalo Can't you just flat out ask for that to be posted on the website instead of putting it up for this? I think individual lore entries should be looked at for this showcase not community sponsored initiatives.
The amphitheater that served as the meeting hall of the trade council was older than even the canal itself, it had always been used for some form of government purpose. The carved stone pillars rose high and red fabric was stretched between them to offer some shade to the occupants below. Household banners danged from lines stretched above, some new some old, each a different color and pattern and bearing the written name of the house on it in the ornate Isaran script.
Everyone there bustled in conversation, the stranding of the Semperdataria was holding up trade on both sides of the canal and everyone feared the worst. Every day meant a loss of coin for some merchant and a windfall for another who would charge exorbitant storage fees. Crime was expected to sore as more and more goods became backed up on both banks. Some measure of safety came from the swiftness that goods moved through the canal.
A knocking came from the dias at the center of the amphitheater and the noise died down at the caucus was bought to order. All around the upper landing were people keen to watch and glean what they could form the talking and decisions made.
“The Semperdataria is the only topic for discussion.” The head of the caucus said, and signed although he fumbled through the name of the ship. “Goods move via camel east to west, but it is slow and only serves to drive transport costs higher. Some effort has been made by the maintenance crews to dislodge the ship from the walls but only so much can be done.”
He sighed and leaned against the Dias. “ideas?”
The room was largely silent until a woman stood up near the back. She was not as dark skinned as the rest, and had hazel eyes that seemed too bright when the sun barely touched them. Her broad build and height marked her as E’Dorn, a mixed blood Isaran/Helian. There were some grumbles at her rise but she was a citizen of Isara and Helios both and held more sway than others would like.
“Yes Ambria of Teshal eh Helios.” The head of the caucus regarded her with both word and sign and gestured to her to speak.
She took a deep breath and raised her hands and sighed a few greetings to all present. Her gestures were perfect; it was no mistake that she was one of them. She was third generation after all, she had only been to Helios once in her whole life. “Representatives. We have ten heavy Drafts between the east and west end of the canal. We could have them to the wreck and properly harnessed within two days. They are strong creatures as you know and at the least may be able to drag the vessel from its current place, enough at least for it to be pulled to the side for repairs or towed out if it is still sea worthy.”
There was some more vocal grumbling, some in agreement and others not wishing to rely on them.
“If that is not satisfactory I could defer to Commander Frakes, he told me only this morning he intends to slam one of his warships into it, easier to clean up pieces than trying to salvage the ship.”
The whole Caucus was silent. She Did not sign the former statement and they knew she meant it to be as factual as she could.
Another rose and gestured to her. “We have the Hawks patrolling the east, and the Dorn but be keeping the West safe if they are willing to sacrifice a ship to slam into this, Semper-Dat-amia, This may be the best option for now. I say we let them try.”
The scroll was rolled tight and sealed with a black ribbon and further marked by a silvered wax seal. This scroll was further put into a scroll case that bore the same silvered wax seal. The journey from Westport to Dalecara was a strange one, but the courier was Dalecara and he was able to maneuver his way to delivering his letter to Chief Dan Salmonface.
To: Chiefton Dan Salmonface
From: Helvarin Sir Adam Vansen, Phantoms Cry
Blessing and Light upon you Chiefton. We have heard some of your troubles in Dalecara but knowing how you led your people here on the shores of Helios we have no doubt that you will be successful in all of your endeavors.
My Mother, Helvarin Sivian Vansen, has charged me with much of the tasks that go with leading our county, and as you were once under our charge and flourished as such, I would offer aid if you should need it. We are not a people to show charity, so do not look at it as such, we only wish to help a people we consider our own and you have been a strong representative of those people.
The courier will wait for your reply, he is a good and skilled man, please see that he is treated well.
I know you do not believe in the six, but allow me the small courtesy as I know no other greater wish to give you. May the Blessings of the Six be on you.
Helvarin Sir Adam Vansen, Phantoms Cry
The words of the letter were specific and sure. Helios was known to fervently guard sending weapons and armor to foreign lands, believing that it was unwise to arm someone who might one day be an enemy. Adams words, saying that he considered the Dalecara one of their own perhaps left the door open for more than just food and tools. Adam unlike his mother was far more careful with his words, while she was blunt and to the point he spoke like layers on layers, a true son of Lorna.
