Volume I: The Defense of Zusidava

[BlackHat]

Rehyk the Ruined, Hand of Ansegdniss

Blood -1, Courage +0, Grace +0, Sense +1, Wisdom +2, Doom +2

---

Rehyk's glowing green eyes move slowly from the spilled apples to the man who had been hauling them. As the man flees into the crowd, knocking over a woman who spilled cabbages into the street, the Harbinger sighs. "A gaze that bore the weight of forgotten secrets. Two mirrors reflecting something long buried." Whatever the old man is referring to is quickly pushed aside as a group of bounty-hunters confronts their Fellowship, leveling their ultimatum.

In spite of the immediate danger that they found themselves in, Rehyk's attention remains fixated on the chaos around them. A mob begins to descend upon the discarded fruit and spilt vegetables. The fear of impending Doom had a way of making otherwise decent law-abiding people rethink their priorities. Imprisonment and fines lost their power as deterrents when the People are convinced that they may have only days to live.

His companions are more than capable of dealing with sellswords. It was the commoners who worried Rehyk. The one who had recognized him haunted his thoughts, foremost.

OOC

Okay, Rehyk is going to Look Closely at the situation.

Three questions (one of which Rehyk learns the Hard Way)... anyone can answer or leave for Kavonde.

- Tell me about the man who recognized me. What are they doing? What will they do next?

- Tell me about the crowd. How could it hurt me? How could it help me?

- What is going on here? What do my senses tell me?

 

Edited September 1, 2023 by BlackHat (see edit history)

[Kavonde]

The man who recognized Rehyk appears to be an older gentleman in his late 60's, somewhat underfed and dressed in the simple, heavy clothing common to this region. He doesn't look like anyone Rehyk's ever met before, or perhaps it's better to say that he looks like many people Rehyk's met before; there's nothing particularly notable about the man's features. Currently, the man simply seems to be trying to get as far from Rehyk as he possibly can; he's probably headed for somewhere safe, like his home or a favorite tavern, to lie low and hope you don't pursue him.

The crowd surrounding you is nervous and anxious, though not overtly hostile. Everyone knows that the Emperor is coming for them, but there are multiple rumors as to why. This Lana woman's words seem to have shaken some, and more than a few people are looking at Salia and Seba with obvious malice in their eyes. It's entirely possible, should the wrong words be said here, that members of this crowd could try to attack your group. Of course, the crowd could also be a useful obstacle to your opponents if you need to flee. And while it might be a long shot, perhaps a stirring speech could even rally them to your side?

The situation as a whole seems to be exactly what it would appear on the surface. These sellswords seem interested in apprehending Seba and Salia to claim the bounty on them, but they don't particularly like their odds right now. That said, you see them glancing into the crowd from time to time, and realize that they must have allies nearby who are maneuvering to flank you. If this comes to a fight, even if the general populace doesn't turn on you, the numerical odds may not be on in your favor after all.

Edited September 1, 2023 by Kavonde (see edit history)

[Fletcher]

Seba weathers the scathing rebuke from Tor with little more than a bemused arch of an eyebrow, though Salia is clearly prepared to cleave the man's head from his shoulders - she'd do it, too. A bright-eyed glance is turned toward her older sister, one that speaks without words and stays her hand. The mouthy Gaete has suffered far worse threats - and far worse punishments - in her days. "I imagine my Uncle would be displeased with you if he could not speak with EITHER of us--"

But the conflict at hand is abruptly shifted both by the recognition of their imperious Harbinger companion and the words of these southron folk. Abby's mounts are well trained to the moods and subtle motions of their riders and the Pair pull up short with little more than twitched heels. "Vell met, guests from the south," Seba greets, leaning forward on the horn of her saddle and studying the dark-haired trio. "It iss a pity that you lean upon the good hospitality of the Gaetes around you and yet also choose to threaten the blood and kin of your Host." A side-eye is given Tor, whom she truly couldn't give two shits about who he is, as he touts his title over the nieces of his Voievod. "The Voievod and the gods may not look so kindly upon that."

"I vould not mistake a squabble between our People as an opportunity to stir up trouble - deserved or otherwise. Violence against one is violence against all. It iss the vay of our people." She doesn't need to look at Tor for the emphasis to be directed at him. They might fight Tor and none would intervene, but if Strangers decided to strike a Gaete... woe be to them. At least, that's what she is leaning upon. Who knows if her people would remain true to it in these desperate times.

"Though it seems you are sympathetic to Caelius. Perhaps you are already here with ill intent?"

[Kavonde]

It's a subtle shift, but the growing air of uneasiness in the crowd gradually changes focus from the quintet of would-be heroes to the trio of would-be bounty hunters. Mirro gives a nervous look around him, and the little pointy man seems to be trying to disappear behind his larger companions. Only their leader, Lana, remains outwardly unperturbed by the altered social dynamics here.

"Sympathetic? To Caelius?" she sneers. "I've no particular love for the Golden Emperor. No particular hate, either. When he deals with us mercenaries, he deals honestly and pays on time, but he also doesn't hesitate to throw us into the grinder to preserve his more loyal forces. No, I owe the man no allegiance, and I didn't come here to make trouble on his behalf. I'd just like to be rich."

She glances around here, finally acknowledging that the situation may be beyond her ability to control just now. She sheathes her sword and gives Seba a humorless smirk. "Carry on, then, Payday and Retirement. I'll need better odds than this before I go after you again. You certainly know how to work a crowd." She steps back and gestures for them to pass, like a gracious host allowing her guests entry into her home.

[BlackHat]

Rehyk the Ruined, Hand of Ansegdniss

Blood -1, Courage +0, Grace +0, Sense +1, Wisdom +2, Doom +2

---

Rehyk guides his mount forward, the first to accept the offer to pass. In a hushed and solemn tone, Rehyk conveys a cryptic warning to the leader. "If your path once more converges with that of my companions, and your intentions remain unchanged, not only shall you see the reward you seek slip between your fingers like grains of sand but your remaining days shall be bereft of wealth of any sort." He looks down, apologetically, and adds, "If it is riches you seek, seek them elsewhere."

[Kyoh]

Abbie, The Squire

Blood +1, Courage +2, Grace -1, Sense +2, Wisdom -1

---

Abbie breathes a sigh of relief as the bounty hunters take their leave. It's not often that Seba talks them out of trouble. Abbie releases her grip on the sword belted at her waist. She's never killed anyone before, but she knows how to wield a blade well enough. Everyone in her village had been taught the basics of fighting since the villagers made up the militia in desperate times, and Salia has since been training Abbie. She's actually a fairly proficient swordsman, though she's not eager to spill blood.

It's a good thing they aren't getting into a fight right there, too, because they might have fewer allies among them than Abbie thought. Abbie has little grasp on the political situation among the Gaete, but keenly feels the tension in the air. The threat of violence is as present as daylight. Abbie is thankful she has such powerful and competent friends among her to see them through.

Abbie's eyes fall on the man that had recognized Rehyk, the one now running away. "Master, who is that man? He seems to know you."

[BlackHat]

Rehyk the Ruined, Hand of Ansegdniss

Blood -1, Courage +0, Grace +0, Sense +1, Wisdom +2, Doom +2

---

Rehyk shook his head as he answered Abidora, "... then he is wise to run away." The Harbinger gave Lana a meaningful look, with his glowing green eyes, before continuing past her and her mercenaries.

[Kavonde]

Lana regards Rehyk, apparently taking him in for the first time. Somehow, his unsettling eyes hadn't captured her attention previously. She frowns thoughtfully, clearly not sure what to make of this strange old man. Worldly as she may be, she clearly doesn't have experience with the Harbingers.

Still, as he passes her, she gives Rehyk a confident smirk. She may not know precisely what he is, but she's fairly confident that a knife to the heart will prove effective enough.

Kar soon resumes his position at the head of your little column as you wind your way back to higher elevations and to the grand hall of the Sedinta. Four more guards, dressed similarly to your escort though all with different insignia, flank the great doors to the long wooden hall. One, a short but broad-framed woman with her pale, braided hair curled up around her ears like a ram's horns, steps forward and holds up a hand, turning to look up at Seba and Salia. "Velcome. The voda avait you inside, but the voievod asked me to varn you beforehand: some," she casts a pointed look towards Kar, "have already made up their minds about you. Others will hear you before deciding. But no one is happy about the situation. Do not expect as varm a homecoming as you may have hoped."

She turns to the rest of you, and her tone becomes more formal, as if reciting an ancient ritual. "In this hall, ve honor those with courage and cunning. Speak your name and your glory. Speak it loudly, that those vithin and vithout might know of it. And speak it truly, for none is so shamed as a coward who claims false valor."

[Kyoh]

Abbie, The Squire

Blood +1, Courage +2, Grace -1, Sense +2, Wisdom -1

---

Abbie doesn't know what to make of Rehyk condoning an acquaintance fleeing his presence. Rehyk is powerful and mysterious, but Abbie has never felt that he was a bad person or someone to run from. She looks from Master Rehyk to the distant fleeing man, questions swirling ponderously through her mind.

When their guides bring them to the grand hall, Abbie is the first to dismount and gathers the fellowships horses while the others follow Kar inside. It doesn't take Abbie long to hitch the horses to a post and feed them some grains, so she manages to hustle after the fellowship in time to hear the stout woman invite them to speak their glories to those gathered. My glory? Abbie wonders. She shifts her weight, causing a few pans on her pack to clank loudly in the hall. "Sorry," she whispers.

Abbie waits for the others to say their piece, hoping that the hall would be content with their answers and expect nothing from her, but the eyes of the attendees all fall to her eventually. "O-oh, um, I am Abidora Meadowcroft," she begins.

"Louder," commands the stout woman.

Abbie clears her throat and raises her voice. "Abidora Meadowcroft. My glory is... I, um, well, I tend to the animals. And cook."

[Fletcher]

The shift in the crowd's demeanor is enough to bolster Seba's confidence, but in this rare instance, she realizes when it is better to let a victory land than snatch a defeat by overdoing it. Abidora must be absolutely baffled. The sisters dig in their heels almost simultaneously and their faithful mounts begin to move forward after Kar. "That's not the only thing I know how to vork," she says in parting, giving the dark-haired group a wink. Over Seba's shoulder, Salia's glare could curdle milk.

Having people hate or envy or otherwise think poorly of them is nothing new to the Gaetes. The reputation of their people precedes them, despite how they differ from other heroes that have made a mark upon the outside world - mostly because the exploits (however factual) seem too far into the realm of fiction than most people are willing to believe. At least, most intelligent people. Many a common man still thinks their bloodlines are borne of gods, or that they are invincible because of infant dippings in sacred rivers. Sure, Gaetes are a culture of tough bastards, but certainly not as invulnerable as all that. Perhaps their Fortune is more to blame for such misbeliefs.

When they arrive at the Sedinta, the Pair drop from the saddle and patiently hand off their reins to Abbie. Seba gives her an encouraging smile and a quiet, "Remember as I said. And fear nothing." Salia's look is resolute, stern, and she reaches out to touch the squire's shoulder in an "arm's length" sort of reminder. They then turn to regard the herald at the door, yielding their independent personalities to the demands of the ritual at hand. Each of the daughters of Zusidava draw their curved blades, holding them outstretched as if gifting them or displaying them to the woman.

"I am Seba of the Crobidae, shield-daughter of Zusidava. I have slain the daerwolf to earn my blade and it has never been taken from me. I have earned the scars upon my body with valor and have paid in kind to those who have harmed me, in these lands and many far beyond. I have claimed the head of the southern sorceress as a blood debt for the murder of my sister, as the ancestors demand." Seba had not originally thought to evoke the glory of the issue they were literally here to be judged for, but it felt foolishness to ignore it and injustice to forget Sedra. She did not now regret it.

Salia's eyes smoldered as they met those of the herald, her blade aloft and her voice now silenced. The hand which held the curved edge fell to her side, where she pulled up the hem of her tunic to show a terrible scar from her own daerwolf hunt. Then it travels to her breast, tugging aside the neck to show several arrow wounds, and finally up to the still-blackened skin of her throat and jaw. Seba translates an identical recitation, except for her glory. "I have survived the daerwolf's mortal wound and slain it in turn. I have stood firm in the rain of arrows from the Byzactae invaders and dispelled their strength. I, also, have bested the southern sorceress as who murdered my sister, as the ancestors demand. And I have withstood the sorcerous wrath of the Golden Emperor. I endure." Perhaps she might not have claimed these things with such eloquence, but she turned a nod of acceptance to her little sister.

The Pair's blades return to their curved scabbards and they await the rest of their companions, though Seba can't help but add after squire, "Lady Abidora speaks humbly of herself but her deeds have been no less valorous, traveling with this Fellowship."

Edited September 19, 2023 by Fletcher (see edit history)

[BlackHat]

Rehyk the Ruined, Hand of Ansegdniss

Blood -1, Courage +0, Grace +0, Sense +1, Wisdom +2, Doom +2

---

Rehyk gracefully dismounts from his saddle, his movements mirroring the ritual he witnessed among the Gaetes. Instead of drawing forth a curved blade, he extends his hand, palm facing downward, casting the herald in the subdued emerald radiance of the ring's flames. In that moment, a palpable power resonates through the air, ancient and potent, unmistakably emanating from the artifact rather than the man who carries it.

"I am Rehyk the Ruined," the Harbinger announces with a voice that carries through the surrounding space, "a moniker earned through the orchestration of both miracles and catastrophes. I herald the arrival of salvation and tragedy alike. Eldoria's fall rests upon my shoulders, and I bear the weight of centuries of consequences, having sacrificed everything to stand here before you today."

With a deliberate motion, Rehyk closes his hand, turning his fist upward. "I am also known as the Hand of Ansegdniss, the Ring of Sacrifice—a relic as ancient as the sands of time itself. It has borne silent witness to the rise and fall of civilizations, erased continents from the annals of history, and offers unparalleled power to those willing to shoulder its profound costs." He takes a measured pause before concluding with a somber resolve, "And I am fully prepared to pay any price, however steep, to ensure the downfall of the Golden Emperor."

Edited September 22, 2023 by BlackHat (see edit history)

[Kavonde]

The guardswoman nods and smiles at Abbie when she describes her role within the group. "Humble deeds, but important ones, and honestly presented. You are velcome vithin, Abidora Meadowcroft."

When Salia steps forward to proclaim her and Seba's accomplishments, they get some mixed reactions--particularly at the mention of the "southern sorceress." Everyone here knows that the Golden Emperor now marches upon Zusidava to avenge said sorceress. Rumors say that they were lovers, and Aurelius seeks revenge for her murder. Others believe him to be more pragmatic than that, that he always intended to conquer Zusidava and was merely leading his host out of respect for the potential threat their people presented. The guardswoman with the ram-horn hair can't hide a small, satisfied smirk. "None here would ever deny your skill in battle," she says. "Nor your courage, nor your honor. You are velcome vithin, daughters of the Crobidae."

The reaction to Rehyk's proclamation is more unified. As he speaks, his stentorian voice heavy with the dual weights of history and power, the guards look to him with growing awe. Or, perhaps, growing alarm. When he finishes his pronouncement, there's a moment of heavy silence before the guardswoman responds. "Enter, volvan. None would dare bar you entry. You are velcome vithin."

With that, the two guards at the rear turn and pull open the heavy wooden doors leading into the Sedinta. To Seba and Salia's surprise, there's no burst of energetic music and cloud of delicious scents rushing out the doors to greet them. The great hall is mostly empty. Where there should be rows of long tables leading up to the voievod's seat, there are but two. Seated at these tables are not boisterous warriors holding horns of mead and chunks of roast mutton impaled on knives; it is a collection of older, somber men and women who turn to regard the newcomers in silence.

Seated at the end of the hall in a modest wooden chair too humble to be called a throne but too centrally positioned to be anything else, a large, barrel-chested ox of a man leans forward. He rests his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped before his mouth thoughtfully. He looks a little older than the last time Seba and Salia saw him. More of his long, fair hair has gone silver. His beard, always worn long, hangs even further down his chest. But his eyes are still the same sharp, piercing shards of emerald that they remember. Even from across the hall, they can feel those eyes assessing them.

"I vas told there vould be more of you," says Skurn, voievod of the Gaetes, voda of Zusi, the warrior who held the Red Stone Pass against the trogladytae horde. His voice carries clearly across the Sedinta, the wooden hall subtly crafted to amplify and carry it to its every corner. "Ve vere told that heroes vould be coming. And here stand a single volvan, two headstrong pups, and a tender of horses. The Golden Emperor's ambitions threaten the entire vorld, and all that vorld can spare is you?"

He sighs. "I am, at least, glad to see you alive, Seba and Salia. I vish your sister still stood vith you. And perhaps you can be of some use, Rehyk the Ruined. I do not suppose the girl is actually an exceedingly humble swordsmistress or a powerful nachzehrer with a fondness for brushing manes."

Edited October 28, 2023 by Kavonde (see edit history)

[BlackHat]

Rehyk the Ruined, Hand of Ansegdniss

Blood -1, Courage +0, Grace +0, Sense +1, Wisdom +2, Doom +2

---

Rehyk narrows his eyes as the voievod confesses the inaccuracy of the information to which he has access. It was a strange admission but Rehyk could appreciate the man's candor during these trying times.

"Rest assured, Abidora's talents and her significance to our Quest are undeniable and immeasurable."

Edited October 31, 2023 by BlackHat (see edit history)

[Fletcher]

The Pair proceed into the Sedinta, keenly aware of the dour atmosphere in contrast to everything they had told Abidora. The lines of elders, voda, and esteemed guests were impassive and hard lines down each side of their approach. Seba's whimsical demeanor does not return and Salia's chin rises firmly against the judgment cast their direction - their uncle among them.

Before the simple throne of the Gaetes the sisters stand, the filial resemblance only noted if one studies the three closely. Seba's jaw clenches and a retort is building before the tired sigh that separates his criticism and his care. It was a trait that made him as endearing as maddening... His judgments were harsh but his heart was still warm beneath it. He was firm because he cared. What started as a sharp-tongued reaction, that Seba would have regretted, rolls out in a grumble.

"They vere in Crobyzoi, voievod. Died there, Sedra among them." The Gaetes had neither love nor hate for their distant neighbor, but the choice to preserve their own strength instead of venturing out to combat a foe on foreign soil was a clear statement... likely leaned on more heavily by the voda than the voievod himself. It had perhaps been a harsher greeting upon their arrival in Crobyzoi than here, as they had hoped for a legion of famed warriors to come to their aid, not merely three. The reputation of the Gaetes had been tarnished (at least, in the hearts of the sisters) to be the only ones of their people to come... if there were any men of Crobyzoi alive to consider it. "A great host gathered in Crobyzoi - all of vhat remained in the North, maybe. Rivals and svorn enemies, vomen and children barely able to hold their shields. The Byzectae vere there, voievod. There vere trogladytae there, voievod. Every person who dared to stand against the Golden Legion... Except you." Seba turns to cast a glance over her shoulder, clearly not speaking directly to her uncle despite addressing him. Salia's glare is more pointed, accusatory. Always known to be a fierce defender of her younger sisters, one could only imagine what the eldest would say had her throat not been burnt out.

"The alliance defeated the vanguard of Caelius' host and ve slew the sorcerous Legatus commanding it - ve three, now two. His wrath led him North to us, this is true, but he has alvays hungered for everything. Ve only delayed vhat vas already coming." The words stand in the silence that follows, offering the hearer to think on their own part in this turn of events.

"The last stand vas in Crobyzoi, voievod," she concludes, turning back to her uncle again. There is weariness in her eyes, meeting his own. "Ve valk the path vhich vas chosen, not those vhich could have been."

[Kyoh]

Abbie, The Squire

Blood +1, Courage +2, Grace -1, Sense +2, Wisdom -1

---

Abbie takes no offense at Skurn's dismissal of her as a 'tender of horses.' That's pretty much how she sees herself. But when Rehyk stands up for her and describes her talent and significance as undeniable and immeasurable, Abbie can't help but stand taller. She's also wildly confused that Master Rehyk would imbue her with such value in front of this grand host. It's not like Master Rehyk to lie like that, she wonders. Best play the part.

As grand a host it is that is gathered here, Abbie is a little surprised and let down by the manner in which they are gathered. She had been led to believe that this would be a wondrous feast and a jovial celebration. But instead it has the air of a people counting down the hours until their execution.

Abbie wonders if she should say something, but these are not her people and Master Rehyk has led them all to believe she is something she is not. It would be wise, she concludes, that she say as little as possible lest they realize Rehyk's deception...