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[adwarf]

"Forgive me for disturbing your nap, but I'm afraid armies controlled by others do not care for what you wish sadly, if only it were so then I could simply nap in the middle of my jobs as I so desire. I am Ramus Thirdfallen, son of Samus son of Rolen, and I come bearing a gift and news I believe you'd much like to hear though only if you wish me speak, if not I could always leave and go die fighting in the village nearby while those monsters descend upon us."

Ramus said nonchalantly holding out the silver comb for the Kingfisher to see, he had replaced his sword across his back for while he would risk sharp words he dared not hold a weapon in her presence. For some unearthly reason Ramus got the idea that might end badly.

[Dwarmin]

The Kingfisher eyes you in an unwholesome manner.

"Hmph, you a rude little morsel, aren't you? I've found the foulest tempers taste the sweetest, most often...

Well, you speak of monsters-the rabble, yes...why bother me with this? Your temporal matters are trifles unworthy of my time and consideration. No one would be foolish enough to attack my shrine, for I would slay them with claw and tail, stinging breath and crushing magic-and what of the town? They pay me homage, yes, but if they were to all perish, others would come along and worship me. I am as close as these people will ever get to a living Goddess-one who can slay them if they displeasure her, or reward them for their good works-according to whim and fancy.

This has how it has been, since my time and the time of my ancestors.

But do go on, with this news you think is so important to me."

Her tail slides forward with a skitter, and in front of you-about chest height. Reading her intention, you place the comb on in, and she adds it to her treasure pile without a second glance.

[adwarf]

"An army of lost creatures is coming to burn this town, controlled by a sorceress who bows to a being more mighty then you, and they will not leave you alone as you wish. The people of this town who worship you so will be killed, the town burnt, and then those creatures will either come for you or turn their eyes on the rest of this land.

They will march through it burning and pillaging, and all those who worship you will die before them, this shrine would never see your worshipers gather around it to pay homage to their 'protector'. You may be powerful, but even mortals can kill gods though I doubt any gods look over this twisted little world, ancient things are stirring once more and Order rises. Try as you may you will not be left unharmed from what shall occur this day, for it is simply the beginning.

Of course how you handle things is up to you, but it'd be oh so sad if all that lovely silver you like so much simply stopped coming to you because all those who would do your worship are killed by mindless monstrosities wouldn't it?"

[Dwarmin]

The Kingfisher snorts loudly, growing angrier.

"Mightier than ME?

Hah! I've yet to see one match that description. Though I find it interesting you speak of the Great Ones...the Old powers, strong as they may have been, are locked away forever. I am not beholden to them any longer. Once Dragons served the Powers like any others, but now they are trapped, and we rule in their...absence.

Thus-why do I care? Villages burn. People die. Back and forth, forever and ever amen. My kind persists-we survive. We will always survive. I assure you, those who seek to conquer will soon turn to be my worshipers as well. Allegiances and borders change, but power is a universal constant. Or let me guess, they are merely mindless beasts to you right? Deserving only of death? I'd imagine they think the same of your kind....hmph. You can scarcely defend yourselves, and you come begging to me for help. Rich.

And yet, still...you speak...of a mortal, killing me? That's jolly. I suppose you'll be the one to do it, hmm? The Great Hero!

Tell me, morsel, what would you do if threatened by a sterling hare-one you thought would cook good over a spit?" The last word comes out with a caustic saliva spatter that plops at your feet-sending the scent of acrid smelling smoke to your nostrils.

Her air is growing steadily more menacing...and the air is getting ever more caustic, difficult to breathe.

[adwarf]

With that Ramus burst into laughter, after a few seconds he manages to speak,

"I think you misunderstand, I wasn't talking about me, however much I may think of myself as strong I quite like my life where it is so threatening you is beyond me. I may have aspirations to be a sort of hero, but my sort of hero prefers the safety of shadows to bearing a sword up front and telling my foe I wish to kill them.

Whatever you see in me that would such a hero is quite wrong, I live my life to serve the people of this world so who am I to throw my life away when it would do them no good at all? Please do forgive me if I upset you, but yes to me those things are mindless beasts presumably controlled and spurred on by the person I seek to kill."

[Digital Hellhound]

Chaos

Wendell Madryt

 Filled with newfound determination, Wendell redoubles his efforts. His body is wiry, but has a goblin's hidden strength - [3] which, unfortunately, is not enough for the invisible rope binding him. Try as he might, Wendell simply can't move enough to break through in any direction.

A final scream and audible swing of a blade later, the battle draws to an end. Wendell can turn just enough to see the young noble and his soldiers finish off the hunters on the ground. It seems like most of them - a few probably escaped. The soldiers don't seem very interested in pursuing.

Knowing he doesn't have much time, Wendell reaches for the strange sensation from earlier. He doesn't know what he's looking for, but has been a strange day, and he feels it's not quite over yet. Dull pain aches in his head as he reaches for a pattern that both is and is not.

[2] Nothing happens, the fragments of what he now knows to be magic floating away. He hears the mage's voice, approaching, [5] and Wendell throws all that he has into one last try.

The block keeping him back breaks. For one, beautiful moment, the world becomes silver, azure, and a thousand other colors at once, the world shuddering before him. Swirling tendrils of invisible energy fill the air and Wendell sees the ethereal binds around him, sees the magical pattern the mage has crafted.

He lets out the breath and the bindings shatter, dissolving from a faint touch of a trickle of energy from his body. The mage realizes what he does a few seconds later - he can move. Wendell sees his eyes go wide.

'What did you-? he starts, a new Bind pattern beginning to form above him. The others approach warily behind him, brandishing their bloody weapons.

Wendell pushes himself up, grunting with exertion. His mind is racing, trying to comprehend the situation and that he can do actual magic. He feels a strange chill at his back that wasn't there earlier, a touch of... silence. The other ways are blocked by the soldiers, unless he wants to fight his way through.

Spoiler: Wendell Madryt, Chosen of Chaos (click to show/hide)

Tier I
HP: 30/30
Combat: 1 die
Action: 1 die
Magic: 1 die
Skills and Traits: None
Equipment:
   *Old Crossbow (1d6+1 damage)
   *Boning Knife (1d6-1 damage)
   *Pouch of Coin
Known Spells:
   *Dispel [Avaritia/Difficulty: 6]

Anathema

 Braving the coming darkness, Anathema sets out to find the black-barked tree he had sighted earlier. He's not an expert on jungle flora, especially now, but the fruits it carried looked safe to eat. He gets the feeling he might have once known something that could help there, though.

The fountain and the great, twisting tree by it are still easy to find, though he isn't so sure that he can find his way back in the rapidly descending night. Anathema reaches up to a branch of the tree and shakes free a few of the large, red fruits. They look supremely juicy and perfect for his hungry stomach, so Anathema tucks right in. The taste is sweet and, as far as he can tell, the fruits are edible. He takes a few more for the morning and looks around.

With that done, Anathema makes a token effort to return the way he came, but after stumbling on the uneven rubble for a few times, he gives up and heads into a half-standing building on the plaza. There are three and a half walls and the vegetation isn't everywhere, which is really the best he could hope for. He feels weariness set upon him, a thousand year's of tortured half-sleep on his shoulders. Still, he remembers an old spell that might prove useful...

He tries first with strands of Invidia and Luxuria, but something is off. The pattern he has in mind is subtly different and the way to craft possesses a different feel, a different... want.

The memories click into place - Superbia, to protect, instead of Luxuria. As he understands the spell, he feels another burst of images well up. This time he is ready.

Anathema has never been able to sneak up on the old man.

The man himself has given him the task, and Anathema has spent many weeks that could've been used for more rewarding purposes to learn the art of the shadows, moving silently throughout the dwelling, finding the unseen places and watching the others from there. He moves without sound, now, like the Deaths themselves, his feet sliding across the cold stone of the old man's chamber.

He is a dagger's strike from the man when he stirs, his eyes immediately finding Anathema's and locking him in place with something more powerful than magic - a teacher's disappointment. Anathema backs away, feeling frustration rise up within him. The old man stands up and studies him for a moment in silence.

'Perhaps,' he says, his voice like writing on an ancient paper, 'it is time I revealed my little deception to you. I must admit I am disappointed... I overestimated your intelligence, I think. It was unrealistic to except progress this quickly from one so young as you. And perhaps you lack the right mindset.'

He waits for a moment, watching for a reaction. It is always these games with the old man, always the secret tests. Anathema keeps his gaze down, his face passive.

'You never had any chance of reaching me, boy. You cannot see it, but my magic keeps me safe, warns me of your approach. It is called the amondiri, the Ward spell. Watch.'

With a small gesture, the old man brings a pattern of magic into existed. His crafting has always been faster than anything Anathema has seen. He feels power radiate from the man, settling into a sphere around him taking up most of the room. He can catch glimpses of its intention, a simple protective measure to wake him if something comes inside the ring. Anathema cannot help but to feel cheated, betrayed. The old man continues.

'Let that be the lesson for today. Magic is always an order higher than anything of the natural world. Trust in it, first and foremost, and you will never fail again...'

The memory fades away, leaving Anathema in the darkness. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts - he learned how true that lesson was in time, when the old man was naught but ash along with the rest of the dwelling.

He focuses himself, and casts the spell. [8] The circle comes into existence immediately. Anathema fixes it in place around his place of sleep, and lets himself drift off...

---

He wakes, still in the night, to an unearthly light.

Shaking off the vestiges of sleep, Anathema casts a careful look outside - the wards did not go off. The night is dark, but pale, blue glow is coming down the street, painting the broken fountain and the twisting tree with faint light. Straining his senses, Anathema can hear distant sounds. It takes him a moment to realize it is singing. The sounds are distant, beautiful - and inhuman.

Spoiler: Anathema, Chosen of Chaos (click to show/hide)

Tier III
HP: 50/50
Combat: 3 dice
Action: 3 dice
Magic: 3 dice
Skills and Traits: None
Equipment:
   *Obsidian Flute
   *Ancient Gauntlet
   *Stormfinder Amulet
Known Spells:
   *Unknown [Difficulty: 5]
   *Pain [Avaritia/Difficulty: 6]
   *Wards [Superbia & Invidia/Difficulty: 6]
   *Unknown [Difficulty: 7]
   *Unknown [Difficulty: 10]

[IamanElfCollaborator]

Wendell quickly looked at the soldiers. No bows or crossbows, although that mage might hit him hard from behind. They'd prepared for a melee, not a long chase.

Then again, they were in HIS territory. The forest. The land he knew and grew up in. He could try and evade them, or be captured and presumably enslaved or killed.

He chose the latter. Running through the forest, Wendell attempted to make sure that the mage didn't get another binding force on him, lest he be captured.
Run into the forest, using my superior knowledge of the area and thin frame to dodge and run away from my pursuers.

[Shootandrun]

Rankar listened carefully to Caellach, and about halfway through his friend's explanation, he actually stopped walking to listen with even more attention. This was… Disturbing. He remembered he had wished to run away on that faithful night, and in fact that he had very nearly left the Old Man alone. But he hadn't, and that had made the difference. Still, as the human spoke, the feeling that had fallen upon him besides the stones seemed to rise again, like something which was present should not have been there. This time, it took even longer to shake it off.

He took his time to answer. Caellach would only have told him about that dream if he'd thought it was important, and it did sound strange. He  was not exactly sure what he could do, if not appease his friend's mind and hope for the best. He had best not share his worries - adding them to the human's own would do him no good.

"It is quite strange, old friend. I think it may be related to those damn stones. They had a direct effect on me, while I was touching them - perhaps they had an indirect one on you? Ah, I do not know. Still, I don't think it's worth worrying about too much, now that we've left them behind. If the dreams come back, do tell me."

He shrugged, to put an emphasis on his word, and he decided to go on walking. For now, that was all he could do.

Follow the Path towards the south

[Xantalos]

Much of Order's concentration was focused entirely on breaking the cursed bonds that chained it. Nevertheless, it still heard things from the world outside. Whispers. Murmurs. Prayers. And rising above them all ... his Chosen. And what was that? One of them...
RAMUS THIRDFALL.
He was speaking with something more than mortal, though less than divine.
Order listened in.

Though I find it interesting you speak of the Great Ones...the Old powers, strong as they may have been, are locked away forever. I am not beholden to them any longer. Once Dragons served the Powers like any others, but now they are trapped, and we rule in their...absence.

So. A Dragon. It seemed that they still endured, and still thought themselves above all.
It extended itself, going deep into the Kingfisher's mind, and spoke.
| So, Dragon. Think ye the Old Powers were gone forever? You are wrong | Know me as your forbearers once did - I am The Great Silence, the Stone in the River, the Freezing of the Sky! | I am Order, and I am rising | The human that stands before you is my Chosen, a herald of my coming | Heed him well, or when the Rising comes, retribution will be dealt upon you | Creatures of Chaos assault the village that you claim is yours, creature of Order | Halt them here or they shall overwhelm even you, eventually, and you will know my wrath for letting my Chosen perish | Now go | Heed my will made manifest before you in the body of this mortal and slay the invading creatures | Then heed my call and go to Ongam, for I am Rising |

[Dwarmin]

Ramus Thirdfallen feels he might have made a mistake...

The River Dragon rises to her full height.

"Forgive you? Do I look like a being that forgives insults? There is a price to pay for insulting a Goddess!

I think you'll be a nice mouthful, no more...hold still now, little darling...."

The Kingfisher opens her prodigious mouth, tongue poised to snap out...

Then she pauses, cocking her ear as if hearing a voice.

[3]

...

Ramus notes the Dragoness, while not attacking him at this moment, is seemingly having some sort of internal conversation. And otherwise, not attacking him.

--
Rankar heads south, eventually making camp on a sheltered slope.

Caellach begins setting up his small tent-something of a frippery, but one you allow. It's thick leather keeps his bones as warm as your fur coat does during cold nights.

Silently, you each go about the motions-one collecting dry wood, the other to set a flame. One begins to set potatoes to coals, another two covies on a stick spit. A steady pace practiced over the years.

Now, at least, you both have time to relax...the stars will be coming out soon.

OOC: @Shoot/ And at this point, DH has requested I keep you in holding pattern until the chapter change. We can continue to RP and do actions in the area, but time skip will have to wait.

[adwarf]

Ramus stayed, clearly something was happening, perhaps she was changing her mind or perhaps her brain was growing addled with age yet whatever it was he could wait. She wasn't attacking yet, if she made another move he could run but for now he would stay and see, hopefully she wouldn't chase him beyond the shrine if she felt the need to eat him.

[monk12]

Anathema licks his lips uncertainly, hearing the approaching music. Something shifts in the corner of his mind -in places beyond the reach of Man- generating a vague sense of unease. It seems the animals had reason to avoid these ruins after all. And since Anathema had not seen any sign of habitation, it seems quite likely that these people dwell in the district guarded by the metal spike. If they were, in fact, people, and not wandering spirits.

Anathema giggles softly to himself. He has theories formed of gossamer and moonbeams, theories that explain little but suggest much. He needs more information. Perhaps their appearance will spark some new memory. Perhaps he will deduce their nature by their actions. In either case, careful observation is called for.

Slipping the amulet over his head, and pulling the half-gauntlet onto his fist, Anathema strains for every half-remembered scrap of secrecy he can muster, hiding someplace he can observe the passersby without being seen himself. He does not dispel his wards; he does not want to be caught off-guard by searchers who are less... extravagant, and if they have the ability to detect the wards, well, that's just another clue for Anathema.

[filiusenox]

Bryn sighed, hopping down from her perch after rudely shoving the harpy into her pouch. She lands on her feet, staggering a bit. She looks up at the huge demi-human, frowning, before giving the creature a smile, slipping a dagger from her pouch, showing it to the minotaur, and keeping it by her side, moving to lean against the tree.

"Hello. Hi. So, what did you want me down here for?" she asks, simply, tone impeccably polite as always, brushing some of her hair behind an ear, her eyes never leaving the creature. "And do you understand me? It seems you do, somewhat."

Failing that, she tries to find a way to communicate with the Rankar.

[Shootandrun]

At long last, they made camp again. It was past time. The first thing Rankar did, after the essentials (building a fire and getting the food cooking), was to get his notebook, quill and ink out of his bags to start writing immediately. He had many thoughts to collect.

Long day. I am still following the path of steel, though I am still not certain I know where it will lead me. We encountered a strange place in the mountains - a sort of clearing with four standing stones all around. They did something - I do not know what, but I am certain they did. Magic. Caellach was perturbed by his dreams shortly after, and I myself have a feeling that something is… wrong, that won't go away.

I should not get involved with magic.

We need to keep on going. I feel our pace is too slow. We need a horse for Caellach, maps, and maybe even a mount for me - though I doubt we'd find something as exotic as that in anything but the large cities. Still, a visit to a town wouldn't hurt.

He paused in his writing. In fact, it wouldn't hurt at all.

"Say, Caellach. How would you like to visit a town? We haven't see one in months, and I think we need some more supplies. Know of any nearby?

[Dwarmin]

Solbryn attempts some desperate diplomacy.

The Kasar shrugs and shakes his head, mumbling something that sounds like rocks falling down a tin chute.

He repeats one word several times, slowly.

"Broonhi...Burhurni...Bhruni?"

You don't recognize it, and shake your own head in confusion...

He begins to walk back in the direction of his camp then, motioning for you to follow him.

---

Rankar speaks, breaking the silence.

Caellach taps his chin, casting his memory back. Though he once had a map, it's now gone-likely still resting in the belly of the mottled drake whom ate your friends old backpack.

"...well, we're not close to any large cities, I can remember. By and large, no one lives on the Worlds Hearth Mountain by choice, because of all the magic....those that do, tend to be religious-wizardly type-or insane. Or some combination thereof.

Now, if I remember my schooling...that's the peak of Freyga over there-the place the Kasar originally resided. If you believe the only stories."

He points to a red capped mountain in the distance.

"The big one we're on the side of is, the Hearthpeak.

Somewhere Southwest we'd see the Peak of Gbralta, where the Humes originated."

He traces a line in his mind. Then he points a way south.

"...and right on the intersection of the three, there's supposed to be a Monastery that serves Order. Opposite side, one serves chaos. Hope I didn't mix those up!

Anyway, they're supposed to help travellers, and sell supplies to Pilgrims making the journey to the summit ...if we can find it, it's still there, and it's not occupied by something wrong hearted...well, we could get some help."

He falls silent, then, allowing you to offer your opinon.

---

Ramus freezes in place.

[1]

The Dragoness snorts. Then laughs boomingly.

"Your Patron is very convincing.

Perhaps Order will rise once more, indeed. Perhaps you are the chosen one, to lead us to victory against chaos.

So, instead of eating your flesh and crunching your bones, I will set the test. There is an ancient place of judgement I will send you to-a great maze, a place of trial and tribulation. The center of my own mind. It is here you must escape from.

If you fail, there will be nothing left of you-I will eat your mind, then your body. Time will seem to pass very quickly, there. You must be swift, or your consciousness will age and die in a seasons time. If you succeed and escape, you will be stronger than you ever could have imagined. Perhaps you will even find great knowledge and power.

Do not worry-the Great One has convinced me to help the village, and I shall keep your friends safe.

But as for you...well, good luck. Remember, your memories are your only weapons and armor in the realm of the mental..."

Ramus begins to feel drowsy at once-as if he's falling behind the eyes of the Kingfisher.

((OOC: Aside from killing you outright, Adwarf, this is the best I could do on a one. Expect the meat in your next chapter.))