Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[Digital Hellhound]

Tulwor approached the Heralds with a spring in his step. What was there to dampen his mood? The sea flashed past bright and blue and the air clear, carrying with it faint, exotic scents that set his mind alight. There would be so much to see, so much to do at this Isle of Plenty - and away from the sight of the elder gods, to boot. It wasn't as if he wouldn't miss Mother, or some others, but out here, he could do as he wished - perhaps build something of his own.

'Heralds!' he boomed, in a voice that sounded like it was created by two mighty bellows of a forge somewhere inside his lungs. 'When we arrive, tell these mortals they may call upon me to battle any danger or beastie they find. They'll need fear nothing while Helmhammer and I are here!'

Fear - what a strange concept, anyway. It was a burden for mortals and the weak, though perhaps he could try to teach the proper way of life to them while here. Though maybe that would take too much of an effort.

Satisfied that they'd heard him, Tulwor marched straight for the burned Herald. He and the barbarian woman were the most intriguing of the bunch.

'Well met, Herald! A blacksmith, eh? Always good to meet a fellow maker,' Tulwor said, patting the Helmhammer at his side, which in no way resembled any craftsman's tool. 'What's your story, friend? Did you meet your end in some mighty battle, with marks like these?'

[micelus]

Ketemos looked annoyed at Tulwor's bellowing voice, but quickly replaced it with a slight smile.

"That would get confusing rather fast with four Heralds to refer to...Canvas wil do. And there are ambitions greater than a Pirate Queen...many more now that you've died. I'd think about that while you have the time to do so."

Nodding to the pirate, Ketemos turned his attention towards the gods.

"Careful brother, best not to joke about a dragon's wealth. Never results in a peaceful conclusion."

[escaped lurker]

"Oh? You disagree with collecting things you like now?" He was obviously trying to keep himself from laughing at his own jibe.

Rewarding the amusement of the half-god with a very fake, if not somewhat pained smile, Auratus answered without much delay.

" There is a difference between rightfull ownership and forcefull aquisition. Not that I have any doubt that this difference is very much lost on you. "

Offering a slight frown towards the sudden outburst of Ketermos, he then shifted his head towards Ketermos, even motioning something that could be interpreted as approving nod.

" A difference that - your brother, is it? - seems like he could know more about than you. "

[GiglameshDespair]

Ketari herself had been oddly quiet. She'd been lost in thought - mainly of the Harpies, and their goddess she'd consume. She wanted to take to the hated-forms and fly about the boat, but the suppression of her shapeshifting made her uncomfortable. She'd always been wild, shifting from feather to skin with ease whenever the mood took her.

She noticed the other gods and the heralds were talking. She looked at each of the other gods. Tulwor? He was blood of flesh, wasn't he? She knew him little, but maybe that could change. It is good to know your kin.

The scholars could be interesting. No doubt they had many secrets: but she had no much interest in forcing them out. Perhaps she'd send birds to listen and whisper back, for she always wanted more secrets.

Auratus. Dragons. Ketari was unsure if she like dragons: they were a mixture between lizards and birds, and her feelings were conflicted as a result. She watched it with emerald bright eyes. Ahh, it was shiny! It was arrogant, though, and thought itself better than the Eater of Birds. Something half a bird, better? Ha! She might have to consume it out of principle, or rend it down at the least. Maybe, maybe.

The goddess-aggregate spoke. Her voice was smooth and high, reminding one of birdsong, though the bird could not be known.
The strong eat the weak, yes? Such is, such is. Pirate would know, would she not? and here her elegant head turned to look at the pirate woman.

[IronyOwl]

" A difference that - your brother, is it? - seems like he could know more about than you. "

Pyrite's eyes lit up with amusement, and he leaned towards his brother as though to say something. His mouth opened, but then he paused, sighed, and closed it, leaning back to a sitting position.

"Yes, well, he does seem to be the serious one," he said, clearly no longer having fun.

[Weirdsound]

"I don't suppose anybody told you about the lovely political weather us mortals are enjoying on the Island?"

"No one did, in fact," Pyrite responded, frowning. "Other than to mention that we may be needed at all. I take it the natives are not, ah, taking the intrusion well? Or has the infighting begun already?" he asked, looking downright sober and serious.

He cocked an eye at Mortus, though.

"'Bring his spirits down?' Seems pleased enough to be here, I'd think he'd enjoy relating the tale of how.

Boy! As I understand it," he continued, motioning to his own neck, "those aren't given out lightly. You must have quite a story to tell, eh?" he finished, grinning.

" Not that it would surprise me, though... "

Pyrite raised an eyebrow and gave a bemused smile.

"Oh? You disagree with collecting things you like now?" He was obviously trying to keep himself from laughing at his own jibe.

"Both of course." Hialarth answers. "But as I am one of the infighters, I am more qualified to speak of those concerns. There are three parties, who use mercenary goons and house guards to fight on the streets of Kiatown, and courtly intrigue to battle it out in the ballrooms, bedrooms, and dining rooms. The Nexus are loyal to the most powerful crowned heads of the Bellian mainland, and wish to strip the wealth of the island to further empower the most mighty cities back home, The Populi are a bunch of idealist philosophers and uppity merchants trying to establish one of those unstable 'republic' things you always hear the priests of Abbey going on about."

The Noblewoman adjusts her broach. "My lot is thrown in with the Mercede party, which seeks to give power to the old families who fought alongside the gods in the first war, but presently own no crowns and wield little influence on the mainland. 'We deserve it because of something no living Bellian remembers' isn't the best basis for a cause, but my children stand to gain, and I already gave my life and took several others for it, so aside from my new duties as Herald, advancing Mercedian interests is what I am most committed too."

---

The boy offers a shy smile. "It was impressive, yes, but it happened too quick to make a good story. Myself and two other guards were escorting a master alchemist and three of his pupils through the jungle to collect ingredients. We were set upon by 15 or so Parrot Harpies. My brother-at-arms, Willis son of Jance, spotted the ambush waiting camouflaged in the trees, and we were able to shoot down two before they even had a chance to react and spring their trap."

The smile expands, as the youth is sucked into his tale. "We were still all dead though. We were outnumbered, and the foe outclassed us as well. I was the oldest and most experienced combatant in the group, and I am hardly, if at all, yet a man. Each harpy was at least as big as me, and likely the veteran of many such ambushes. I knew it was over for me, and that I couldn't even reasonably expect to save those under my protection, so I came to the conclusion that I had nothing to loose by making a last stand. As they closed in, I called for the master alchemist to toss me his vial of Last Drop..."

Last Drop was a potion you had only heard of, but your father claims to have witnessed a cornered prey item use. Supposedly it is the ultimate last resort of a talented potionsmith, capable of allowing the drinker to ignore pain, bone damage, muscle damage, nerve damage, and organ failure for at least a dozen minutes, so long as he has but a drop of blood in him. The magic is supposedly so strong and dangerous, however, that even if the drinker survives the last stand he drank the potion for, he will have shaved decades off his lifespan and will have likely lost the use of his limbs.

"I was barely able to get the cork off, and down the potion before they set upon me. It worked as good as the legends say. I was disemboweled by the first talloned kick, but didn't feel a thing. I actually killed one with my sword... but by then they had slain the other two guards, and all of the remaining bitch-birds ganged up on me..." His voice falters slightly, "I... can't speak much to what happened next, because they took my eyes out shortly after that. In my blind flailing I think I might have made solid contact with flesh other than my own at least two or three times, and in the end there was a brief period of intense pain. My blood must have lasted until the duration of the potion ended. Mortus told me that he collected no souls sharing a name with my charges, or that claimed to know Alchemy, from the Island."

The boy tightens his hand around the Ruby Necklace, and brings it to eye level. "Halfway to the Ice Realm, this appeared in my essence, so I guess whatever I did in my blindness was impressive..."

'Well met, Herald! A blacksmith, eh? Always good to meet a fellow maker,' Tulwor said, patting the Helmhammer at his side, which in no way resembled any craftsman's tool. 'What's your story, friend? Did you meet your end in some mighty battle, with marks like these?'

The large man gives the giant a pained look. "No. I'm afraid these marks, my end, and my return in this miserable state are all punishment for a grave sin. I betrayed your kin, my gods, and so I was burned and killed by my own craft, and denied even the icy care of Glaciana after that."

The strong eat the weak, yes? Such is, such is. Pirate would know, would she not? and here her elegant head turned to look at the pirate woman.

"Indeed." The pirate answers. "Fast boat eats the slow with cannons, captured treasure feeds the crew, and captured crew, should they misbehave, feed the sharks. It is said at sea that were it not for our love of Ravens and Parrots, wise Ketari would be a great patron of pirates."

[Digital Hellhound]

Tulwor 'hmm'd at that. A moment later, he grinned. 'Ah, but that's all in the past now, Herald. You'll find this life a fair bit better than any care in Glaciana's cold halls, my friend! But, tell me,' he said, a little too intently, 'Of the gods, who did you betray? Come now, no point in hiding your crime when you've been punished already.'

He eyed the others on the deck, overhearing a little of the boy's tale. That one seemed worth talking to, as well.

[IronyOwl]

"Both of course." Hialarth answers.

"Uuuuuugh..." Pyrite groaned, ruffling his short hair and making an inhumanly wide grimace. This was already becoming complicated and unpleasant.

"Suppose I shouldn't have expected better, but... hmm..." His eyes focused elsewhere for a moment as he thought.

"How much do you know about each of them?" he finally asked, refocusing on Hialarth. "Is one or the other 'winning', as such? Do their methods vary appreciably? Different strongholds, advantages, anything you can tell me about the... landscape, as it were?"

The boy tightens his hand around the Ruby Necklace, and brings it to eye level. "Halfway to the Ice Realm, this appeared in my essence, so I guess whatever I did in my blindness was impressive..."

"So it would seem. We'll have to see if we can get you into some battles that don't cost you your eyes," he said, followed by a laugh.

"I do wonder, though," he continued, becoming more serious. "How much do you know about the island's dangers? Or, I suppose more specifically, its inhabitants?"

The strong eat the weak, yes? Such is, such is. Pirate would know, would she not? and here her elegant head turned to look at the pirate woman.

"Indeed." The pirate answers. "Fast boat eats the slow with cannons, captured treasure feeds the crew, and captured crew, should they misbehave, feed the sharks. It is said at sea that were it not for our love of Ravens and Parrots, wise Ketari would be a great patron of pirates."

"I liked you when you were singing," he called over to the pirate with a grin, "Now I like you more."

[GiglameshDespair]

Ketari almost preened at the complement. "Yes, without parrots, pirates would have my blessings, but parrots are wretched things, and they have many. Cast away birds but for tribute, and every sea-wolf would have my favour.

Boy! Speak to me of these parrot-harpies. I hear they worship a divine of their own? Ah, to eat a bird goddess!" She shuddered with delight at the thought. No doubt she'd learn more about this scrap between humans. She'd learn the secrets, and gloriously, wonderfully, devour the harpies one by one with humans bought by worship and secrets.

[IronyOwl]

"Boy! Speak to me of these parrot-harpies. I hear they worship a divine of their own? Ah, to eat a bird goddess!" She shuddered with delight at the thought. No doubt she'd learn more about this scrap between humans. She'd learn the secrets, and gloriously, wonderfully, devour the harpies one by one with humans bought by worship and secrets.

Pyrite's eyes widened in mild surprise.

"They do? And my, aren't we ambitious?" he asked, somewhat impressed.

[GiglameshDespair]

"I am the Eater of Birds!" She declared grandly and smiled, one arm thrown out in a sweeping gesture. "What could be a greater feast? I'll devour them! Consume them!" She laughed with the joy of the thoughts.

She subsided, but remained excited. Ah, this would be wonderful - the islands would be her playground!

[escaped lurker]

"Both of course." Hialarth answers.

"Uuuuuugh..." Pyrite groaned, ruffling his short hair and making an inhumanly wide grimace. This was already becoming complicated and unpleasant.

"Suppose I shouldn't have expected better, but... hmm..." His eyes focused elsewhere for a moment as he thought.

"How much do you know about each of them?" he finally asked, refocusing on Hialarth. "Is one or the other 'winning', as such? Do their methods vary appreciably? Different strongholds, advantages, anything you can tell me about the... landscape, as it were?"

" A good point, which I also would like to know. These three factions will undoubtedly try to include us in their petty affairs, and should any of us show to favour one of them, he stands to loose influence among the other two. "

As if to emphasize his own point, Auratus nodded thoughtfully a few times, focusing his eyes unto the noblewoman afterwards. He also was somewhat sure which factions were more or less to his liking, but withheld that train of thought for now.

" On a similiar note, we have heard the boy talk about the harpys, but what other inhabitants are there, and how much trouble are they? Then again, if you find the time to feud with each other, the threat of the natives can't be all that bad, no? "

[Weirdsound]

Tulwor 'hmm'd at that. A moment later, he grinned. 'Ah, but that's all in the past now, Herald. You'll find this life a fair bit better than any care in Glaciana's cold halls, my friend! But, tell me,' he said, a little too intently, 'Of the gods, who did you betray? Come now, no point in hiding your crime when you've been punished already.'

"I wronged the Pantheon in general." The burned man says sadly. "There are two towns. Kiatown dreams of being a proper Bellian city state. It is a lawless hell while they fight over control and wait for the absent Rexxis to tell them who gets the crown. That place will burn when the the two Heralds heading that way tell them he ain't coming."

Placing a finger on his forehead, the big man cracks a smile. "The other town, my town, is Selma's Gate, which is a proper pirate town governed by a proper pirate code. There is one rule; The pirate lord with the most ships in town makes the rules. One pirate lord, who finds himself in charge by this rule quite often, goes by the name of Bar-Saad. Saad the mad they call him, but as rulers go he is fairly reasonable. His only real flaw is a zealous devotion to Tremor, the Barbarian earth god who makes war on your kin, and ravages Bellian lands with his groundthunder. Bar-Saad has an almost compulsive urge to erect all sorts of idols to his god, and one day he came to me for help with such an erection."

The burned one pulls his hammer from his apron and places it on his lap. "I am Ux Regi. My family, although currently of no great fame or power, descends directly from the god Clammor. I do not make empty boasts when I say that I am great with metal, and that when it comes to gold in particular, I have yet to meet an equal... Bar-Saad knew this, and shared with me his grand scheme; A great gold statue of Tremor, 30 feet tall and placed at the end of the pier at Selma's Gate. I knew it would be betrayal to honor a barbarian god in such a public fashion, so I tried to get out of the project."

The man falls silent for a few seconds, and sighs before continuing. "First I told him the cost would be too great, and he answered that he had riches enough to provide materials and compensate me like I have never been paid before. Next I told him that the pier might not be able take the weight of all that metal, but Bar-Saad countered that he was sure his god would look after the idol. Then I told him that my faith forbid me to do it, but he said that because he was Pirate Lord in Charge, the will of his god outweighed the desires of my pantheon. At this point, I thought I was willing to submit to whatever punishment he could think of, up to and including death, rather than build the idol. I was wrong."

Burring his arm in his large hand, Ux struggles to speak clearly. "The punishment he proposed for my non-compliance would be the offering of my wife and children to his god in the traditional fashion of Tremor the Worshiper: By war hammer, one crushed bone at a time. At this point, the only recourse for a man of honor such as myself would be to kill Bar-Saad, but this was not an option I could stomach either. The man with the next most ships, who would be placed in charge in case of Bar-Saad's death, was the Dread Pirate Scion, an ancient man nostalgic for the cruel times before the reforms of Queen Selma. By killing Bar-Saad, I might have restored my own honor, but I would have inflicted a grave injustice on Selma's Gate... So I gave in, and agreed to do as he wished. I betrayed you all. There was no way out without wronging somebody, but I choose the greater evil of capitulation."

Tears run down the burned man's face as he finishes the story. "My retribution came swift. The message I am supposed to deliver as your Herald is that Rexxis as putting the Island under the care of you five, and will be leaving us alone from now on. I'm not sure I believe it. Who but the god of precious metals could engineer a death as perfectly punishing as mine? I was working inside a great mold of Tremor's leg, when my most trusted and careful apprentice, thinking that work on the mold was done, and not thinking to check inside first, gave the order for the liquid gold to be poured... I think I will stop my story there, my death was quick, but nowhere near quick enough. And now I am to be sent back as a deformed freak. I might be admired as a herald, and gawked at as an oddity for some time, but that will end quickly, and I will either be hated or forgotten for the rest of my life. The people will know I'm being punished, and will carry out my punishment until I die again."

"Both of course." Hialarth answers.

"Uuuuuugh..." Pyrite groaned, ruffling his short hair and making an inhumanly wide grimace. This was already becoming complicated and unpleasant.

"Suppose I shouldn't have expected better, but... hmm..." His eyes focused elsewhere for a moment as he thought.

"How much do you know about each of them?" he finally asked, refocusing on Hialarth. "Is one or the other 'winning', as such? Do their methods vary appreciably? Different strongholds, advantages, anything you can tell me about the... landscape, as it were?"

The Noblewoman thinks of your question carefully, before answering. "Assuming it is early Kia, when the gods traditionally send heralds, I will have been dead for four months. Any information I have may be now inaccurate. That said, I can give you the basics; As to who is winning, I would rather wait to answer that until Mercede has had some time to benefit from counting a herald among their ranks.

The Nexus have the most manpower and resources; They ship in men, arms, and nobles from supporters on the mainland. The judges and prisons are under their control, and they use the town guard and the headsman's axe to do much of their dirty work. They are hated by most locals though, and even people who try to avoid factional squabbling may try to sabotage them from time to time on principle. The princes they would like the gods to consider putting on the throne are all ancient and mainland born, and this is not popular.

The Populi are about the opposite of that. They hardly ever field goons, have no true official control over any major facet of life. What they do have is fanatic local support. Local merchants fund philosophers and poets to write about Abbey, your divine mother's early works and deed, and even several barbarian gods opposed to the concept of kingship. Local merchants also contract pirates and assassins to surgicaly strike the other groups where it hurts, leaving little implicating evidence behind.

My faction is the happy medium. Although not as wealthy or powerful as the families supporting the Nexus, plenty of mainland houses contribute what they can to the cause. We keep goons. Our control of the schools and the temple, although not as mighty as Nexus' control of the justice system, gives us influence. Although he can't keep up with the many Populi writers, my elder brother is a much loved poet in his own right, and his epics about the old injured families seeking their long overdue reward are true works of art. Most of the princes we nominate for the gods to consider as kings are children, but they are children born to the Island of Plenty, and know no other home, and consequently are considered far more qualified for the kingship than any mainlander.

To answer your question, Dragon Auratus, we let men defend ourselves from external threats, and boys like your fellow ruby-bearer end up doing the internal stuff."

Various questions about the harpies and other beasts...

Messel glances sheepishly from Pyrite to the Bird Eater sheepishly. "I'm afraid I don't know much about Parrot Harpies save that in great enough numbers they can kill me. Before the day of my death, I had only ever seen one, a sickly individual chained up in a tent that some merchant's son was charging 1 copper to look at, 2 to poke with a stick, and 3 to jab with a hot poker."

The boy scratches his head. "I can tell you about the Orcs though. They are large barbarians with large numbers and green-grey skin, and they control the dry side of the Island, keeping us Bellian's pinned in the jungle. We have been at stalemate with them for three years; Kiatown sits on one side of the small beach pass between mountain and ocean, and an Orc fort on the other. Neither side has the strength to punch through both the heavily entrenched pass, and the other side's walls. The Orcs have gods too. My dad, who is a soldier on the walls, tells me theirs is a 'pantheon of multiple Alvins.'"

The young herald then flashes a wide smile. "I guess I'm kinda grateful for them though. The Orc threat means that most full grown adults are on the walls or pass, so petty guard and goon work is given to us Bellings. When I left, I could make more money than my dad on a good week."

Fiddling with his ruby, the boy shrugs. "That is about all I know. Honestly, I've never been been more than ten or so miles from home in my life, unless I'm supposed to count the bits where I wasn't alive. I sometimes hear adults talking about beings in the mountains called Chimeras, but nobody can even agree on what they look like or what they do. The only thing consistent about Chimera rumors is that they are the reason that the Orcs do not cross the mountains and crush us from the north... There is also this tribe of little people who live on the west coast of the Island, and used to trade awesome crafts and weapons to us before the Orcs built their fort and cut their route off. I guess they fear crossing the mountains as well."

"I liked you when you were singing," he called over to the pirate with a grin, "Now I like you more."

Canvas flashes her mouth full of gold. "Well, I grew up in a world without organized kings or pantheons to protect me or anybody else. Strong is the only way to be... well, strong or dinner. And if you like the singing, remind me sometime when we are not in polite company. I know several good pirate songs about your father, and many more terrible ones!"

[Digital Hellhound]

A growl had begun in Tulwor's throat by the end of the man's tale. Features that had been jovial a moment ago were now dark and rigid. His fingers played on the haft of the Helmhammer, perhaps unconsciously.

'This Bar-Saad sounds to me a coward and a tyrant,' he said. 'Only a weakling would attack another through those who cannot defend themselves. Ah, your death sounds like Rexxis' doing indeed. Has he so much fear of being replaced that he cannot stand one dedication to the Earth Father?'

He planted a thick arm on Ux's shoulder. 'You have been unjustly punished, in my eyes, Herald,' he said. 'And for the wrong crime. You should have killed Bar-Saad or died in battle, and then this Scion - and any who would have come after him. You have shamed your family by not standing up for them. But perhaps I'll give you a chance to redeem yourself, for that...'

He trailed off and looked into the distance, as if thinking he could see the shores of the Isle already. A small smile crept up his face. He heard the boy's tales of the denizens of this land. Chimeras? The less they knew about these creatures, the better. He would have all the pleasure of travelling this land and battling these Orcs, Harpies and Chimeras to himself.

[micelus]

Sin? Barely. The man did what he had to do to survive. Fake worship of foreign gods means nothing if it means that he lived...shame he still died.

"I'd advise against Tulwor's suggestion, Ux. It may make Bellian operations on the Isle more...difficult. For all his faults, he seems to be a stable ruler...his heir is something else entirely, as you say. You did the right thing for all by not striking him down and despite your present appearance, you have been rewarded another chance at life."

Pausing a moment, he asked the smith a question.

"Tell me, would you know if your family is still in Selma's Gate? If they still are I will do as I can to relocate them, if you so wish."