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[Chevaleresse]

"The Master of War is correct. Animals fight in packs, blindly following the one who howls the loudest."

She turns her scarred glare from the broad man to the Wanderer. "Do you really believe the gods wish us to murder one another over such slights? I would expect one of my own to have enough sense to take slights in stride."

[NRDL]

Nix, diverting his attention for a brief moment, gazes at the lesser khan, in something resembling acknowledgement. 

[Romans]

"Let it go, as much as the sea has given to us we should give back every once in awhile so put it back in the water".

[Dwarmin]

A young woman, a Wanderer, approaches the Master of Tales. "Master. I have an idea, if I may be so bold. The stars are gone from us... or changed somehow. I cannot find my patron constellation, and our old calendar is useless. Perhaps... It is time to begin a new era in the Tales, a new calendar to track our exile." This drew no great clamor, only the eyes of the weary to the present Masters.

Tyra nodded, smiling kindly. Surely, it was at the very least an excuse to give her people a smattering of a history lesson.

"This idea has merit...after all, there have been many great Era's in our peoples history.

First came the Age of Cold and Dark, before we came to know of the Gods, and we were a disparate people. Our ancestors walked across the stars, our oldest tales say, fleeing great Beasts (If the tales are to be believed, the wolves and bears were twice as large and unafraid of men) and the terrible storms-The Gods yet unknown still took pity on us, those lost and wandering-and they built a bridge of ice and snow over a winedark sea, so we travel across it-and find our old Homeland.

After, came an Age of Bronze and Wheat-where the Old Gods came to know us, and we them. The Old Gods helped us learn to forge the metal, herd animals, and farm the lands. In that age the many clans that were, became two of the clans we know today-Wanderer and Battleborn. We know little of this age and the times proceeding, sadly-few records survive from those times...

The third age was known as the Age of Blessings and Bane-when a new clan, the Truthseekers, rose from the ashes of the great and terrible wars that wracked that age. Not only warring among ourselves, but against the people who would rise to become the Empire. The Truthseekers helped us find the Young Gods, and reckon the old truths with the new ones-we delved into the powers of magic, and divine inspiration-For good works and ill ends.. In this era, Clan Rings were also formed, and we learned the foundations of law and order that we keep to this day. The Truthseekers helped us put marks to parchment, and to make the rune~words-and, we began an period of enlightenment and learning that has never entirely faded.

This is the fourth age of the world, that we live in-the Age of Wind and Wrack. Those who called it only knew that we would face many challenges and changes, and that much we would come to know would be swept away forevermore. This Age is one of sadness, and one we are living even now."

She paused, momentarily, before raising and deepening her voice-a powerful announcement that should get everyone's attention. She knew how politics worked-make your appeal to the people first, and they will give you the credit when it succeeds. Not that it was entirely about that, but...she could not stand the idea of being supplanted in such an important decision...

"So, if this is to be the fifth age, what shall we call it? I will speak to the Clan Ring on the final decision, but I think it would just to call this Age of Death and Rebirth. So many have perished-so much lost. We are the ghosts...of a People who no longer truly exist. We owe it to those who are no longer with us to bring ourselves back from this brink-to rise from our apathy and listlessness, to work for a better future for our children and children's children. Only then may we honor both the dead...and, the living."

[Roboson]

CLAN (CAMPED)
^{|CLAN RING|}

Moreau Wildwalker focuses on contacting the disparate gods... but makes little progress. Their presence can be felt, but ever so slightly. If this is a test, the conditions remain unclear. Your meditation is broken when a godi is alarmed by a foreign presence.

A man, face thick with ash, dagger in hand, walks slowly towards the circle. "Stop!" a godi commands, "This is sacred ground, meant for seers alone!" This does nothing to sway the ashen faced man, who continues his lumbering approach...

Moreau stands and speaks to the man. So you've come at last. You've lost everything and now here you are to take from others. Tell me your name so that I may write of you as an example to others. Moreau pauses for a second to look at the man. Killing me won't bring back what you've lost. It won't let you build a new life either. What you hold in your hand is the way of the Empire. To use that dagger means to become the Empire. To bring shame to all you have lost, and all we have lost.  Tell me brother, why do I see an assasin when I should see an Invici? 

[Silcugar]

TRAINING GROUNDS
^{|NIX, LAYLETH|}

The Truthseeker shoves the men away as they let him free. "More Bloodborn prattle! I'll fight you, Master, if only to get the chance to knock some sense into that thick skull!" As he accepts the duel, the crowd parts to allow a wide arena for the fight. The clamor from before calms into occasional shouts supporting the Master or the Truthseeker.

At the edge of the duel, the other three men remain restrained. The Wanderer can hardly muster an explanation before his Lesser Khan. "I'm... I did not expect support from the other men, but I accept their punishment. Caught in the moment... I lost my mind. When the others pounced on that bastard I couldn't help but join in. The gods have left my side, Lesser Khan! I have no guidance, I lost control. They're right, I'm weak without Begnar at my side."

In the ring, the Master and Truthseeker initiate their duel. "I am Kirat Mett, Master! Remember that name!" He attacks much in the way you might expect: with fury, unrestrained passion, anger... all unsculpted, unrefined. You easily avoid his wild attacks. Thee times he attempts to lash out, but no blow connects. He's wide open for retribution.

ABANDONED QUAY
^|LEON|

"Aye, though I wouldn't think the Trout cares much for this beast," your Mune comments as she kicks the thing back into the sea. Unfortunately, the mound of tendrils latch onto the woman's leg. In a panic, several fishermen come to her aid, attempting to pry the thing off with whatever tools they have. The Mune keeps her composure, though her face grimaces in pain. "Ack... damn abomination! It's pierced my armour." She keeps completely still as more join in to remove the creature.

FIREPIT
^{|TYRA, ARA|}

The clanfolk listen intently on the lesson, though you know many keep these histories close in their hearts. There is something reassuring to the people; to hear the tales told again and again, as though they are reminded that the stories are not lies, that the people have a proud history.

When the proclamation is made, there is no great show of revelry or celebration, but an aria of awestruck wonder. The murmers grow in intensity as the people realize the implications.

"For the ancestors!"  "For the dead."  "For the survivors."

And finally, the woman who brought up the subject, exhales as though a great pressure leaves her mind. "For rebirth," she says as she returns to her place in the crowd.

The jubilant air around the firepit shatters with a shriek of terror.  "M-Masters!" all turn to a woman in the crowd. She holds a carving knife in her hand, and at her feet a wooden sculpture moves of its own volition! It appears to be a fertility idol, a common craft depicting a pregnant woman. Except this one takes a bow before the crowd. "It came to life in my hands! Some foul spirit, I am no part of this!" she pleads, afraid of possible accusations of Wispcraft.

"I am a spirit, but mean no foulment. Sent by Pentace Earth-Wife, I mean to greet!" The animated craft hops about whimsically. "She is one of four gods in this land, and the one who sees in you no great threat. But not to mean insult! The other three, Wandi Wind-War, Bladis Flame-Father, and Chalss Sea-Seen are far more cautious. As I speak, each of the other gods puts your people through trials-unnecessary." It shakes its head. "While Pentace can ensure you will not be destroyed by them, it is in your hands and hearts to face these challenges while she calms the others. Good luck, goodbye!" The thing falls to the ground, the spirit departed.

SACRED GROUNDS
^|MOREAU|

"My name is burned away with my dead kin..." the lumbering man intones, his voice steeped with grief. "A new life is not what I seek, this life is over for me, and soon yours too, but not by my hands." The ashes on his face smear with flowing tears as he extends his left arm. The godi watch in horror as the man carves strange runes deep into his arm. Blood flows freely as spring water as the man's voice fades. "You see nothing mortal, no Empire, assassin, nor Invici. I am here for my new god, Bladis Flame-Father. He reigns here, and he demands you leave this land or suffer an ashen winter!" The color fades from the man's skin as blood pours onto the sacred ground, forming foreign runes and scripture. You immediately feel the effect... your hollowed grounds have been dispelled and desecrated by foreign magic!

[AbstractTraitorHero]

....how intriguing...Wandi wind-war God of war and wind I assume...Bladis flame-father God of fire and perhaps fatherhood... Chalass sea-seen...some kind of God of the sea and the earth mother sounds...intresting she mentioned the other God's would be throwing trials at us...

[Romans]

"Agggh sorry lass I forget that everything is trying to kill us here, next time we shoot it. Especially if it can pierce your leather, so just kill it".

[Dwarmin]

"Do not be afraid, my kinsmen. The Clan-Ring will find the truth of this strange spirit's tale-telling, for it is known that spirits can be fey-hearted and whimsical. It may have been trying to fool or play with us, though I do not doubt there was a reason for it's visit. It is no divine revelation, however, that we are already being sorely tested." She says, aiming for calm.
...

After, she turned to the poor girl who had been chosen as an unfortunate target of the spirits antics.

"As for you, I will need you to come with me for a moment-I must hear your story, if no more than how and where you made that ornament, and for what purpose exactly. It may be a key to understanding things of a spiritual matter-perhaps a certain material, ritual, or signature of your craft drew either the spirits, or even a Gods attention. You are in no trouble, do not worry-but, we must understand why the spirit chose you...or, at least the token you bore. Will you do this thing, for the Clan Ring?"

...

Though she didn't know if it was no more than a lifeless token now, she still picked up the idol and placed it in a covered basket before anyone else might happen to pick it up-for all those who followed the Brave One had to be courageous at heart. No doubt the Godsmen would want to have a closer look at it...she might have a look at it herself, not being entirely unlearned in Gods lore.

[NRDL]

Nix, seeing through his opponents movements, began to time him, looking for any opportunity to strike.  As Kirat Mett overextended himself with another swing, Nix kicked him squarely in the gut, with as much force as he could muster.

[Chevaleresse]

"The gods have not abandoned us. I have spoken with the Master of Mystics about a vision he had. The gods are quiet, yes. because we are far from our homes, and far from them. They shout from across the ocean; is it any wonder that we may have difficulty hearing them?

Begnar has lent you strength in the past; I am certain that if you search within yourself you will find it was still there. Accept your punishment without complaint, let that serve as a demonstration of your faith through this hard time, and I am certain the gods will find the power to cross the waters to be with their children again." She turns to the other two Truthseekers. "You two would be wise to do this as well. Further strife will do naught but bring us to ruin."

Layleth turned to watch the rest of the fight between the Master of War and the errant Truthseeker. She still had business with the former.

[Roboson]

Moreau looks upon the emissary of the foreign god. Tell me strange messenger, tell me of this local god. We are guests in his land and mean no offense nor burden. I have been searching for the gods of this land, and am glad to have heard from one. We will leave. This is certain. If it pleases you, tell me of your god. And if you so desire our speedy departure, please, enlighten me as to which direction we should head.

[sackhead]

Kron rushes back to camp, seeing the duel he asks his aides to round up and question witness before shouting out
"Master of war! restrain him if you can, we should sought this out civilly if we can, before determining if blood is owed"

[Silcugar]

TRAINING GROUNDS
^{|NIX, LAYLETH, KRON|}

As Kron rushes in with his Oxeni, Nix lands a square blow to his opponents gut, knocking the wind from him. He crumples in a heap, all that fury and determination cut with one brutal blow. And yet, he is not beaten.

The man rises up slowly, and when he shows his face, you find an awful transformation. On his forehead, another mouth gapes wide, drawing in tremendous volumes of air! He raises his fists once more, a completely transformed man. With his lower mouth, he calls out to Nix, "Is there honour among godless men? No... But I have a new god now, and you'll find his fury most palpable!" He flies forward at extreme speeds, landing one blow to your jaw. He throws two more furious punches, but you dodge the attacks.

All the while, the Wanderer listens intently on Layleths wise words. The Wispcraft that afflicts the Truthseeker begins to form on the man's face, but he is able to resist it!

Several of the warriors attempt to intervene at this point, seeing as how Wispcraft is illegal in matters of honour, but find a wall of sharp wind keeps them away from the fight.

ABANDONED QUAY
^|LEON|

"My pleasure," she says through gritted teeth. When she stabs the creature with her dagger, however, it evokes a guttural gasp of pain from the Mune. "By Morgane's burns!" she spits out, "The thing is biting into my bones!" She loses all composure, collapsing to the ground in pain, knocking several fishermen away in the struggle. The other Munes seem aghast, looking to Leon for direction.

"Shall I seek a magician?" one pipes up.

"I'll grab a torch and see how the thing likes fire, works on horse ticks!" another suggests.

FIREPIT
^{|TYRA, ARA|}

The craftswoman, while more aged than most, acts as a scared child when explaining to Tyra the nature of the idol. "Of course, I'll say what I can. I-it, the idol... I am a craftswoman, but only since the landing at this cursed place. I was a hunter, but I can no longer keep pace with the others, so I decided to begin crafting goods. Your tales, about our past... it soothes my aching heart, so I whittled the doll while you spoke. It was crude, and only half-way complete when the spirit possessed it. I just wanted to prove I was willing to carry on, even as a crafter. For our future, for my children and grandchildren."

Upon inspecting the idol, Tyra finds it anything but crude. The spirit fashioned it into something of a masterwork, an finely crafted fertility idol; a woman large with child, grinning and accented with finer detailing than the clanwoman's knife, or skill, would allow. You most definitely sense a spiritual power emanating from the doll, and a positive one at that. Anything further regarding the nature of this power would need the eyes of a godi.

SACRED GROUNDS
^|MOREAU|

The man clearly grows delirious with blood loss, he won't be alive long. "You need know nothing except to leave this land! You are a potential blight upon my people, and you will return from whence you came. Summon your sea-crafts and leave this dead-dock. You are unwelcome here!" His words attempt to rouse fear, but the body of the possessed is too weak to affect any sort of tremendous outrage. Still you can intuit the nature of this tirade. His words are direct, but there is an underlying layer. A more spiritual meaning. This god, you surmise, is one of sharp intellect. Outrage must be met with outrage; he is testing your resolve.

[NRDL]

Nix, immediately after avoiding the blows, strikes at his transformed opponent's jaw, the weakest part of a man's face.