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[5E] The Age of Worms - Solid Snake's Campaign
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<blockquote data-quote="Alexander Bryant" data-source="post: 7218070" data-attributes="member: 6884000"><p><strong>Journal of Etona - Entry Eight</strong></p><p></p><p>Verdre and I traded stories as well as arrows – straightening shafts, smoothing feathers, sharpening points as we sat on the edge of my assigned box, a human bed. Her hand froze and she looked up suddenly, cocked an ear toward the door, eyes narrowed.</p><p></p><p>A second later came a scream from down the hall towards the kitchen. Its owner – the keep's cook – ran past our door but Verdre was already leaping into the corridor, a hand on the haft of her sheathed scimitar. The weapon had been a gift from a male admirer on the occasion of her first trip to the Fey some thirty years ago. Few of my memories do not feature it somewhere in the picture.</p><p></p><p>"<em>Res t'isi</em>!" she whispered sharply. I couldn't help but smile at her words "stay here" and took a moment to grab Angivre as well as arrows scattered around the floor which I slid into my hip quiver. Verdre, <em>me’ara amo</em> – my beloved aunt, had directed me toward danger all my life, virtually the only one to do so given my frailty and size when I was young. She would tell me aloud to <strong>Stay away, stay safe! Do not follow me into certain danger!</strong> while beckoning me silently on.</p><p></p><p>I heard her summon the silver column, Our Lady's Moonbeam. It is an amazing sound, a low rush like a sudden waterfall but with a heavy drop as if the leading edge was ice smashing the ground. There was a another note beneath it, a keening I could never quite make out. Verdre said it was Her blood burning to smite Her foes or something like that. She would know, I suppose, but it did not fit.</p><p></p><p>I followed, assuming more lizardmen were about. Verdre was a formidable opponent, but would she defend a human keep? As well, an attack on the scale of the last one would likely force us to retreat.</p><p></p><p>I came round the corner and beheld a sight like no other. A shambling corpse of a man – worms spilling out of his eyes and ears and moving around under his skin – was smoking under the Moonbeam but still steadily lumbering towards Verdre. As she concentrated to move the beam to follow it, she simultaneously laid into it with her scimitar. I darted into the hallway that ran around the kitchen and got behind it. Took aim. Let fly for a direct hit through its shoulder. But other than a splash of worms spilling on to the ground, it didn't even notice. Likewise was it shrugging off Verdre's repeated blows from her Elven blade.</p><p></p><p><em>Weapons do not work on it</em>, I thought. Even if they did, I was afraid that opening up this walking nightmare writhing inside its barely-contained body would simply unleash a thousand tiny enemies.</p><p></p><p>The Moonbeam was burning everything, though, in its cold column. Its flash matched Angivre's, but she was not yet ready for me to draw her true Silver. And yet, she was granting me some part of it . . . .</p><p></p><p>Quick as a hare, I ran up to it and looped Angivre around the thing's neck. The silver cord burned through the creature, flash-igniting worms. I almost severed the monster's neck.</p><p></p><p>"Etona, disengage," said Verdre. "I am luring it to where I believe your fire wizard awaits."</p><p></p><p>I had not noticed Egan, awake and on the nearby stair.</p><p></p><p>We led it up to an empty room where Egan let loose a whirling firestorm of such intense heat it made the walls glow. There was quite literally nothing of the lurching horror left. Verdre arched an eyebrow and smiled just slightly at one corner of her mouth. Impressing her was no mean feat: Egan had no idea how far up in my aunt's estimation he had just risen.</p><p></p><p>Facing me, she commented dryly but with approval while she casually slit open her arm and speared a worm that had dug in: "You have changed the way you use Angivre. It matches your new look."</p><p></p><p>I was alarmed but she waved it away and crushed the wriggling, um, bad bad badness. I helped her start to wrap her arm while saying, "I am not above garroting pure evil. We do what is needed; we use what we must." An old saying. "She is waking up," I added, patting Angivre but also examining more of Verdre's exposed skin. "I patiently await her Silver, whenever She grants it me."</p><p></p><p>"It is well, then, we are so long-lived," Verdre replied.</p><p></p><p>Ah yes, this again. I had almost forgotten.</p><p></p><p>It is not my story to tell, but Verdre has always been angry with Our Lady of the Bountiful Night. She blames Her for the death of my mother, to whom Verdre was very close, and also for – as she put it – 'using our tribe for her experiments'. I do not agree with her on the latter, though of the former I am sorry too: I would dearly have loved to meet my mother, a compassionate soul of endless energy and unmatched medical skill, according to almost everyone. But this cold world offers only death in the end, and we are but sparks. Hers had to be extinguished a breath earlier.</p><p></p><p>She was infected with no other worms, but I mean to keep a watch on her: we do not know what they are capable of yet.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The man was this keep's missing lead scout, Royce. He had been the human who was seen emerging from the Clutch. He had dropped into bed, very ill. Very ill indeed, yes, with a case of the Wriggling Death Worms of Abomination. Unpleasant in the extreme. Caution: contagious – do not ingest! And fatal, apparently.</p><p></p><p>These tracks are all floating around my head but I cannot seem to find the game: the black dragon was guarding the Clutch; its champion ruled this tribe of Lizard Folk attacked the human keep, twice, and captured four of its men. To eat? No, probably for a ritual sacrifice. Royce is seen near the Clutch. He returns with worms. No one else in the keep is affected, though, so he got them out in the swamp. In the Clutch? But it is under the protection of the black dragon, and why would it want to destroy its own folk?</p><p></p><p>Rey gathered us together. She had slept through the entire fight, so exhausted was she from being at least three people to return us safely back to the keep. None begrudged her.</p><p></p><p>"It is time," she said. "We must meet Hiska and deal with all this. Let us leave in the morning."</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>That night, Verdre and I talked all night long as we patrolled the perimeter. I showed her how I had learned to hide better, climb higher, and run swifter. She laughed and clapped her hands.</p><p></p><p>"I am proud of you, <em>Lun</em>," she told me, using my Druidic name. Hers was <em>Ioli</em>, a variant of "Eagle". Mine is simply "Shine". It is the name she chose for me, and the name all druids know me as. "You lost everything, traveled alone in despair for a year abandoned by Our Lady of Sudden Partings. She meant to break you, but here you are, a fighter, with new surprises."</p><p></p><p>"Sehanine rightly punished me for what I did, <em>me’ara amo</em>. I have betrayed all of the Fey! If Lyra – the Mistress of Sorrows – is presented with the third piece of the Undying Raiment, her daughter will rule the Fey."</p><p></p><p>"But she herself cannot rule: you saw to that. And, if legend holds, by presenting only two of the three of the Raiment to her, you insulted her in the process thereby taking your revenge on her."</p><p></p><p>"She does not care about that: she has been thrown down so many times before, I think a part of her revels in it."</p><p></p><p>"But I thought you loved the daughter?" Verdre asked.</p><p></p><p>"I did. I do. But this is not how you should choose a ruler! It's like finding a sword in a stone, pulling it free and now you are king. She has no knowledge of the lands she would rule. And no idea of how to go about ruling. One cannot simply be pretty and nice. And so her mother would be the true queen. And . . ." I didn't want to say the rest, but I did. "And Illyra, she cast me away even before Lyra and I –." I placed my palms together and slid one hand down the other, a gesture for lovemaking. "I am so ashamed."</p><p></p><p>Verdre sighed, a sympathetic smile on her face. "My all-but-daughter: where are the people of this world who do not make mistakes? You lead with your <em>gae'ess</em>." She placed her first two fingers on my heart. "It doesn't merely beat as mine or Skaen's do: it blazes. You are just like your mother."</p><p></p><p>"And like Skava, I hope," I said, referring to my father, her younger brother.</p><p></p><p>"And like Skava in enduring what must be endured. You have his patience. Our Wise Woman of the Starry Nights should know all of this. But Her treatment of you has been severe, erratic. Emotional! And torturing you when you needed her guidance is so typical of her misguided –." She saw my eyes widen and calmed herself, looking into the face of Our Mistress Moon and bowing slightly in deference. "l sometimes forget myself." She pulled me into her. "Oh, do not worry. I still sacrifice to her and obey her in . . . most . . . things. And she cannot do to us," and I know she means <em>us druids</em>, "what she has done to you: we draw only some of our power from her. Our ways are older than Her ways."</p><p></p><p>"She loves us all." That didn't take root, so I tried again. "She can make you miserable."</p><p></p><p>"She has already. But," she cut my protest off, "<em>inro</em>, niece, I have found you again. I will allow Her that. Tonight I am happy." She hugged me again.</p><p></p><p>We talked of the Raiment a while longer, of Illyra and Lyra, of my adventures in Fardale and the Fey, of what might happen next, and she helped me realize that the Majestic Realm is not really my world, and that The Bright's complexities and schemes will probably shrug off my meager deeds.</p><p></p><p>Life is always clearer when Verdre is around.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>We departed at dawn. Egan and Melinde, Rey, Verdre and me. Rey led us right to the clearing where we had met Hiska before. I confess I would not have found the place for some time, perhaps never. But Rey does not get lost.</p><p></p><p>Egan was very curious about my aunt, I could see, but he asked no questions. I think she intimidates him as she does most humans, though probably not Melinde whom I believe would not cast down her glance were Pelor himself standing in front of her. But Melinde is neither talkative nor, as far as I can tell, curious about the world or anything in it. So very young is she: I should not dismiss her so.</p><p></p><p>My biggest surprise was how Rey and Verdre got along. They went off hunting together, and when they returned they seem to have discovered a sympatico. Not friends precisely, at least not in a way I understand it, but something like mutual respect. There is a glance, a nod, pointing out some feature of the land. I am very, very glad. Neither woman has friends, though Verdre in this regard is better off since she at least has our kin and the circles of druids. Rey does not; she has only a dragon.</p><p></p><p>Verdre also began talking to Hiska in Druidic. I don't know the language, of course, but it is unmistakable. It was clear that Hiska was not fluent, and there is probably a matter of dialect (though Druidic is largely silent, not much of it is vocal: I suppose that is so speakers of many races can still attempt it as it is not an Elven Language at all and comes not from Sehanine). She asked him – she told me later – about the region, its tribes, its weather, its animals. She asked about different scents, and with Verdre she would not merely be noticing them but studying. She asked about every single plant we saw. All of these Hiska responded to with his broken Druidic, and so the conversations were slow and answers not rich with meaning. But Verdre is patient, willing to ask the same thing a dozen times slowly and carefully.</p><p></p><p>She also began making maps following her curious hobby. She learned to do this during that time in the Fey I had previously mentioned. Something about drawing simple lines on paper to represent swaths of deep, complex world appealed to her. At home –. Oh. Well, where we grew up, she was teased for this, but evetually it exposed her to humans who craved them. Ioli Verdre lives for the day she might transform to her druidic namesake. Near the bottom of the list why – though certainly on the list – is how she will transform the world of mapping.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>We arrived at our destination: an enormous mangrove tree, the likes I had never seen before. A twisting, towering thing dripping with cool, fresh water, it the home for most of the tribe.</p><p></p><p>"This is ancient," Verdre said, staggered, and she looked on Hiska with new respect in her eyes. "There is such life here, such power. It is like the Mirror but concentrated. I do not wonder that it has attracted a dragon. The beast must be driving off everything else that would be interested in it. Are there gates to the Fey near here?" She directed that last to Hiska, but he only shrugged. He may not have understood exactly what she was asking.</p><p></p><p>We were led to a wide clearing entirely encircled by the tree, us on one side of the circle facing a throne on the other side. Sprawled across it was a black-scaled dragonkin looking nothing like the lizardmen he was ruling over. I realized in a flash that they were entirely different races and that all our lore on the subject was simply incorrect. Chained to the throne were the four human prisoners. They appeared to still be alive.</p><p></p><p>In front of it was the lizardman with the enormous club who had stunned Melinde and felled Malik. Another with metallic or shiny bone claws was next to him.</p><p></p><p>Behind us was the rest of the tribe. No way out.</p><p></p><p>Welcome to the arena.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Alexander Bryant, post: 7218070, member: 6884000"] [b]Journal of Etona - Entry Eight[/b] Verdre and I traded stories as well as arrows – straightening shafts, smoothing feathers, sharpening points as we sat on the edge of my assigned box, a human bed. Her hand froze and she looked up suddenly, cocked an ear toward the door, eyes narrowed. A second later came a scream from down the hall towards the kitchen. Its owner – the keep's cook – ran past our door but Verdre was already leaping into the corridor, a hand on the haft of her sheathed scimitar. The weapon had been a gift from a male admirer on the occasion of her first trip to the Fey some thirty years ago. Few of my memories do not feature it somewhere in the picture. "[I]Res t'isi[/I]!" she whispered sharply. I couldn't help but smile at her words "stay here" and took a moment to grab Angivre as well as arrows scattered around the floor which I slid into my hip quiver. Verdre, [I]me’ara amo[/I] – my beloved aunt, had directed me toward danger all my life, virtually the only one to do so given my frailty and size when I was young. She would tell me aloud to [B]Stay away, stay safe! Do not follow me into certain danger![/B] while beckoning me silently on. I heard her summon the silver column, Our Lady's Moonbeam. It is an amazing sound, a low rush like a sudden waterfall but with a heavy drop as if the leading edge was ice smashing the ground. There was a another note beneath it, a keening I could never quite make out. Verdre said it was Her blood burning to smite Her foes or something like that. She would know, I suppose, but it did not fit. I followed, assuming more lizardmen were about. Verdre was a formidable opponent, but would she defend a human keep? As well, an attack on the scale of the last one would likely force us to retreat. I came round the corner and beheld a sight like no other. A shambling corpse of a man – worms spilling out of his eyes and ears and moving around under his skin – was smoking under the Moonbeam but still steadily lumbering towards Verdre. As she concentrated to move the beam to follow it, she simultaneously laid into it with her scimitar. I darted into the hallway that ran around the kitchen and got behind it. Took aim. Let fly for a direct hit through its shoulder. But other than a splash of worms spilling on to the ground, it didn't even notice. Likewise was it shrugging off Verdre's repeated blows from her Elven blade. [I]Weapons do not work on it[/I], I thought. Even if they did, I was afraid that opening up this walking nightmare writhing inside its barely-contained body would simply unleash a thousand tiny enemies. The Moonbeam was burning everything, though, in its cold column. Its flash matched Angivre's, but she was not yet ready for me to draw her true Silver. And yet, she was granting me some part of it . . . . Quick as a hare, I ran up to it and looped Angivre around the thing's neck. The silver cord burned through the creature, flash-igniting worms. I almost severed the monster's neck. "Etona, disengage," said Verdre. "I am luring it to where I believe your fire wizard awaits." I had not noticed Egan, awake and on the nearby stair. We led it up to an empty room where Egan let loose a whirling firestorm of such intense heat it made the walls glow. There was quite literally nothing of the lurching horror left. Verdre arched an eyebrow and smiled just slightly at one corner of her mouth. Impressing her was no mean feat: Egan had no idea how far up in my aunt's estimation he had just risen. Facing me, she commented dryly but with approval while she casually slit open her arm and speared a worm that had dug in: "You have changed the way you use Angivre. It matches your new look." I was alarmed but she waved it away and crushed the wriggling, um, bad bad badness. I helped her start to wrap her arm while saying, "I am not above garroting pure evil. We do what is needed; we use what we must." An old saying. "She is waking up," I added, patting Angivre but also examining more of Verdre's exposed skin. "I patiently await her Silver, whenever She grants it me." "It is well, then, we are so long-lived," Verdre replied. Ah yes, this again. I had almost forgotten. It is not my story to tell, but Verdre has always been angry with Our Lady of the Bountiful Night. She blames Her for the death of my mother, to whom Verdre was very close, and also for – as she put it – 'using our tribe for her experiments'. I do not agree with her on the latter, though of the former I am sorry too: I would dearly have loved to meet my mother, a compassionate soul of endless energy and unmatched medical skill, according to almost everyone. But this cold world offers only death in the end, and we are but sparks. Hers had to be extinguished a breath earlier. She was infected with no other worms, but I mean to keep a watch on her: we do not know what they are capable of yet. *** The man was this keep's missing lead scout, Royce. He had been the human who was seen emerging from the Clutch. He had dropped into bed, very ill. Very ill indeed, yes, with a case of the Wriggling Death Worms of Abomination. Unpleasant in the extreme. Caution: contagious – do not ingest! And fatal, apparently. These tracks are all floating around my head but I cannot seem to find the game: the black dragon was guarding the Clutch; its champion ruled this tribe of Lizard Folk attacked the human keep, twice, and captured four of its men. To eat? No, probably for a ritual sacrifice. Royce is seen near the Clutch. He returns with worms. No one else in the keep is affected, though, so he got them out in the swamp. In the Clutch? But it is under the protection of the black dragon, and why would it want to destroy its own folk? Rey gathered us together. She had slept through the entire fight, so exhausted was she from being at least three people to return us safely back to the keep. None begrudged her. "It is time," she said. "We must meet Hiska and deal with all this. Let us leave in the morning." *** That night, Verdre and I talked all night long as we patrolled the perimeter. I showed her how I had learned to hide better, climb higher, and run swifter. She laughed and clapped her hands. "I am proud of you, [I]Lun[/I]," she told me, using my Druidic name. Hers was [I]Ioli[/I], a variant of "Eagle". Mine is simply "Shine". It is the name she chose for me, and the name all druids know me as. "You lost everything, traveled alone in despair for a year abandoned by Our Lady of Sudden Partings. She meant to break you, but here you are, a fighter, with new surprises." "Sehanine rightly punished me for what I did, [I]me’ara amo[/I]. I have betrayed all of the Fey! If Lyra – the Mistress of Sorrows – is presented with the third piece of the Undying Raiment, her daughter will rule the Fey." "But she herself cannot rule: you saw to that. And, if legend holds, by presenting only two of the three of the Raiment to her, you insulted her in the process thereby taking your revenge on her." "She does not care about that: she has been thrown down so many times before, I think a part of her revels in it." "But I thought you loved the daughter?" Verdre asked. "I did. I do. But this is not how you should choose a ruler! It's like finding a sword in a stone, pulling it free and now you are king. She has no knowledge of the lands she would rule. And no idea of how to go about ruling. One cannot simply be pretty and nice. And so her mother would be the true queen. And . . ." I didn't want to say the rest, but I did. "And Illyra, she cast me away even before Lyra and I –." I placed my palms together and slid one hand down the other, a gesture for lovemaking. "I am so ashamed." Verdre sighed, a sympathetic smile on her face. "My all-but-daughter: where are the people of this world who do not make mistakes? You lead with your [I]gae'ess[/I]." She placed her first two fingers on my heart. "It doesn't merely beat as mine or Skaen's do: it blazes. You are just like your mother." "And like Skava, I hope," I said, referring to my father, her younger brother. "And like Skava in enduring what must be endured. You have his patience. Our Wise Woman of the Starry Nights should know all of this. But Her treatment of you has been severe, erratic. Emotional! And torturing you when you needed her guidance is so typical of her misguided –." She saw my eyes widen and calmed herself, looking into the face of Our Mistress Moon and bowing slightly in deference. "l sometimes forget myself." She pulled me into her. "Oh, do not worry. I still sacrifice to her and obey her in . . . most . . . things. And she cannot do to us," and I know she means [I]us druids[/I], "what she has done to you: we draw only some of our power from her. Our ways are older than Her ways." "She loves us all." That didn't take root, so I tried again. "She can make you miserable." "She has already. But," she cut my protest off, "[I]inro[/I], niece, I have found you again. I will allow Her that. Tonight I am happy." She hugged me again. We talked of the Raiment a while longer, of Illyra and Lyra, of my adventures in Fardale and the Fey, of what might happen next, and she helped me realize that the Majestic Realm is not really my world, and that The Bright's complexities and schemes will probably shrug off my meager deeds. Life is always clearer when Verdre is around. *** We departed at dawn. Egan and Melinde, Rey, Verdre and me. Rey led us right to the clearing where we had met Hiska before. I confess I would not have found the place for some time, perhaps never. But Rey does not get lost. Egan was very curious about my aunt, I could see, but he asked no questions. I think she intimidates him as she does most humans, though probably not Melinde whom I believe would not cast down her glance were Pelor himself standing in front of her. But Melinde is neither talkative nor, as far as I can tell, curious about the world or anything in it. So very young is she: I should not dismiss her so. My biggest surprise was how Rey and Verdre got along. They went off hunting together, and when they returned they seem to have discovered a sympatico. Not friends precisely, at least not in a way I understand it, but something like mutual respect. There is a glance, a nod, pointing out some feature of the land. I am very, very glad. Neither woman has friends, though Verdre in this regard is better off since she at least has our kin and the circles of druids. Rey does not; she has only a dragon. Verdre also began talking to Hiska in Druidic. I don't know the language, of course, but it is unmistakable. It was clear that Hiska was not fluent, and there is probably a matter of dialect (though Druidic is largely silent, not much of it is vocal: I suppose that is so speakers of many races can still attempt it as it is not an Elven Language at all and comes not from Sehanine). She asked him – she told me later – about the region, its tribes, its weather, its animals. She asked about different scents, and with Verdre she would not merely be noticing them but studying. She asked about every single plant we saw. All of these Hiska responded to with his broken Druidic, and so the conversations were slow and answers not rich with meaning. But Verdre is patient, willing to ask the same thing a dozen times slowly and carefully. She also began making maps following her curious hobby. She learned to do this during that time in the Fey I had previously mentioned. Something about drawing simple lines on paper to represent swaths of deep, complex world appealed to her. At home –. Oh. Well, where we grew up, she was teased for this, but evetually it exposed her to humans who craved them. Ioli Verdre lives for the day she might transform to her druidic namesake. Near the bottom of the list why – though certainly on the list – is how she will transform the world of mapping. *** We arrived at our destination: an enormous mangrove tree, the likes I had never seen before. A twisting, towering thing dripping with cool, fresh water, it the home for most of the tribe. "This is ancient," Verdre said, staggered, and she looked on Hiska with new respect in her eyes. "There is such life here, such power. It is like the Mirror but concentrated. I do not wonder that it has attracted a dragon. The beast must be driving off everything else that would be interested in it. Are there gates to the Fey near here?" She directed that last to Hiska, but he only shrugged. He may not have understood exactly what she was asking. We were led to a wide clearing entirely encircled by the tree, us on one side of the circle facing a throne on the other side. Sprawled across it was a black-scaled dragonkin looking nothing like the lizardmen he was ruling over. I realized in a flash that they were entirely different races and that all our lore on the subject was simply incorrect. Chained to the throne were the four human prisoners. They appeared to still be alive. In front of it was the lizardman with the enormous club who had stunned Melinde and felled Malik. Another with metallic or shiny bone claws was next to him. Behind us was the rest of the tribe. No way out. Welcome to the arena. [/QUOTE]
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[5E] The Age of Worms - Solid Snake's Campaign
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