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Alea Iacta Story Hour: A Mythic Rome Campaign (Baby Announcement: 8/17)
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<blockquote data-quote="Orichalcum" data-source="post: 1101886" data-attributes="member: 3722"><p><strong>Fourth Session: Legacies and Freedom Sixth Post: Promises, promises</strong></p><p></p><p>We are torn between Marcus’s earlier advice and the impressive command from ahead. Heilyn, certain that his god awaits, shouts, “Close your eyes!” and clenches his eyes shut, followed by Wena and Meloch and me. Llyr hesitates, anxious to obey Roman doctrines, but well aware of his tribe’s patron god’s capabilities, and the Romans halt, uncertain of the proper course. Cornelia finally says, “Well, Lugh is the Lord of Light. And there’s light up there. It might hurt us.” She closes her eyes, and directs Cato the owl to do the same. Metellus considers, and finally orders Marcus and Llyr to close their eyes, as we all grasp hands again and stumble forward, Marcus muttering about the probability of it all being a trap.</p><p></p><p> Even with tightly clenched eyelids, the glow from up ahead becomes almost overwhelming, and our skins feel pleasantly warm. The golden tenor voice speaks again,</p><p><span style="color: orange"> “I am called Lugh the Many-skilled, Lord of Light. But you...you are not young Druids, not even you, My smith, who I recognize.” </span></p><p></p><p> “Of course we’re not Druids. We’ve come to rescue you! Well...and to break the curse that these people have been given by a Druid,” Heilyn explains, excited and awed for the first time since the Spirit of the Games.</p><p></p><p> “How exactly can we rescue a God?” Meloch wonders.</p><p></p><p></p><p> <span style="color: orange">“There is a contract,” Lugh intones. “Some time ago, Epona, goddess of horses and warfare, the patron of the Iceni, Sulis, the deity of fresh and salt water, who is both male and female, the patron of the Catavellauni, and I entered into an agreement with the Druids of Mona. We provided them with much power on this island, in return for worship and appropriate offerings, but there has been no worship or offerings for many years, and We are trapped on this island. Each of the young Druids was tested with regards to this contract. I cannot tell you more until you undergo the tests.” </span></p><p></p><p> “But, if they broke the contract, surely it’s invalid,” says Metellus, well up on Roman law.</p><p></p><p> “It doesn’t matter if the Druids haven’t been fulfilling their bargain, the gods won’t break their side until the contract is over. Don’t you know the importance of a sacred agreement?” Heilyn retorts.</p><p></p><p> <span style="color: orange">“He is correct,” Lugh speaks. “I can tell you little more. You must go to the left and to the right of this grove, and fulfill those tests, and then return here.” </span></p><p></p><p> “Ah, we need to go to the sacred grove, and dispose of this staff, for our curse,” Wena points out.</p><p></p><p> <span style="color: orange"> “You may not go into the grove until you have completed the tests,” Lugh answers. </span></p><p></p><p> “You’re...imprisoned here? No wonder this island is so strange,” Cornelia comments pityingly.</p><p></p><p> <span style="color: orange"> “I cannot tell you more; please go now, before My light burns through your eyes...” Lugh responds, with some strain in his mellifluous tones.</span></p><p></p><p></p><p> We go to the left, opening our eyes once the glow has faded, and find ourselves in a peaceful grove of trees, opening onto the shore, despite the fact that we believed ourselves to be in the center of the island. Three tall trees stand in an equilateral triangle in the center of the grove; at their midpoint stands an enormous tree with many spreading branches. Cradled in two of its branches is a large golden cauldron, with crystal clear water bubbling in it, almost simmering at the surface, but not quite falling over the rim to the ground. An inscription, in old Celtic runes, on the cauldron reads: I will heal all your ills; only drink. Luckily, Cornelia has been studying up on her runes since the Caledonian expedition and manages to translate it. We all feel a strong desire to drink the water, and only Meloch’s hand on my tail keeps me from darting forward.</p><p></p><p> “Well, that seems fairly clear,” says Metellus. “Drink the water for the test, and maybe fight something in the grove.”</p><p></p><p> “Well, obviously, that center tree will come to life and fight us; just look at it!” Llyr proclaims. The tree fails to look particularly menacing to us, but we agree with Llyr’s basic analysis.</p><p></p><p> “Wait. Drinking the water is what a Druid would do, because it gains power, by healing, and who knows what. But do we want to do what a Druid would do?” Cornelia asks.</p><p></p><p> “We never want to do what a Druid would do!” Marcus responds.</p><p></p><p> “Right, and besides, if the gods are trapped here, maybe that water is actually trapped Sulis!” Heilyn suggests.</p><p></p><p> We collectively blanch at the sacriliegous thought of drinking concentrated deity.</p><p></p><p> “All right, so we’re not drinking it, despite the runes. But then what do we do? Inaction can’t be the right answer,” Metellus reasons.</p><p></p><p> “Perhaps we should free the water – pour it out onto the ground,” Wena suggests.</p><p></p><p> “Or better yet – into the sea!” Cornelia notes.</p><p></p><p> This plan is agreed upon, and we decide that Metellus will rush forward to grab the cauldron and, with Cornelia’s help, pour its contents into the ocean, while the rest of us prepare for an attack, with Llyr’s ballista at the ready. </p><p></p><p> Metellus lifts the cauldron out of the central tree’s branches and, as expected, it comes to life and begins attacking him. He is stomped on mightily, but manages to pass the cauldron to Cornelia, who begins heading towards the shore, trying to avoid trees. Llyr’s ballista fires into the treant, and then he darts forward to attempt to free Metellus from the branches he is pinned under, as we all begin attacking. However, in our focus on the central treant, we fail to notice the slow-moving other trees moving in to attack, and one of them sends its roots crashing down onto Llyr’s precious ballista, destroying it utterly. Nevertheless, we manage to chop the mobile grove to bits and rescue poor Metellus, just as Cornelia tips the cauldron into the ocean with all her strength. </p><p></p><p> The water spreads out into the sea, which gleams like silver, and we all hear a voice in our heads, like the sound of crashing waves against a reef: <span style="color: blue"> “You have freed Me from My long containment, and I may now purify the waters of Britannia. Thank you, generous mortals, who placed My freedom above your own greed.” </span> A wave thunders onto the shore, drenching all of us, and leaving in its wake a blue-dyed waterskin. We all feel refreshed by the waves, and the bruises left by the treants have vanished. The waterskin is tentatively identified as possessing the power to shoot forth great streams of water, but we are in too much of a hurry to experiment for long, and continue to the third grove.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Orichalcum, post: 1101886, member: 3722"] [b]Fourth Session: Legacies and Freedom Sixth Post: Promises, promises[/b] We are torn between Marcus’s earlier advice and the impressive command from ahead. Heilyn, certain that his god awaits, shouts, “Close your eyes!” and clenches his eyes shut, followed by Wena and Meloch and me. Llyr hesitates, anxious to obey Roman doctrines, but well aware of his tribe’s patron god’s capabilities, and the Romans halt, uncertain of the proper course. Cornelia finally says, “Well, Lugh is the Lord of Light. And there’s light up there. It might hurt us.” She closes her eyes, and directs Cato the owl to do the same. Metellus considers, and finally orders Marcus and Llyr to close their eyes, as we all grasp hands again and stumble forward, Marcus muttering about the probability of it all being a trap. Even with tightly clenched eyelids, the glow from up ahead becomes almost overwhelming, and our skins feel pleasantly warm. The golden tenor voice speaks again, [COLOR=orange] “I am called Lugh the Many-skilled, Lord of Light. But you...you are not young Druids, not even you, My smith, who I recognize.” [/color] “Of course we’re not Druids. We’ve come to rescue you! Well...and to break the curse that these people have been given by a Druid,” Heilyn explains, excited and awed for the first time since the Spirit of the Games. “How exactly can we rescue a God?” Meloch wonders. [COLOR=orange]“There is a contract,” Lugh intones. “Some time ago, Epona, goddess of horses and warfare, the patron of the Iceni, Sulis, the deity of fresh and salt water, who is both male and female, the patron of the Catavellauni, and I entered into an agreement with the Druids of Mona. We provided them with much power on this island, in return for worship and appropriate offerings, but there has been no worship or offerings for many years, and We are trapped on this island. Each of the young Druids was tested with regards to this contract. I cannot tell you more until you undergo the tests.” [/color] “But, if they broke the contract, surely it’s invalid,” says Metellus, well up on Roman law. “It doesn’t matter if the Druids haven’t been fulfilling their bargain, the gods won’t break their side until the contract is over. Don’t you know the importance of a sacred agreement?” Heilyn retorts. [COLOR=orange]“He is correct,” Lugh speaks. “I can tell you little more. You must go to the left and to the right of this grove, and fulfill those tests, and then return here.” [/color] “Ah, we need to go to the sacred grove, and dispose of this staff, for our curse,” Wena points out. [COLOR=orange] “You may not go into the grove until you have completed the tests,” Lugh answers. [/color] “You’re...imprisoned here? No wonder this island is so strange,” Cornelia comments pityingly. [COLOR=orange] “I cannot tell you more; please go now, before My light burns through your eyes...” Lugh responds, with some strain in his mellifluous tones.[/color] We go to the left, opening our eyes once the glow has faded, and find ourselves in a peaceful grove of trees, opening onto the shore, despite the fact that we believed ourselves to be in the center of the island. Three tall trees stand in an equilateral triangle in the center of the grove; at their midpoint stands an enormous tree with many spreading branches. Cradled in two of its branches is a large golden cauldron, with crystal clear water bubbling in it, almost simmering at the surface, but not quite falling over the rim to the ground. An inscription, in old Celtic runes, on the cauldron reads: I will heal all your ills; only drink. Luckily, Cornelia has been studying up on her runes since the Caledonian expedition and manages to translate it. We all feel a strong desire to drink the water, and only Meloch’s hand on my tail keeps me from darting forward. “Well, that seems fairly clear,” says Metellus. “Drink the water for the test, and maybe fight something in the grove.” “Well, obviously, that center tree will come to life and fight us; just look at it!” Llyr proclaims. The tree fails to look particularly menacing to us, but we agree with Llyr’s basic analysis. “Wait. Drinking the water is what a Druid would do, because it gains power, by healing, and who knows what. But do we want to do what a Druid would do?” Cornelia asks. “We never want to do what a Druid would do!” Marcus responds. “Right, and besides, if the gods are trapped here, maybe that water is actually trapped Sulis!” Heilyn suggests. We collectively blanch at the sacriliegous thought of drinking concentrated deity. “All right, so we’re not drinking it, despite the runes. But then what do we do? Inaction can’t be the right answer,” Metellus reasons. “Perhaps we should free the water – pour it out onto the ground,” Wena suggests. “Or better yet – into the sea!” Cornelia notes. This plan is agreed upon, and we decide that Metellus will rush forward to grab the cauldron and, with Cornelia’s help, pour its contents into the ocean, while the rest of us prepare for an attack, with Llyr’s ballista at the ready. Metellus lifts the cauldron out of the central tree’s branches and, as expected, it comes to life and begins attacking him. He is stomped on mightily, but manages to pass the cauldron to Cornelia, who begins heading towards the shore, trying to avoid trees. Llyr’s ballista fires into the treant, and then he darts forward to attempt to free Metellus from the branches he is pinned under, as we all begin attacking. However, in our focus on the central treant, we fail to notice the slow-moving other trees moving in to attack, and one of them sends its roots crashing down onto Llyr’s precious ballista, destroying it utterly. Nevertheless, we manage to chop the mobile grove to bits and rescue poor Metellus, just as Cornelia tips the cauldron into the ocean with all her strength. The water spreads out into the sea, which gleams like silver, and we all hear a voice in our heads, like the sound of crashing waves against a reef: [COLOR=blue] “You have freed Me from My long containment, and I may now purify the waters of Britannia. Thank you, generous mortals, who placed My freedom above your own greed.” [/color] A wave thunders onto the shore, drenching all of us, and leaving in its wake a blue-dyed waterskin. We all feel refreshed by the waves, and the bruises left by the treants have vanished. The waterskin is tentatively identified as possessing the power to shoot forth great streams of water, but we are in too much of a hurry to experiment for long, and continue to the third grove. [/QUOTE]
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