Lwaxy
Cute but dangerous
So, when I could not make it to a scheduled game, the players decided to get a campaign going by themselves and present me with it. We had been considering doing this for a while - it is the continuation of a long campaign ending with the failure of the heroes, resulting in a TPK and the Cerilian equivalent of the apocalypse.
Several centuries later, some soon-to-be heroes from the past meet those who were waiting for them and are tasked with unifying the world and bring about a new, golden era.
This is the session they had, and now I'm going to create something from it. I'm rather excited, reshaping Cerilia is something I wanted to do for a while.
The Heroes
Hajan and Shelna, siblings with some elven ancestry. Supposed to be a bard and sorceress according to prophecy.
Phylisande – chronicler, librarian, mage and teacher of the siblings.
Loncarth – Court jester of Lady Belanda. Has a few out of his control "magically tragically" abilities as he calls them. Can't sing.
Sir Bernard – Knight of Snowpeak Watch. Teacher of the siblings. Cousin to Lady Belanda.
Mother Adnua – High Priestess of Ungor of the area. Despite her title, she is still very young.
Other people
Lady Belanda, current lady of Snowfell Keep.
Kamela – Cook and diviner in Lady Belanda's employ.
Paiach's spirit – one of the last half-elves who died in Snowfell Keep's library and still hangs around.
Atheyus - Court wizard of Snowfell Keep. He's old as an oak, as he claims, and he fuels some stereotype about wizards by dressing like in the old stories.
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Prologue
The world had changed tremendously from what Hajan and Shelna used to know. Shadow had fallen on the land centuries ago, and while the peoples of Cerilia and Aduria had somehow prevailed and pushed back the evil caused by the Godsrift, the faces of the continents had forever changed, and with it the bloodlines, and the magic, and the cultures of the people.
Elves were said to be extinct, but there were rumors they had just left the world and some would still be watching. The halflings were largely gone as well, it was said they had fled the world before the fall of the shadow. This was very likely true, considering their connection to the shadow world. No one had seen a dwarf in at least 2 centuries, either.
Of course, millions of all races had died and countries had vanished. That had not come as a surprise. What was a surprise was the reluctance of the people to move forward, to rebuild in any useful manner. Some areas seemed to have gone back to barbarism. People were clinging to what they considered the glory of old times, although what exactly those were, no one seemed to be sure. In some areas, magic and the bloodlines specifically were blamed for the disaster that had befallen the land, in other areas, the bloodlines were said to have saved the world in the last possible moment. Governments had not been rebuild in most places beyond local lords and ladies. What was stranger still was the insistence of almost everyone to keep the old names of countries and provinces and partly dead cities. It was as if still calling the chaotic stretch of lands that were once thriving kingdoms Ghoere and Mhoried would make what happened undone. In some areas in the south, the local leaders had made some attempts at renaming places and countries, but it had been met with such a resistance some of those leaders had been backstabbed.
Then there was the fact of keeping history. Thanks to carefully kept records before Shadowfall, the knowledge about how the world was was there, and the old tried to teach this history to their young. But the time of Shadowfall was badly documented, and the time after had a weird way of referring to things, if they were bothering to even note them down. At any given time, there were likely to be several people identified as "the king of Coeranys" or "the jarl of Kiergard" and it was often clear that those individuals were at war with each other. There was hardly any objective history on anything, as the profession of historians seemed to have almost died out.
The other humanoid races seemed to have lost a lot of their evil taint, at least according to Hajan, who could feel evil from several leagues away. Some of their tribes and clans seemed to build more stable communities than the humans, and there were places where they mixed together with halfling and human communities.
The short version of it all, in the words of Shelna as they sat next to a fire in a proud keep in what used to be dwarf lands, was that is was the worst possible mess they could have woken up to. They had no idea what to do, where to start, or how to deal with the feeling of loss that seemed to paralyze them at times.
To them, it was only last week that they had said goodbye to their parents, making their way into Baruk-Azhik to visit relatives who were, with permission, of course, settling on dwarf land to study the wildlife and the plants. Their cousin Meldar had talked of a cave of marvels not yet explored, and somehow the siblings had found themselves following him. There had been an entrance to a small cave, yes, but it was all dark and there had been fog as high as their hips. Shelna had stumbled over something and trying to avoid a fall grabbed her brother, who had also lost balance. The last thing they remembered after that was breathing in the fog and feeling kind of weird. The next thing they knew, they were lying on the cave floor all confused, and nothing was what it had been anymore.
The rangers that had found them wandering around lost and confused in the area where, centuries ago, the settlement of their relatives had been, had brought them to their lady's keep – Snowpeak Watch. Build only 52 years ago, the complex was still being expanded upon and was universally taken as proof that the dwarfs were gone. Otherwise, they wouldn't have had a chance to take hold here.
Lady Belanda, a young noble who had risen to status from a merchant family some decades ago, was one of the last people who were known to have any elven blood in them. With her slightly pointed ears, almond eyes, small lips and curly black hair framing a lean face, she was not exactly the epitome of beauty, but her kind soul made up for it and then some. The people in her employ would do almost everything for her – even settle in a still largely unexplored stretch of land which was said to be cursed, dangerous and probably still full of dwarfs. She had never explained why it was that they should build here. But everyone who knew her well - and that meant about everyone from the stable boy and the cook to her knights – had noticed the change in her once they had found those two younglings who, as it seemed, had some elven blood in them as well. No one had asked them yet, at the Lady's orders. Being asleep for such a long time, waking up without anything to hold on to, had taken its toll, especially on the young man who, as Belanda and her people had learned by now, had been about to marry a young farmer's daughter before the fog put them into a magical sleep.
As Lady Belanda was observing the pair from behind a mirror, she barely forced back a sigh. She had watched them so often, and was, by now, sure that they had no idea what exactly had happened and why. Yet she could not help spying on them again and again. No trace of the fog had been found in the cave by either expedition she had sent, nor anything else spectacular. Had it been some sort of trap? Where those not the ones her family had been told to expect, to watch out for? The reason she had this keep build? Her confusion was almost as bad as that of the young people in front of the fire.
A sound behind her made her turn around. The young knight standing there was her younger cousin and very aware of the situation. "Anything?" he asked. His face told Belanda that he was not happy about her spying on them, but saw the necessity.
"No, they keep talking in circles, and have troubles keeping their emotions in check. To no big surprise."
The knight nodded. "They cannot go back, and they have nothing to move forward to. But if they are who we think they are, we can give them the purpose they need. We have to tell them."
"So soon? We aren't even sure." The lady leaned her head on the wall and let out her sigh now. "It is very likely, yes, considering the strange, magical circumstances. But it could still be a coincidence."
"They come from the past, unaged, a man and a woman? Sounds pretty straight forward to me." The man came closer and smiled at her. "You are tired, you should rest."
"Sleep... nowhere in the prophecy did it mention them sleeping. But as far as myself, you are right. I better retire now. Maybe tomorrow we will tell them."
The knight watched with a frown as the lady retired. He knew Belanda was worried that revealing anything might have a bad effect on the already troubled minds of the young people, but in his eyes, having a big responsibility was better than having nothing to live for. He decided to take matters in his own hands.
A few minutes later, he entered the room the siblings were sitting in with a tray laden with tea and sandwiches. He tried to make a cheerful face, though he was not even sure if cheerfulness would be the right approach here. Carefully, he placed the tray on a small glass table and then dropped into a seat facing the two younglings.
"Hello Bernard," Hajan said, more automatically. He sounded as if he wanted to be alone with his sister.
"I've come to tell you why we think you are here," the knight started right into it. "Lady Belanda is not quite sure whether you should be told yet, but I think you have a right to it. Right now, you are just wasting your regained lives feeling sorry for yourselves." Bernard stared into the young man's eyes as if to challenge him in all his sadness and loss. "There is no way for you to go back, and after all the time you spent mulling it over, it is time to move on."
"That would be for us to decide," Shelna snapped. Then she ran her pale hand through her hair. "I'm sorry, Bernard, but you have no right to tell us how we should feel."
"Just tell us your story already and then leave us again," Hajan growled.
"You know about the changes after the War of the Skies,"Bernard began, "and about the demise of the awnsheghlien who tried to hinder the arrival of new gods to this world. Well, one of the gods who were unsuccessful in claiming a right to this world made a prophecy when it all went down the river. She said that there would be coming two from the past, a man and a woman, unaged, unspoiled by what had happened, to bring about a turn of tide and help restore order to the world. That god, which name is unfortunately long forgotten, was the one that wanted to be the protector of my family line. It tasked us to watch out for the prophecised ones, and help unite the world. Upon which, the god might be able to return to us along with some of the others who failed. And we believe those two are you, Hajan and Shelna. While the prophecy never said anything about finding the new heroes sleeping, it didn't say anything against it either, and it all makes perfect sense. We were told to watch this area for them, after all, and we found you!"
That was the short version of the story, but the knight was sure they could not manage more right now. Their reaction to the tale was very different, though. Hajan snorted and looked at the carpet, obviously trying to reign his anger in. Shelna looked up at the knight's face, interest beginning to form. There also seemed to be a bit of amusement. To Bernard it seemed more that she was desperately trying to make sense of it all, to find a purpose, than truly believing the story. He could have probably told her anything remotely plausible. It made him sigh. "Look, I know you mostly want to be left alone. But a lot of people suffer losses all the time, especially in these times. If you give up like that," he pointed at the young man, "you might as well die. But if you don't find something real to live for, it might be as bad, or worse, than dying anyway." He looked at Shelna, his eyes starting to smile, although she did not notice it. "If you do not really believe me, you should not make yourself believe it. We are, in fact, not completely sure if the prophecy refers to you, but together, we can find out."
"How?" Her eyes found his, and there was doubt, worry, and most of all the fear of the unknown Bernard had felt so often himself. His bloodline's power could read emotions of others well, but he did not yet dare to tell them that, lest they would accuse him of manipulating them. "If there is nothing more to the prophecy..."
"There is more," he said quickly. "But it is a long prophecy including many other things, and you should be rested to hear it all. Maybe you better rest now. Drink your tea and eat your sandwiches, and tomorrow we'll see." A slight compulsion carried through his voice, another power of his bloodline. The two of them, unaware of that, nodded and started to eat and to drink. Slowly, not wanting to disturb the slight magic he had woven, the knight retired from the room. Hopefully, his words had spurred some new thoughts in those two. If not... well, then they would have to wait, but despite the magical sleep lasting so long making it easy to to think a few weeks or even months would not matter, feared they were running out of time already. Time was of the essence. He had not told them that they had been supposed to find the two new heroes a lot sooner, at least by 5 or 6 years if the lady could be believed. Several circumstances had hindered them. Maybe evil influences, maybe just bad luck. Now, the sooner they could train them the better, and it would be best to be on the road to - well, to whatever one of them or both would lead them, he supposed – by the next day. A totally impossible thing, of course, as the prophecy had been specific enough as to their training. And it would take a while.
My name is Phylisande. I'm Chronicler to Lady Belanda. I'm one of the Chroniclers who have considerable magic power, and thus the mages, wizards, sorcerers and even sages of other employ have often asked me to forgo the "thankless task" and do something real with my gift. Well, this is real to me, especially since most of my powers center around knowing the past, present and future. I am right where I am supposed to be.
I have been in this position since I was barely out of the Magicademy in the heartlands. That was a good 10 years ago. Now, the young siblings supposedly being the fulfillment of our prophecy have been place under my tutelage, for I am, of course, also a historian and teacher. But they need to learn so much in so short a time. Where to begin?
Hajan is, according to prophecy, supposed to develop into a mighty bard whose "songs might move mountains and split the sea." He shows little interest in those arts though, although he plays the flute – the same sad love song over and over again. His sister, who is said to be able to unite all the bloodlines shows no interest in the magical arts either, although she can feel ley lines better than anyone I ever met. I have no yet discovered what their own bloodline and talent is. They insist on none, but that can't be. I can feel it in them, just not define it yet. Yet!
It has been two weeks now, and all I have been doing was assess their abilities. Both are good enough riders, both know their way in the woods and nature as a whole, they can track and survive for a while on their own. Each of them is a good enough shot with a hunting bow, too; no doubt they will be able to adapt to a war bow with ease. Also, they both know about unarmed defense and attack and know to handle a knife, all skills, they said, which had been always necessary in this untamed area. More importantly, they know how to read and write and calculate, the latter only to some extend but it will do for now.
The girl has confirmed they carry elven blood, although both of them hate the term half-elf. There is, so they say, nothing half about their elf ancestry, not even quarter. None of them has any idea, or cares, what their elven line is. It seems that it was not the habit of the human dominated settlements around here to record a lot of their ancestry past great-grandfather.
As I am writing this, I am watching as the boy – young man, really, but their unspoiled minds remind me of children – is training with a wooden sword. His mind seems, again, to be elsewhere though. Shelna applies herself well, in comparison, but we ran into an obstacle. As long as she was using a training sword, she did well, but once the instructor, Bernard, placed a real short sword into her hands, she could not fight with it. She says it feels all wrong, being purely steel. She has no issues with spear, dagger or staff, anything that is not pure steel. The metal, she says, disrupts her natural flow somehow. And indeed, her aura changes. Her magic has trouble with iron based weapons, and the same seems true with armor. Any other items pose no problem. Bernard says he will see if he can find one of the old swords with a wooden or leather wrapped handle for her to try again.
"Hey there," a voice interrupted the woman's first journal entry. "I can see you are well into your new job to write their story already." A short man dressed in a tight fitting blue and yellow costume appeared from the direction of the keep, juggling several green apples. He caught one of them with his mouth, rolling his eyes wildly, before putting the other in a large belt pouch one by one and beginning to eat the fruit he had picked out.
"Morning, Loncarth," the chronicler grinned. "It's not a new job, I'm doing what I always did."
"Ah yes, but you know the Lady will want you to accompany those two on whatever folly they will be made to embark upon." Dropping on one of the´many boulders around the training area, Loncarth cocked his head, blinking at the young man who seemed to get frustrated by his training. "And judging by this performance, they will need a lot more help than you or our gallant knight here could give them."
"It's just been half a month. Do you always have to be so negative?"
"Positively negatively." Throwing the remains of the apple away, the short guy tumbled from the boulder, flipped on the ground and ended up in a handstand. "It's called really realistic realization."
"I'm sure the Lady will find more people to aid them, at least in the beginning. Considering they are supposed to unite a continent – no, a world – they will need more than just a small army eventually. We all know that." Phylisande gave up on writing for now and put all her utensils away. "And we have little time, if the prophecies can be trusted."
"Bah! You read about time being of the essence and judge it to mean that as soon as the chosen ones are found – if they are indeed what everyone thinks they are – some sort of countdown will start. This is a divine prophecy, and in all our religious teachings, we've always learned to use our time in the mortal world well." Jumping around on his hands, Loncarth waved his legs. "Don't you remember that 'time is of the essence' is in several major works about prophets and other divine types taking long time to prepare for whatever is ahead?" With a flip, he landed on his feet again. "Seriously, don't you think all it means is that in the next decade or so, we need to prepare them well so they will be ready whenever whatever wherever starts?"
The woman blinked, considering this. He had a point. Why would the gods send someone to do such an important work and not give them enough time? The sorceress opened her mouth but was unable to get a single word out.
"And you, you need some additional preparation, too, it seems." Loncarth stabbed a finger at her. "You might've gone to that school of arcane bargain, but you shouldn't have forgotten what you learned around here! You are a woodsgirl, girl, you need to pay more attention to your surroundings."
"And just what do you mean by that?" Most people were amused by the jester's antics but also constantly confused or even irritated. Not so Phylisande. She had some idea what he wanted to convey.
"I managed to sneak up on you." He chuckled, wiggling his finger. "You are beginning to lose it."
"You didn't manage to sneak up on me." The woman stretched and threw an eye on the trainings again, which were coming to an end as it seemed. "Granted, I didn't hear you this time. But there are other senses to tell someone is approaching, you know?"
"Do you have eyes in the back of your head now, like the Lady seems to have? Or..." He scratched his head in an exaggerated manner. "Maybe you cast a spell of sorts to know someone is coming. That would be cheating, though."
Phylisande laughed. "No." Her own finger tapped his nose before he could evade. "This is what I went by."
"You saw the shadow of my nose?" He squeezed it, looking surprised.
"No, silly. I smelled you."
"That is not possible. I bathed this morning, I didn't use any scented soap because someone..." he looked at her and winked "...had already used up all of it. I didn't eat garlic or onions so how would you be able to smell me?"
"You came with the wind, and you blew some wind." She wiggled her finger at him this time. "It's all the apples you eat and all the juice you drink. Even if your farts make no sound, the whole area knows where you are unless the wind blows towards you."
Seemingly hurt, he touched his hands to his heart. "You are soooo evil. Suggesting I would... no, you know it was the dog... or the horses..."
"Because dogs eat apples, and because horses are all around us right now." Chuckling, she grabbed a pebble and threw it at him.
He caught it with no problem, then he farted loudly. "If you accuse me so wrongly, I need to rectalify the situation thus," he stated, just to walk away with his head up high in what he probably thought would pass as a regal manner.
Bernard came up to her, wiping sweat off his face with a towel. It was, after all, a hot early summer morning. "Did he come to gather the latest on our charges?"
"Looks like it. But he made me think, too. Maybe we have a few years of time to prepare them, not mere months. He mentioned how the religious texts always talk about time being of the essence."
"Huh, good point. But in any case, I'll talk to the Lady about taking them out more often. Some exercise in the woods and visits to the settlements in our protection could only help them getting used to the situation. Hajan still has his mind mostly on his lost love. It won't do him any good to be stuck in libraries and arenas."
"True that. But remember, he has lost the love of his life a mere few weeks ago, from his point of view. It will take time for him to accept it, and I fear he's far from it. I caught him reading up on the mysteries of time and the magic able to manipulate it."
"Oh dear. We better don't tell the Lady, she is already getting impatient as well." Bernard winced. "I hope the boy won't try to escape from us at the first possible chance."
"Unlikely, because his sister won't." Phylisande was sure bout that. "While she is resisting being pushed into a particular form, she has accepted that they are now here and need to move forward."
"Thank the gods for small blessings. Talking of gods, have you heard from Mother Adnua yet?"
"No." The young woman shook her long hair and sighed. "But she's up in the mountains reclaiming some holy area or the other. With a considerable contingent of knights, scouts and hunters, so she should be fine. It will just take a few months before she is here, as usual."
"Months we might not have, no matter how we read the prophecy. We might have to do without her."
Phylisande blinked. Somehow, the expression on the man's face worried her. "What's so bad about doing anything without a priestess of Ungor? And this particular one can be so obnoxious about her faith I'm glad she has found a cause taking her away from us."
"Yeah but... she can see the immediate future, you know. Maybe when the time comes we have to leave here, she would be good to tell us which road to follow or avoid, and which battles to pick." He smiled at his friend. "But then, maybe she would not get this particular insight from her god."
"She'll certainly be here before any of us is ready to leave. We do not even have the slightest hint as to where to go, where to start from to begin with."
"No luck yet, huh?" The knight knew the answer but he felt it polite to ask. Not being able to find hints in either the history books or the reports gained from friends and spies throughout the known continents – usually delivered by magic – frustrated the woman, who was also one of the spymasters Lady Belanda employed.
"No luck at all. But Atheyus says he is making great progress in the establishing of a permanent teleport point on the southern leyline. It's a good thing Snowpeak Watch could be build on such an important crossing of leylines to begin with."
"That's why it took years to find a spot for the keep," he nodded. "Thanks for letting me know, I'll find the old mage and talk to him about it. At least, he's good in explaining magic in words even those of us who never went to any academy can understand."
Laughing, she kissed his cheek and turned to go back inside. "I'll pick up my reading again, I'll eventually find something."
Unlike many other libraries Phylisande had come to know well, the library of Snowpeak Watch was light and open, being on the top floor of the main building with a roof partially made from glass. Its center feature was a large rectangle ebony table which was old and used. It was more than just a table, but few people knew that. The last librarian before her mother took the position, one of the last half elves left in all the world, had died here as a very old man. His spirit had bound to the table somehow, and if you were stuck on a research, couldn't find something or didn't even know where to start, sometimes you would suddenly know or a flickering ghostly form would attempt to guide you through the large library. Phylisande had taken advantage of this a few times and was really grateful. However, in the current situation the spirit had not been much of a help. At least, not that she could see. He had led her to some old maps of the continent, and a book about bloodlines, but that had been the extend of it. Maybe she just couldn't see it.
The maps of Cerilia and Aduria where pinned on the table by heavy books. Of Cerilia, there were 4 different maps. One was purely topographical. An unknown cartographer had taken great pains to label everything just right. Even the heights of the mountains and the types of forests were noted, and which type of animal lived where. Another had basic topographic features but the old borders and capitals and ruling families added to it. It was the sort of map once used in schools all around the continent. Two others were clearly copies of that one, but one had no borders or other info at all, while the other had the new power set up drawn in carefully. Phylisande had drawn them herself. The borders were added in with a pen alchemically treated, so you could erase the borders as needed and change them around. A feature badly needed in today's shifting powers. The as of yet empty map would probably see use a lot later.
It was really no surprise that people kept referring to the old borders and names. Baruk-Azhik was a good example of the advantages of sticking to old names. Snowpeak Watch was build in the mountains of the Promontory, close to the border of what was known as Cliff's Lament. Cliff's Lament and with it parts of the Promontory and Rourkhe of the neighboring Chimaeron – once ruled by evil as so many parts of the continent – plus a good sized chunk of Duornil of Coeranys had, until 18 years ago, belonged to a powerful young warlord and fledgeling wizard named Dunch. He had managed to hold "Dunching" as he had called it, for over 40 years. But eventually, he had crumbled in all the squabbles and fight for resources. And his self proclaimed, hardly acknowledged realm had been one of the more stable ones.
Lady Belanda's parents had gone about holding here very differently when they arrived. Asides from the keep and the settlement clearly belonging to it, there were only a few trading posts and other small settlements which flew the flag of Snowpeak Watch, and most did it because they wanted to belong to something and had been protected by the Malrich family – the founders of Snowpeak Watch – several times. The keep made no claim to any new name of the land it held, nor did it promise anything beyond trade and mutual aid to those who voluntarily followed. If a settlement wished to enter a formal protection agreement, they needed to send people to the keep to be trained as soldiers. Most often, those would be stationed under the keep's banner in their own settlements. This worked well enough, and together with the supposed curse on the area since Dunch had died of a mysterious ailment kept any wannabe conquerors out of their backyard. Of course, outside of the area, hardly anyone had heard about Snowpeak Watch to begin with, and that was just as well.
"How's it going?" With a wide smile, a brown haired, blue eyed round woman in an apron over a blue dress, Kamela, the cook and, what few people knew, also a divinator, entered the library with a tray laden with coffee, sweetrolls, bread, butter, tomatoes and cheese and a glass of apple juice. "You forgot breakfast, and you are about to forget lunch, so I'm bringing you both." Carefully, she put the food on a small extra table as to not endanger any books or maps.
"Thank you so much! I will forget my head one of these days." With a grin, the librarian grabbed the hot coffee and a sweetroll. Only now she realized the weird hollow feeling she had came from a more than empty stomach.
"Your head," the round matron replied with a chuckle, "is luckily fixed to your neck."
"And a good thing that is. As to your question, it's going slow but steady. Me, though, I am losing my patience a little. I hope I don't show it to anyone else. "
"You had me fooled there." Kamela kissed her forehead and hugged her briefly. "I need to get back to work, but if you like, you can come by tonight and we'll find out what the cards have in store for you."
As the older woman rushed out in her swaying walk, Phylisande wondered if she should take her up on the offer or not. But not knowing, so she had learned, was usually preferable to not knowing. But for now, she had other concerns as well. Continuing to eat, she was considering what she would try to teach the siblings later that afternoon.
Several centuries later, some soon-to-be heroes from the past meet those who were waiting for them and are tasked with unifying the world and bring about a new, golden era.
This is the session they had, and now I'm going to create something from it. I'm rather excited, reshaping Cerilia is something I wanted to do for a while.
The Heroes
Hajan and Shelna, siblings with some elven ancestry. Supposed to be a bard and sorceress according to prophecy.
Phylisande – chronicler, librarian, mage and teacher of the siblings.
Loncarth – Court jester of Lady Belanda. Has a few out of his control "magically tragically" abilities as he calls them. Can't sing.
Sir Bernard – Knight of Snowpeak Watch. Teacher of the siblings. Cousin to Lady Belanda.
Mother Adnua – High Priestess of Ungor of the area. Despite her title, she is still very young.
Other people
Lady Belanda, current lady of Snowfell Keep.
Kamela – Cook and diviner in Lady Belanda's employ.
Paiach's spirit – one of the last half-elves who died in Snowfell Keep's library and still hangs around.
Atheyus - Court wizard of Snowfell Keep. He's old as an oak, as he claims, and he fuels some stereotype about wizards by dressing like in the old stories.
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Prologue
The world had changed tremendously from what Hajan and Shelna used to know. Shadow had fallen on the land centuries ago, and while the peoples of Cerilia and Aduria had somehow prevailed and pushed back the evil caused by the Godsrift, the faces of the continents had forever changed, and with it the bloodlines, and the magic, and the cultures of the people.
Elves were said to be extinct, but there were rumors they had just left the world and some would still be watching. The halflings were largely gone as well, it was said they had fled the world before the fall of the shadow. This was very likely true, considering their connection to the shadow world. No one had seen a dwarf in at least 2 centuries, either.
Of course, millions of all races had died and countries had vanished. That had not come as a surprise. What was a surprise was the reluctance of the people to move forward, to rebuild in any useful manner. Some areas seemed to have gone back to barbarism. People were clinging to what they considered the glory of old times, although what exactly those were, no one seemed to be sure. In some areas, magic and the bloodlines specifically were blamed for the disaster that had befallen the land, in other areas, the bloodlines were said to have saved the world in the last possible moment. Governments had not been rebuild in most places beyond local lords and ladies. What was stranger still was the insistence of almost everyone to keep the old names of countries and provinces and partly dead cities. It was as if still calling the chaotic stretch of lands that were once thriving kingdoms Ghoere and Mhoried would make what happened undone. In some areas in the south, the local leaders had made some attempts at renaming places and countries, but it had been met with such a resistance some of those leaders had been backstabbed.
Then there was the fact of keeping history. Thanks to carefully kept records before Shadowfall, the knowledge about how the world was was there, and the old tried to teach this history to their young. But the time of Shadowfall was badly documented, and the time after had a weird way of referring to things, if they were bothering to even note them down. At any given time, there were likely to be several people identified as "the king of Coeranys" or "the jarl of Kiergard" and it was often clear that those individuals were at war with each other. There was hardly any objective history on anything, as the profession of historians seemed to have almost died out.
The other humanoid races seemed to have lost a lot of their evil taint, at least according to Hajan, who could feel evil from several leagues away. Some of their tribes and clans seemed to build more stable communities than the humans, and there were places where they mixed together with halfling and human communities.
The short version of it all, in the words of Shelna as they sat next to a fire in a proud keep in what used to be dwarf lands, was that is was the worst possible mess they could have woken up to. They had no idea what to do, where to start, or how to deal with the feeling of loss that seemed to paralyze them at times.
To them, it was only last week that they had said goodbye to their parents, making their way into Baruk-Azhik to visit relatives who were, with permission, of course, settling on dwarf land to study the wildlife and the plants. Their cousin Meldar had talked of a cave of marvels not yet explored, and somehow the siblings had found themselves following him. There had been an entrance to a small cave, yes, but it was all dark and there had been fog as high as their hips. Shelna had stumbled over something and trying to avoid a fall grabbed her brother, who had also lost balance. The last thing they remembered after that was breathing in the fog and feeling kind of weird. The next thing they knew, they were lying on the cave floor all confused, and nothing was what it had been anymore.
The rangers that had found them wandering around lost and confused in the area where, centuries ago, the settlement of their relatives had been, had brought them to their lady's keep – Snowpeak Watch. Build only 52 years ago, the complex was still being expanded upon and was universally taken as proof that the dwarfs were gone. Otherwise, they wouldn't have had a chance to take hold here.
Lady Belanda, a young noble who had risen to status from a merchant family some decades ago, was one of the last people who were known to have any elven blood in them. With her slightly pointed ears, almond eyes, small lips and curly black hair framing a lean face, she was not exactly the epitome of beauty, but her kind soul made up for it and then some. The people in her employ would do almost everything for her – even settle in a still largely unexplored stretch of land which was said to be cursed, dangerous and probably still full of dwarfs. She had never explained why it was that they should build here. But everyone who knew her well - and that meant about everyone from the stable boy and the cook to her knights – had noticed the change in her once they had found those two younglings who, as it seemed, had some elven blood in them as well. No one had asked them yet, at the Lady's orders. Being asleep for such a long time, waking up without anything to hold on to, had taken its toll, especially on the young man who, as Belanda and her people had learned by now, had been about to marry a young farmer's daughter before the fog put them into a magical sleep.
As Lady Belanda was observing the pair from behind a mirror, she barely forced back a sigh. She had watched them so often, and was, by now, sure that they had no idea what exactly had happened and why. Yet she could not help spying on them again and again. No trace of the fog had been found in the cave by either expedition she had sent, nor anything else spectacular. Had it been some sort of trap? Where those not the ones her family had been told to expect, to watch out for? The reason she had this keep build? Her confusion was almost as bad as that of the young people in front of the fire.
A sound behind her made her turn around. The young knight standing there was her younger cousin and very aware of the situation. "Anything?" he asked. His face told Belanda that he was not happy about her spying on them, but saw the necessity.
"No, they keep talking in circles, and have troubles keeping their emotions in check. To no big surprise."
The knight nodded. "They cannot go back, and they have nothing to move forward to. But if they are who we think they are, we can give them the purpose they need. We have to tell them."
"So soon? We aren't even sure." The lady leaned her head on the wall and let out her sigh now. "It is very likely, yes, considering the strange, magical circumstances. But it could still be a coincidence."
"They come from the past, unaged, a man and a woman? Sounds pretty straight forward to me." The man came closer and smiled at her. "You are tired, you should rest."
"Sleep... nowhere in the prophecy did it mention them sleeping. But as far as myself, you are right. I better retire now. Maybe tomorrow we will tell them."
The knight watched with a frown as the lady retired. He knew Belanda was worried that revealing anything might have a bad effect on the already troubled minds of the young people, but in his eyes, having a big responsibility was better than having nothing to live for. He decided to take matters in his own hands.
A few minutes later, he entered the room the siblings were sitting in with a tray laden with tea and sandwiches. He tried to make a cheerful face, though he was not even sure if cheerfulness would be the right approach here. Carefully, he placed the tray on a small glass table and then dropped into a seat facing the two younglings.
"Hello Bernard," Hajan said, more automatically. He sounded as if he wanted to be alone with his sister.
"I've come to tell you why we think you are here," the knight started right into it. "Lady Belanda is not quite sure whether you should be told yet, but I think you have a right to it. Right now, you are just wasting your regained lives feeling sorry for yourselves." Bernard stared into the young man's eyes as if to challenge him in all his sadness and loss. "There is no way for you to go back, and after all the time you spent mulling it over, it is time to move on."
"That would be for us to decide," Shelna snapped. Then she ran her pale hand through her hair. "I'm sorry, Bernard, but you have no right to tell us how we should feel."
"Just tell us your story already and then leave us again," Hajan growled.
"You know about the changes after the War of the Skies,"Bernard began, "and about the demise of the awnsheghlien who tried to hinder the arrival of new gods to this world. Well, one of the gods who were unsuccessful in claiming a right to this world made a prophecy when it all went down the river. She said that there would be coming two from the past, a man and a woman, unaged, unspoiled by what had happened, to bring about a turn of tide and help restore order to the world. That god, which name is unfortunately long forgotten, was the one that wanted to be the protector of my family line. It tasked us to watch out for the prophecised ones, and help unite the world. Upon which, the god might be able to return to us along with some of the others who failed. And we believe those two are you, Hajan and Shelna. While the prophecy never said anything about finding the new heroes sleeping, it didn't say anything against it either, and it all makes perfect sense. We were told to watch this area for them, after all, and we found you!"
That was the short version of the story, but the knight was sure they could not manage more right now. Their reaction to the tale was very different, though. Hajan snorted and looked at the carpet, obviously trying to reign his anger in. Shelna looked up at the knight's face, interest beginning to form. There also seemed to be a bit of amusement. To Bernard it seemed more that she was desperately trying to make sense of it all, to find a purpose, than truly believing the story. He could have probably told her anything remotely plausible. It made him sigh. "Look, I know you mostly want to be left alone. But a lot of people suffer losses all the time, especially in these times. If you give up like that," he pointed at the young man, "you might as well die. But if you don't find something real to live for, it might be as bad, or worse, than dying anyway." He looked at Shelna, his eyes starting to smile, although she did not notice it. "If you do not really believe me, you should not make yourself believe it. We are, in fact, not completely sure if the prophecy refers to you, but together, we can find out."
"How?" Her eyes found his, and there was doubt, worry, and most of all the fear of the unknown Bernard had felt so often himself. His bloodline's power could read emotions of others well, but he did not yet dare to tell them that, lest they would accuse him of manipulating them. "If there is nothing more to the prophecy..."
"There is more," he said quickly. "But it is a long prophecy including many other things, and you should be rested to hear it all. Maybe you better rest now. Drink your tea and eat your sandwiches, and tomorrow we'll see." A slight compulsion carried through his voice, another power of his bloodline. The two of them, unaware of that, nodded and started to eat and to drink. Slowly, not wanting to disturb the slight magic he had woven, the knight retired from the room. Hopefully, his words had spurred some new thoughts in those two. If not... well, then they would have to wait, but despite the magical sleep lasting so long making it easy to to think a few weeks or even months would not matter, feared they were running out of time already. Time was of the essence. He had not told them that they had been supposed to find the two new heroes a lot sooner, at least by 5 or 6 years if the lady could be believed. Several circumstances had hindered them. Maybe evil influences, maybe just bad luck. Now, the sooner they could train them the better, and it would be best to be on the road to - well, to whatever one of them or both would lead them, he supposed – by the next day. A totally impossible thing, of course, as the prophecy had been specific enough as to their training. And it would take a while.
My name is Phylisande. I'm Chronicler to Lady Belanda. I'm one of the Chroniclers who have considerable magic power, and thus the mages, wizards, sorcerers and even sages of other employ have often asked me to forgo the "thankless task" and do something real with my gift. Well, this is real to me, especially since most of my powers center around knowing the past, present and future. I am right where I am supposed to be.
I have been in this position since I was barely out of the Magicademy in the heartlands. That was a good 10 years ago. Now, the young siblings supposedly being the fulfillment of our prophecy have been place under my tutelage, for I am, of course, also a historian and teacher. But they need to learn so much in so short a time. Where to begin?
Hajan is, according to prophecy, supposed to develop into a mighty bard whose "songs might move mountains and split the sea." He shows little interest in those arts though, although he plays the flute – the same sad love song over and over again. His sister, who is said to be able to unite all the bloodlines shows no interest in the magical arts either, although she can feel ley lines better than anyone I ever met. I have no yet discovered what their own bloodline and talent is. They insist on none, but that can't be. I can feel it in them, just not define it yet. Yet!
It has been two weeks now, and all I have been doing was assess their abilities. Both are good enough riders, both know their way in the woods and nature as a whole, they can track and survive for a while on their own. Each of them is a good enough shot with a hunting bow, too; no doubt they will be able to adapt to a war bow with ease. Also, they both know about unarmed defense and attack and know to handle a knife, all skills, they said, which had been always necessary in this untamed area. More importantly, they know how to read and write and calculate, the latter only to some extend but it will do for now.
The girl has confirmed they carry elven blood, although both of them hate the term half-elf. There is, so they say, nothing half about their elf ancestry, not even quarter. None of them has any idea, or cares, what their elven line is. It seems that it was not the habit of the human dominated settlements around here to record a lot of their ancestry past great-grandfather.
As I am writing this, I am watching as the boy – young man, really, but their unspoiled minds remind me of children – is training with a wooden sword. His mind seems, again, to be elsewhere though. Shelna applies herself well, in comparison, but we ran into an obstacle. As long as she was using a training sword, she did well, but once the instructor, Bernard, placed a real short sword into her hands, she could not fight with it. She says it feels all wrong, being purely steel. She has no issues with spear, dagger or staff, anything that is not pure steel. The metal, she says, disrupts her natural flow somehow. And indeed, her aura changes. Her magic has trouble with iron based weapons, and the same seems true with armor. Any other items pose no problem. Bernard says he will see if he can find one of the old swords with a wooden or leather wrapped handle for her to try again.
"Hey there," a voice interrupted the woman's first journal entry. "I can see you are well into your new job to write their story already." A short man dressed in a tight fitting blue and yellow costume appeared from the direction of the keep, juggling several green apples. He caught one of them with his mouth, rolling his eyes wildly, before putting the other in a large belt pouch one by one and beginning to eat the fruit he had picked out.
"Morning, Loncarth," the chronicler grinned. "It's not a new job, I'm doing what I always did."
"Ah yes, but you know the Lady will want you to accompany those two on whatever folly they will be made to embark upon." Dropping on one of the´many boulders around the training area, Loncarth cocked his head, blinking at the young man who seemed to get frustrated by his training. "And judging by this performance, they will need a lot more help than you or our gallant knight here could give them."
"It's just been half a month. Do you always have to be so negative?"
"Positively negatively." Throwing the remains of the apple away, the short guy tumbled from the boulder, flipped on the ground and ended up in a handstand. "It's called really realistic realization."
"I'm sure the Lady will find more people to aid them, at least in the beginning. Considering they are supposed to unite a continent – no, a world – they will need more than just a small army eventually. We all know that." Phylisande gave up on writing for now and put all her utensils away. "And we have little time, if the prophecies can be trusted."
"Bah! You read about time being of the essence and judge it to mean that as soon as the chosen ones are found – if they are indeed what everyone thinks they are – some sort of countdown will start. This is a divine prophecy, and in all our religious teachings, we've always learned to use our time in the mortal world well." Jumping around on his hands, Loncarth waved his legs. "Don't you remember that 'time is of the essence' is in several major works about prophets and other divine types taking long time to prepare for whatever is ahead?" With a flip, he landed on his feet again. "Seriously, don't you think all it means is that in the next decade or so, we need to prepare them well so they will be ready whenever whatever wherever starts?"
The woman blinked, considering this. He had a point. Why would the gods send someone to do such an important work and not give them enough time? The sorceress opened her mouth but was unable to get a single word out.
"And you, you need some additional preparation, too, it seems." Loncarth stabbed a finger at her. "You might've gone to that school of arcane bargain, but you shouldn't have forgotten what you learned around here! You are a woodsgirl, girl, you need to pay more attention to your surroundings."
"And just what do you mean by that?" Most people were amused by the jester's antics but also constantly confused or even irritated. Not so Phylisande. She had some idea what he wanted to convey.
"I managed to sneak up on you." He chuckled, wiggling his finger. "You are beginning to lose it."
"You didn't manage to sneak up on me." The woman stretched and threw an eye on the trainings again, which were coming to an end as it seemed. "Granted, I didn't hear you this time. But there are other senses to tell someone is approaching, you know?"
"Do you have eyes in the back of your head now, like the Lady seems to have? Or..." He scratched his head in an exaggerated manner. "Maybe you cast a spell of sorts to know someone is coming. That would be cheating, though."
Phylisande laughed. "No." Her own finger tapped his nose before he could evade. "This is what I went by."
"You saw the shadow of my nose?" He squeezed it, looking surprised.
"No, silly. I smelled you."
"That is not possible. I bathed this morning, I didn't use any scented soap because someone..." he looked at her and winked "...had already used up all of it. I didn't eat garlic or onions so how would you be able to smell me?"
"You came with the wind, and you blew some wind." She wiggled her finger at him this time. "It's all the apples you eat and all the juice you drink. Even if your farts make no sound, the whole area knows where you are unless the wind blows towards you."
Seemingly hurt, he touched his hands to his heart. "You are soooo evil. Suggesting I would... no, you know it was the dog... or the horses..."
"Because dogs eat apples, and because horses are all around us right now." Chuckling, she grabbed a pebble and threw it at him.
He caught it with no problem, then he farted loudly. "If you accuse me so wrongly, I need to rectalify the situation thus," he stated, just to walk away with his head up high in what he probably thought would pass as a regal manner.
Bernard came up to her, wiping sweat off his face with a towel. It was, after all, a hot early summer morning. "Did he come to gather the latest on our charges?"
"Looks like it. But he made me think, too. Maybe we have a few years of time to prepare them, not mere months. He mentioned how the religious texts always talk about time being of the essence."
"Huh, good point. But in any case, I'll talk to the Lady about taking them out more often. Some exercise in the woods and visits to the settlements in our protection could only help them getting used to the situation. Hajan still has his mind mostly on his lost love. It won't do him any good to be stuck in libraries and arenas."
"True that. But remember, he has lost the love of his life a mere few weeks ago, from his point of view. It will take time for him to accept it, and I fear he's far from it. I caught him reading up on the mysteries of time and the magic able to manipulate it."
"Oh dear. We better don't tell the Lady, she is already getting impatient as well." Bernard winced. "I hope the boy won't try to escape from us at the first possible chance."
"Unlikely, because his sister won't." Phylisande was sure bout that. "While she is resisting being pushed into a particular form, she has accepted that they are now here and need to move forward."
"Thank the gods for small blessings. Talking of gods, have you heard from Mother Adnua yet?"
"No." The young woman shook her long hair and sighed. "But she's up in the mountains reclaiming some holy area or the other. With a considerable contingent of knights, scouts and hunters, so she should be fine. It will just take a few months before she is here, as usual."
"Months we might not have, no matter how we read the prophecy. We might have to do without her."
Phylisande blinked. Somehow, the expression on the man's face worried her. "What's so bad about doing anything without a priestess of Ungor? And this particular one can be so obnoxious about her faith I'm glad she has found a cause taking her away from us."
"Yeah but... she can see the immediate future, you know. Maybe when the time comes we have to leave here, she would be good to tell us which road to follow or avoid, and which battles to pick." He smiled at his friend. "But then, maybe she would not get this particular insight from her god."
"She'll certainly be here before any of us is ready to leave. We do not even have the slightest hint as to where to go, where to start from to begin with."
"No luck yet, huh?" The knight knew the answer but he felt it polite to ask. Not being able to find hints in either the history books or the reports gained from friends and spies throughout the known continents – usually delivered by magic – frustrated the woman, who was also one of the spymasters Lady Belanda employed.
"No luck at all. But Atheyus says he is making great progress in the establishing of a permanent teleport point on the southern leyline. It's a good thing Snowpeak Watch could be build on such an important crossing of leylines to begin with."
"That's why it took years to find a spot for the keep," he nodded. "Thanks for letting me know, I'll find the old mage and talk to him about it. At least, he's good in explaining magic in words even those of us who never went to any academy can understand."
Laughing, she kissed his cheek and turned to go back inside. "I'll pick up my reading again, I'll eventually find something."
Unlike many other libraries Phylisande had come to know well, the library of Snowpeak Watch was light and open, being on the top floor of the main building with a roof partially made from glass. Its center feature was a large rectangle ebony table which was old and used. It was more than just a table, but few people knew that. The last librarian before her mother took the position, one of the last half elves left in all the world, had died here as a very old man. His spirit had bound to the table somehow, and if you were stuck on a research, couldn't find something or didn't even know where to start, sometimes you would suddenly know or a flickering ghostly form would attempt to guide you through the large library. Phylisande had taken advantage of this a few times and was really grateful. However, in the current situation the spirit had not been much of a help. At least, not that she could see. He had led her to some old maps of the continent, and a book about bloodlines, but that had been the extend of it. Maybe she just couldn't see it.
The maps of Cerilia and Aduria where pinned on the table by heavy books. Of Cerilia, there were 4 different maps. One was purely topographical. An unknown cartographer had taken great pains to label everything just right. Even the heights of the mountains and the types of forests were noted, and which type of animal lived where. Another had basic topographic features but the old borders and capitals and ruling families added to it. It was the sort of map once used in schools all around the continent. Two others were clearly copies of that one, but one had no borders or other info at all, while the other had the new power set up drawn in carefully. Phylisande had drawn them herself. The borders were added in with a pen alchemically treated, so you could erase the borders as needed and change them around. A feature badly needed in today's shifting powers. The as of yet empty map would probably see use a lot later.
It was really no surprise that people kept referring to the old borders and names. Baruk-Azhik was a good example of the advantages of sticking to old names. Snowpeak Watch was build in the mountains of the Promontory, close to the border of what was known as Cliff's Lament. Cliff's Lament and with it parts of the Promontory and Rourkhe of the neighboring Chimaeron – once ruled by evil as so many parts of the continent – plus a good sized chunk of Duornil of Coeranys had, until 18 years ago, belonged to a powerful young warlord and fledgeling wizard named Dunch. He had managed to hold "Dunching" as he had called it, for over 40 years. But eventually, he had crumbled in all the squabbles and fight for resources. And his self proclaimed, hardly acknowledged realm had been one of the more stable ones.
Lady Belanda's parents had gone about holding here very differently when they arrived. Asides from the keep and the settlement clearly belonging to it, there were only a few trading posts and other small settlements which flew the flag of Snowpeak Watch, and most did it because they wanted to belong to something and had been protected by the Malrich family – the founders of Snowpeak Watch – several times. The keep made no claim to any new name of the land it held, nor did it promise anything beyond trade and mutual aid to those who voluntarily followed. If a settlement wished to enter a formal protection agreement, they needed to send people to the keep to be trained as soldiers. Most often, those would be stationed under the keep's banner in their own settlements. This worked well enough, and together with the supposed curse on the area since Dunch had died of a mysterious ailment kept any wannabe conquerors out of their backyard. Of course, outside of the area, hardly anyone had heard about Snowpeak Watch to begin with, and that was just as well.
"How's it going?" With a wide smile, a brown haired, blue eyed round woman in an apron over a blue dress, Kamela, the cook and, what few people knew, also a divinator, entered the library with a tray laden with coffee, sweetrolls, bread, butter, tomatoes and cheese and a glass of apple juice. "You forgot breakfast, and you are about to forget lunch, so I'm bringing you both." Carefully, she put the food on a small extra table as to not endanger any books or maps.
"Thank you so much! I will forget my head one of these days." With a grin, the librarian grabbed the hot coffee and a sweetroll. Only now she realized the weird hollow feeling she had came from a more than empty stomach.
"Your head," the round matron replied with a chuckle, "is luckily fixed to your neck."
"And a good thing that is. As to your question, it's going slow but steady. Me, though, I am losing my patience a little. I hope I don't show it to anyone else. "
"You had me fooled there." Kamela kissed her forehead and hugged her briefly. "I need to get back to work, but if you like, you can come by tonight and we'll find out what the cards have in store for you."
As the older woman rushed out in her swaying walk, Phylisande wondered if she should take her up on the offer or not. But not knowing, so she had learned, was usually preferable to not knowing. But for now, she had other concerns as well. Continuing to eat, she was considering what she would try to teach the siblings later that afternoon.