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<blockquote data-quote="Cheiromancer" data-source="post: 1029725" data-attributes="member: 141"><p><em>Originally posted by Sepulchrave II on 10-23-2002 </em></p><p></p><p><strong>Here and There; and This, That and the Other: Part 2</strong></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>**</p><p></p><p></p><p>At Eadric’s request, Mostin erected his looking-glass in order to best observe the events that transpired outside of a village called Hrim Eorth, three days southwest of Morne, on the morning of the Summer Solstice. The Alienist had scried the main antagonists in the impending conflict: Hullu, and Fustil - the Baron of Utlund, and Captain of Jiuhu’s forces.</p><p></p><p>The Tunthi tribesman had elected to intercept the cavalry on a meadow formed by a broad meander in the river Nenning, next to which the main road to Morne passed. It was on open ground that, on first inspection, conferred no particular tactical advantage to his <em>Bagaudas</em>, and invited a mounted charge. </p><p></p><p>"I wonder what he’s playing at," Eadric mused.</p><p></p><p>Mostin concentrated yet further, and scenes too rapid to understand flashed across the surface of the mirror. Another figure appeared.</p><p></p><p>A handsome man, with an oily sheen to his skin, riding a <em>Phantom Steed</em>. Mostin grimaced in anticipation of his sensor being detected, but fortunately the subject did not seem to notice – or perhaps to care. <em>There again</em>, he thought, <em>we’re probably not the only people watching this.</em></p><p></p><p>"Rimilin," the Alienist said. "A worrying development, to say the least."</p><p></p><p>"Acting in an ‘auxiliary capacity,’ I assume," Nwm suggested.</p><p></p><p>"Yes," Mostin said dubiously. "Although to my knowledge, Rimilin’s divination skills are rather lackluster."</p><p></p><p>"What does he <em>want</em>?" Nwm asked. "I mean, what’s his angle?"</p><p></p><p>"Power," Mostin sighed. "There is no other reason for submitting oneself to symbiosis with a demon. It arrests and distorts the native ability of bonded wizards, forcing bizarre changes upon them."</p><p></p><p>"In Wyre, that seems rather short-sighted," Nwm said. "The Injunction being what it is."</p><p></p><p>Eadric shifted uneasily, and recalled the appearance of Jovol – if it had been Jovol – in his dream, and Nehael’s words afterwards. He had yet to share his suspicions regarding the Ogre-Mage with either Mostin or Nwm.</p><p></p><p>"Other lands," Mostin said. "Other worlds and planes. If dominion is your goal, why not start out somewhere quiet, where you can build your resources carefully?"</p><p></p><p>"I would hardly call Wyre ‘quiet’ at present," Eadric remarked wrily.</p><p></p><p>Rimilin smiled, and doffed his cap several times at empty spaces in the sky. Mostin laughed despite himself.</p><p></p><p>"He is acknowledging that he is being scrutinized – I suspect that Daunton is also observing with interest, and probably others. I wonder why he hasn’t warded himself. At least he’ll play by the book. Rimilin is not popular, and is unlikely to do anything which is questionable."</p><p></p><p>A flash of insight erupted into Eadric’s mind. Patterns shifted, coalesced, and bifurcated on new levels.</p><p></p><p>"He is about to violate the Injunction," the Paladin said.</p><p></p><p>"That is unlikely," Mostin answered.</p><p></p><p>Expressions of confusion crossed the faces of those present as they looked into the mirror. From inside of his coat, the Acolyte of the Skin produced an eagle chick, not yet even a fledgling. Its short wings were bound to its sides. With one deft movement, Rimilin twisted its neck and cast it to the ground.</p><p></p><p>"A sacrifice?" Nwm asked.</p><p></p><p>"Or a message," Eadric replied.</p><p></p><p>"Observe the legs of the horses nearby," Mostin said. "They are moving to attack."</p><p></p><p>Rimilin himself, however, slowed his steed and cast a spell. An image appeared in the air next to him, seeming to float above his outstretched hand. It was of a town consumed by fire and was replaced by the ghostly face of a rather familiar Wizard.</p><p></p><p>Mostin’s jaw dropped, as he gazed at an apparition of himself. "Which town was that?" He asked.</p><p></p><p>"It looked like Jiuhu to me," Eadric replied.</p><p></p><p>The mirror went blank. </p><p></p><p>"But the battle…" Nwm protested.</p><p></p><p>"Shut up," Mostin said. He refocused and, from a great height, Jiuhu – Ortwin’s home in his prior life – appeared upon the surface of the looking-glass. A dozen or more scattered patches, each fifty or sixty feet wide, were burning amid the closely built timber homes in the town’s old quarter. Flames leapt easily from one wooden building to the next, as crowds rushed through the streets and people jostled to escape the fire. </p><p></p><p>"Sh*t," the Alienist said. "That wasn’t me."</p><p></p><p>Immediately, Nwm acted. Sprouting wings from his back, he turned to Mostin. "Keep the portal <em>open</em>," he said, and stepped through.</p><p></p><p>He appeared briefly in the skies above the town: it was windy, and gusts were fuelling the eager flames below. Nwm invoked the power in the <em>Orb of Storms</em> atop his staff. </p><p></p><p><em>Dead calm, torrential rain</em>, he commanded, before stepping back through the portal.</p><p></p><p>"That should do it," the Druid said, "although it’ll take a while for the weather to reorganize itself."</p><p></p><p>By the time that Mostin had reoriented the mirror, and was looking again to the battle near Hrim Eorth, the scene was one of utter carnage. </p><p></p><p></p><p>*</p><p></p><p></p><p>Hullu ordered his archers – comprised in equal parts of longbowmen and crossbowmen – to begin shooting as soon as the front of horsemen came within range. Dozens of lightly armoured outriders on coursers fell, and horses toppled.</p><p></p><p>Behind, the ranks of plate-clad aristocrats thundered on.</p><p></p><p><em>Not enough archers</em>, Hullu remarked wrily to himself.</p><p></p><p>The witches – whose names the Tunthi warrior still didn’t know – stood nearby. Hullu scratched his head dubiously, and wondered whether they possessed as much power as they claimed. </p><p></p><p><em>Ah, well</em>, he sighed, <em>too late to worry about it now</em>. He hefted his shield, drew Melancholy from its black scabbard, and invoked the protection of his clan’s Totemic guardian.</p><p></p><p>One of the witches, who had been muttering quietly to herself for ten minutes or more, suddenly fell to the ground and began to screech and writhe, strings of bizarre syllables issuing from her mouth. The pikemen nearby looked shaken and disturbed, but Hullu’s heart leapt.</p><p></p><p><em>FROMTHELINNASHEISFROMTHELINNA. OHGODSANDPROTECTORSHOWCANITHANKYOU. YOUCAMETOMEINMYHOUROFNEED.</em></p><p></p><p>He almost wept with joy.</p><p></p><p>The river, slow and ponderous, asleep for millennia beyond count, awoke.</p><p></p><p></p><p>*</p><p></p><p></p><p>Rimilin, warded from the rain of arrows and bolts, gazed at the ranks of Uediian guerillas and farmers ahead of him, and wondered if Nwm was present. He considered his assurances to the Royal Council – not to deploy his magical armamentarium in a tactical capacity – and grinned wickedly as he remembered his agreement with Graz’zt. The Aristocrats were lowering their lances.</p><p></p><p><em>Let’s smoke out the Druid</em>, he whistled merrily to himself, as he launched a <em>Fireball</em> at the front rank of pikemen, instantly immolating forty of them. <em>Oops, there goes the Injunction</em></p><p></p><p>Fustil, the commander of Jiuhu’s forces, looked at him in disbelief.</p><p></p><p>Rimilin’s smile vanished. Agony overwhelmed him as water evaporated from his body. <em>What the Hell? A Necromancer? Where?</em>. All around him, knights and horses collapsed screaming. Fustil’s steed tumbled, flinging the unconscious Baron to the ground, where he was trampled by the hooves of a dozen others. Ahead, the Acolyte of the Skin detected a distortion in the air in front of the disordered Uediian front line.</p><p></p><p>Some trick of the Druid’s? He urged his mount to full speed, and it shot forward like a thunderbolt. Rimilin launched another <em>Fireball</em> at the distortion, which seemed to quiver under the force of the blast. A gust of frigid air wafted over him from behind, and glancing back, Rimilin saw that a huge curtain of ice – fifty yards long – had appeared between himself and the bulk of the cavalry. Knights swelled around the ends of the wall, but many of those in whose path it lay crashed into the barrier, or arrested their charge, resulting in chaos.</p><p></p><p><em>A wizard. It had to be a wizard</em>, Rimilin thought desperately, <em>but which one?</em>. He cursed, banked his <em>Phantom Steed</em> away and flung another <em>Fireball</em>.</p><p></p><p></p><p>*</p><p></p><p></p><p>"I stand corrected," Mostin said to Eadric, as they observed the Acolyte launch another magical attack.</p><p></p><p>"What is going on there?" Nwm groaned. "Where did the <em>Wall of Ice</em> come from? And what is <em>that</em>?" He pointed to the distortion.</p><p></p><p>As if in response to his question, it shifted, and grew, and suddenly manifested. The Paladin coughed.</p><p></p><p>"Er, Ed," Nwm said, "That’s a Dragon. A big black one."</p><p></p><p>"Apparently," Mostin agreed.</p><p></p><p></p><p>*</p><p></p><p></p><p>At the appearance of the colossal winged reptile, a hundred feet or more from its snout to the tip of its tail, Rimilin veered his steed away and <em>Teleported</em>. He didn’t care if it was a Dragon, or a <em>Shapechanged</em> Wizard. Either way, he was out of his league, and was going.</p><p></p><p>Not before loosing another <em>Fireball</em>, however.</p><p></p><p></p><p>**</p><p></p><p></p><p>Mesikämmi leaned on her staff and smiled. Ah, the River here was ancient. He knew all kinds of tricks.</p><p></p><p>Nearby, the Succubus, Chr’ri, stood impassively. Anarchy and death – yes. Not entirely what she had anticipated, but anarchy and death nonetheless. That was good enough.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>*Traditionally, Hethio, the richest province in Wyre (not counting Einir, technically a Principality), has always looked to the Temple for direction in times of crisis. Many of the Templars themselves are natives of Hethio – sons and brothers of its numerous minor nobility. With the realignment of so many Templars in favour of Eadric, the removal of a Bishop very active in temporal politics, and repeated harassment by Hullu’s <em>Bagaudas</em>, the ineffectual and aging Duke, Falaere, was unable to actualize his considerable resources. Furthermore, many of his bannermen were reluctant or unwilling to meet their own kin in battle. </p><p></p><p></p><p>End Note: Mesikämmi used a <em>Spirit Ally</em> spell to call a Greater Nature Spirit.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Cheiromancer, post: 1029725, member: 141"] [i]Originally posted by Sepulchrave II on 10-23-2002 [/i] [B]Here and There; and This, That and the Other: Part 2[/B] ** At Eadric’s request, Mostin erected his looking-glass in order to best observe the events that transpired outside of a village called Hrim Eorth, three days southwest of Morne, on the morning of the Summer Solstice. The Alienist had scried the main antagonists in the impending conflict: Hullu, and Fustil - the Baron of Utlund, and Captain of Jiuhu’s forces. The Tunthi tribesman had elected to intercept the cavalry on a meadow formed by a broad meander in the river Nenning, next to which the main road to Morne passed. It was on open ground that, on first inspection, conferred no particular tactical advantage to his [I]Bagaudas[/I], and invited a mounted charge. "I wonder what he’s playing at," Eadric mused. Mostin concentrated yet further, and scenes too rapid to understand flashed across the surface of the mirror. Another figure appeared. A handsome man, with an oily sheen to his skin, riding a [I]Phantom Steed[/I]. Mostin grimaced in anticipation of his sensor being detected, but fortunately the subject did not seem to notice – or perhaps to care. [I]There again[/I], he thought, [I]we’re probably not the only people watching this.[/I] "Rimilin," the Alienist said. "A worrying development, to say the least." "Acting in an ‘auxiliary capacity,’ I assume," Nwm suggested. "Yes," Mostin said dubiously. "Although to my knowledge, Rimilin’s divination skills are rather lackluster." "What does he [I]want[/I]?" Nwm asked. "I mean, what’s his angle?" "Power," Mostin sighed. "There is no other reason for submitting oneself to symbiosis with a demon. It arrests and distorts the native ability of bonded wizards, forcing bizarre changes upon them." "In Wyre, that seems rather short-sighted," Nwm said. "The Injunction being what it is." Eadric shifted uneasily, and recalled the appearance of Jovol – if it had been Jovol – in his dream, and Nehael’s words afterwards. He had yet to share his suspicions regarding the Ogre-Mage with either Mostin or Nwm. "Other lands," Mostin said. "Other worlds and planes. If dominion is your goal, why not start out somewhere quiet, where you can build your resources carefully?" "I would hardly call Wyre ‘quiet’ at present," Eadric remarked wrily. Rimilin smiled, and doffed his cap several times at empty spaces in the sky. Mostin laughed despite himself. "He is acknowledging that he is being scrutinized – I suspect that Daunton is also observing with interest, and probably others. I wonder why he hasn’t warded himself. At least he’ll play by the book. Rimilin is not popular, and is unlikely to do anything which is questionable." A flash of insight erupted into Eadric’s mind. Patterns shifted, coalesced, and bifurcated on new levels. "He is about to violate the Injunction," the Paladin said. "That is unlikely," Mostin answered. Expressions of confusion crossed the faces of those present as they looked into the mirror. From inside of his coat, the Acolyte of the Skin produced an eagle chick, not yet even a fledgling. Its short wings were bound to its sides. With one deft movement, Rimilin twisted its neck and cast it to the ground. "A sacrifice?" Nwm asked. "Or a message," Eadric replied. "Observe the legs of the horses nearby," Mostin said. "They are moving to attack." Rimilin himself, however, slowed his steed and cast a spell. An image appeared in the air next to him, seeming to float above his outstretched hand. It was of a town consumed by fire and was replaced by the ghostly face of a rather familiar Wizard. Mostin’s jaw dropped, as he gazed at an apparition of himself. "Which town was that?" He asked. "It looked like Jiuhu to me," Eadric replied. The mirror went blank. "But the battle…" Nwm protested. "Shut up," Mostin said. He refocused and, from a great height, Jiuhu – Ortwin’s home in his prior life – appeared upon the surface of the looking-glass. A dozen or more scattered patches, each fifty or sixty feet wide, were burning amid the closely built timber homes in the town’s old quarter. Flames leapt easily from one wooden building to the next, as crowds rushed through the streets and people jostled to escape the fire. "Sh*t," the Alienist said. "That wasn’t me." Immediately, Nwm acted. Sprouting wings from his back, he turned to Mostin. "Keep the portal [I]open[/I]," he said, and stepped through. He appeared briefly in the skies above the town: it was windy, and gusts were fuelling the eager flames below. Nwm invoked the power in the [I]Orb of Storms[/I] atop his staff. [I]Dead calm, torrential rain[/I], he commanded, before stepping back through the portal. "That should do it," the Druid said, "although it’ll take a while for the weather to reorganize itself." By the time that Mostin had reoriented the mirror, and was looking again to the battle near Hrim Eorth, the scene was one of utter carnage. * Hullu ordered his archers – comprised in equal parts of longbowmen and crossbowmen – to begin shooting as soon as the front of horsemen came within range. Dozens of lightly armoured outriders on coursers fell, and horses toppled. Behind, the ranks of plate-clad aristocrats thundered on. [I]Not enough archers[/I], Hullu remarked wrily to himself. The witches – whose names the Tunthi warrior still didn’t know – stood nearby. Hullu scratched his head dubiously, and wondered whether they possessed as much power as they claimed. [I]Ah, well[/I], he sighed, [I]too late to worry about it now[/I]. He hefted his shield, drew Melancholy from its black scabbard, and invoked the protection of his clan’s Totemic guardian. One of the witches, who had been muttering quietly to herself for ten minutes or more, suddenly fell to the ground and began to screech and writhe, strings of bizarre syllables issuing from her mouth. The pikemen nearby looked shaken and disturbed, but Hullu’s heart leapt. [I]FROMTHELINNASHEISFROMTHELINNA. OHGODSANDPROTECTORSHOWCANITHANKYOU. YOUCAMETOMEINMYHOUROFNEED.[/I] He almost wept with joy. The river, slow and ponderous, asleep for millennia beyond count, awoke. * Rimilin, warded from the rain of arrows and bolts, gazed at the ranks of Uediian guerillas and farmers ahead of him, and wondered if Nwm was present. He considered his assurances to the Royal Council – not to deploy his magical armamentarium in a tactical capacity – and grinned wickedly as he remembered his agreement with Graz’zt. The Aristocrats were lowering their lances. [I]Let’s smoke out the Druid[/I], he whistled merrily to himself, as he launched a [I]Fireball[/I] at the front rank of pikemen, instantly immolating forty of them. [I]Oops, there goes the Injunction[/I] Fustil, the commander of Jiuhu’s forces, looked at him in disbelief. Rimilin’s smile vanished. Agony overwhelmed him as water evaporated from his body. [I]What the Hell? A Necromancer? Where?[/I]. All around him, knights and horses collapsed screaming. Fustil’s steed tumbled, flinging the unconscious Baron to the ground, where he was trampled by the hooves of a dozen others. Ahead, the Acolyte of the Skin detected a distortion in the air in front of the disordered Uediian front line. Some trick of the Druid’s? He urged his mount to full speed, and it shot forward like a thunderbolt. Rimilin launched another [I]Fireball[/I] at the distortion, which seemed to quiver under the force of the blast. A gust of frigid air wafted over him from behind, and glancing back, Rimilin saw that a huge curtain of ice – fifty yards long – had appeared between himself and the bulk of the cavalry. Knights swelled around the ends of the wall, but many of those in whose path it lay crashed into the barrier, or arrested their charge, resulting in chaos. [I]A wizard. It had to be a wizard[/I], Rimilin thought desperately, [I]but which one?[/I]. He cursed, banked his [I]Phantom Steed[/I] away and flung another [I]Fireball[/I]. * "I stand corrected," Mostin said to Eadric, as they observed the Acolyte launch another magical attack. "What is going on there?" Nwm groaned. "Where did the [I]Wall of Ice[/I] come from? And what is [I]that[/I]?" He pointed to the distortion. As if in response to his question, it shifted, and grew, and suddenly manifested. The Paladin coughed. "Er, Ed," Nwm said, "That’s a Dragon. A big black one." "Apparently," Mostin agreed. * At the appearance of the colossal winged reptile, a hundred feet or more from its snout to the tip of its tail, Rimilin veered his steed away and [I]Teleported[/I]. He didn’t care if it was a Dragon, or a [I]Shapechanged[/I] Wizard. Either way, he was out of his league, and was going. Not before loosing another [I]Fireball[/I], however. ** Mesikämmi leaned on her staff and smiled. Ah, the River here was ancient. He knew all kinds of tricks. Nearby, the Succubus, Chr’ri, stood impassively. Anarchy and death – yes. Not entirely what she had anticipated, but anarchy and death nonetheless. That was good enough. *Traditionally, Hethio, the richest province in Wyre (not counting Einir, technically a Principality), has always looked to the Temple for direction in times of crisis. Many of the Templars themselves are natives of Hethio – sons and brothers of its numerous minor nobility. With the realignment of so many Templars in favour of Eadric, the removal of a Bishop very active in temporal politics, and repeated harassment by Hullu’s [I]Bagaudas[/I], the ineffectual and aging Duke, Falaere, was unable to actualize his considerable resources. Furthermore, many of his bannermen were reluctant or unwilling to meet their own kin in battle. End Note: Mesikämmi used a [I]Spirit Ally[/I] spell to call a Greater Nature Spirit. [/QUOTE]
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