Archives: Wiki Pages

Bannica Yulrude sat near the candlelight and brought his quill to the parchment laid before him. Finally committing to written word the thoughts and feelings in him, about his faith and how his diety has revealed herself to him, was both enlightening and terrifying to him.

“Year 263, The Revelations of Shepard Bannica Yulrude.

All my life I have served the Mother, but never once did I consider I might become such a direct instrument of her Will. I certainly never believed I’d commune with her directly through a Mordok shrine, but I suppose the details of how this came to be are irrelevent. What matters is that I continue my work as I always have, and share my revelations as promised.

I realize now you cannot defeat or defy a God, only accept it for what it truly is. The Mordok shrines are seen as a place of corruption, but this is not true. In fact a delicate balance is at work. There is no corruption, only decay and rebirth. The Daughters of Gaea’s “Cleansing” Rituals merely represent an opposing force in it’s extreme. They are no more helping Mardrun then saving a burning man by drowning him.

Would you starve a forest of it’s natural order? Would you have the leaves never fall, so that when spring came no new life could sprout from the rot? Suffering is a necessity. One must consume to survive, and they must in turn offer their own life to decay so life may begin anew. This debt cannot be denied, and it can no longer be ignored.

The Red Eyed Syndar spoke of a great danger to the land, one the Mordok seek to overcome. Though I’ve seen it with my own eyes, it somehow escapes recollection. It remains the companion of the Mother, and the charge of her Mordok children. Together they lurk, ever present in the corner of my eye.

The answers I seek are presented as visions, whispering to me in a strange language. Waiting for me to understand, waiting for me to share. Though the road I resolve to walk appears dark, I must remain resolute to the vows I’ve made as a Shepard of her Will. The Heralds of Change have arrived, and I will do as asked: I will teach.”

————————————————————————————————

Among the wreckage of their caravan, Elder Luisa Barros of Deva’s Will barely clung life.

An open chest wound promised a slow and agonizing death. She was a healer, and though she had treated many wounds like this one, the Mordok had left her arms crippled and her talents useless. She had made her way near Onsallas to retrieve an injured subordinate when the merchants she thought herself lucky to travel with were hit. Now in the carnage, she couldn’t help but see the situation’s many ironies. Fading in and out of consciousness she began to recite one last prayer, accepting her fate.

Only it was not to be, an unexpected sight brought her attention back to the world of the living. The Mordok had vanished back into the swamp, and a human man, clad in black with a headdress of feathers skulked out of the woods behind them. The stranger danced among the bodies, speaking in a strange tongues to an unseen figure and stopping often at corpses, kneeling beside them and placing his hand above their head. It looked as though he was struggling with channeling magic of the divine, trying to speak with the dead, but he asked no questions. Instead, he stroked their brow and spoke as if to reassure them, marking them in blood before moving on. He sought no answers, this was a ceremony to him. The man in black worked his way closer, stopping often to perform these bizarre rites. Though he made no sign of noticing the survivor, he seemed quite deliberate when he suddenly turned and knelt beside Elder Barros.

Only then, through blurred vision did the dying servant of Deva’s Will realize: this was Shepard Yulrude, the wounded subordinate she had come to retrieve. She tried to force out words to exclaim her surprise, but her throat produced only blood. In response Yulrude placed a hand on the wound, and began to recite a healing incantation, only the words of faith had changed and the magic wavered. Leaning close he began to whisper “The Mother has shown me your face in visions. I do not know why you were chosen, but I believe I am here to save you.”

“No!” she managed to gurgle out, struggling beneath the very hand which preserved her life. The man of once impeccable honor now reeked with an aura of corruption. It was palpable, she would have no part in whatever darkness infected him. Yulrude contemplated her reaction, this woman would rather die than challenge her own beliefs. Truly the minds of Human and Ulven alike were warped and deceived. They had been blinded by faith and lies, and would only suffer as a result. Elder Barros spat blood and fought, but Yulrude persisted. He would not leave her to die. Finally, in desperation, she pulled a dagger from his belt, and tried to drive it into his side.

It was at that moment Yulrude’s spell took on a will of its own. The life-preserving magic became like poison and Elder Barros began to convulse violently, dropping the dagger. Her wound festered and corruption seeped in, rotting her body from the inside and bringing a gruesome end to her life. Yulrude pulled away in horror, but his remorse quickly vanished at sight of the dagger. Only then did he realize the Mother had never intended him to save her life.

“Apologies Elder, it appears I misunderstood her.”

Screams in the distance suggested the Mordok had found more victims near Onsallas Outpost. It was time to speak to Reyna Longfang in person, and now he made haste towards his destination, fearing she would need his help with the survivors.

As Yulrude walked off in haste to whatever purpose his mind had been set to, across the way a figure with blood red eyes had been silently watching.

——————————————————————————————————————-

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Yulrude was so confused. The torment of his faith and the immense loss of blood were making it hard to think.

He could feel her, The Mother, the presence that he had built his spiritual fortress around. Her presence was pleading, resistant to what was happening. Recently it had been supressed but now it was strong, now it forced its way back to him frantically. It tugged on his faith and pulled at him, but Yulrude would not budge. Suddenly, with a jolt, she was gone.

Yulrude was alone. His faith was shattered.

He could see the ulven and the others, the ones that stopped the ritual. He saw Mad Morty, crawling beside him, as a sword was impaled into him and Morty stopped crawling away. Yulrude could feel his life blood flow from his body as Thrand was screaming at him. Thrand had stepped into the corruption site to stop him. He couldn’t hear what the ulven was saying. His eyesight was fading. His faith was a vessel, void and emptied, and he started to feel remorse for his actions. The presence crept back to him. It was pleased, grinning at him as his heart beat its last and final beat.

———————————————————————————————————————

With a gasp of sucking breath, Yulrude shot back to the realm of the living. Choking and hacking, his body regained life and stepped away from the cusp of death. The world was spinning and he was sick, vertigo tearing at him from every direction.

Suddenly, a familiar presence poured itself into the spiritual vessel that was the core of Yulrude’s being. What was once conflicted and then emptied, was not filled with affection and purpose. Yulrude wretched and vomited on the ground and though the world was spinning around him he noticed he was surrounded by figures.

Encircling Yulrude were half a dozen mordok and a tribal helmed Syndar.

“You have learned well.” said the Syndar as he gazed upon Yulrude with blood red eyes.

– End

He’s dead.

That’s what the man said.

Momma started weeping. He came over and handed me dad’s sword. He said “your father fought bravely son. He died with honor!”

He died. The man said it so calmly. I don’t understand. It’s been 3 days since that man was here. Momma’s just been drinking and crying. I told momma I was hungry but she just looked right through me. “Momma please?” I said. She saw me this time. Her face twisted. She got angry and shouted “Go away!” and slapped my face. I’m sorry momma, I thought as I went to my bed and lay down.

“Go away! You’re just a burden!” She shouted as she struck me again. I fell down. “I’m sorry momma! I just wanted to help.” She sat down and started to drink and sob. “You look just like your father. By the gods why do you have to look like your father.” I was slinking back to bed. Why does it matter if I look like daddy? It’s not my fault. I’m sorry momma I didn’t mean to upset you again, I thought as I drifted into troubled sleep.

“Momma! Momma! Look!” I shouted holding up the bread and meat the butcher had given me. He said he heard about daddy and that I could work sweeping his shop for some food. Momma just got mad again. She swatted the food out of my hands and hit me again. “Why couldn’t you get more booze! Something good we’re almost out of it!” I felt the tears burning my eyes. “Oh you’re crying now!? Not when you find out your father died but when I yell at you!?” She kicked me on the floor. “I’m sorry momma! I’m sorry, I’ll do better!” “Get out!” She cried. I ran from the house. I ran far away.

I don’t remember how long I ran but it was night before I stopped. I was on the edge of Vandregon land. I found an alley to sleep in that night. I wept again. It was cold. I was hungry. I had a fitful night’s sleep. I woke with the sun. I decided to leave the kingdom. I wanted away from her and their memories. I fought the tears for so long, but it was futile and the tears came. I wept and I walked.

It was night again before I stopped walking. I had just reached our neighboring kingdom. I recognized the colors. Blue and green. I slept in another alley. More hunger and another fitful night. I woke with the sun again. I still felt too close. I walked again. I walked until I reached the coast. I needed food. I begged and begged different shops to let me work for food when finally an old man said he would feed me if I would help him unload some shipping vessels. I eagerly agreed. I worked with him for several years. It was the week after my tenth birthday. A ship pulled into the docks. I had seen it a couple times before but usually when it docked my master told me to go inside, but this time he told me to stay.

I saw a man get off the ship with such an air about him that only meant he must have been the captain. No one on the docks would look him in the eye and everyone tried to avoid him, except for my master. He greeted the captain with a hearty smile and a great handshake. “Bart! By the gods it’s been forever since you’ve pulled into port! How have your travels been?” The captain gave out a loud and jolly laugh “Mathias! They have been most excellent! I have plenty of spoils that need unloading if you don’t mind.” He ended his sentence with a jolly smile and a wink. My master sent me with the captain right away to help unload. “By the gods! You sure are an eager young lad!” The captain said after the last of his cargo was unloaded. “I sure could use a young man like yourself aboard me ship. What d’ya say?”
“I-I….don’t know if my master would allow it….” I responded, crushing my own dreams before they were realized.
“Leave that old codger to me. I’ve know Mathias for quite some time.” He said with a wink. My hopes grew slightly.

I set out with my new master the very next morning! I was to be his cabin boy. He said it was like an apprentice. I would learn his trade. His name was Captain Black Bart De La Roja. He was a jolly old man. He called himself a “free merchant” but I knew it was piracy. I didn’t care. I felt free. After joining his crew I hadn’t had a single nightmare of my mother or father. It was freeing and exciting. A few months after joining we found someone floating on some driftwood out at sea.

It was a girl. She was just a year older than I was. Her name was Miranda and she was the daughter of a servant traveling aboard a ship that had been attacked and sunk. We took her in and Bart made her a cabin girl along with me. He taught us well. Showing us how to raid other ships and defend our own from attack. We trained hard and fast. Ten years seemed to fly by. But it was then that a ship raid went wrong.

She’s dead! That’s all I could think. I saw the captain of the other ship run her through. I charged him and caught him off guard. I was able to run him through the chest. Miranda lay there on the ground bleeding fast. “No! Don’t die! Please?” I cried out to her. I didn’t want to lose her. My mind raced back to my parent whom I had not thought of in years. “Please!? Dear gods no! I don’t want you to die!” She’s dead I thought.
“Morty, It’s okay. I’m sorry about before…”
“No don’t. It’s okay. Just don’t die…”
“I’m sorry…about that…too….” I could feel her last breath escape her body.
“NO!” I sobbed and held her body close. I brought her out to our ship after the captain had finished the battle by showing the crew their dead captain. She’s dead.

I couldn’t stay aboard and asked the captain to let me go at the next port. I found home in a small merchant port with a small crew of cut throats and pick pockets. After gaining a small name in the underworld I found a backer to buy in on a ship with me by the name of Bridge. I promised her some percentage of each cut but as soon as the ship was done I ran off to a small village known as Oarsmeet. I had my crew start spreading rumors about me, saying my mind was slipping. That I had witnessed my own death several times. I’m dead. Or who I was before. I wish to no longer be weak. If I had been stronger I could have gone with my father. My mother would not have hated me. I could have saved Miranda. I sailed around making quite the name for myself over the next few years. It was only when the undead were knocking on our gates that some navy personnel actually asked for help from me and my ship. We barely escaped in time.

We somehow found the new continent and helped them create a village. We fought some terrible monsters that came from the woods. I even helped a war effort by moving supplies but that was when I first discovered a taste of true power. I’m dead. And I’m reborn. I now know I was wrong. If I had had the power I needed I would have not needed my father or mother nor would I have been hurt by them. I would not have needed Miranda or anyone else in my life. How could I have been so weak? People are only a weakness! Strength and power are all that is needed. The mother promised me power for helping her. She will give it to me.

I tried to find her more but her voice stayed silent. Even in the swamp she remained silent. But what spoke up was a man who came forth and proved to be my bastard son. I thought him dimwitted and useless but when he said he was a shipwright, I found a use for him. I found a slave for myself as well. She has served me well thus far and only proved more useful.

That bitch Bridge managed to find me! She wanted to collect her debt but I never had any intention of paying her. So when the fighting broke out I cornered her. She’s dead. Her screams still bring me joy. I took her scalp for a prize. Thank the mother she’s dead. Her crew was easy enough to stomp out. How weak humans are and how easily they are snuffed out. Life is nothing but a joke in the eyes of the gods.

Praise to the mother! She has finally sent me a messenger. They call him the red eyed Syndar. He has opened my eyes more and more to the mothers plans. He has given me a taste of the power the mother has promised me. I want more! I must grow stronger! He says the Syndar are the key. That’s why he could use my bastard. I have another I can use. I’m alive. I’m truly alive!

I will give her to the mother. She will die to open her eyes! “Stop” I shout as the others surround us. The preacher-man works at his ritual as they attack. We are overwhelmed. I’m dying!? No! I’m bleeding. I’m dragged near the outpost. “Why!?” Is all they are shouting at me. They do not understand how weak they all are. Lineth screams for me. They somehow saved her. But she seems to have been awoken. I know not what happened to the preacher-man. I hear my bastard somewhere but I hear the mother. She is louder. She says “Crawl away,” so I do as she bids. I heave myself towards the swamp. As I am crawling I hear her screaming for me. I hear them struggle with her. I am in the swamp, still bleeding and still crawling. I hear rustling and Lineth runs out to me. She helps carry me farther into the swamp. We rest and she tries to quell the torrent of blood flowing from me.

I hear more rustling and all I see are red eyes.

I’m.

Not.

Dead.

NO! LET ME GO!
Anne stared into the fire in the outpost. She was rather surprised that the Longfangs had allowed her to stay with them for a few more days, but Reyna had insisted. It was just last night that Morty had been cut down just outside of the gates, that Anne’s whole world had come crashing down. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw her weapons into the fire and take off into the swamp to slaughter anything that reeked of corruption with her bare hands, but there was still work to be done.
Reaching for her bow, the former pirate rose and moved towards the outpost’s gate. She felt a hand on her shoulder as she neared the threshold, seeing a young Ulven male, no more than sixteen years old when she turned to see who had touched her. “Hey, you can’t go out there. We don’t know if the Whiteoak are gone yet, and you could get lost, and…”
Anne put her hand on the pup’s wrist, cutting him off. “I’ll be fine. Trust me,” she said with a wink, though her tired eyes betrayed her lack of sleep. Truth be told, the thought of rest had scared her since the night before. Bow in hand, Anne set off into the woods. The warm summer night’s breeze flowed through her hair and caught her skirts like a sail, almost pushing her forward. Her heart was still heavy from the day before, but getting up and moving again would be good for her.
As Anne crossed the tree line, the exhaustion slipped from her mind: she felt as though she heard every branch snap, every leaf rustle with the movement of woodland animals. With an arrow nocked she stalked through the woods to the north, seeking to return to the site of the Whiteoak camp which Stanrick had ordered burned to the ground. She moved quickly now, forgoing stealth for speed. Her trained eye caught a slight blue glint in the moonlight while scanning the woods for potential threats.
Drawing closer, she saw the source of the distraction: a small patch of finch leaves, a deep blue color that reminded Anne of the sea. Oh, how she missed the sea. So much of her time since she had come to Mardrun had been spent playing politics, managing the operations of New Oarsmeet, or trying to keep the Captain out of trouble. She hadn’t truly been to sea in probably two years, and had barely been on a ship in the past few months. She missed the salted spray on her skin as her ship broke the waves. She missed the slight twinge of fear she got standing up in the crow’s nest, looking down at how far up she was. More than anything, she missed the swaying of the deck. Solid ground did not suit her well.
Lost in her thoughts, Anne was nearly caught off guard by a dagger whizzing past her ear. She turned to face her attacker, seeing only a set of snarling fangs caught by the starlight. Careless, she thought, letting a Mordok sneak up on her like that. An arrow quickly found its way to her bowstring and was soon hurtling towards the Mordok, wedging itself deep in the tree behind which it had ben hiding before it took off running through the brush. Whispering a prayer to the Huntress, Anne drew a barrier of magical energy around her, allowing her to more intently focus on her prey. She lowered her stance, trying to move as silently as possible, following the beast’s trail. The quick response to the initial attack had caught the Mordok off guard and spooked it into running, making following the trail much simpler. Her bow drawn, and arrow ready, Anne was back. The only place she felt as at home as on a ship, Anne was hunting again, and it felt glorious.
For what seemed like an hour, she followed the trail of broken branches and trampled brush until she found her quarry. Confident in the fact that it had just outrun the being stalking it, the Mordok had squatted down beside a pool of water, eagerly lapping the water. The small splashes made by the careless creature drowned the soft creak of her bow as she drew, loosing an arrow with haste. This projectile struck no tree; the Mordok gave a pained howl as the arrow came to rest deep in its side. Knowing better than to try to run again, the Mordok charged its attacker, pulling a crude axe and a wicked-looking dagger from its belt. Anne tried to draw another arrow, but her foe was simply too close. She dropped her bow and pulled her father’s knife from its resting place at her side. Bracing for impact, she waited until the Mordok collided with her, trying to tackle her. Instead she rode it to the ground, using its own momentum against it. Confused by the change in direction, the Mordok shrieked in pain as the old dagger was thrust repeatedly between its ribs. Soon enough the creature stopped moving and Anne wiped the blood from the dagger off on a scrap of fabric the Mordok was wearing. She began to make her way back to the outpost, making a mental note to return to harvest the flowers the next morning. Little did Anne know that the outpost itself would remind her of the events which had transpired the day before, and soon enough her memories would return to haunt her once again.

I NEED TO SEE HIM!
She had tried to help. What more could she have possibly done? The Captain was beyond saving. Surely Lineth must have seen that, too.
Anne was on her way back to New Oarsmeet. She had stayed an extra few days in the Onsallas Outpost at Reyna’s urging, hoping to see her recover before she left. Anne would hear none of it, though, far too proud to admit that she still hadn’t slept four days later. Aris and Santiago had departed immediately, so Anne was left to make the trek back to her home alone, though she was glad for that. Each day she travelled, and each night she tried to rest. Her eyes would close, eager for the sweet release of sleep, though her mind could not be torn from its current focus.
Eager to return home, Anne continued walking when she could not sleep. She found her way back to New Oarsmeet in what seemed like less time than normal, though her perception of time was far from spot on by the time she stepped into her own territory once more. It was late afternoon when she came across the first tavern, and evening once she found her way to her office and her home. Her door shut and locked, Anne smothered her head with her pillow, hoping to finally be able to sleep, and no outside sound would disturb her.

I’ve made my choice.
Anne sat bolt upright, her hand instinctively reaching for the dagger beside her bed. Beads of cold sweat had collected on her brow, and her breathing was heavy. It had been two weeks since the events took place, and this had been the first sleep she had truly seen. Those words…the words she had hoped to never hear, rang in her ears as if Lineth was still in front of her. Hoping to find an escape from her thoughts, Anne quickly dressed herself and stepped out into the New Oarsmeet streets.
Pulling her cloak around her tightly despite the warmth and lack of breeze, Anne tried to appreciate the town before her. The drunken stupor in which many of the residents constantly lived was astounding, surely a coping mechanism for many. Hard winters, hungry nights, and far too much bloodshed in recent years had certainly taken its toll on morale, but between the hearty sea shanties bellowed from various taverns, the occasional tradesman sober enough to recognize the only remaining authority figure in the settlement, and the curious glances from children’s bedside windows, a stranger would have had no idea.
This town had been through so much in the last decade. An alliance born of the need to survive by naval sailors and pirates alike, Anne half expected the whole thing to fall apart to in-fighting within the month. Yet here it stood, ten years later. She prayed that the town wasn’t a mirror of herself, though: strong, even thriving on the surface, but hollow inside, just trying not to crumble in on itself.
Anne turned between two buildings as she saw two sailors drunkenly stumble around before her, not wishing to be disturbed. This was her first night back in New Oarsmeet since half of her crew had been taken from her, and she wished to be alone with her thoughts. No one could see her as she was: they needed strength now more than ever, and that was simply something she couldn’t be right now.
Leaning against the wooden wall of the building behind her, Anne couldn’t help but overhear the conversation between the two drunks, or at least what was left of it.
“I…*hic*…I don’t know, Tony,” she could hear one of them slur. “It just don’t seem right.”
“It ain’t, Mick,” the other replied. “But that’s just how it is. ‘Course she’s gonna go back to ‘im, after all he’s put her through.”
“Still, you’d think she woulda jus’ run away, if nothin’ else.”
“Yeah, but I guess she’s made her choice.”
Something in Anne’s brain snapped. She saw red, then she saw nothing. She came to a few seconds later, standing in the middle of the street with an overwhelming pain in her wrist. Tony’s face was in the dirt, a small pool of blood starting to form underneath his head. Mick was shouting for help, trying to fumble for some kind of weapon in his drunken haze. Confused, Anne pleaded with Mick to calm down, that she could help his friend, but only if he would relax and find a healer or a cleric. Eventually Mick dropped his sword and ran off, still screaming, but his tone was more concerned than frightened. Anne reached for the necklace she used as a focus for the Huntress’ magic when bursts of pain shot through her right hand up to her elbow. Looking down, a nasty bruise was already beginning to form, but it was much less serious than the wounds she had apparently inflicted on Tony. With her left hand she dug out the necklace and began the incantation, pulling Tony’s dwindling life force back into his body and staving off death for the time being. When the spell was complete, Anne said a quick prayer, thanking the Huntress for finding her when she had. Enough things had gone wrong recently; murder of one of the citizens under her protection was not an issue she needed now. Applying pressure to Tony’s wound, Anne waiting until Mick returned with a man known for his skill with divine magic.
As the cleric was fixing the rest of Tony’s face, Mick took the time to remind Anne of what had just happened, since she remembered none of it. When Anne had snapped, she ran from behind the building, punching Tony several times in the face and stomach, drawing her dagger with her left hand. When Mick had tried to intervene and protect his now-unconscious friend, Anne dropped the dagger and threw a punch at Mick’s head, missing wide and striking the stone wall behind him. Mick remembered hearing an awful crunch, then a lot of screaming. “Mostly me own, I reckon,” he tried to joke, though the fear was still present in his eyes.
Anne apologized profusely for her actions and was about to walk away, but stopped short as her curiosity got the better of her. “How did you know? Did word honestly reach you down here so quickly?”
“What do ye mean, ma’am?” Mick was truly confused now.
“The slave girl. Lineth. Who told you?”
“With all due respect, ma’am, what are you drinking? It’s either too strong, or not strong enough. I didn’t say nothin’ about the slave girl. Heck, I ain’t seen her or the Captain in months! I was talkin’ about that sweet lass Molly Malone. She keeps runnin’ back to that psycho Rupert, even though everyone knows he’s a cheatin’ little bastard. We’ve all seen the bruises, too. But I guess she’s made her decision, and there ain’t nothin’ we can do now, ma’am.”
The realization brought on by those words hit Anne like a ton of bricks. Her shattered wrist was excruciating and should probably be looked at, but more importantly, she would need to get her emotions in check. She needed to be strong like the people of New Oarsmeet, for the people of New Oarsmeet, and she could not be strong as long as she was tired, nor could she be stable when such a simple phrase, even out of context, could anger her so badly. Tomorrow, she thought to herself. Tomorrow I will fix everything.
Tomorrow came and went.

Decisions
Written by Shana Aber, as Selena Stargazer

“Selena, why are you packing?” Stanrick asks as he walks in after a pack meeting, eyeing me while I casually throw clothes into my travel bags.
“Crows Landing is having a market faire. Puckerman mentioned it during his lessons today. He wants to go home for it and I want to go with.” I state plainly. Stanrick frowns at me.
“What?” I ask as I look up from folding my shirts.
“But you are pretty far along.” He frowns.
I sigh “I have at least three months yet. I also have two formal students, Puckerman and Echo, that I would like to understand their non-traditional ways a little more. If I understand what it is he does or will be doing and where he came from, I can alter lessons so it will be easier for him to understand. “
Stanrick is still frowning “I am not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?”
I smile at him “And just like the swamp, you are going to follow me anyways…”
He glares at me a little. “Not funny”
I walk over and kiss his forehead “Sorry. It will also do you good to get out of here for awhile. Besides, I miss you. I haven’t seen much of you the last few weeks.”
Stanrick sighs. “I know. The Pack is still trying to sort things out after Soulviegs Death.”
I nod “I know. I can see evidence of that all over the village, but they will be fine without you for a while. You need some time to sort things out in your own head as well.”
Stanrick goes and pulls out his travel bags from the storage chest. “I know you are right.”
I frown. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. It’s not like I am heading out alone. I am going to be traveling with Puckerman. Bridget and Keres are coming with as well. Bridget and Keres haven’t been outside of Everspring much, so they want to take the opportunity to see other places as well.“ I smirk. “It’s a pack trait. The curiosity to see and learn new things.”
Stanrick rolls his eyes at me “You know full well I can’t let you travel without me. It’s my job to protect you, not Puckerman or Keres.”
I sigh but am quietly glad he’s coming with. He may not remember, but I do. The New Aldorian market faire was the night that we first talked till the wee hours of the morning and first time he stayed with me. There may have not been mating the first time, but that was the place where he caught my attention.
That was about a year ago now.
So many changes in a year.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Stanrick do you have a moment?” Someone calls to him and he walks off. I sigh, again, as he leaves me to wander the faire. This has been the theme for much of the Market Faire. I don’t know why…no wait. I know exactly why. The Civil War is still a plague to everyone, not just Ulvens, though it is our problem. The Outsiders want to see someone in charge doing something. They have no understanding of how our political system works. They want change right away and no patience to let it come in its own time. They had all been to the Outpost at some point or another and they longed for stable, forceful leadership there, even though it’s not their home. Never mind our own traditions and the way things work.
I sigh grumpily and munch on various food stuffs. I have to admit, some were quite tasty and I am going to have to see about starting a couple Cherry trees up by the Swamp. These things could made some beautiful wine. I will have to tell my Uncles about them. I watch Stanrick as he spends most of the day talking to various people, though he did stop by and check on me every so often. It’s not what I was hoping for but in all honesty, I shouldn’t be surprised. Stanrick does what he does best. Talk.

I watched how the Rangers deal with things and giggled a little. I think they had a stark awaking to what it’s like when your home is the center of attention. I do hope it translates to better behavior and more support when they are at the Outpost.As I watch everyone move and flutter about, it makes me reflective. I watch a young mage out of the corner of my eye trying to connect with nature. I don’t think he found what he was looking for though. I watch Anne as she was suddenly deemed not a Pirate and apparently that young mage is also one of hers as well. I am not sure what that means but wish them luck. It’s going to be hard to get rid of a reputation that you tried so hard to build in the first place, though I think it will make her stronger. She understands the value of remembering where one came from.

I gave my respects to the Prince of New Aldoria. Stanrick, like normal, spent more time talking to him than I. If you want to understand the culture, you talk to the common folk. I feel more comfortable there than talking to the elite classes. It was that way with my own job. I hate talking to Clan Leaders and even Chieftains. I think that’s why I stumbled so much when I had to talk to Khulgar. As I sit in my chair under the shade of the umbrella, it dawns on me what I have to do next, but I don’t want to…

I spent time talking to the Silver Syndar, Phaedra. I learned a lot about their culture and class system. She has access to a Syndar Library. The Idol popped in my head, reminding me that I still need to answer to that. Like a subtle reminder of ‘yes your path is changing, you still need to find answers but to different problems now….’

No, there was nothing subtle about what came next. I would have had to be a fool for not noticing it. I spent a lot of time talking to the Richtcrag Armors mate. He kept dragging off my mate so I spent time talking to his. I learned about her culture and what they believe, it’s remarkably similar to our own. They even have markings…their eyes change. Apparently becoming blue like the sky in winter. Though I am unclear if they are born that way or if they change sometime later. They do not get the animalistic touches like Ulven do, but I do wonder if the Winter Wolf touched them somehow. There are some differences, especially when it comes to how females are treated and trained, but she asked me if I could teach her. She will probably be easier to train than Puckerman, mostly because she is already female, even if she is an Outsider.
Apparently in their culture they like to know if they are having male or female pups so they have a ritual that will tell them. I let her perform this ritual on me. I want to see what it was like and to get a feel for what she already knows. We may have run into the same problem that happened when Puckerman tried to use the dagger before he understood the ways of our magic. I think some sort of feedback loop or magic hiccup happened. According to her magic, she thinks I am having both a male and a female. I just shrug. We are not known to have multiple births and nobody in my family has, so I have no reason to think that it was an accurate reading.

That pretty much made my decision. Three students and I am not even a full Witch. It’s pretty clear on what my path should be. I feel like I want to cry as now I know what I need next. The only person who knows I have made my decision is One. I haven’t even told Stanrick yet. I think it’s because I just made it and I needed to say it out loud to someone to make it seem real. I am fairly shaken by my decision, yet I know it’s what I have do. Gaia’s been giving me signs all day…some not subtle at all.

Surprisingly, One understands why it was such a hard decision to make. He also understands my plight and says he will send me information when he could. Apparently he too is going to be stuck in one spot for a while. I tell him to not tell Stanrick yet…

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Are you okay Beloved?” Stanrick asks as we lay in the tent after having left the Market faire. I have been restless all night. I can’t seem to sleep.
“I am leaving my pack and clan.” I whisper
He sits up and looks at me. I can see the smile pull at the corners of his mouth, though he is trying not to. “You sure?”
I close my eyes. “No, but Gaia was quite clear at the Faire on what path she needs me to follow…”
He kisses my forehead. “It’ll be okay. You’re still going to be part of your family. “
I sigh and look at him. He really believes it. I didn’t have the heart tell him that while I will be welcomed at pack gatherings and the like, I will be treated as an outsider. I won’t be able to help with rites, I will have to trade for things, not just given them because I am a part of the pack. I may still be family by blood, but that doesn’t mean much when you aren’t dedicated to supporting the blood.
Stanrick cuddles in close and whispers in my ear. “Just like I told you that first night…Everything will be okay.”
I didn’t reply. I could feel the tears stinging my eyes and didn’t trust my voice not to betray me. He remembered…

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“How could you?!” Keres screams at me. “What about Tradition?” Bridget and Keres both figured out why we were heading to Everspring instead of back to the Outpost after about three days.
“Because I have to.” I state quietly.
She gets up in my face. The hurt and betrayal is written all over her face as clear as day, tears stinging the corner of her eyes.
“That is mordok dung and you know it. You always have a choice and now you are choosing him over your pack and your duty.” She snarls.
“What is going on here?” Stanrick growls as he comes back with an armload of wood. He drops the wood and grabs Keres by the collar of her shirt and pulls her back.
“They need me more. With the death of Soulvieg, they don’t even have a full witch. Rill and I are on the same level but she doesn’t know how to handle the corruption, she has never really taught anyone. She is a great organizer and knows how to maintain the village but not much else.” I state.

Keres shrugs out of Stanrick’s grasp. Her eyes blazing with rage and pain. “We need you too. The Pack still doesn’t have a Witch since Grandma Freya died.“
I sigh. “Yes I know…but there are also many candidates for that roll. Your own sister being one of them. You also have High Priestess, Morrigan, as well. The Longfangs even don’t have that. There is no Higher Clan structure for them to turn to. I could bring that, even if it’s indirectly.“
“Females don’t leave. Males come to us just as the Great Wolf Joined the First pack. You are going against Tradition here.” She yells.
look at the ground. “I know.”
Keres stomps the ground, tears on her cheeks “Fine. Go throw your life away.” She turns and storms off.
Bridget stands there and looks at me. Tears in her eyes but she comes up and hugs me. “I understand, but I don’t like it. You will still teach me right?” She asks.
I hug her back. “Of course I will.“
Stanrick comes up and looks at Bridget. “Go find your sister. She was yelling loud enough I think half the territory heard her. I don’t want her getting jumped by something in the state she is in.”
Bridget frowns. “You don’t think she can handle it?”
Stanrick smiles a little. “No. I think she will not know when to stop if something does find her right now.”
Bridget sighs “Yeah, probably. You do know she is going to blame you?”
Stanrick nods. “I would rather have her blame me than Selena. She will get over it.”
Bridget nods and goes to find her sister.
I sink down by the fire, grabbing a piece of wood that Stanrick had brought and placed it on. I wipe my cheeks on my tunic.
“Are you okay Love?” Stanrick asks.
“No.” I state quietly as I watch the fire. “That went as well as I expected but it still hurts.“
He pulls me into his arms as a fresh batch of tears start down my face…

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Selena was fast asleep now. After everything that happened, she had a hard time falling asleep and would not let go of Stanrick. She tried to hide her tears, but it was no use. They heard Bridget bring Keres back, but she was still really upset and this made it even harder. Finally, she exhausted herself so badly that she could not keep her eyes open and she fell asleep. Her grip loosened and Stanrick slipped out of bed to check on the fire.

Bridget looks up and was curious to see what would happen, though Stanrick could tell her muscles are tight, ready to spring up just in case.
“What?” he asked as he tosses a log on the fire, watching Keres glare at him out of the corner of his eye.
“I want to hurt you.” Keres growls as she sits sharpening her sword with a wet stone.
“Yeah? Then do it. Get it all out because I rather you go after me than go after Selena.” Stanrick walks over and stands before her. His chest was exposed and the heat steams off him in the cool night air. She looks at his scars, stands up and socks him in the abdomen. She thought it would have more give, but it didn’t. She hit it again and again, with each strike the tears began to flow.
“Feel better?” he asks when she falls to her knees sobbing before him, knowing full well she did not.
“No! This doesn’t change anything! All it does is just hurt me!” she cries out while rubbing her knuckles.
“Yeah, that’s all it ever does. Now do you want to talk about all this?” he asks as he kneels down beside her.
“I hate you! How could you do this to us? How could you take her away?” she says in angry sobs.
“Do what? I did nothing. Selena made her own choice. I cannot tell her what to do. This was what she chose to do and it was not an easy choice. No choice is. As Ulven, we are lucky in a way that most choices we make in our lives are small. What we want to eat or what tunic we want to wear. The big choices are made by a Chief, Clanleader or our Priestesses. We are spoiled that way. But one day you will find that you have choices, big ones, life changing ones, and they are hard. I made the choice to protect your cousin rather than go with my shield brothers. We make choices and do what we believe is right and we have to live with that choice no matter what others may think of us.” He pulls out a small piece of cloth and gives it to Keres.
“You chose to be with her? I thought you were ordered.” She says as she wipes her eyes.
“No. I made that choice, Soulvieg gave it to me to this day. I do not know why. Selena gave me the choice to say no when she chose me to mate with her. I knew what she was doing was important so I could not let her go on her own. I also chose to take her as my life mate. Keres, I care about her more than I knew I could. I make choices not only to protect my pack, but my family, and above all others protect Selena. I swore an oath to do so in this life and in death. I know you feel like she is leaving you, but she will always be blood. No changing of pack can take that away. You’re not losing anyone. The stress that she is going through is more dangerous. You do not just hurt her, you hurt little one too.” Stanrick calmly states.
Bridget walks over and sits by them, moving close to stay warm. “But why can’t you just join our pack? You would be welcome. You could probably become the Warleader if you wanted.” She says as she leans in and puts the blanket over his shoulders.
“Then what would become of my pack? They lost their warriors and their leader. Yes, I could, but not all would be as welcomed into the fold as I would be. Not all of them are as open minded about things.” Stanrick replies. “I don’t pretend to fully understand what you’re going through. I can’t, but I do know what it’s like to lose family. You need to also realize that family is not just pack loyalties, but blood and the ones you keep in your heart. You two are also my family. I was just surprised that you saw me that way.”
“Is it ok if I join you?” Asks Selena from behind them. She was wrapped in the heavy rabbit fur blanket. No one knew how long she had stood there.
“I am sorry cousin.” Says Keres with a sob.
“I know. I also know you are still going to be angry for awhile…and it’s okay.” Selena says. They sit and watch the stars a while…

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The walls of Everspring rose up in front of us as we walk down the path. My heart sinks lower and lower the closer we get. Bridget looks at me. I nod and she sprints off ahead. Stanrick is about to stop her. I grab his arm and shake my head.
“This needs to play out as Tradition demands. Otherwise I will never be able to come back.” I state solemnly. Stanrick frowns at me but nods and takes my hand. We are all very quiet the rest of the way to Everspring.

I had already been trying to prepare myself mentally and emotionally for this, but my walls feel very fragile. I just hope they hold.
We stop at the Drunken Uncle to drop off our things. Bowmen looks surprised when I come in, but then gets very serious as he studies my face. He knows something is up. Without saying a word, I place three rabbits on the counter and head upstairs to stash my stuff and change my clothes. I come back down in the best outfit that I can manage to get around my ever enlarging belly. Normally I would throw on my best gambeson, but I can’t get it closed around me currently. I can barely get my boots back on by myself. I straighten my torc and look around the room. Bowmen comes around the counter and hugs me. I am pretty sure Stanrick told him what I am about to do.
“You’re always welcome here. Your father would find me in the Great Forest and kick my ass up and down the pathways if I didn’t take care of his daughter, regardless of what pack she is in.” He whispers in my ear. My lip quivers and I can feel the baby shift uneasily in my tummy. All I can do is nod. I am afraid my voice will crack if I try to speak now.

Stanrick takes my hand and leads me to the Great Hall. Keres opens the doors for me. Of course the Great hall is packed full of people. It was the middle of the afternoon. I wouldn’t expect it to be anything less. Large and flashy and in front of a lot of people. Word travels fast, for that there is no question…I suddenly feel very vulnerable.

I weave my way to the front to stand before Clanleader Cahal Spiritclaw and High Priestess Morrigan Sol Fire. Bridget stands to the left of the High Priestess and next to Chieftain Faelan. Chieftain Erin Stargazer stands next to Gjerta and Henrick. Henrick is looking confused and uneasy as he picks up on the emotions of those around him. I know Bridget told them everything. They all wear solemn expressions. I can feel the energy in the room changing.

I gather my courage and voice. Clanleader Cahal gets to his feet and slams his cane down. Everyone becomes silent. I can feel myself waiver, but I pull myself up tall.

“Clanleader Spiritclaw, I wish to present to you my last report as a Truthseeker and beg for release from my duties so that I may pursue the calling that the Mother has put before me. “ I state loud and clear for the whole room to hear.
He looks down at me. “What Duties do you feel she has laid before you that are heavier than the duties to your pack and clan?”
“I wish to join and aid Pack Longfang. With Soulviegs passing, their Daughters lack the ability to figure out new solutions to the ever growing Corruption. I have already taken on three students in less than a season’s time. Gaia is using my skills that I have developed as a Truthseeker and now has me asking a different set of questions to a new set of problems. I feel I would be failing both duties if I tried to split my time between the two.” I state.

“You wish to leave Pack Stargazer as well?” Chieftain Erin asks.
“Yes Rhya. I know I would be the first female to leave in three generations, but if I am going to help Pack Longfang, they need to see me as one of them.” I reply. I feel Stanrick shift uneasily beside me. Both Erin and Cahal look at Stanrick.
“She is correct, Rhya. Pack Longfang doesn’t like outsiders, regardless if they are Ulven or not. “He states plainly.
Cahal turns to consult both Morrigan and Erin, though I think it’s mostly for show.
“Truthseeker Stargazer approach.” Cahal states. I approach the stairs and he nods. I remove my torc from my neck. He takes one end while I hold the other.

“You have served your pack and clan well. I release you to fly free and pursue what your heart desires. Your work was honorable and truthful. May it ring his ears.” He states loudly for the room to hear.
“Thank you Rhya.” I state. I look to Erin.
“Meet at the stone tomorrow. I will gather the Elders. “She states solemnly. I nod.
“Selena. Meet with me for dinner and give your final report. That shall be your final duty as Truthseeker.” Cahal says to me.
“Yes Rhya.” I nod. I look down at the torc and I have to force myself to let go of my end. I didn’t think it was going to be this hard. I bite my bottom lip to keep it from quivering and turn and walk down the steps. Stanrick nods to the Elders and walks with me.
“That went better than I was expecting.” Stanrick says as he helps me down the steps.
“That was the easy part.” I sigh.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Selena walks in the front door of the Drunken Uncle and she looks exhausted. She turns to her mate.
“I am going to go lay down for a while.” She states.
“I’ll come too.” Stanrick smiles. Selena shakes her head.
“Don’t. I need some alone time.” She frowns. Stanrick frowns after her as she walk up the stairs.
Stanrick sits down at the bar with a huff.
“She will be fine.” Says Bowmen as he fills a mug for Stanrick.
“I don’t understand why this is so hard for everyone. Everyone is acting like she is going to go into the Black or something.“ Stanrick shakes his head.
Bowmen frowns. “She didn’t tell you, did she?”
“Tell me what?” Stanrick asks over the rim of the mug.
Bowmen sighs. “No, of course she wouldn’t. Because she is stubborn and thinks she needs to shoulder it all herself. “ He pulls a stool around to the other side of the bar so he can sit. “Your into the black analogy isn’t all that far off. Physically, yes, she will still be of the blood but she is choosing to leave. Socially, she will be treated as an outsider. She no longer has the protection of the clan so if past mistakes come back, she has to endure them on her own. She can ask for help, but she has to earn it now or barter for it just like any other outsider.“ Bowmen shakes his head. “Though really, that isn’t what bothers her. I am assuming she needs to go meet with people at her Homelands, correct.”
“Yeah, we are doing that tomorrow.” Stanrick states.
Bowmen frowns. “Tomorrow they are going to sever her connection with the Homelands.“
Stanrick looks up from his drink and nearly spits it out. “They can do that?!”
Bowmen nods “It’s painful for a Daughter. They are connected stronger to their Homelands than your standard pack member. She can still give energy to the barrier and protection spells since she is blood, but if they fall, she will never know. It also means when she dies she will be unable to find the Homelands, which means she will never see her family or her first mate or her other children again.”
Stanrick blinks in disbelief. “Do you think if she wanders the Great Forest she will find them?”
Bowmen shrugs “I don’t know. Unless she joins another pack and ties herself to their Homelands, she will wander the forest, never knowing the comfort of a home. Basically becoming a Ronin spirit.“

Stanrick frowns. “She is going to join my pack so there is no worry there.”
Bowmen smiles “Good. I didn’t think you would let her wander the forest, though this is going to be really hard for her. “
“What about the pup she is carrying? “ He asks absently.
Bowmen shrugs. “If they die before marking, they go live with Luna. I suppose they would have a choice which homelands to return to, though I would guess they would return to yours since that is where you guys will be.”
Stanrick nods. He doesn’t bother correcting the notion that they don’t have a homeland. Nobody in the family remembers where they were from originally. Stanrick stares into his mead absently.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Dinner was solemn. Even Henrick was fairly quiet throughout dinner. Nobody wanted to ask if I was sure about my decision because they all knew the answer. I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I want to know. I don’t know if I can have meetings like this again. I can’t leave and not know.
I set my fork down on my plate and look at my Elders. “You all knew that this was going to happen, didn’t you? This is why you sent me to Onsallas to study outsider culture instead of New Hope or Crows Landing where an assignment like that would’ve made more sense.” I say accusingly.
Cahal and Morrigan look at each other before looking at me. I narrow my eyes a little. “Don’t lie to me. I may not be an official Truthseeker anymore but I still have all the skills.”

Cahal smirks a little as sighs. “See? I knew you would figure out something was up. Soulvieg asked me to make sure you were up at Onsallas. I don’t know why. I figured she wanted to train you personally in something. I also knew with the death of their elite war pack, Stanrick was going to be needed up there as well.“ Cahal smiles and takes Gjerta’s hand. “I knew he would follow you anywhere and I couldn’t have that, so it was easier to just assign you to the same place I knew he was needed. “

Morrigan shakes her head. “I knew I had to train you beyond just being a normal Witch, the runes had shown me that. Soulvieg’s letter to me asked as well, though she stated the Corruption at the Outpost being the reason. You had many paths before you, you had to pick one. You can be indecisive sometimes trying to make everyone happy. Though once the letter came that Soulvieg had died, I knew it was more than a possibility that you may leave. The fact that Soulvieg had no one to replace her was well known among the other Priestesses. Your skills as Truthseeker probably made it clear to you that there was no one to take her place either.

I frown. “Rill has the skills to maintain the village. She’s been doing that since she was little, but she doesn’t have the skills to teach others. Soulvieg was a powerful Priestess, but from what I have pieced together, she was sick most of her time so she wasn’t a good teacher and Rill had to take care of her. Rill excels at things. I don’t like runes and potions. I excel at things like rites and cleansings. Rill should be leaps and bounds ahead of me considering she started training much, much younger than I, but we are on the same level with different focuses. I think we could really could do well together but right now she would rather see me eaten by Mordok.”
“I don’t think it’s that bad.” Stanrick frowns.

I sigh. “She blames me for Soulviegs death. That is clear as day. She has had a chip on her shoulder since I first appeared in the village and even more so after my one meeting with Soulvieg. She shoulder checked me when I went to go do the laundry after getting back to Onsallas, after our winter stay here.”
“She did that?!” Stanrick growls.
I nod.
“She does it again, I will wipe the floor with her.” Stanrick frowns at me.
I shrug. “Either way, we are going to have to work together in order to succeed with the Corruption spot outside the outpost. Neither of us are strong enough to do it on our own right now. The Longfangs are used to taking orders from one person. Now that’s gone and they appear lost. “
“Well, that not entirely true.” Stanrick states.
I frown. “What do you mean?”
Stanrick smiles. “They voted me in as Chieftain before we left for Crows Landing.”
Everyone’s heads snap up to look at Stanrick in surprise. I glare at him to the point where he shrinks back in his seat a little before rising up to his full height. “Stanrick Longfang, Chieftain of Pack Longfang.” He pauses to take a deep breath. “Even I still think it sounds weird.”
Gjerta grins at me. “Trust me child. This will not be the last thing he does to make you glare at him. You are going to get so many more opportunities, especially now.”
Stanrick frowns. “I don’t want that to go beyond this room.” He glares at the guards who shift uneasily.
Cahal tilts his head. “What are you planning?”
Stanrick replies, “I want our enemies to think that the Longfangs are still floundering for leadership. I want them to think that we are vulnerable. That way we can be more than ready for them when they come. We know they will, especially when they hear we sent people to go raiding with Axhound. I am expecting Grimward to try and use that to their advantage and attack the Outpost, quite possibly the village as well.“
Cahal smiles. “This is why you have the reputation as the clever Longfang.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Morrigan shakes her head. “It appears we are all done here. Come Selena. Let’s leave the males to talk fighting. We have a different fight to get you ready for.” High Priestess Morrigan, Gjerta and Erin stand and help me up. We head towards Morrigan’s Study.
“I can’t believe…he didn’t…Had I known, I wouldn’t have had us leave.” I snarl.
Gjerta smiles. “Get used to it. There is going to be so many more things he doesn’t tell you because he feels that he needs to keep you safe.“ She winks at me. “You will find them out anyways, given time…he just doesn’t know that yet.”
I growl under my breath as I take a seat in a chair in the study.
“You’re really going to leave us, aren’t you cousin?” Erin asks.
I look down at my lap. “Yeah. “
Morrigan frowns. “You know what that means…”
I nod. “I will lose my connection to the Stargazer Homelands. I will be able to add strength to the shields since I am a blood Stargazer, but should the shields go down, I will never know, nor will I be able to find the homelands when I die.“
Erin frowns. “Are you going to keep the name?”
I shrug. “Probably for a while. I won’t be able to join the Longfangs till after the pup is born. They won’t let me do it while I am pregnant. Too afraid of hurting the pup. If I change it, I’ll let you know.”
Erin nods. “I am going to go and start gathering the elders.”
I nod. Erin leaves and closes the door behind her.
Gjerta nods. “I am going to put Henrick to bed.” She gives me a hug. “You will be fine. Remember what I told you before you left. You are always welcome here, regardless.”
Morrigan is gliding across her room gathering things. “Now that they are gone, please tell me what’s on your mind.”
I frown. “The Longfangs don’t have a Homeland. Stanrick’s Mother left a book, which I don’t think he has ever fully read. Most don’t know where they had started from. There is a loose family history, but that started with Soulvieg’s generation. I think she was the last one who knew where they were from and she never told anyone else. So even when I join their pack, I am going to be doomed to wonder the forest.”
Morrigan looks at me. “How many of the blood rites to you know?”
I frown. “I know the individual joining and severing of a pack member.”
Morrigan nods. “There are others. If you are going to walk this path, you need to know them all. If they don’t have one, make them one. Make them a proper pack spiritually. That is your new job, to guide them spiritually. Rill and you may be on the same level right now, but I see you going so much farther. After the pup is born, you are to come back here and finish your training. Understood?”
The conviction I heard in Morrigan’s voice was pretty astounding. I just nod my head. “Yes Rhya.”
“I will also gather supplies and transcribe some rites for you to take with back to Onsallas that should help you deal with the Corruption better and hopefully figure out a way to cleanse it. Until then, drink this.” She hands me a cup of what appears to be tea. “It will protect the pup from the shock of the severing tomorrow. Unfortunately, that is something I can’t protect you from.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I drag my feet as we head up the path. I am going slowly on purpose. I want to savor this feeling. This connectedness. I am terrified. Stanrick is pulling the cart next to me. Keres and Bridget are already at the site, probably helping set up. We break into the clearing and I stop dead in my tracks. I think Erin gathered half the pack. There is a processional line on either side of the path from the entrance to the rock.
“Gods.” I swear as I inhale a shaky breath and rub my hands over my face to try to get the tears to stop. Stanrick looks amazed at the amount of people gathered for this.

“Did she gather your entire pack?” he asks as we stand there in amazement.
“No. Though I swear this has to be half.” I mumble. I swallow hard. “Leave the cart here. They will bring it in.” We start up the path. Everyone is hugging me, touching me, crying, and telling me they will miss me. I can’t help but to start to cry. We finally get to the front. There at the base of the rock stand Erin, Garik, Bridget and Keres along with the Elders. Uncles Waylen, Pryderi, Grandma’s Frayas brother Drudwyn, and his mate Lone. High Priestess Morrigan is there along with her daughters, Deidra and Breanna, probably to help oversee the rite since we have no formal witch yet. Cousin Maeve steps up with the bowl and the knife. Deidra and Breanna step up next to me and slightly behind me on either side. They whisper in my ear.

“We are here to catch you when you fall.” Deidra starts “and to make sure the baby isn’t harmed.” Breanna finishes. I nod lightly.
Meave comes forward and holds up the bowl. “Today we say goodbye to one of our own. She chooses to find Gaia’s calling outside the arms of the pack and we have agreed to let her go in good faith.” Meave calls out to the people behind us. I try very hard to stare at the rock behind everyone as tears run down my cheeks. “She knows she is loved and will be missed and knows we will no longer be there as we once were, but trusts in our strength to survive without her. As the Great Wolf had to sever his ties with his pack to join Gaia’s pack, we will now sever hers from ours so that she may make bonds with her new one.“ Meave walks over to Erin who holds out her hand. Meave cuts it and she bleeds into the bowl. She also does this for Uncles Waylen, Pryderi and Grandpa Drudwyn. She walks over to me and I hold out my hand. She slices it across the palm. I turn my hand over and bleed into the bowl. Meave then walks up to High Priestess Morrigan, who from a pouch pours a clear liquid into the bowl. She turns, tears in her eyes, her voice cracking a little as she talks. “Fire cleanses all things but it also destroys. So with clean conscience we send you forth on your own, Selena, with all the love and best wishes we can.” She takes a stone flint from her pouch and strikes it. The bowl ignites with a whoosh and I feel like my heart is about to explode. I feel my legs give out as I grab my chest. Deidra and Breanna catch me and hold me upright until the feeling passes, about the same time as the fire dies down. There is an emptiness. I know what the feeling is supposed to be, but it’s not there now. I can still feel my connection to Gaia. I look around. Some of them feel it too, like there was something there and now it’s gone. Someone lets out a mournful howl from the back and the rest join in. I bite my cheek until I taste blood to keep from crying out in pain and emptiness. Erin and Garik hug me, and so does Uncle Waylen and Pryderi. I walk up to Grandpa Drudwyn.
With a shaky voice I say, “When you go to the Homelands, tell them why I will not be there. Give my mom and dad my love. Tell Torolf I am sorry. Tell my other children that I love them and I am sorry that mommy will not get to see them. “
The old grey Ulven looks at me and nods solemnly before hugging me and whispers in my ear, “They will not be ashamed of you. They will find you in the forest.”
I look at everyone one last time as they part to take the processional out. I walk. Stanrick takes my hand and walks beside me. I do not turn around and look. I can’t…Stanrick does for me though.
“They are all crying.” He mumbles.
Tears are streaming down my cheeks.” I know.”

Knock knock knock.
“Come in,” Anne called through the heavy door of her office. A slight young man stepped over the threshold, striking her by how much he had grown since they had first picked him up in Oarsmeet. Seated at her desk, Anne’s gaze gradually came to meet the boy’s.
“You asked to see me, ma’am?” His voice was steady, but there was anxiety in his eyes.
“Relax, you’re not in trouble. I need to speak to you about the future. Your future.” His nervous eyes grew wide, though he struggled to maintain his composure. “Tell me: how are you at keeping secrets? Not from your enemies, but from your friends? Those you once called allies?”
“I-I don’t know. Pretty good, I would say,” he stammered.
“I need you to be perfect. Can I count on you?”
“Tell me first. Who exactly am I keeping this from?” His curiosity piqued, Anne knew better than to reveal her plan so soon.
“I’ll ask again: Can I count on you?”
“Yes. Yes you can. I won’t tell a soul,” the boy promised, eager to be let in on the secret.
Anne reached into a drawer on her desk, quickly removing a small sheet of paper. It had been sealed with wax, bearing the Compass Rose crest of Aldoria, which the boy recognized as the symbol Anne had been using for official New Oarsmeet business for many years. She stepped outfrom behind her desk, extending the letter to him, but pulled back as he reached out to grasp it. “Then prove it. This is not for your eyes. It is not for Morty’s eyes. This is for the highest ranking official in New Aldoria with whom you can speak. Understood?”
Confusion was written as clearly on his face as the nervousness previously had. He was intrigued, wanting to tear open the letter then and there to read its contents, although he knew Anne’s blades were never far away, and to do so would be suicide. Instead he simply nodded.
“Good. It’s a long trip to take alone. You should stock up and get going soon. Head down to the warehouse. The workers are expecting you.” She turned and walked back to her desk but remained standing.
“Anne, what’s going on? Is everything okay?” The boy prodded, hoping to sate some of his curiosity. “Why can’t the Captain know? Why am I being sent? Why can’t you go? What’s in this letter?”
“You’re asking a lot of questions when you should be leaving. Like I said, you have a long road ahead of you. The sooner you begin, the sooner you finish.”
“I trust you, Anne. I really do. You’re the only officer who doesn’t always treat me like I’m worthless. But I can’t do this. Not without a few answers first,” he took a step closer, urging his now shaking voice to sound soothing. This was clearly important to the First Mate, but why couldn’t she tell him anything?
“I suppose you’ve been doing well recently. You’ve put up with a lot from us and have become a man because of-no-despite us. I’ll try to explain. Stop me if you have any questions.” Anne turned to face the boy, her face as solemn as her tone. A mix of pride, fear, and determination flashed in her eyes before she began to speak again. “I wasn’t always a pirate. Long ago, I was actually a Lieutenant in Aldoria’s Royal Navy. My Captain, crew and I scoured the seas for people like what I have become. I left because I disagreed with an order. I still know in my heart that doing so was the right move. What was the mistake, however, was throwing my lot in with Morty and his band. That was ten years ago. I was young, and they promised me adventure and silver. They weren’t wrong, but I am starting to believe that I was. I should have stayed behind in Oarsmeet and died fighting the Undead. I should have stayed a prisoner of my old crew and started a new life in the new world. I should have done something, ANYthing, except what I did. I realize this now, but I fear it may be too late.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Morty has been actively working to keep me out of the loop on many decisions. His demeanor has changed over the last few months, and now it seems that his son is following in his footsteps. I don’t know what has come over them, but I do know that I don’t like it and want no part of it. That’s what the letter is. It’s a chance at a new life. Actually, it may be a chance at my old life. I’m hoping to communicate with New Aldoria to reenlist myself and any from New Oarsmeet who wish to join me in the Aldorian Navy. Morty cannot know, because I would hate to see his reaction; I can only assume it would be violent. This is why I cannot go. If I were to suddenly take a trip to New Aldoria, Morty would become suspicious. You avoid his notice most times, and others he would be glad to be rid of you. You have given me no reason to distrust you so far, and I need you to continue to do so. Take this letter, and give me an opportunity to redeem myself for the crimes I have committed this past decade. You are free to make your own decision regarding my departure, but in a few months’ time, one way or another, I will be leaving the crew. Stay, go, or come with me, the choice is yours. I wish only that it didn’t have to be the case.”
“You’re serious? You’re leaving the crew? What will become of the town? Of the ship?” The boy pressed, awestruck by the words he had just heard.
“Dead serious. The town is under my protection. I will remain here and lead the people if I can, or encourage them to come with me if I cannot. The people are resourceful. I’m sure they can find some way to make their homes elsewhere,” Anne explained. Her eyes started to dart around the room, clearly anxious that this conversation was still continuing. “As for the ship, that belongs to Morty. He may sail it wherever he wishes, but will know that he is no longer welcome in the Port of New Oarsmeet.”
“I’m coming with you. This life is clearly not for me, and the crew doesn’t care about me. I’m a joke to them, and I’m sick of it. Hell, just look at the name they gave me! We could leave tonight! They wouldn’t be able to stop us until we were long gone!” The boy was getting excited by the idea of freedom from the crew.
“No, I can’t. I have a responsibility to the people here, and have other matters to which I must attend. You must leave now, though. The sooner that letter reaches Prince Aylin or one of his officers, the sooner we can put this whole matter behind us,” Anne said, sitting down at her desk once again. She glanced up at the boy. “Oh, and Artyom, thank you. It is nice to know that I’m not in this alone.” The boy was struck once again by her words and stood, staring at the First Mate. “Everything okay?” Anne asked him, taken aback by his response.
“You…you’ve never called me that before…” The young mage began before trailing off.
“Would you prefer to go back to being ‘Swabby’?”
“No! No. Thank you. I’ll be back as quickly as I can with a response.”

Onsallas Outpost, Longfang Territory: Shortly after discovering Soulvieg’s artifact.

“Brother, I think I am ready to see home again.” Ranmir told Stanrick.

“We will need to find you a place to stay, Selena and I have taken over Mother’s and we need it ready to raise a pup again.” He replied.

“I understand, if we cannot find a place, it isn’t as if I don’t know how to make shelter, maybe we can raise a small shack for me on the outskirts. I don’t know if I’m ready to be in the center of things anyway. I may just stay in the outpost for a while…”

“No! No brother of mine will stay at the outpost! You are coming home. Let’s go.”

Ranmir and Stanrick started to gather their equipment to head to Onsallas Village, but were interrupted by Reyna and Fritha.

“We’ve been discussing the possibility of you returning to the village, cousin” Reyna said to Ranmir, “and we do not think you should enter the village before you are clean.”

“So, I’ll bathe, no problem, I can fetch the water now.”

This time it was Fritha to respond, “Water will not clean off what we are concerned about. We feel that you have spent too much time in the Dirge Swamp to be allowed into the village without taking certain measures for the corruption, and Thrand agrees.”

“Why does EVERYONE keep talking about me behind my back. I heard you the first night I came into the outpost, wondering who I was, if I should be trusted, why I brought the news! You SHOULD have just asked me! WHY didn’t you just ASK me?!”

“Brother,” Stanrick said consolingly, “please calm down. We did not know who you were, you came in with a worrying message about what is coming, and a cryptic one about who you were. This temper is not like what I remember you to be.”

“Yes, cousin, this is what we are talking about,” Reyna said, “the swamp has changed you. We just want to take some precautions to make sure that you are not corrupted.”

Ranmir thought about this for a while as he finished gathering his belongings. Would this hurt? Is there any way to go back to the way he was? Thirteen years alone is a long time, would he be able to rejoin the pack truly? He knew the others hoped it would be possible, as did he. He was feeling a comfort that had not been known since curiosity had gotten the better of him so long ago. He had hoped that he could put an end to the war with the Mordok, much as the war had ended with the Humans and the Syndar. He had failed, but would he be able to succeed at coming home? “What do we need to do, and how long will it take?”

“As of now, cousin, we are not sure.”

In a hut outside Onsallas Village: Three weeks later. Sixth attempt.

Ranmir laid on a pallet in the middle of the room, asleep. Rill stood ready yet again for the signal from Reyna that the draught had sedated him. When Reyna nodded, Rill extended her arms and cast a barrier.

In the same hut outside Onsallas Village: Three days earlier. Fifth attempt.

Ranmir woke with a start. He did not know where he was. He vaguely remembered being brought to this village. The Mordok shaman was once again casting his pain-inducing magic upon him. He tried to grab the Mordok, to fight out of his predicament, but his arms and legs were pinned down. In the background he saw a pointy-eared figure with red eyes extending his arms, preparing for an embrace, with a mocking smile on his lips. He lowered his arms and stepped forward as the Mordok looked to guidance. The red-eyed one spoke.

“Ranmir, calm down please.” It was Rill’s voice, “We are trying to help. If you wish to come back into the village we must make sure that you are safe.”

Sixth attempt.

With a pained look on her face, Reyna double-checked that the restraints were secure. She did not like the idea of tying her cousin down for this, but for their safety, it had to be done.

In the same hut outside Onsallas Village: Two weeks earlier. Second attempt.

Ranmir’s eyes opened. The Mordok shaman was working his staff around his face, attempting Gaia knows what upon him. Ranmir’s hands shot around the throat of the shaman seemingly of their own volition. The red-eyed one took a step forward thrust out his hand and there was a bright flash of light.

Ranmir looked dazedly upon Fritha and Rill. Rill was holding her throat, with Fritha taking a defensive position in front of her.

Sixth attempt.

Reyna called upon Gaia for assistance, to cleanse her cousin of the darkness that the swamp left him with. It would go faster with two, she knew, but they had tried that once…

In the same hut outside Onsallas Village: Two weeks, four days earlier. First attempt.

Ranmir’s chest felt about to burst, he had not breathed this hard since the sprint from the Pineed forest when his brother vanished in front of his eyes. His lungs felt like they were on fire, his heart about to escape his ribcage. Fritha and Reyna crouched in front of pallet upon which he had been resting.

“What is wrong cousin?” Reyna asked.

“It hurts, whatever you are doing, hurts. I can’t take it, it is going too fast.”

“What do you mean, too fast?” This time it was Fritha inquiring.

“I don’t know…the pain…it feels like…fire inside me.”

Sixth attempt.

Gaia’s gift began to flow through Reyna. She saw Ranmir’s face begin to react to the pain he was feeling, even in his slumber.

In the same hut outside Onsallas Village: Six days earlier. Fourth attempt.

Ranmir felt a burning at his fingertips. He looked down at them and saw they were resting in embers. He tried to pull them out but couldn’t move his arms. He could focus on nothing else but his fingers. As he wriggled, he caught a glimpse of a Mordok, but as he tried to look closer only saw Fritha looking down in concentration.

Sixth attempt.

Reyna felt the warmth of Gaia’s love as it tried to replace the darkness that had coalesced on Ranmir.

In a hut outside Onsallas Village: Ten days earlier. Third attempt.

Ranmir looked up at the Mordok. He knew this Mordok, he had seen him somewhere, long ago, or was it only moments ago, could recent events have been a dream? Time seemed to be a blur.

Sixth attempt.

Ranmir’s mind began to travel, as the darkness gave way to light, the time lost to the swamp began to come back. He remembered having been visited by the red-eyed one, who would talk to him and make him forget. He remembered a village of ramshackle buildings being reclaimed, much too new to be Ulven. He remembered the torture, and the sleepless nights. He remembered things he wished he had never seen, and would never see again.

Ranmir woke slowly, unable to speak, his mouth too dry to form words. The bonds had been lifted. Reyna, Fritha and Rill, stood by.

Fritha handed him a bowl of water. “Please drink this, Selena made this cleansed water. She says it helped when she and Stanrick came home sick from the swamp. She wanted to help.” Reyna, Fritha, and Rill had agreed that in her state, it was safer to keep her away.

After a long drink, Ranmir spoke. “I am tired.”

“Please, cousin, tell us what you have seen,” Reyna requested. This had become the order of things since the attack on Rill.

Ranmir simply replied. “When I am ready.”

Bryech marched alongside the rest of the Longfang warriors bracing himself against the bitter cold. He looked around him as warriors from the Stormjarl war packs marched next to the veteran Longfang warriors and was filled with a strange feeling. He was now one of the greenest members of the Longfangs, the other was Orrin. Orrin was barely an adult and he was marching to battle. The whole thing still didn’t seem real to Bryech he was in a way numb to the whole thing like it was routine even though all of this was new to him. The sense of anger that had always fed his fights against the Mordok was gone for now. Bryech felt different about this battle that he now marched to. The people he would be fighting were people, not beasts with only one purpose in life. These battles would be different, these battles would be remembered in history. However, Bryech did not feel happy that he was going to be a part of it.

“The Mother and Father are shamed.” Bryech says to himself as he once again shrugs against the cold and keeps on marching toward war.

The first few days after Graytir had announced the remaining neutrality of Clan Stormjarl were cold, very cold. The few fights that did break out were small skirmishes that resulted in almost no deaths, like two wolf packs sizing each other up. Bryech had never felt this cold before. he could feel it in his bones the stinging cold made everyone weary to fight. It went on like that for weeks. The longhouse of the village was now serving as a barracks for the Stormjarl and Longfang warriors. The Stormjarl militia were constantly moving in and out as warriors took up defensive positions. The Longfangs were constantly on watch. The real fighting began two weeks after Stormjarl neutrality was claimed, it started with Horns signaling enemy approach. All of the warriors from Pack Longfang and Clan Stormjarl were ready and being deployed as the war leaders saw fit.

“Longfang warriors, go cover the main road my warriors will assist and handle any flanking units!” one of the Stormjarl Chieftains yelled over the clamor of warriors preparing for battle. The warriors jogged into their positions on the road, Bryech stood somewhere in the middle of the formation waiting. Bryech went to pull the Gaia’s Star out from underneath his armor and cursed himself. He had left it in the barracks at Onsallas village. The horns sounded again this time even though the enemy could be seen. The Grimward forces outnumbered the Stormjarl and Longfang at almost two to one but that was no concern to the Longfangs. The Grimward troops stopped about fifty yards from the Longfang formation. The two forces looked at each other, neither unit saying anything. Bryech followed his instincts and started barking orders; he wasn’t their leader but he was getting sick of waiting.

“Shield wall!” Bryech yelled. His response was the sound of shields locking together and warriors taking their fighting stances. The road formed a natural choke point just in front of the Longfang formation. The Grimward war pack leaders started to bark out orders and on their side a shield-wall formed. Bryech was ready and he roared, the rest of Pack Longfang joined in and their collective battle cry was fearsome. The Grimward responded with their own battle cry. The Grimward war pack leaders sounded for the charge. Seconds passed and the two walls crashed together, the sounds of warriors fighting became deafening. For the first few minutes the two lines fought, warriors on both sides trading blows but so far none had fallen. Bryech watched from the rear line but he wanted in the fight, but he was ordered to stay back until the front needed reinforcements.

“Watch above, they’re trying to jump over to break the line!” Orando hollered over the sounds of combat. Bryech looked up just in time to see a Grimward fighter in the air heading straight towards him. Bryech flipped his javelin in his hand and hurled it. The javelin made solid contact and punched right through the fighters’ ribcage. Bryech wasn’t prepared for the Grimward to keep falling and landing on him, he was knocked over as the corpse had fallen back to the ground. He rolled the body off of himself and stood up. He surveyed the carnage and things were getting bloody with warriors from both sides suffering injuries. The chaos and flurry of combat making the rest of the world blur out into nothing but warriors trading blows. Suddenly, a warrior right in front of Bryech fell back dead an arrow sticking through his eye. Bryech didn’t waste a second he jumped into the open spot in the shield wall. Bryech roared and started hammering against the warrior in front of him while the spearman behind him took the opportunity to stab the Grimward in the thigh. The warrior fell with a scream of pain, Bryech kicked his shield off his chest and stabbed him in the gut after punching through the warriors leather breastplate. Bryech felt something solid hit him in the back of his exposed left shoulder and felt the blade of a sword slide across his hauberk. He turned to his left and stabbed, skewering his attacker through the throat, a spray of blood gushed out and splashed against his arm and cheek. Falling back into line, Bryech sounded for the line to push forward. With a resounding roar the Longfang line crashed into the other line sending the Grimward back. Suddenly to his right, one of the Longfang warriors roared and began smashing through the enemy line. The Grimward warriors cut at the raging Longfang and stabbed him but it seemed like he couldn’t feel it. There were several arrows sprouting from his torso and his armor was rent open from dozens of slashes and weapon strikes. He was well on his way to a warrior’s death, but intended to tear into the enemy before he went down.

“The line is broken, push through!” Orrin said. Bryech looked to his right to see his friend hook an enemy’s shield with his axe while Azra stabbed him through the chest with a javelin. Suddenly, Harlok appeared to his right and grunted at him to push through. With a nod Bryech looked forward and kicked the shield of the warrior who had replaced his recently fallen opponent, sending him back a few feet. Together, Bryech and Harlok tackled the warrior so he couldn’t get up. Bryech’s sword had fallen out of his hand when he tackled his opponent, Bryech pulled his dagger while Harlok punched the warrior in the face while deflecting a few attacks with his shield. Bryech slammed his dagger into his opponent’s neck, warm blood gushing out onto his hands, killing the warrior almost instantly. Harlok jumped forward and charged into the fray, the two lines had broken and the battlefield was a mass of warriors clashing against each other. Bryech rushed in after Harlok. He looked to his left to see a Grimward warrior was charging towards him. Bryech took a low stance and flipped the warrior over him with his shield. Turning around, Bryech saw that the Grimward was already on his feet and, having dropped his shield, he swung his axe two-handed. The axe buried itself into Bryech’s shield with a loud crunch. The warrior pulled and knocked Bryech off balance, throwing Bryech’s shield with his back swing. He gave Bryech the chance to regain his balance. Bryech and the Grimward warrior began circling each other. Bryech with his dagger was at a disadvantage to the Grimward warrior’s axe but he knew what to do. With a battle-cry he rushed the warrior who in turn swung his axe just as Bryech had hoped he would have. Bryech reached his left arm out and grabbed the axe by its wooden haft stooping his opponents swing. The blade of the axe slammed into his upper-arm causing Bryech to cringe in pain. Bryech then plunged his dagger into his opponent’s torso breaking straight through his chainmail hauberk. Bryech let go of his dagger and the warrior sank to his knees. Bryech crouched in front of him. The fighting had moved away from the two of them as the Longfang line reformed.

“What’s your name?” Bryech asked, still holding the Grimward’s axe.

“Sven Shield-Splitter.” the warrior replied, blood pouring out of his mouth.

“I can tell how you got the name.” Bryech replied gruffly. Sven looked Bryech in the eyes and nodded. Bryech replies to his nod in kind.

“You fought well today, Sven Shield-Splitter, and The Great Wolf’s ears ring with your name as we speak.” Bryech tells Sven putting out his arm. Sven returns the greeting.

“I am Bryech Savagefang, first and only son of Davrik Savagefang. That is the name you will tell The Great Wolf when he asks who sent you to him on this day.” Bryech tells Sven. Sven nods barely conscious. Bryech pulls his dagger from Sven’s torso and drops his axe as Sven falls to the ground dead.

“Bryech, get up here now! We need to reform the line!” Orrin yelled. Bryech looked up and nodded while grabbing his shield, which had luckily landed next to his sword that he had dropped. After grabbing his gear Bryech rejoined the shield-wall.

“What in the name of Gaia were you doing?” Azra asked him angrily.

“One must always take the chance to honor his opponent.” Bryech replied.

“Raaaaaggggghh!” Harlok growled.

Smiling Bryech says. “See, he agrees with me.”…..

The first battle of the northernmost Stormjarl settlement was a victory for the Stormjarl and their Longfang allies, but eventually after numerous attacks by Grimward and Whiteoak forces the Stormjarl line crumbled even with the help of the Longfang warriors. From there the warriors of Pack Longfang and Stormjarl militia retreated to a secondary defensive line, all warriors suffering from grievous wounds and infection. Their elite training and discipline maintained an organized retreat and kept the Grimward warriors from overtaking them as the wounded and villagers were evacuated deeper into Stormjarl territory.

Bryech soon came to realize why the humans speak so badly of war, for it is the worst thing imaginable. People forced to kill people that they once called brother, watching their friends die beside them. War may make friendships stronger than the ties of family, but it costs so much more.

Brynja sighed heavily as she leaned against the door, forcing it shut. Her eyes stayed closed as she pictured the room before her in her mind. It had been months since she had been home, since she set off with the human expedition into the Dirge Swamp. Slowly she forced her eyes open, taking in the small building that was so familiar, yet long-forgotten. Everything was as it had been before she left, save for the layer of dust that had accumulated. Stepping in silence through the building, she traced her fingertips along her table, her walls, anything that she could reach. Words would never be enough to describe the relief she felt at finally coming home, nor the shame she felt for taking each of these items for granted; as such, they remained unsaid.

Inhaling deeply, taking in the familiar aroma, the dust tickled in Brynja’s nose, but she didn’t care. She quickly made her way over to the fireplace, and soon had a small blaze started. Pots of water were placed above the heat, combined with others in a tub to create a hot bath. It must have been months since she got to bathe like this, to finally feel clean. As she began to disrobe, Brynja noticed the aching stiffness in her joints, despite her young age. Must be the weather, she mused, knowing well that the cold air was not the cause of her pain. Her body had been subjected to trial after trial, more than she had thought she could endure, in just the last few months.

A sharp pain in her ribs stopped her suddenly as she pulled her tunic off. Her chest had been uncomfortable ever since the horrible day in Hazemane village. She was one of many corrupted who was corralled by an Axhound warpack and left to die by a cleansing fire. Her heart ached and her eyes began to sting as she remembered the man for whom she had nearly given her life, the cleric who panicked and fled only to be cut down. Why did the Great Wolf not call her name instead? He was not ready to die as she had been. This was the man who had sacrificed so much to give hope to so many. In the hopes of easing her suffering, he had taken a wound from Brynja unknowingly submitting himself to the corruption as well. It was for this reason that Brynja could not shake the feeling of guilt welling up in her stomach, and it nearly made her sick.

Her tongue was drawn to her fangs, newly budding for the first time in nearly a year. That had not been the first time her teeth had been removed, and would likely not be the last. It was cruel, however, as she was infected with the corruption shortly after being mutilated as she was. The foul magic kept her from healing properly, and as such, her fangs refused to grow back. She would never be whole again after that hellish night, nor the nine months of nightmares that followed. Now, for the first time since, she finally began to feel as though her world might not collapse at a moment’s notice. She finally began to feel once more like an Ulven, not a shell of her former self.

As she stood bare before the bath, she could not will herself into the water quite yet. Glancing down, her fingers traced a path across her chest and arms, winding their way to every scar, some more recent than others. A bruise just below her tattoo forced a grimace onto her face. A rough, scaly patch of skin on her shoulder reminded her of the fire in Hazemane village. A mostly healed puncture in her left arm called to mind the Battle of Pyre Hills: the honorable Whiteoak warrior that nearly ended her life before succumbing to his wounds from their duel. Eventually her fingers made their way to her left hand, caressing the recently stitched wound in her palm. Manetho had done excellent work in repairing the wound, but the damage had been severe: it had to be to finally force the corruption from her body. She slowly squeezed her hand into a fist, exerting far more effort to do so than she liked to admit. At the time, she had feared that she had lost the use of her shield hand, though determination (Manetho called it bull-headedness) allowed her to begin to build the muscles again. It would be months before she was once again in fighting shape, but she was beginning to see progress, and that’s all that truly mattered.

Finally Brynja stepped into the steaming water, embracing the heat as it relaxed her weary muscles. As she lowered herself into the bath her left arm nearly gave out, demanding attention and pushing the memory of the ill-fated swamp expedition back into her mind. She had forgotten so much of that journey, save the image of her comrades fleeing the Mordok as she fell to the mud, the wretched beasts swarming all around her. Her head sank below the surface of the water, hoping that the sensation would wash away the memory. As she did, she felt her hair pull against her, trying to float back to the surface, and she recalled the moment she had cut it off. Near the edge of the swamp, with the Mordok tormenting her, when a group of Shattered Spear hunters descended upon the creatures. Seeing her chance for freedom, Brynja had grabbed the knife in her belt and sliced off the lock of hair being held by one of the Mordok and crawled to the hunters. It was in Newhope that one of Marquess Madeline’s aides trimmed what was left of her hair into a somewhat presentable style. Shorter than she was used to, to be sure, though it stayed out of the way far better than it had before. Might as well keep it, she chuckled to no one. As she surfaced, she breathed heavily and allowed herself to drift away in the first true bit of rest in months…

A knock on the door jolted her awake. She had no idea how long she had been asleep, though her skin was pink and wrinkled, and the water had started to cool. The knock came again as Brynja scanned the room for her cloak. She left the tub and wrapped herself just as the visitor cracked the door. It was a young warrior, one whom she had trained many years before. “Nefstein? What is it?” Brynja prodded, trying not to show the sleep lingering in her eyes.

“There was a letter for the Pack. Everyone is talking about it,” he began. “It just showed up today from Onsallas…but there’s something else.”

“Well, spit it out. What’s wrong?” Brynja had never been the patient kind.

“This letter…it’s…for you.”

Reyna sat in the dim light of the Hall of Gaia. It was quiet tonight in Onsallas, with just a handful of the Daughters nearby. They were practicing meditation with some of the Daughters in Training who had drawn tonight to be on duty in case fighting broke out. It was a good way to spend time when one must be alert for the worst.

Reyna herself was not on duty. She simply couldn’t sleep and found it better to sit here in the firelight, her needle drawing thread through the fabric of the hangerok she was preparing for the upcoming dinner that was be the held in New Hope. Perhaps she could convince them of what projects would bring them true greatness instead of the follies her cousin was making them think possible.

But, thinking too far into the future was something she considered dangerous. Here, on the edge of the Dirge it was dangerous to think too far ahead. Every day was change, and even the seasons could be unpredictable if the earth itself took it into her mind to be difficult. The only thing Reyna had ever found consistent was magic.

Mana formed the warp and the weft of the world in an immaculate, divine version of the muslin that was pooled on her lap. The pieces of the dress had been formed into shape as Gaia had brought the world into existence from the void that must have been before she made the world. And much like her needle trailed thread behind it in patterns that were intended, Daughters of Gaia (and the other casters), pulled magic together into spells that let the will of the caster be made true on the world.

Needlework held the answers to many things, including having a calm center. Meditation was much like the spinning: The spinner drew fiber from the prepared roving as the Daughter drew mana from the roving Gaia had prepared for them.

The most complicated lessons came in the form of the most useful of seemingly mundane tasks. To make clothing was to create, to find a connection to Gaia that a Daughter should value; for through her creation of beauty through needle and thread a Daughter could bring herself closer to Gaia.

Experiment Log—Al Mafajjar
Experiment Series: 1,372
Experiment No.: 001
Target: Subject 1-S, known as Manetho
Race: Syndar, Feral

Initial Observations:

Subject 1-S has a troubled past and fear of magic. Has severe mental blocks inhibiting access to mana, and mind may be disconnected from the mana stream due to said blocks. Slow introduction to be followed by slow reintroduction to mana should work. Meditation will be required to reconnect. Arcane energy also required to bridge gap. Subject will be resistant to procedure. Caution necessary.

Dangers of Procedure:

97% Success

1.5% Mental shutdown from stresses

1.5% Violent cerebral deconstruction

Subject’s strong mind should guard against most dangers, but failure still possible.

Should failure occur, must deal with 1-S’s human companion, Erasmus. Lethal force may be necessary but should be considered a last resort.

Lingering corruption possible, but unlikely. Mental tampering should not trigger corruption symptoms.

Update: Time is running short. Will have to resort to forceful tactics. Mana flood and mana wash to eliminate block. No buildup in the body until it can take it.

Post-Experiment: Success! History is made today by the successful completion of this procedure. Subject 1-S has connected to the Mana Stream and now possesses magical energy within her body as all Syndar should. Reaction from subject as expected: mental trauma but no danger to her life. Subject 1-S is recommended for further observation in my facility to ensure there are no side effects; likely to be no substantial observation given the revelations to the world of the existence of the Transcended.

A great pity that minimal further work with 1-S is possible–the descent into magic of the subject would have been interesting to observe. Hawk contact must be maintained at any cost so that the experiment is not permanently terminated.

This may be a stage to reversing the Syndar hollowing process, whatever it may be. Much more work is necessary along with Hollowed subjects, willing or otherwise. May also be a method of easing the transition to magic of Ulven males. Subjects will still be necessary for the continuation of the work regardless of direction. Al Haddad must be notified of the need at a later time to begin preparing to accommodate said need.