SprylliNES IV: The Eternal Myth

Freemanuncg said:

Yea but is she the right hand of the great evil one himself?

Q: did she start out as a demon or become one over time?

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Oh, she was always always a demon. She was a demon who was first born since the birth of man. She's not a particularly powerful demon in physical form, per se, but she's a demon that knows a LOT of things.

furthermore while he was caught unawares by frast his corpreal form is not generally vulenrable to such attacks unless he is trying to suck a particularly powerful creature into hell.

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Oh don't worry. This person knows how to deal with demons. Oh yes. I do. I merely require pink silk ribbon.

however while i do have epeen for miles, i am of the opinion that Ednas and Caacrinolas could make an unstoppable unholy duo if they combined their formidable powers. She Did free him there had to be some reason she did that.

the question is what can they do for each other?

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Endas freed Caacrinolas because she's a jerk and she didn't really care all that much for collateral damage as long as it didn't force her to act out against it. And the reason for summoning Caacrinolas in the first place was to make the Unbreakable Cord, and the reason why she was forced to free him was because all contracts with a demon requires a price.

She really doesn't like the Devil, despite being a demon herself. She has her own agenda.

You both need to remember what happens when you mess with Frast. Viking pics... they will be posted.

Seon said:

Oh, she was always always a demon. She was a demon who was first born since the birth of man. She's not a particularly powerful demon in physical form, per se, but she's a demon that knows a LOT of things..

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Sweet was just curious

Oh don't worry. This person knows how to deal with demons. Oh yes. I do. I merely require pink silk ribbon.

And the reason for summoning Caacrinolas in the first place was to make the Unbreakable Cord, and the reason why she was forced to free him was because all contracts with a demon requires a price.

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So she in herself does not possess the power to create the cord (which if i understand correctly can bind things) but only knows the spell to create one. She would still require the talents of Caacrinolas or one of his most unholy bretheren to forge it? oOo you may need me more than you thought

She really doesn't like the Devil, despite being a demon herself. She has her own agenda.

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Well he's just my boss: Caacrinolas like all fallen angel's seeks to be the most powerful creature imaginable through any means necessary. I'm not saying Ednas has to work for my boss we just have some deals on the side to prevent animosity and to further our respective ambitions

Besides i already died once this turn (and honestly it was Awesome) but i'd have to come up with a whole bunch more dark scary references and metaphors to do it again like right away haha.

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Beware Frast the mighty, slayer of Demons, poster of Viking pictures haha

Please remember that the cords didn't rely solely on the Witch's devil-magic to do their work. They were attached in places of power, which the witch certainly knew beforehand. These places were symbolic enough to have the worlds below (caves), middle (forest) and above (mountains) all be tapped upon to bind the beast.
Prillitas is not even convinced the blood-ritual was actually useful to hold the beast, but it was certainly to bind the beast to the Witch.

Freemanuncg said:

So she in herself does not possess the power to create the cord (which if i understand correctly can bind things) but only knows the spell to create one. She would still require the talents of Caacrinolas or one of his most unholy bretheren to forge it? oOo you may need me more than you thought

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The question, of course, is whether or not said "partnership" is really a good idea for you. http://forums.civfanatics.com/showpost.php?p=7155730&postcount=61


IC: Endas suddenly looked up, as if disturbed. "Caacrinolas..." she muttered once. She then immediately fixed her eyes upon the human before her.

"I must leave for somewhere immediately. But before I go, you shall tell me. What of Gritchen have you seen in the dream?"

OCC: Yeah, I dunno. Thinking is overrated really.

"The dream fellow said you'd ask about him, or at least I think he did. I don't remember where he was or how he spoke, only what he said. He wanted me to tell you that he is glad you let tribes after the initial group was let in. He thinks you could've done a much better job, but hes not going to reprimand you or anything. He'd like you to have some tea ready when he does get back, and to cooperate with the rest of the tribe leaders but he doesn't really expect you to listen to him. He then said something about a millstone you never thanked him for fixing and that he was always surprised about the azure crystals, and that he thought you were more of the amethyst sort. That was all he thought you should know. Thank for the answer and your time, now I have a few more messages to deliver. Would you like any messages sent to any of the other chiefs? Perhaps the barley folk or maybe the Riddle-god? Best of luck dealing with your demon friend."

Sorry, but I'm dropping out.

can we resolve the various dialogues and decide what to do about the various threats to the city please? Also, Anony, a story on the Mopolachesthents when you get time.

If any of you have people in mind who you think might like to join, please urge them to.

Certainly. I don't know what to do with them, but whatever it is, it'll be epic.

The queen rolled her eyes. "You are dismissed. I shall take care of the matters you have addressed shortly." She rang a bell, and a cloud of mist gathered around the human. Seconds later, he found himself outside the labyrinth, upside down.

"Come, little child," Endas said. "There are still so many things for you to learn, and for I to teach."

"Do you truly know all that is on this land?" the girl asked. "Of course," Endas replied. "I know everything that humankind knows, and more."

"Then tell me, what is your true name?"

Endas laughed. "Yes, Endas is the name given to my current host. My true name is Lilith."

"So, you are a demon?" the girl asked.

Endas gave a wicked grin, fit for a demoness. "Of course. Normal human would never be able to accomplish what I had done. But then comes people like you, little child."

"Do you then truly have the ability to grant all wishes?"

Endas smiled. "All men and women who ever came to me to ask for a wish got what they asked for, whether or not they wanted it or not. Why, little girl. Do you wish to ask for more wishes?"

"No, but I want you to teach me what you wish for."

"I killed little children before, you know." Endas said. The fact that she quickly changed the subject didn't pass the attention of the child. "I killed firstborn male children of my tribe, when I was still the Witch of the Wilds."

"But that is not an answer!" the girl complained.

Endas grimaced. "I told you that I am a wicked demon, child. Are you not afraid?"

"Not particularly," she said. Endas sighed. "I shall tell you about what I desire later. First, I shall teach you of summoning and permanant binding of demonic and spiritual servants..."

spryllino said:

can we resolve the various dialogues and decide what to do about the various threats to the city please?

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Well, regarding the Gemorans, I've provided an option: I sent a fast-talking flying boy (well, he might become unable to fly if the people in the city forget about him) to turn a head against the other and generally Gemorans against themselves.
Now, dissent can be seeded through other means, but the idea is to take back the fields that were damaged by the beast and then taken by the Gemorans by dividing the Gemorans.

The city was in an uproar over the grisly scene in the house set into the wall, what could have done such horror and how could such evil take place within the protection of the great city of Lerone? Whispers flew of a nameless terror that hunted men as game, but no such evil had ever been in the walls of the city. Behind each whisper was fear, seeping into all the people of the city, unrest plagued the city.

The fear rose from the city like heat rises from the desert sands, Caacrinolas feasted on the misery of mortal men. Below him lay the city; so many people, the word spreading like fire, his might grew every moment. No being could hope to match his power now, the will and strength of the demons of hell flowed through his veins.

Into the ruined tower he settled, sealing the entrances with deep black magics no one would intrude upon his solitude. He would need items of great power to complete the task before him, this great city held much of the magic he would need, but this city was not the world. In his claw he held the text, bound in worn leather cut from the skin of man. On the ancient page, words written in the blood of virgins, glistened as if new the first instruction: Blood of a Slayer

He would seek the blood.

“And yea, though we may walk through the valley of every struggle which He has placed in our path, we shall not fear his Evil. The dark forces may cut us and stone us, draw our holy blood from the flesh, and the pain will make us stronger. We shall exchange all our fear, for a fearsome incarnation.”

The Song of Suffering: Book 3, Psalm 8 Verses 2-4


Trilidys toys with his chain. It is wrapped around his arm and the slack extends his reach by several feet, he whips it out, idly practicing slinging the end around branches and pulling them off the tree.

Long strands of bark and wood peel off the too young tree, barely more than a sapling. It leaves deep scars as though the tree had been whipped, as if a cat of nine tails, each on of them barbed, had slowly drawn back each layer in a tormenting and sadistic fashion out of nothing but idleness.

Leather armor is easy to move in, two layers of it is still pretty easy, and offers marginally more security. Trilidys finds three layers manageable, little metal barbs all over the outside layer.

Micil had served his clan well, all of Trilidys’ ancestors had crafted a strong people inside the safety of these walls. They had forged these chains, but it was to him to employ them, they had built these defenses, and left it to him to man them.

But now all that safety is gone, the mystic protections had been shattered with a stark finality. Trilidys did not have the luxury to be a builder, his people did not need builders anymore, they required survivors.

And Tridilys expects to turn them all into exactly that.

The dreams had hit them hardest of all, they had come to him, begging him to explain all the terrors, and he could not.

They said, “Do you not feel our pain?” They shouted, “Can you not understand?”

He was not so afflicted as they were, he faced the nightmares with the simple stoic grace he approached everything else. Some called it ‘Might’ and others implied that it was a factor of heredity. He did not fear any dream or any death, but his clansmen could, and they begged him to understand their pain.

The sword was out, then, Trilidys the Mighty, they said he was as fast as quicksilver, with reflexes so tuned that he could catch a sword mid-swing, so strong he could tear it out of your hand. He had the respect of the clan. And he pulled out his own sword in front of his clansmen when they begged him to know their pain.

He offered out his left palm, and drew the sword against it.

“I know your pain, my brothers.”

The blade dug into the flesh.

The blood dripped to the dirt.

Now, as he lashed the small tree with the chain, he feels the cut on his left hand as it was starting to scab up.

He only held onto his sword tighter, the friction, the wooden hilt drives splinters into his hand, he closes his eyes. Blood is strength. The Struggle is the lesson. As life persists, it grows stronger through the pain.

A man in cloth, some several houses down, begins to scream, another nightmare, perhaps, Trilidys ponders.

But the screaming comes closer, a harpy bats it’s wings furiously above the panicked man.

Trilidys pulls the chain back around his arm, “Do not worry, brother!”

The frightened man, chased by a winged aberration looks up. The aberration also looks up, glares directly at this armored human who thought so much of himself that he imagines he might defend another human! The teeth draw wide in a razor filled smile, the talons flash, even in the fading light of dusk.

“I know your pain.”

((OOC: A satisfactory fit I hope))

Frast the goat-tamer is the son of Frast the dull-helmed, who was son of Frast Redbeardsson, son of another Frast whose title-name is known to few now. He contemplates the worth of his station now, as he listens to the unreasonable demands of this Mopolachesthentian officer. His name is Oldag. Underneath his shining armor, he is a small man. Physically, though, he is large. He is larger than any Frast has been for several generations. His eyes are emerald, his hands are soft, like the city-dwellers' hands. They have not seen true work. His shoulders are square, and his form could have been chiseled from hot ivory, blazing with intense heat, but appearing to be colder than ice on the lake. His arrogant demeanor is despicable, but Frast invited the golden-clad men into his house, and they have been wearing their welcome thin ever since. If politeness could be ignored, Frast would kick them out. They look impressive, but they do not possess the sinewy strength of the hard-working folk Over-the-Lake... or are they those same hardy folk any more? Frast feels doubtful, he worries... perhaps it would be best to live beneath the Mopolachesthents

Frast has been hearing the whispers of departing the settlement and leaving the husks of houses to the Mopolachesthentian men. Certainly the people could depart to the Great Water and survive away from the golden beasts. The rains and the bounty of the deep could sustain them. They would survive, but he had been wondering lately if it was enough to just survive. Could they just tell them to leave? Could they push the Mopolachesthents out of the village? Perhaps not without a scuffle or two, but perhaps they'd be perceptive to the idea.

Frast lifted his eyes to Oldag, and realized he'd been pondering during Oldag's monologue. He was catching the tail-end:

"...and so I think it is only reasonable that we be given priority housing and rationing, Frast. The local folk can bunk together, no?"

Frast was glad he didn't hear the earlier portions of the spiel. He was certain it only would have served to enrage him.

"No, Oldag, son of Grantelk. You will not bed in my town... not with our women, unless you sweat and plow and fish and die with us. Your riddle-words have confused the lesser men here, but I see through the thin-veils. My ancestors walked the narrow path. We are unafraid of the hereafter. We know your rituals are charades to appease the dark masters. We should continue this talk outside."

In Over-the-Lake, if someone asks to continue a conversation outside, they are tired of conversation and want you out of their house. The Mopolachesthents do not understand, and do not care about, this custom.

Oldag was highly insulted that his garden-path speech and confusing speech had been lost on Frast, who honestly had only been ignoring most of the proposal. He was also slightly offended that Frast hated the rituals of the Golden way.

"Frast, it was less a request than a demand. We need those houses. We must have a sufficiently large enclosed space for the altars. You know our needs almost as well as we do at this point.

"Outside, Oldag."

Oldag put his helm upon his head and walked into the harsh sun. The light spilled over his armor like thin honey spilling out of a chalice.
Frast walked into the sun as well, with no armor. He soaked the sun in like a sponge, his shoulders and arms brown from years working in the heat. The two men appeared to be, and were, polar opposites. Oldag looked like he was doing his best to reflect the light away... Frast was absorbing it as quickly as possible.

"Really, I don't understand all of this, Frast. I may have to get belligerent if you can't allot some better lodgings to us. The army may storm this place and take it in a much less pleasant fashion than just eating a few goats and moving in.."

Frast grinned grimly.

"I'm glad your out of my house now."

Frast drew the ax from its usual spot, and before Oldag could utter another arrogant syllable, he separated his head from his neck. He ordered his runners to all houses. Women and children needed to get to the boats. The Golden Army would be alerted within hours, as they were camped directly beyond the outermost farm. The three-score hunters and Frast would terrorize them from the bush until they left.

Only one hour later, the women and their broods were on the boats, heading to deeper, safer waters. Frast divided the hunters into several groups, and they scattered to the winds. By the time the Golden Army had been alerted, Over-The-Lake was an empty shell. They moved in during the night, hardly taking time to bury Oldag. They started cozy fires, they looted what remained in the pantries, and acted as if they were used to this chain of events.

Frast watched the lazy sentries take off their helmets as the sun set. He had a battle to plan.


OOC: I don't know how this matches up with other Gemoran canon, but I like the idea that these guys are covered in gold, but don't really care for the sunlight, and they're just generally arrogant bastards. That way I won't feel too bad about killing hundreds of them. Battle story coming soon. I kind of have to draw out the battle in a building-to-building or tree-to-tree sense so I can write it and not contradict myself. I hope to have that up by week's end.

”Where can I hide from thy evil? Where does your pestilence not stain this land? Were I to flee to the darkest hell you would find me. Should I climb the tallest mountain, you would be there.”

The Song of Suffering: Book 9, Psalm 13 Verses 7-8

The chain lashes out, wraps around the harpy. She screams.

Trilidys pulls her to the ground, drags her closer, a minor demon, she should never have shown herself in his realm of the city.

The man in cloth screams in horror still. Trilidys has no time for such frivolity, he readies his blade, coated still in his own blood.

The harpy screams, pulls away from him, slips the chain.

Trilidys twists his arm, pulling the chain back.

She lunges at him, her black, pungent feathers fly everywhere. She screams, baring her teeth.

He bares his own teeth and growls, whipping out the chain again.

It catches her a second time, more bludgeoning her face than wrapping around her, but Trilidys pulls back the chain as soon as it makes impact. The tail of it whips around to hit the demon in the back of the head.

She is stunned, he swings the chain again, wrapping around her arms and wing, confining her.

He marches up to the confined demon and digs his own blade into her skull, twisting it to his satisfaction.

The man in cloth rushes up to his side, “Lord Trilidys, I, Icaron, son of Dariou the pigherder, owe you my life.”

Trilidys smiles, “I shall need much less from you.”

-

The men stood in robes at night at the center of their collection of homes. Only the Blood Knight, the only Blood Knight, Trilidys the Mighty does not wear the robes, only his leather armor.

He cuts his own palm first and passes the dagger and the goblet to his left.

“This is my blood,” he tells the next man, who cuts his own palm, drips the blood into the goblet and repeats the phrase as he passes the dark communion on to Icaron

When they have all bled into the goblet, Trilidys the Mighty, Blood Knight and clanshead places the cup in the street before they all hustle quietly back to their own homes.

“Do this as often as you must,” Trilidys intones, “In fear of the Dark Ones.”

A loud noise awoke Prillitas.
Cursing, as he often did, Prillitas rose and grabbed his bow. His wife stirred and looked at him, but didn't move as he put on his quiver. He left the dark room and went out.
Outside the house, a young boy was struggling in the darkness
"Don't shoot, gr'uncle!
-Meitas? It's been days since you disappeared!
-Well, just let me get rid of... ah, that's it! Look, isnt' it nice, gr'uncle?
-It's dark out there, I have no idea what it is you're holding. Just come in, I'll light a lamp."

Prillitas and his sister's grandson sat by the table.
Meitas still wore the bat-like wings on his back, and held something in his clasped hands.
"Do you have something I could put this into, gr'uncle?
-What is it?
-Oh, something I got from the Gemorans, smiled the boy. A big jar would be fine. It's bigger than it seems.
-What do you mean, bigger than it seems? I can't even see it, you're holding the thing.
-Well, it'll be bigger when I leave it, obviously."
Prillitas shook his head. The boy was always so sure that he said the truth, even when it was impossible, that the world somehow believed him and made his words true.
"Here, there's this amphora. It's empty, your uncle Dontas drank it all yesterday after reportedly trapping a bear and losing it to a demon.
-'Twas not a demon. Open it, will you?"

Prillitas watched the boy as he neared the amphora, threw something red and dark into it, and quickly sealed the amphora.
"Here. Now let's put it back on the wall. Help me, gr'uncle."
Prillitas did as his great nephew demanded, obeying the boy without thinking. No other youngster would have dared even ask him something, but Meinas ordered him around as if Prillitas and everyone else was to obey his every whim.
"Eh? How can it be so heavy?
-That's cause it's got the heart of a dragon inside, gr'uncle. I told you, it's bigger than you knew. And heavy too. Mmmph. That's it. We did it.
-What are you talking about. What is that heart of a dragon? Will you please explain?
-Of course, but I'm a bit thirsty. Would you mind..."
Even Meinas couldn't get Prillitas to do his will everytime, though. There were limits to what the old archer would tolerate. Even from this trickster child.

"Listen. I've been to the Gemorans, you know. As I flew over them, they were quite impressed. They shot a few arrows at me, and, well, I had to land. Look."
Meinas took off his bat-wings as if they were some cloth, and, indeed, that's what they used to be.
"Look. They pierced my wings here. And here too."
Prillitas looked at the holes in the fabric. A door cringed, and his wife entered the room, silent.
"Hi, aunty! So, you see, I had to land. I found a nice cottage with a tall blonde girl, and I told her I was a messenger from the Gemoran leader. She was a Gemoran too, and at first I had a hard time convincing her, but eventually she brought me to their leader...
-What's that thing in the amphora?
-Hey, uncle Prillitas! How can I explain if I don't begin at the beginning? Aunty, will you tell him a tale must be told in order?"
BAM!
Prillitas knocked his fist on the table.
"To the point, boy.
-Errr... Sure. So, you see, that's the heart of the dragon with the head of an ox that the king of the Gemorans, or the queen of the Gemorans, or both the queen and the king of the Gemorans, because they are both the same and one but with two heads and they say they are different down there but I'm too young to understand, well that they or he or she or all of that rides, which is here in the big jar", blurted Meinas quickly.
Prillitas and his wife stared.
"You want me to repeat, gr'uncle?
-Nooo... I will talk and you will answer the questions. Briefly.
-Brief-what? Ok, I didn't say nothing, uncle Prillitas! Ask away.
-You went to the Gemorans.
-Yes, I went there and...
-BRIEFLY! Just say yes or no, right?
-Errr... I guess... Yes. So, yes, I went there. I mean, just yes. No more. Yes, yes."
The boy shrank a little in his seat.
"You were brought to their leader by that blonde girl?
-Yes.
-And you took the dragon heart?
-Yes, you can put it that way.
-How did you do that?
-If you want me to say yes or no, you must play by the rules, uncle Prillitas. I can't answer that", grinned the boy.

Prillitas sighed and looked at his wife.
"Do I shoot him, or strangle him?"
The wife shook her shoulders and did a sombre gesture with her hands.

"You're not fun, gr'uncle. That's your problem you know. I'll tell you. Briefly.
So, the girl thought the man-head of her king loved her, but the woman-head didn't.
-She believed that?
-Well, she wanted to, so eventually, yes. It's not hard to believe what you want.
-And what do the love affairs of a Gemoran girl have to do with a dragon's heart?
-Well, it's a bit... I guess that glare means 'briefly' again? She... met the leader, and the leaderheads were not exactly pleased with her. So, I intervened, and the heads started talking to each other loudly. So I went to the dragon and talked to her. Name's Bronn, by the way. Nice beast when she doesn't want to burn you. She...
-Calm down a second. You talked to the dragon. What does it have to do with the girl?
-Well, I had to have the leaders out of the way to talk to Bronn. So I sent them the girl so they would go with her and leave the dragon alone so I could talk to her myself.
-All right. Keep going. What about the dragon?
-You sure you don't want to know what they... Rrright. Well. Bronn. Her head was not that of the dragon initially. The head was quite nice. That's the head who's called Bronn. They say their leader sewed it to the body because the former dragon's head..."
The boy stopped.
"Oh. Brief you said. Sure.
Well, so I told Bronn there was a male dragon living the other side of the lake, and if she wanted to mate with him, she should give me her heart so I brought it to him. So she gave it to me, and I brang it to you."

After a while, Prillitas said, in a sweet but cold voice:
"There's no other dragon out there, child.
-Well, you know, sometimes, they call you...
-I've chosen. I think I'll strangle you."
Prillitas's wife nodded in agreement.

Meitas rose, darted to the door, and ran away.

"Cease from mercy, and forsake justice. Do not plot for the benefit of thy neighbor. For the righteous will fall by the wayside, and demons will feast upon their flesh; those who seek their own good above all else, they alone will seize the world."

Song of Suffering: Book 1, Psalm 3 Verses 3-5

And so it came to pass that a scout of the Axe Mistress’s army did wander to the southern walls of Lerone, and the warriors of Trilidys the Mighty did come upon them.

And the Warriors of Trilidys’ clan did fall upon this scout, as he sought through the streets in search of support for his violent people. The guards who he approached, their palms all possessed thick calluses of many healed wounds.

And they seized upon him, taking him to their leader, unto the Blood Knight himself. And Trilidys stood, “Who do you bring before me,” he asked.

“A scout, there be armies of humans as well within this city. They have come here seeking our council.”

Trilidys smiles, “I have known of the ambitions of the Axelords for some time.”

“But, will you help us take this place? Perhaps Myra could convince you, I must ask you to…”

But he does not have a chance to explain how his chieftess might convince him to join their plight, the chain lashes out.

It wraps around the man’s head once, twice, three times. For a moment, before it is covered by the chains, the man clearly has a shocked look on his face.

The Blood Knight tugs back on the chain, the man’s head pulls clear off and slides across the floor.

“I care not for the petty power plays of the city. My soldiers, worry only for the will of the demons, no longer be distracted by the whims of men. Our lot is to survive, not to grasp at the inconsequential.”

And as he commanded, it came to be.

Or at least along the South Wall.

They were walking, almost gliding really, through the forests near the city when the girl suddenly stopped.

"What do you remember of your creation?" the girl asked.

Endas blinked once more. "I am sorry?"

"You know, you being a demon and all. I wonder how you came to be on this plane of existence."

Endas stopped and began to stare into space. "/\///\/ created me," she said. The name of the being was a meaningless mixture of impronouncible syllables.

"How did he do it?"

She paused. "I don't know, or rather, I don't remember."

"How is that possible?"

"I do not know," Endas did something equivalent to shuffling her foot. "What do you remember of being born?"

"Nothing."

"It is something akin to that." Endas replied. The girl sighed. "Then what do you remember of Gritchen?" To her surprise, Endas gritted her teeth. "I do not remember either. I only know of him in vague stories and recalls. I suspect that a spell was cast on the entire world to facilitate that. Until the spell becomes broken, no mortal nor immortal soul can fully understand who Gritchen was, and what had become of Gritchen."

The girl listened to this whilst nodding her head. "And is that your goal? To find out what happened to him?"

"The man defeated the Devil, little girl. Three times," Endas said instead of replying. "Can we then at least talk about what we are doing in this forest?" the girl sounded frustrated. "I thought we were hunting down Caacrinolas."

"Of course, dear. I am looking for something to assist me in that regard," Endas said. "What would be that?"

"Since long long time ago, before I even heard of Gritchen, the men of this Earth fought one another like beasts. If you know where to look, there are plenty of mounds of bodies to unearth," she hummed a little.

"We are looking for bodies?"

"Oh, dear no." she said. "I have had enough of them. A rule of thumb to make sure you know: spectral soldiers are mostly useless unless your enemies are particularly cowardly. I am looking for... something more... and it likes to lurk around mounds of bodies."

"And what would that be?"

"You are stepping on it."

The girl raised a foot to find that she had crushed a mushroom. Endas leaned down and picked it up. "When humans were first created, and when they became hungry, /\//\\\/ created this. The mushroom grew on things that were dead, and he forced the people to eat it. It was thereafter known as the symbol of all things that mortals eat," Endas said. "And those who eat, dies."

The girl noticed that she had never seen Endas eat anything before. Everyone assumed she took care of it privately. "What is your plan?"

"You shall see, little one." Endas said.

"And the Kings of Men, they do pour out their blood in vain; for their pain comes without teaching, and they suffer in ignorance. Lo, should they capture every tower and command every rampart, if every knee bows to these vain despots then they would find themselves at once the slave of their own subjects."

Song of Suffering: Book 29, Psalm 5 Verses 18-19

It would not take long for the Axe Mistress and her council to hear the fate of their scout, in fact Trilidys had ensured this by sending ten armed men to return the head and shattered skull. They had stood at the edge of this neighborhood, ten men, smaller chains than Trilidys wrapped around their right arms, twin blades sheathed on their waists, all in leather armor.

“Myra, keep your dogs in their kennel!” and the head was thrown down the street.

The ten men then retreated, leaving silent warriors conspiring behind them.

-

And Trilidys was prepared for them to return to the South Wall, he knew the avenue that they would take. It was a wide, open street with the exception of a single neighborhood that none of the clans claimed and which was abandoned family shelters from generations ago where the drug addled and treacherous made their way.

These people were no match for the Bloodsworn, let alone their Clan Leader. Now archers sat in the second story, the narrow street outside had a mere twenty men standing guard, piling rubble into barriers.

The army marches ten abreast down the street, Trilidys shouts to them, “Cease now! I warn you, you come too close to the Ancestral home of my Mighty people!”

The army does not stop, they keep marching on at him, they carry axes and wear heavy armors, Trilidys pulls out his blade, admiring the sharp point and holding the blade in his right hand, he slashes at his left palm and holds it up at the marching army.

Behind him his Bloodsworn warriors spun their own thin, short chains.

Trilidys switches the sword to his other hand.

And his chain lashes out, catching the first of the Axemen, he falls on his back, and is trampled by the army as it begins to charge, axes and swords over their head.

But they are caught in the narrow street; arrows fly from the second stories. The Bloodsworn hold their line with discipline and do not advance.

An axe swings up, and is caught by a narrow chain, clanging helplessly to the dirt. Swords dive into thin chinks in armor.

Bodies pile up on the barricades. The Bloodsworn may even spend time piling them up when they are not between the barricades adding to the body count.

The Axemen begin to retreat, at least get back a few yards, confident that they could win if they drew the Bloodsworn into the open. Arrows fly out.

A torch goes into the building, thrown in retreat suddenly, archers start to panic and flee.

The Bloodsworn do not panic, the fire dances in their eyes as they do the devil’s work.

But Icaron charges out, whipping his chain around the neck of one of the Axe Mistress’s warriors, he turns from his retreat as Icaron rushes down the street.

He throws is axe sideways, it spins at Icaron.

Icaron tugs on the chain, digging the barbs into the man’s neck and giving him leverage as he runs up the side of the stone wall, the bricks are hot on his feet as he narrowly dodges the axe and it slams into the ramparts.

But three other of those warriors run at him, to overcome Icaron. An Axe swings down, taking the Bloodsworn’s arm. Leather armor is useless against a direct blow, and it cuts with ease through it, rending the bone.

A larger chain lashes out to catch Icaron, a sword is thrown through the other man’s skull. Trilidys drags Icaron back to the line.

Trilidys shoves his blade into the fire, before pressing it against Icaron’s stump.

“Thank you,” Icaron says watching the flow slow down, his face goes pale.

“Don’t thank me,” Trilidys replies, “You are not worthy to bleed. We keep the line.”

On the other side of the battlefield Myra shouts out, “Trilidys, end this madness.”

“You dare face me?”

Myra laughs, “I do, and I’ll see that leather armor on my wall in a ragged bunch of scraps.”

Trilidys the Mighty draws his still hot blade against his own palm, he savors the pain, “As you wish.”

He walks through the ramparts, covered in blood, smiling, surrounded by bodies. He twists his chain around his arm.

He swings out his chain at her, she catches it in her hand and tugs it herself.

Trilidys falls down in the street dropping his blade.

She swings her axe down at him, but Trilidys spins out of the way, leaping to his feet at punching Myra in the back of the head as she is overextended by her swing.

He swings the chain back around his arm, watching Myra stumble forward.

She turns around, “Clever move, Trilidys,” she pulls up her axe and swings again from her left.

Trilidys holds up his own arm to catch the blade. It bangs against the chain that is double wrapped around his right arm. Trilidys feels the arm break but does not flinch. The shaking of the axe, the firm rebuttal digs into Myra’s hands until she drops it.

Trilidys foot shoots out, catching her in the chest. He raises his left fist at her.

“Yield!” she shouts out.

Trilidys pauses. If he kills her now, if he can kill her now, then it won’t make this army go away, it will only anger them. If he sends her back humbled then perhaps they will all retreat.

There will be thoughts of vengeance any way, he reasons. But the Bloodsworn have inflicted quite enough fear for today. He draws back his fist.

“Leave the South Wall be,” Trilidys commands.

She nods, limps a little, still clearly winded from the kick, “Let it be so.”

And the horde of the Axe Mistresses minions did retreat from the South Wall of Lerone.

-

They celebrated that night, and Icaron came up to Trilidys, “I thank you again, milord.”

Trilidys shakes his head and calls the attention of all of the assembled kinsmen, “Icaron here once claimed to be Bloodsworn!”

Icaron has a shocked look on his face, but the Clanshead continues, “But the Bloodsworn follow orders, and we were all given orders to hold the line. And this poor pigherders son felt he could chase the Axe mistress and her lot himself, and he did bring dishonor to himself. For he sought to bleed without obeying, and he wished to spill his holy blood in defiance of his orders.

“And so I declare he is unworthy to bleed.”

He holds up a plant in his hand, Shkhin vine, it has been known to bring boils when touched, the devil’s own plant.

Trilidys forces the vine down Icaron’s throat with his good left hand safe behind his leather glove. As it touches Icaron's skin it boils up blisters grow down the man’s throat and the screams soon turn to gasps.

“Let this be a lesson to us all.”

“Daughter of Man” the words were in the child’s head, no audible voice was ever so smooth or inviting. “I see much potential in you, a will and power that longs for the control and experience to become mighty, far beyond the skill of your would-be teacher.”

The human woman was unafraid, her mind searching but her body giving no outward sign that would alarm her companion. The deep wood in which they walked remembered its former master, Caacrinolas. He had come to seek the mortal who had caught him so unawares; the bloodline of the man was forever changed by his encounter with the demon. Here in these woods he had sensed them, the mortal and the ancient queen; he listened to their words and to the words unspoken. The intentions of the queen were revealed to him in the mind of the human woman, binding magics.

Ha, nonsense, no such magic would bind Caacrinolas the right hand of the great evil one. Binding magics were for lesser demons, scum and half breeds, creatures who have never known the glory of the unholy kingdom. The cataclysmic forces which had sealed his essence into stones of the city, imbuing them with protection, existed not in this world today. Mighty Gritchen, now known only in lore, knew that all magic comes with a price; protection for his city for all time would not be bought easily. To protect Lerone, to seal Caacrinolas, Gritchen had broken all ties to the plane of men; forsaken friend and family his very memory would only be known as legend. This witch would not forsake her coveted throne to thwart him, she cared more for her own skin than the paltry few lives he might take.

“Child, if it be your will, I will give you such power that no one may ever again command you. The blood of ancient demons will flow through your veins, I can teach you spells of such power that you might shake the very foundations of the earth. Men will bow down at your feet or tremble in terror at your passing, I offer only the power, you must decide what to do with it.”

Clearly across the silent air rang the young witch’s reply to the mighty Demon, “I’m listening”

The darkness of the dense trees deepened, and a wind rose suddenly swirling the skirts of the pair of powerful sorceresses. With a rushing sound from above a shadow descended taking form as the massive cloven feet slammed into the ground, leaving a deep impact shattering the stones. Raising to his full height wings spread wide the tips of his glinting black horns reaching eleven feet in the air. The women held their ground, looking up unafraid into the face of Caacrinolas; he cast a terrible smile down upon them folding his huge arms across his broad chest and addressed Ednas.

“Well witch you seek me, I have come. What would you have of me?”