AAR FFH Balseraphs

An After Action Report for the Fall From Heaven Mod for Civilization Four using Keelyn of the Balseraphs. Thanks to Kael and the rest of the creative team for this beautiful creation.

Chapter One: Early Exploration and the Neighbors

“Play with me some more; we’re not done” The tone was childish, spoiled, but to dare disobey was risking life itself. Nonetheless, Giggles, for that was what the fearsome hell-spawned beast was called, knew when it could stretch his master’s patience. There was much work to be done and he needed his master’s attention. Mandates were required. Commands needed.
“Mistress,” Giggle’s voice was as raspy and dry as old parchment. There was flame there too, cracking and flickering from his tongue. The same flames were mirrored in the beast’s eyes. “The people need guidance. They need to rest” It was very rare for the demon to consider the mortal’s needs, but its fate was irreversibly linked to this young woman’s and hers was linked to these people. Therefore, if she did not deign to guide them, he would help her.
“No. String up the little one. Add some rouge to his cheeks. Make him dance. Oh, and make him clap his hands too.” Keelyn was young, immature, spoiled. She had been raised as a palace courtesan amongst summoned creatures from the distant realms. Her friends had all invariably, over the years, returned to the outlands from which they were called. Permanence, an appreciation for cause and effect, were not her strong points. The poor boy she wanted to ‘play’ with now had long since died. The corpse was bloated and stinking. Small metallic-colored flies buzzed around his mouth and eyes, laying their eggs in his soft tissue so their maggot offspring could burrow through his flesh and begin the cycle anew. There was no reasoning with her when she was like this. Her father had been mad; not for the first time, Giggles wondered if she had inherited this trait. He motioned for the young palace courtesan to do as she had asked but as the boy’s corpse was hoisted like a marionette, one of the arms ripped from the socket and Keelyn’s toy fell apart.
“Not like that. Be more careful. He was my favorite,” she pouted. No sooner were the words out of her mouth then she had lost interest. “What was it Giggles? What did you want?”
“Mistress, our people have been traveling for a long time. It is time to find a new home. Look at the lands around you, at the maps we have gathered. Where shall we make our home?”
If Giggles had not known Keelyn as well as he did, he would have been surprised by the sudden change that overcame her. From playful and spoiled, the young lady, barely more then a girl suddenly became very serious. She was after all the ruler of these Balseraph people. She did have a job to do.
“These lands are fertile enough. The cattle and the sugar will help feed the people. We can use the cotton for new costumes. The gems can be mined as can the gold.”
“”What if we were to cross the river to the north Mistress. Our people would be in reach of the gold while keeping the cotton and gems. Our people would be very happy indeed.” Giggles growled.
“No. I like where we find ourselves. If we cross the river, we will have less land to farm and the cattle will be too difficult to ranch. Our people will need the food. We stay here.”
Keelyn looked forward to the day when she could taste soft delicious cotton candy, to lick it from her fingers and suffocate her enemies in its cloying sweetness. So it was that her people set about developing methods of organizing the sugar fields for easy cultivation (research: calendar).
Giggles had groups of men armed and head into the wilderness to explore and to return with news of other nations if they met any. It was not long before scouts returned with tales of distant people, a self-righteous group with no appreciation for games or humor. They called themselves the Bannor. Amongst their people, Keelyn and her ilk were known as carnival fools, a motley group of beggars and circus performers who would never amount to anything. Despite their disdain, they feared the Balseraph sense of humor; for Keelyn’s cruelty was famous throughout the lands and her reputation soon spread. Her whim may very well include the capture and torture of the Balseraph people for no other reason then her cruel sense of amusement.
Keelyn, meanwhile, barely paid any attention to Giggle’s reports. She knew he would take care of these sorts of things to her satisfaction. Her attention had been captured by other developments. A group of Balseraph jugglers and acrobats, travelling through the wild lands near Jubilee had come upon a small village of farmers and brewers. These people had learnt how to ferment a local plant they called ‘hops’ to make a heady drink. The villagers had been so taken with the antics of the jugglers and acrobats that they invited them to drink and partake in festivities with them. News of the fermenting techniques soon reached Jubilee and Keelyn herself was very keen to try this new and exciting tonic.
Throughout the wilderness Balseraph scouts encountered many villages. Some villagers were so taken with the antics of the Balseraph performers that they paid them for their mischievous play while others, hearing tales of the cattle ranches near Jubilee the Balseraph people dreamed of, helped them by teaching them how to pen and domesticate these beasts.
Keelyn’s scouts continued to scour the land, mapping resources and sites of future conquests. It was during this period of exploration that a performing troupe stumbled upon the growing town of the Elohim. One of the troop, a raven-haired girl with the voice of a lark by the name of Sessielle was quite taken by the Elohim leader. His sorrow mirrored hers. When the Balseraph troupe moved on in search of others, Sessielle, feeling some deep sense of loss in Einion decided to stay with him, to speak with him and to share her own sorrow with the wise old man.
“I know I have not known you for long, but you have been good to me. You have leant an ear to my sadness, to the tale of my mistress’s cruelty, the death and torture of my brother, but you have spoken little of the sadness that you wear like a thick cloak. Won’t you share your story?” The tears on Sessielle’s face had dried by now, blotted on gentle Einion’s robes and her youthful curiosity was returning like snowdrops after the winter ice.
The old man smiled; his voice was soft, reassuring, “In time, child, we will speak of these things. But for now, I would meet this Keelyn whom you serve, to learn of her cruelty myself and to discern whether there is hope for her, if she can be redeemed.” So it was that the pair decided to return to Jubilee to meet with the Balseraph queen.
The tired and frightened doe fawn strained at the trap that kept it from fleeing. Its hindquarters bled where the leather cord dug into its fur and flesh as it strained and pulled against its snare. Keelyn would wait for it to tire, to quiet itself then approach quietly, gently, soothingly speaking soft reassurances and when the tired young beast finally let her into range, suspicious but tired and desperate, she would strike, slicing long deep gashes into its flanks with a sharp hunting knife. Her laughter would send the birds alight and the gentle tortured young doe would bolt again, straining and wide-eyed, it tongue lolling out of its foaming pink mouth as it panted and gasped in fear and desperation.
“Oh Giggles. Look how frightened it is. It never seems to learn. Each time, it lets me approach close enough to strike.” Keelyn clapped and spun circles until she grew dizzy with the effort. Her layered courtesan’s dress spinning; she appeared wholly preoccupied with her cruel game.
A gentle voice whispered amongst the branches and leaves, “I’ve seen enough child. We do not need to speak with her to realize that there is nothing I can say to change her ways. She is a wicked, lost child. Come, return with me to my lands and you can live in peace and without fear. Let us leave before we catch her gaze.” Quietly, almost reverently, Sessielle and the wizened old widow slunk away. It was only once they had gone that Keelyn spoke again, suddenly serious, apparently having lost interest with the tortured fawn.
“This is the leader of the Elohim? He hardly appears the leader to me. He lacks courage or conviction.” To Giggles, her voice sounded distracted, distant. The demon knew that she was pondering the visit and abrupt disappearance of the Elohim ruler.
“They say he is very wise. His people love him for his mercy.” Giggles too was pondering this new development. A man such as Einion and a woman such as Keelyn could not long exist side by side without conflict. A time would come when a great collision would invariably descend upon the two nations. Giggles smiled at the thought; his demonic nature had too long been suppressed by administration and childish, though enjoyable games. War and destruction, fire and death filled his thoughts. A gentle happy moan escaped his lips at the thought. Keelyn, broken from her reverie by his quiet interruption caught his eye, and knowing his thoughts, smiled as well. The two were of one mind.

Writing these actually slows down play considerably so the first chapter was much shorter then i expected. Hopefully i can play longer sessions in the future.

When i thanked Kael for his mod, i did so without knowing who the other people involved in the project are/were, so for those who i did not name, a special thank you to you as well.

I.

Nice AAR, I'm looking forward to it. Don't worry, it will get faster and more interesting in mid and late game.

Chapter Two: Julian and the Cave

The boy glanced at the slim ash rod, the twine and the gleaming metal hook that served as his fishing rod as it rest against the wall of the cave. He sneered at it in disdain. The last thing he wanted was the inane chatter of bored fisherman. He had retreated to his dark quiet place because of the solitude he found here, the peace, the calm. He knew that none could find him here. Only an exploring child would bother to look behind the concealing underbrush. Only a young boy pretending to be a valiant explorer would venture into the dimly lit crack in the hillside to discover the cave beyond. Julian had been such a child, had pretended to be such a valiant explorer and this prize was his alone.
He scooped up a handful of sand and pebbles and let it slide through his hands. The cool dust was a welcome change from the humidity, scorching sun and biting insects of the fishing stream. Julian sighed contently and laid down amongst the soft round pebbles and the cool dry sand. Arms stretched out he unconsciously traced patterns in the cavern floor with his fingers.
Julian had reason to seek solitude and calm. He was a thoughtful and intelligent boy and he needed to give his mind time to digest recent developments, the voyage through the jungles and wildlands to establish the new Balseraph home and the life they had made for themselves here. The Balseraph people who had followed Keelyn would perhaps have chosen a different route had they known what they would face at the end of their journey. Their leader had distanced herself from the sound council of her fellows and seemed to only view the men and women who followed her as toys for her increasingly cruel and diabolic amusement. The sulfur-reeking monstrosity who never strayed far from her side surely had some influence over this development. Some had sought to speak to her, to reason with their mistress and some had even succeeded, but others had been ignored and still others had been hurt. Julian didn’t want to consider that any further. The sounds still rang in his head, the smell still lingered in his nostrils. No, best to forget that.
But there was hope. Secretly, and in small groups, the Balseraphs were leaving, braving the dangerous wilds in search of new homes amongst the Bannor and the Elohim. Tales of their benevolent rulership had reached the ears of the desperate and unhappy people of Jubilee and, as conditions worsened, more and more families were simply disappearing into the wilds.
Despite his young age, Julian could understand their desperation, their need to escape and find something better. When a man or woman is faced with uncertainty and doubt, when one’s future hangs on the whim of a woman many say is mad, when all is chaos and adrift, the certainty and organization of Bannor rule can be very enticing, even for the free-spirited and creative Balseraph. When cruelty and pain, agony and despair, frustration and sorrow face you at every turn, the mercy and peace of the Elohim offers sanctuary and hope, a new beginning. But Julian could never bring himself to leave his people. Who else could laugh through the tears like a Balseraph clown? His parents had spoken of it of course, but their minds were in agreement with their only son.
But what other options were there for Julian, his family and his people? They needed to be sure of themselves. They needed respite and a chance to develop a rhythm in these new lands. Constant contradictory orders and capricious, often violent, interruptions, did not allow for that. The Balseraph were a spontaneous, adaptive people, but even they needed some order, some organization, if they were to flourish. Some of his countrymen had already succumbed in one way or another to the chaos. Of course there were those who had left to find calmer homes amongst the Elohim and Bannor, and there were those who had died, violent victims of their queen’s play, but there were those who had sought a different means of escape.
Julian shuddered at the thought but forced himself to analyze this development further. Here, in his dry quiet cave, he felt safe to do so. The solitude and the shade invited contemplation and meditation, even for one as young as he. So what of it? Others had sought to escape, but instead of fleeing, they had retreated into their own minds. A few, though growing number of his countrymen had taken to speaking to themselves, not only speaking, but raving and ranting, giving themselves to frenzied delirium. Others sunk into a quiet depression and could not be roused, even for food or drink. For at least two of the townswomen, their minds had split completely. One now thought she was a child princess while the other had developed a whole handful of colorful and fictional personalities. Some said it was the demon’s influence, others that the southern jungle brought a mind sickness on the warm evening breeze, but Julian knew better. This was a retreat for these desperate people, a retreat in the same way that his cool dark cave was for him. It was a means to avoid having to face the empty homes where once there had been children playing and laughing, of having to watch as a family member is dragged behind a horse for your queen’s pleasure. Surely it made more sense to distance oneself from a reality such as this then to go on living in terror and despair. Julien was young, but he was wise as well and he could understand this madness. His only hope was that he would keep his mind sharp, his wits about him. Julien had a dream. He would help the Balseraph people, his countrymen and his family. But for that, he would need to keep his mind clear and whole.

And it was a that moment, in his dark dry cave, while contemplating insanity and promising himself that he would keep his mind whole and unfractured, that Julian, barely 11 years old, first heard the voice.

And he was terrified.

Nicely done Immac!

Subscibing with interest.

Chapter Three: Hesitation

There it was again.

They were not alone. Something was moving in the darkness.

They had been ordered to the vineyard in the middle of the night to tie up the vines and to plant poles by the moon’s light in an attempt to satisfy a tight work schedule. At the time, the order didn’t seem so odd. Bannor workers were nothing if not dutiful. If a schedule had to be met, then Claudius and his mates would trek out amongst the empty lonely lanes of grapes and vines in the cold and the dark. ‘Easy peasy’ he had thought. Now the task didn’t seem so simple.

Something was out there. Something that was making an effort at stealth was out there. Something was prowling amongst the rows of immature white grapes. Claudius put the stake he was going to drive into the earth down and ducked low. His hands were steady even if his heart wasn’t as he gripped his mallet with dirty, blistered hands. He strained to hear something, to hear anything. In the distance he could hear the ‘thump thump thump’ as one of the other workers pounded a stake into the ground but try as he might, he heard nothing else. Claudius was not comforted. He had heard something; it wasn’t the dark, the moon, the isolation. Bannor men were stoic people and not prone to unfounded fear or flights of imagination. The thought brought some sense of pride and the pride brought courage. He picked up his lantern and balancing it by its handle on his mallet he raised it high above the vines and stakes. Standing on tiptoe, he scanned the rows of dew-spotted leaves.

There! He saw something, light glinting off of metal. Squinting, he could make out a spear-point poking above the rows of grapes.

Claudius ducked low. He was breathing heavily now. He could see the white puffs of air coming quickly in the cold night air. He forced himself to be calm. Whoever it was didn’t know that he knew they were there. He had an advantage. He needed to warn his mates without letting the raiders know that they had been spotted. He could do this. He was brave. Was he not a member of the most courageous, most hardened nation to grace Erebus? His resolve strengthened, Claudius spun around, intent on making his way to the main body of workers… and came face to face with the painted diabolic face of a Balseraph warrior.


Jean-Luc smiled at the unconscious Bannor worker. He didn’t have orders to raid the Bannor vineyards. He really wasn’t sure what Keelyn or Giggles or any of the others might say about his raid, but, when he had seen the lantern lights among the vineyards, Jean-Luc couldn’t help himself; he was a natural hunter and these people were his prey. He had ordered his warriors to put out their torches and to muffle their buckles and any lose items with strips of leather and cloth. Quietly, they had slunk amongst the rows, slowly closing the distance with the Bannor workers until, unbeknownst to their prey, they were among them. The feeling was delicious. This must be how a wolf feels when it is amongst the sheep prior to its attack. The anticipation of violence was almost better then the act itself. He had hesitated only an instant, to savor the moment, and had struck at the alert farmer with the mallet and lantern.

The Balseraph warriors crept quietly amongst the vines. Dew and wet leaves stuck to their leathers. Fallen grapes split under their boots. The sweet aroma seemed so strong to Jean-Luc in the cold and the dark. He sniffed again and could smell copper- the blood on his club. He relished the moment to strike again; His blood was pounding in his throat and in his temples.

A figure moved in the dark in the next row. It was hunkered down and was intent on something in its lap, oblivious to the predator just an arm's length away. Jean-Luc quietly stepped forward and raised his club. Suddenly, it, no she, for her voice was feminine, even melodious, spoke in heavily accented Latin, “Did vos audite ut?”

The prowling warrior stopped. The language was Latin, albeit poor and broken, but the accent was French. Was the worker Balseraph? What was one of his countrywomen doing amongst these people? Jean-Luc was confused. He squatted low and pulled aside some vines to peer between the rows at the woman who had spoke. There was no lantern to view her by, but the moon served well enough. Her hair was dark and her skin was tanned. Although he did not recognize her, she was plainly from his people.

The talk in Jubilee was true then; Townspeople had been fleeing to join the Balseraph. He was looking at the evidence even as he realized the truth of it. Jean-Luc could not strike at his own people. He would need to report this. Keelyn would want to know. And if she didn't care, Giggles would.

Sighing in resignation and disappointment, he signaled his men to retreat.

Quietly, as silent as they had come, the Balseraph raiders left the way they had come. Most of the Bannor workers never knew how close they had come to meeting a violent and painful demise.

I guess that wasn't so much an update of what was going on as so much an update of what was almost going on. Usually i would have done the worker steal but scouts can attack cities in FFH and a bannor scout was not too far from my undefended capital at the time. We'll have to come back later with more warriors.
Hope y'all like it. Its slow going... but oh well. I am trying to be true to what i think the Balseraphs would be like, their leaders, their military and even the commoners. I hope its not too distant from what Kael et al. had intended.

Yes, except they wouldn't speak French or Latin. Akin to Latin would be Patrian.
Keep it going.

I'm not sure what the Bannor speak but the Balseraph definately speak French. I can hear them.

the whole thing is a bit tongue in cheek of course because they are fictional nations speaking fictional languages but have been assigned real languages for our purposes. it was meant as (very dry) humour.

It's a really good story. I look forward to more.

Chapter Four: Giggle’s Plan

Keelyn absent-mindedly dismissed the messenger from Jean-Luc’s exploratory party with a flick of a fine-boned wrist. Haughty and composed in the presence of the lowly messenger, the queen of the Balseraphs was anything but once he left. Rounding on her demonic companion, she slammed her fist into an ornately engraved brass table. Her eyes were wide and wild. Pacing vigorously, spittle flew from her painted lips are she spoke, “Why are my people leaving me? What does that pompous do-gooder have to offer that I don’t? My people don’t like tricks and performers? They don’t like jugglers and acrobats, magicians and clowns? Candy? Where else in all of this filthy world can these insolent insects get candy-apples and cotton-candy?” This in particular seemed to infuriate her even further.

Giggles did not bother to mention that cotton-candy and candy-apples were available only to the Balseraph queen and a select few of her chosen friends, that the commoners ate mostly gruel, fish from the stream, and nuts and berries that they could forage from the wilds. Many were hungry and desperate. Nor did he care to mention that most of the Balseraph people cared little for cotton candy when they could not even be assured of a secure tomorrow. His queen was quite mad, but this only served to further his own plans. “My queen, we must exact revenge. Sabathiel and his drone-minded minions must pay for this affront to your regency, ” the demon growled.

Keelyn nodded, absent-mindedly, almost automatically. Giggles smiled; the seed had been planted. The hell-spawned demon had his own reasons for seeing the Bannor brought low. These people had made many enemies in his homeland and he knew many a prince or warlord who would pay handsomely for revenge. And Keelyn and her people might be just the means to collect that payment.

Chapter Five: Red in Tooth and Claw

Jean-Luc’s eyes stung and ached as sweat ran in rivulets across his brow and into his eyes, cutting channels in the thick white make-up he wore as it went. Everyday, sometimes multiple times per day, Jean-Luc would patiently and carefully apply a mixture of ground minerals (carbonate and lead oxide) and animal fat to his face to provide a thick layer of white on which he would draw fearsome animal or demonic visages in red, black and purple dye depending on his mood. When the minerals, dyes and animal fat ran into his eyes, they would sting and burn and turn his eyes bloodshot but Jean-Luc hardly noticed anymore. Indeed years of steady lead poisoning was slowly killing him and early signs of paralysis in his facial muscles were already apparent giving him a steady and cool demeanor even when he was agitated.

Jean-Luc surveyed his men. There was only seven of them left of his original 20-man party. Some had fallen to poison or disease in the jungles near Jubilee. Others had died of exposure in the temperate steppes south of the jungles. Pierre had been sent back to Jubilee with news of the Basleraph runaways after the aborted raid on the Bannor winery. Finally others had died to animal attacks. Twice they had faced fearsome wolf packs, desperate and hungry, willing to try their luck even against armed warriors. Both times they had repulsed the attackers but both times they had been injured and some of their number had been dragged away to be eaten by the predators. They were far from home and they were tired and hungry but they were also tough and fearsome, true survivors. Jean-Luc was proud of his band and its accomplishments in the wildlands.

The land was barren and rocky. Except for a thick earthy cover of reindeer moss, little grew here beyond some colorful wildflowers and stunted conifers. The ground cover was thick however, and each footstep was swallowed up to the calf by the muddy vegetation. Jean-Luc could look across the land and see for miles and miles and miles. In the distance, he could see tiny white specs in the hills that might be wild bighorn sheep. To the south he could see the cold clear waters of the largest lake he had even seen. All around him, his 5 men were entranced by the harsh but strangely beautiful land.

Five? Jean-Luc paused and counted again. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. And him: that made six. Henri. Where had he disappeared? Jean-Luc raised a hand and hunkered low. His men saw his signal and quickly followed suit. “Where’s Henri?” he hissed, looking around and seeing nothing. His men shrugged and quickly began to fan out, weapons in hand.

The warriors were experienced and didn’t frighten easily but for one of their members to disappear so abruptly without a trace was perplexing. Jean-Luc’s men combed the area, back-tracking for 200’ before finally returning to the place they had first noticed the disappearance. His men were worried and starting to get frightened when one of their number spoke, “Over here: I think I’ve found something.” It was Antoine, a thin, white-bearded man with a scar who normally was not known for his keenness of vision. He was hunkered down tracing something on the ground with his finger. The rest of the warriors gathered around him and he held up his findings, a metal canteen wrapped in leather, for all to see. There was no mistaking it; it was Henri’s flask. As he did so, Jean-Luc noticed a thick, almost translucent thread stretching from the ground to the canteen. Jean-Luc carefully poked it with a gloved hand; the thread was strong and soft. It was also very sticky. Following it to its source, Jean-Luc noticed that the moss in this area was covered and intertwined with the thick almost-invisible twine.

Suddenly, one of the warriors, a heavily pock-marked younger man named Thibault let out a shriek as his legs were suddenly dragged into a yawning hole in the ground where moments before there had been only soft moss and dirt. A whole section of the mossy cover had lifted, like a trap door, and something, something quick and strong and silent had grabbed Thibault and pulled him halfway down a narrow tunnel thickly covered in the silky strands covering the area. The pockmarked warrior’s scream echoed across the bare hills briefly and then, mercifully, were cut short as he disappeared entirely into the dark tunnel. The trapdoor slammed shut with a muffled thud.

Neither Jean-Luc, nor any of his men had had time to react. The attack had been swift and silent; it was over before any of them had even noticed what had so unexpectedly ambushed one of their number. Confusion and fear were evident in the faces of the warrior band as they cast about in desperation. Jean-Luc turned abruptly, hearing a rustling behind him, and came face to face with a towering monstrosity. Numerous reflective black orbs starred into his face. Below them, two giant venom-tipped fangs curled upwards, seemingly independently, in anticipation. Fore legs extended out over the painted warrior’s shoulders. It was the last thing Jean-Luc ever saw.


Elsewhere, in the jungles between the Balseraph and Bannor lands, scouts sent to investigate and watch the Bannor also ran into spiders and were killed


Of the Balseraph forces exploring the wildlands, only one small group of scouts, our starting unit, remains.

PS: Thanks Rex.

It's impressive you got so much to tell about the very first turns. It's very good keep it up!

French names fits very well.

Chapter Six: Julien, The Voice, and a Dead Fish

It had been four months since Julien had visited the cave. He had often thought of the voice he had heard amidst the quiet solitude. He had contemplated the possibility of it being a work of his imagination; he had been, after all, considering desperation, toture and insanity. It would make sense that his boyish mind might play tricks on him.

But somehow, Julien doubted it. The voice had said, “I have chosen you, and I have a secret for you,” and he had bolted, running as fast and as far as his thin legs could carry him. He hadn’t been back to the cave since. He had told no one of the voice, offering only a pathetic half-hearted excuse for the loss of the fishing rod upon facing his parents.

The voice. It had definitely spoken to him. The voice was not his own, it had sounded distant, and yet intimate. Though frightening, it was seductive. In the four months, Julien had often wondered; What was the secret? What had the voice wanted to say to him? The more he considered it, and as time passed, he had felt less and less frightened. The same curiosity that drove him to find the quiet contemplative cave, gnawed at him. Who had chosen him? What was the secret? With the fear abating and his curiosity mounting, he had agonized over the idea of returning, until finally…


Julien stood at the entrance to the cave. It had changed little in the four months since he had last been here. The heat had abated a bit and the insects were not quite as bothersome. The vegetation had grown somewhat, but otherwise, everything appeared as it had been. The boy took a deep breath, hoisted the cudgel he had brought, more to reinforce his courage then for defending himself, and stepped into the cool shade of the cave’s entrance. Ducking low, he made his way through the convoluted crack that was the entrance to the cave and came into the larger cavern where he had first heard the voice. It was darker here, but not so dark that he could not see the cavern walls near the entrance or the sand and pebble floor where he had been laying on his last visit. He could even see the marks in the sand where he had run his fingers through the dirt. Studying the area, he was able to determine that the cave had been left completely undisturbed since his last visit.

“Voice?” Julien’s own voice was hesitant. It sounded weak to him as it bounced off the dark recesses at the rear of the cavern. Truly, he wasn’t really sure if he would receive an answer. Part of him was convinced that the experience had been his imagination. Julien waited, running his hand along the wall, he felt his way further into the cavern, into the gloom he had not yet explored. “Is anyone home?” Julien tried to make his voice sound more confident, but it came out much softer, and more quiet then he had hoped. He cleared his throat, “Voice? You wanted to tell me something,” louder now.

Without warning, something wet and warm fell upon his forehead, striking him directly above the right eye. Before he could wipe it away, it had dribbled into his eye. Julien jumped back, suddenly afraid again, and whiped his forehead and eye with the back of his hand. He looked at his hand; whatever had dripped into his eye was clear: probably water. He smelled the back of his hand where he had wiped the liquid. Nothing. No wait. There was something to it. Only slight, almost overlooked, but it smelled like fish: slimy, scaly fish. Julien was puzzled. Looking up, he could see the cavern ceiling only 5-6’ above him; there were no signs of moisture. Amidst the sand and pebbles all was dry; the floor had no signs of moisture either. So where had the drop come from? And why did it smell like fish, up here in the hills, so far from the river?

Then he heard it. There was the voice again. It seemed to slither into his thoughts, completely bypassing his ears in a manner so subtle it seemed like it had always been there. “You have returned my disciple.” Julien was frightened. Disciple? What was a disciple? He did not know this word. At the same time, he was excited, eager. The voice had said that he was chosen. That meant he was special. And it had a secret for him. Julien was very eager to learn that secret.

“Who are you? Where are you?” Julien was very proud of the way his voice sounded now: confident, mature, adult even. He sounded like his father did when he was negotiating a price at the new market that had arisen in Jubilee.

The voice did not answer his questions. Instead it commanded him, “Come Julien. I have a something I want you to see.” In the distance, in the deep dark at the rear of the cave, he could see movement, shadows flickering in the gloom, like the dark waters of the river on a moonless cloudy night. With one hand, Julien traced the cavern wall and with the other, he gripped his cudgel so tightly his knuckles were turning white, though he did not know it. Tracing the wall, he stepped forward into the shadows and the dark. One step became two, then three, and soon he was much deeper into the blackness. The cavern, he learned, extended much further then he had ever guessed. The ceiling was lost in shadows and there was a distinct sense that proportions and dimensions were being pulled away from him which made Julien dizzy. In a moment of panic, Julien spun around, looking for the cave’s entrance. There it was; he was safe. There was a way out still. Sunlight streamed weakly into the cavern. It was distant, but it was real, his portal to normalcy, to family and neighbors, to foraging for nuts and hunting squirrels with a sling. He also realized that the cave entrance was somewhat above him; the path he had been following had been curved subtly downwards. He had been traveling into the heart of the earth without realizing it. None-the-less, with the reassurance of the cave’s entrance firmly in his mind, the brave little boy continued his dissent into the cavern. The path wound its way to and fro, backwards and forwards, narrowing at times, and at other times becoming rather steep. Julien could no longer see the cave entrance and there was very little light to see by, but he found that if he closed his left eye and sort of squinted his right, he could see well enough to find his way without falling or bumping himself painfully.

After what seemed like an hour, and descending for hundreds of feet through winding stone silence, Julien noticed a change in the air. The cavern had grown damper. There was a sheen of moisture on the walls and the sand wasn’t quite so dusty and dry. Julien could smell the wet as well. The fish smell had returned, like the riverbank where the local fishermen cleaned their catch, though much fainter. Julien was excited now. After following this path for a long time, he was finally getting somewhere. Soon, he would learn the voice’s secret. Finally he came into a larger room echoing with the gentle lapping sound of water on a sandy shore. Above him he could see the shifting liquid sight of light reflected off water, but he could not see a pool or a river or any other source for the sound and smells, only dark.

Julien stepped further into the dark, abandoning the cavern wall and trusting his strange but wondrous vision that had guided him this far. Sploosh! His sandaled foot had suddenly stepped into something wet. Julien crouched down and could feel the pool before him, the source of the strange reflection, the faint fishy smell and the dampness. It was completely dark and even with his left eye shut as tight as it could go and his right eye squinted as best as it could, he could hardly discern the dark waters barely a foot from his face.

“Enter the waters my child. I have a gift for you,” the voice meandered serpentine-like through his head.

Julien had come this far. If he was going to be harmed; he could have been harmed already he thought. He felt committed. And the voice was offering him secrets and gifts. He had been chosen. Abandoning his doubts, Julien stepped into the dark water. The pool was cool but not cold, the waters still and unmoving despite the gentle lapping sound he had heard and dancing reflections saw. Julien spread his hands out, cudgel forgotten on the shore, and traced the water’s surface with his boyish fingers. “Voice? What do you want from me?”

The answer surprised him. He had expected to hear the same soft and molten voice he had heard before sluicing through his mind. Instead, the voice he heard was definitely with his ears and not his mind. It still sounded watery, but it had form; it echoed softly throughout the cavern. It was immediate and it came from directly before him, “Disciple, I will you make the greatest man to walk Erebus. I will bless you with gifts and knowledge. Together we will rule nations and command powers to rival Keelyn and her servants. You will fear nothing.” As it spoke, a large albino fish, obviously blind with pupiless eyes, silently glided into view, long whiskers like a river-fish quivering, mouth awkwardly forming words it was never meant to speak. Julien was struck with a renewed sense of terror for not only did it speak, the fish defied nature. It was floating upside down, it stomach bloated and scales peeling, obviously having died some time ago.

Oh no!!! RUN JULIEN RUN!!!

Seriously though, is it obvious what in-game event this is setting up or can you guess?

foudnign of the OO

Any new updates coming soon? Very entertaining, thanks!

Thanks for the encouragement. My personal life just got very noisy, very stinky, very thirsty, and unbearably cuter then it was a little while ago, so this will have to take a back seat for a little while.
I do have some more turns played out (including a couple short wars which should be interesting to write about) but i probably won't actually get to write and post the stories too quickly.
I'm aiming to be able to push this around mid-month.

I.