Viridos, Chapter 8

[Rain of the Night]

Riven Tree, in the Dreamlands

The magic had expanded into the very bark and core of the tree, every vibration meant for the hydraroot to follow back to where the threat of the tree was. Modakra's arms kept its motion in a constant, exact invisible tugging. It slowly consumed the man's energy as he could only watch the destruction the moirgut was causing to the kin of the tree. It needed to work; the old spider-kin needed to survive if there was any chance to getting rid of this Aux infection.

Then, they appeared. The Hydraroot had lashed out to the giant being, consuming it, corroding through it with its acidic sap. The job was done and Modakra released the grip he had over his own magic, now feeling the drawback of such work. His knees buckled and his breath had deepened. He had pushed the limits of his magic with this, as the size of the effect he wanted to produce was far larger than anything he had attempted before. Now down on one knee, he could only hope it was enough.

He watched as the thing still went for the seer, even after it had to be embraced by the vicious roots. Had he failed…? Weak, exhausted, he could not do anymore. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't. The arms of the thing had made contact, but the seer… was alright? How could it be?! Modakra could hardly believe it.

Reality itself seemed to bend around him, his nothings of things slowly slipping as he was transported into this odd state of being. They had… gone into a trance? Modakra couldn't tell anymore, trying to think clearly. The happenings of the place was breathtaking, but he couldn't just watch. In front of him, or what he believed to be, was Kairos… Was he the one? Was he the one that could help end this spreading problem? The gardener stood, noticing the now clearer scene… He was drowning! Or was going to be. He looked around and noticed only one person shoot by and fly for something… Modakra couldn't understand, but he needed to do something about the man in tar.

His first step almost made him fall. He was merely a few feet away from him now… How? The step back brought him ways he thought was impossible. He felt unstable and almost lost in the imagery. He couldn't find balance in his movements… Then, Camilla came forth from him. The Advent. It had started… Rocks started to form under Modakra's feet. It was the only thing now that didn't seem distorted and bent. A secure footing and a section of stone that could help Kairos!

Modakra stepped forward, the rock forming beneath his feet… He could also feel a gentle breeze, just like a calm day in the mountains. Was it soothing him? Regardless, he took a few more steps and went down to his knees… There he was, a little over Kairos tar pit. His eyes were elsewhere, to the lady who seemed to malicious toy with the Prophet. The Gardener reached over the edge of the stone, his hand only grabbing a hold of Kairos once he could feel his skin against is.

"Kairos… Stop listening… Just work to get out…" His tone was confused and heavy, but he brought his orber hand to grab his arm. Slowly, he would pull him out.

 

[Saphen]

[fieldbox="Edelon, green, solid"]



The air was filled with the gentle sounds of running water, it pattered against all types of rocks and plants before reaching the ground below.

The waterfalls were singing this morning.

A Forest Kin watched for a moment, his body covered in tattered cloths and bandages from head to toe. A wide brimmed hat was tilted down to cover his face, but the kin tilted it up to get a better view. His skin seemed dirty, smudges of brown and grey mixed together but so little of it was visible that it was hard to tell. The kin's gaze darted forward, looking down the road he had been traveling as other kin approached him.

He judged that these were soldiers by the way they walked, chins held high and chests puffed out. His observations were also helped by the weapons they held, long spears made of gnarled roots and topped with well sharpened blades. There were only two of them but the traveler had no desire to alarm them.

The kin took a few steps towards them, with each step a gentle clack could be heard...similar to the hoofed steps of a deer. When they became more visible the kin gestured with his hand, forming a circle to symbolize peace. One of the soldiers returned the symbol, a large kin that was covered in hardened bark. It's dark brown hue had light brown scratches all over it, this one had seen many battles. The second soldier did not bother to return the gesture, his bark was a deep black and completely unscathed. This told the traveler that either this kin was a very good soldier or had never seen the battlefield before. The fact that he was much smaller than the first and yet more bold in demeanor told him that the former was very possible.

It spoke to him through a mouth that was held together by a series of roots and vines "By order of Tatersal you will use an advent now or be put to death. Your choice." The larger kin pointed it's spear at the traveler who stood motionless for a moment. A sigh escaped his lips, he began to breath heavily but his body was otherwise motionless.

The smaller kin watched, a root pulsated on his forehead as he began to get impatient with the silent wanderer. "Hurry about your business I don't ha-" the soldier quickly fell silent as he watched the kin's chest. A red glow began to well up through the bandages as his body began to shutter.

The soldiers prepared to strike the stranger, spears primed to thrust through his chest but right before they attacked the kin suddenly burst into flames.

Confused they stepped back, spears still held at the ready if only through instinct and training. When the inferno ceased all of the clothing that once adorned their opponent was gone. The wide brimmed hat was the last to fall off his body, it glowed orange like the sun before it fell apart and was gently blown away.

Ash of the Heartwood stood before them. The once proud antlers that adorned his head were for the most part completely broken off. Leaving only small stumps and memories of what once was. Cuts and scabs covered his face and most of his chest, most of them recent and only a few had time to form scars. Any that were still opened were cauterized when he used his advent.

"Take me to Tatersal...please," the undertaker asked and the two soldiers stared at him for a moment. The red hue that was Cora, his aux, still pulsated in his chest as he waited for their response. They looked at each other but when the smaller kin rested his spear on his shoulder the other relaxed.

"This way," he said calmly and lead the undertaker into Edelon.

[/fieldbox]

 

[unanun]

[fieldbox=Rules departed, green]"Ilium!" Kairos thrashed in the pit. Modakra had a firm hold on his arm, but every force he exerted was met with an equal tug from the specters. He had to loosen his grip, for the Jade Prophet was crying out (in pain?) and his arm felt like it was about to pop from the shoulder. He fell back on his rock bridge, and Kairos splashed the silver-black emulsion.

Where the globules passed through his body, it ceased to exist. Modakra became finely pockmarked, divided into existence and the void. His eyes rolled backwards, and panic seized his heart, tipping him forward into the pit.

Inside the ocean, he was nothing. A great chill current passed through him, and he felt the emulsion weave its way through every passageway in his body, invading his heart and pumping out his blood. He became one, indistinct against the background, his outline fading ...

"Weaver .."

"Waver ...."

"Magic weaver!!"

Spider threads lashed around his arm and yanked him, gasping and choking, from the tar pit. He thrashed wildly, magic blooming from frantic mudra and screamed words. Where the moon poured though, magic fizzled and postured mudra bore no effect. Silvarum hauled the herbalist up, and held him tightly on top of the rock.

Vydus remained drawn to the moon. It had finished sighing, and the pour of silver ink staunched. As the white and black subsided, the ocean of void withdrew, that foam of nothing, and the holes inside Modakra slowly closed.[/fieldbox]

 

[Spire]

The last of his seed dribbled out and he was done.

Pain. Deep and raw. It was the wrenching agony of his soul falling away from his body, changing shape, liquefying. Perilith's screams echoed in his ears and pulsated through every fibre of his being. It broke his mind. It broke his soul.

[fieldbox="The Host, white, solid"]
Despair washed over him like the current of an arctic sea. The lunar chamber filled with black pitch and immersed his body. His body coiled into the fetal position and floated in the dark womb.

The despair clawed at his flesh, wriggled through every orifice. It bit into his veins, purging the crimson and slithering blackly to his heart. The hollow once occupied by soul filled with tar.

What once had been Vydus, Lieutenant of the Viridosian military, scourge of the aux-eaters, was a husk; a chunk of flesh. His wings tattered and changed but his antennae remained — vestiges.

The parasite would have him born anew something monstrous. The thing that should not be.

[/fieldbox]

 

[unanun]

As all metamorphoses go, Vydus began to dissolve inside the moirgut cocoon. The skin went first, then the muscles then the skeleton, leaving behind only the viscera, the heart running down the length of the anthro's spine, and the beating organ in the head, the soul. The veins pumped phlegm, and black lines coloured Vydus' body, layering and layering and growing out to a new body, dark as death and cold, cold, cold ...

Cold?

"Vydus."

Cold ...

"Vydus."

Ah ... Vydus' new moirgut eyelids blinked as the shell solidified around him. So this is Pegulis.

It was indeed wonderful, as ------ had told him so many years ago, and he was overwhelmed by the desolate beauty. I wish I could have seen it just once.

"Vydus." Ouch. His new moirgut cheeks stung. "Vydus."

"Wake up." The shell became a second cocoon, and this time his entire being liquefied, turned into the same primordial mud that Ilium must have worked, and he poured into the mold of Perelith. He became the snail-faerie's arms, a shell grew on his back, and he gazed upon his crux, Vydus, who lay submerged in a pool of the clearest, most blessed water. A chant infiltrated his ears, and between blinks his arms grew longer and they were very cold and his legs were freezing and he was drowning in the pool and hands grasped him and pulled him up and he spat out water and he gazed with blurry eyes upon ...

Tattersal's lieutenants.

 

[Spire]

[fieldbox="Grey Dawn, green, solid"]
A dream...?

Vydus was only half-aware of the lieutenants as they debriefed him.

Their explanation of what had happened to him left more questions than answers. They said he had pierced the veil of dreamtime and merged with his aux to escape the aux-eaters in the Tree canopy. Spider animas had come down during and instructed the officers on how to revive him, bringing with them the special water he now lay immersed in.

Vydus detected half-truths and outright lies in the lieutenants' words. There was something they were reluctant to tell him. He would investigate later.

Now though, the ghost of the experience loomed over him.

He looked at his hands, turned them, noted the pink flesh. This body was no more but a few minutes ago, he thought. Clear water dripped from his fingertips, not black.

The events in dreamtime replayed in his mind. The horrors — the moon, the consuming darkness, the powerlessness — sent icy tendrils down his spine. If it weren't for his training, he would have crumbled right then and there.

He closed his eyes; breathed.

Whatever had gripped him in the pandemonium in the Riven Tree canopy, it was not merely the kind of dream that accompanies sleep. It was far more lucid — more probing than the darkest nightmare. The light of day could not resolve the images — could not vanquish the shadows.

I was changed...

Background silence indicated it was his cue to speak.

"I understand. My men will be there at dawn."

A few nodded, others performed respectful mudrās. The bear anima Ásbjorn pounded a heavy paw on his shoulder. They all left.

The officers' tent was large and vacuous — filtering dull light through its canvas. Vydus dapped his finger on the skin of the pool, pulsing a light ripple to the other side.

He sighed.

His eyes settled upon his aux atop a rolled up parchment. It hid in its shell.

[/fieldbox]

 

[Rain of the Night]

???, Viridos

Exhausted… He had not rested since the climb and the conflict with the black centipede back within reality. He had expanded all of his resources and maybe even beyond it. Deep, painful breaths were taken as the spider anima held him on top of the rock. What had just happened? He could only remember agony and fear as he plunged into the dark tar. No images, no sounds, just pain. Even now, he could still feel the singe inside him. The line between death and life was so thin at this particular moment, the gardener just ready to let it slip.

He couldn't go on with this, too much for everything he had lived through the past days. He just needed to close his eyes, to finally recover. The man eventually let it happen, his body slowly falling into a near coma state.

When consciousness returned to him, he could feel… liquids? Every inch of his skin felt like it was soaked to the brim, even his face and hair. He even tried to take breath, though it seemed to do nothing but suck up whatever was enveloping him. That sudden panic came back, the one he had lived from the thick, muddy pit of tar. Though, it didn't feel as heavy or as threatening. Chants could barely be heard in his state, his eyes finally opening… Modakra wanted to thrash around and get out, the despair he felt from drowning finally coming to mind. People pulled him out before hand, a loud gasp sounding from the man. All he wanted was to breath; get some air into his lungs… There were people around, that, he could tell. It was the only thing he could figure out, the rest just a blurry mess in his vision.

"W-where am I?"

 

[unanun]

[fieldbox=Outskirts of Edelon, green, solid, 15] She tried, for the last time, to tie her hair up. It was a habit that she had taken as an acolyte in the Clad - all the female kin did it to keep their hair out of their way, although the high order was that long hair was a sign of fertility and health, so said ilium. Her hands passed through her aux, but at least it responded reasonably, winding it up into knots and a braid behind her shoulders.

Gone were her earthly tones, from yellow to green. In the dark, cold aura pulsing from Edelon, she had taken on more appropriate colours - frosty blue and neutral white. She had carefully painted her face, drawn the traditional marks of war, quietly dyed her battledress in the abandoned tanning pits.

It was all an elaborate ritual to delay. She had spent a week forging her golden saber and another week dying it blue with lapis. The closer she came to finishing, the slower she involuntarily became.

Finally, she polished the last arrowhead and set it in her quiver. She could delay no more.

She ate some food, slowly chewed the cake. She told herself that it was the prebattle jitters and felt sick. Naya stood at the door to her forge and shut the door, hid the key ... and she still couldn't move.

"Hic ... Grrnnnhhh ... gah .... hch ... "

She knew that the the crusade would have to be waged, she knew that she would die. But she was so scared. Cowardice bloomed from her heart. She could not find the strength inside to move forward.

She took a halting step forward, and doubled back, clutching her bow tightly. Her mind fled and she tried to recall her basic battle patterns. Nothing came to mind. She was undoubtedly walking to her death - she would take step after step and march into the capital and be consumed and that was all she could do because she was a coward-

"That is a fine sword you have there, Acolyte."

Why did he always show up at the right time?

"Why would you dye your glory, hide your glory?" The green General stood behind her, his eyes already fixed on the prize, where the corrupted High Clad sat and worked diligently to undo all their work of the past two centuries.

"You will not march alone." He tilted his head, this time towards the Riven tree. "Moths will come to aid us."
[/fieldbox]

 

[Peregrine]

[fieldbox=In The Aviary, skyblue] There were many who may have forgotten it, but all the avians belonged to the Aviary. It had been the home of the winged people long before it has risen into the air under the machinations of a mad inventor and a magic crystal, and it would remain the home of the avians, even after they left.

The Aviary had long since left the sky since the Red Nation had stolen that Alate that kept it afloat, but the Aviary was now safely nestled in the prisma strata, the mountains that separated Viridos from Pegulis. It was cradled in the giant hands of earth that had risen to catch it as it had fallen to the ground. Those avians who had remained in the damaged Aviary had slowly rebuilt, working to return the city to its once and future glory.

Madan's spiraling tower, a graceful thing that had been perched right near the peak of the Aviary, was one of the first things to be rebuilt. He had been grateful for the effort, and had done what he could to aid the young Valkyries who had led the effort, despite the exhaustion in his old bones. But as soon as the first room had been repaired, graceful, arching pillars repaired, holes in the floor patched, and an old, heavily damaged wooden desk and chair put in position, Madan had gone about trying to repair the records.

A few of the parchments were intact, and he set about putting them back in place as best he could in the small room. Those that were damaged he re-wrote, faithfully copying word for word. Those that were completely destroyed he tried to recall from memory. He had once studied these pages every day, back when he had still been under his master. His own apprentice had died in the crash of the Aviary. Now was not the time to mourn. The records needed to be restored.

It was long months separating that fateful day of the crash of the Aviary to the present, through the betrayal of the Merchants, the March of Kaustir, and Tattersal's Retaliation. Through all of that Madan worked, every day calling upon the powers of his aux Isda, who resembled nothing so much as a black baby lemur. But eventually the tower was rebuilt and the records were restored. Every word of it was now in place, although many were now homed on much newer parchment. Life could go back to normal. Perhaps he would find another apprentice, to take over his job when it was his time to depart this world.

The glow of advent faded from around Isda, and she crooned faintly, blue eyes wide, licking her tiny fingers. Before Madan there was a list, with a few names written on it. He stood up, carefully picking up the piece of paper, and wandered through the halls, looking at the walls. Each paper on the walls was covered in names.

He found the corresponding name from the ones on his list in each sheet of paper, and wrote in tiny, neat letters next to each name four poignant letters. DEAD

He paused before one name, hesitating briefly before labeling it.

Hope Avacyn DEAD​

"Such a shame," Madan murmured to Isda, who looked at him sweetly. "I had high hopes for this one. She was so sure that she would bring us glory."

No matter. There would be others.[/fieldbox]

 

[unanun]

[fieldbox=DEADLANDS, grey, solid, 15]Kairos ...

Ilium! Kairos was on a blank, grey plane that stretched to the horizon and some more. He tried to find a feature, some imperfection in the surface to ground himself. His eyes dipped deeply into the surface and he found more of it, a self-similar grey that his eyes were geomantically drawn to, falling and falling.

Kairos ...

Ilium! Kairos was on a blank, grey plane that stretched to the horizon and some more. He tried to find a feature, some imperfection in the surface to ground himself. His eyes dipped deeply into the surface and he found more of it, a self-similar grey that his eyes were geomantically drawn to, falling and falling.

Kairos ...

Ilium! Kairos ... felt like he had been here before. Around him the grey plane extended. Again he felt himself dissolving into void. Without sight, sound, touch, taste, or smell, his limbs grew numb, and visions, kaleidoscopic stars, overwhelmed his senses. He merged with the void.

Kairos ...

Why do you let yourself be held so?

A violent precipitation. Lady Ironblood had showed him once. "In this vial," she held up a round-bottom flask with a clear liquid, so clear that where it not for the surface it would appear empty, "there is sugar of lead. Now, if I dribble a a bit of acid of sulphur .."

A blinding cloud of white. From his scattered self Kairos was forced to coalesce, and fire ran up his arms and legs to
his heart, which pumped the burning solvent to his head. His back arched and suddenly he was back in the Deadlands again, in the tar pit, with the beautiful specters of the moirgut surrounding him.

Three hundred years and we have barely begun to revive Sunne. Our lands are still poisoned from our last battle with God Wogov. There is so much work to be done. Kairos .. you did not forget what I taught you?

How could I forget? He cried. But there is too much to do. How can I save everyone? Half of them don't want to be saved, and they wallow in their toxins, and half of those half are inside the Shartan. There is too much to do!

Do what you must, Kairos.

Do what you can.

I can't .. I can't. Kairos shook his head. I can't. She faded away and the specters closed on him again, running their hands over his body, massaging his limpness. I can't.[/fieldbox]

 

[Pastor ćhoi]

[fieldbox=100 Acre Woods, silver, solid, 15]The Fall of the aviary. The theft of the Deadlands Moirgod. The aux-eater incursion. The secession -and failed preemptive eviction- of the port city of Hosia. The impending invasion of the sand parasites from across the dunes.

The disappearance of Kairos.

How weak did they look to the world beyond? Did they look upon the green and scoff at this perceived weakness? Did they see the poison forest and think it a thorny shield against the outside, rather than a blight they had to fight each and every day? The kinfolk had a reputation of amiability, of leniency, and this had invited thieving magpies into the house. They stole from the flying city, and it fell. They stole from the Unicorn, and the eater infestation began in earnest. They stole justice against the city of Hosia, and now they run loose. And now...

Now they sought to steal Viridos itself, and they very well could. Though he would deny it to all who would listen, Amaltas knew they very well could. Tattersal was no real help; Amaltas could trust him, perhaps in the same way he could trust water to be wet, for whatever their differences, he knew him to be a true protector of Viridos. But he had his merry band, and little more. Conscription could not even begin so long as the aux-eaters held Edelon.

So Amaltas made his move. He marched at the head of a small herd, intending to walk straight into Edelon.[/fieldbox]

 

[Rain of the Night]

Under the Riven Tree

"You're in Riven, Modakra."

The gardener looked towards the man who had spoken his name, not recognizing the individual… Yet, he had a god idea of who it might be. It wasn't needed to be explained that this was one of Tattersal's lieutenants. Although still in a dazed and slightly confused state, he could still determine the reason why he had showed and probably gotten him out of whatever troubles he had encountered on the Riven tree. There was a crucial discovery he had made needed to be reported immediately, though it wasn't going to be right away.

His vision had clearer completely, although his body had yet to recover from the experience he had lived in the dream land… He tried to walk but fumbled, nearly hitting the ground if those who pulled him out hadn't caught him. Modakra just hung in their arms a moment, regaining his sense of balance and orientation. He straightened himself up, feet wide so to not fall once more. Faced with the Lieutenant, the man nodded, holding a strong composure.

"Tattersal would want to know of your progress with the issue you were asked to investigate." Modakra rubbed his eyes and pulled his long blond hair back. "Yes, I know… I'm going to inform him on my discovery once I rest up." The lieutenant narrowed his eyes upon him. "It would be best you leave immediately if you've discovered something. Eidolon is i-…" Modakra quickly interrupted him, pressing on the matter of his own health. "I can't travel in my state. So I will take a day's rest rather you want me to leave immediately or not. I'm in no shape to force myself over there." The lieutenant gave him a cold gaze, but nodded. "Very well. I'll have someone help you to your quarters." He deterred his sight to one of the men that had helped him out, telling him to aid the gardener to wherever he needed to go. They then went to deal with he other one they had recovered from the dream land… Modakra rubbed his head, making his way to the room he had gotten for the stay he had in Riven. He had much thinking to do and deserved a little bit of rest.

Four days later, in the River industry of Edelon

That single days rest back in Riven had given the gardener the necessary time to ponder up what he should report to Tattersal. There were many things happening within the nation of Viridos, so many problems that needed to be settled in order to advance. What would he reveal to him? Should he speak about Kairos? Or was there enough with the aux-infection? He remembered his initial assignment, remembered why he was asked to do this in the first place… Remembered the death of his friend… The infection, the pain. It was a harsh reality he was facing now, getting involved in this ordeal. It felt like his life was going to change drastically. No more gardening at his shop, nor more relaxing in his gardens… He was now in the mess of these problems, rather he liked it or not.

The three next days were travel through the wildlife of Viridos. During these times, he refined his thoughts about the events that had occurred in the Tree. There would only be so much he would tell the man who had requested this assignment of him. The current trouble that needed helping was this aux-infection. He could worry about the others when this would be dealt with.

It was nearly the end of day, the sun low in the sky. Modakra had just made it to where Tattersal was; The Forges of the river. The lieutenant back in Riven had said to find him somewhere in this area… Though, it wouldn't be as simple as walking in to a place and say hi. The robed man was walking the busy roads of the place, having been here more than his fair share of times. The stench of molten steel was prominent, never having gone away. Modakra knew he had to meet some people to get to Tattersal, so he went to the forge the Lieutenant spoke of… Not many people present within it, but it had someone. Immediately going for the nearest individual, he asked to speak to Tattersal as soon as possible. The people within the room exchanged a stare. A short silence took over the room. Then, one of them motioned him to follow him deeper into the building, going down a set of stairs.

There he was, faced with Tattersal himself… Modakra bowed his head down to show his respects, only to rise up and immediately speak. "I have news of the infection… And a possible way to destroy it."

 

[Saphen]

[fieldbox="Edelon, green, solid"]


Ash was escorted by the kins as they began their trek into Edelon. His mind was elsewhere however and even as the Kin made small talk amongst themselves their words faded as memories erupted in his mind.

He remembered now, it was the Deadlands that claimed his antlers. Ironblood and him, rushing through broken wood and desolate sand. It was the trees strangely clawing at his face, obstructing his hoofs, trying to hold him back as he fled. Why were they there?

An image of the prophet came to the forefront of his thoughts.

Of course...he and Ironblood went to seek the prophet. The prophet was their chance to save Viridos, perhaps Ilium but why were they running?

He turned his head in his thoughts, saw his Aux Cora floating about as she pointed a branched hand at Ironblood. Her face was blank with no features, her head was shaking violently. She was screaming at Ash as she ran, it was evident to him that they were being chased. A strange entity gripped on her, in his mind he saw himself as a black demon grabbing hold of her robes but he knew that was wrong.

He couldn't replace the image though and so instead of trying to remember he focused on Ironblood's silence. His eyes furrowed as he stared harder into his memory. Sweat beaded from his cheeks and he could hear Cora whispering in his mind.

"Moirgut."

Yes of course. That was the name of these creatures but Ash did not know what they were. The voice returned to Ironblood as she yelled "Moirgut! We have to get to the Prophet now!"

Responding to his memory Ash's hoofs began to clack as he ran. His heart glowed in his chest, Cora whispered voice was concerned but he couldn't understand it as he began to sprint. The faint sound of Tattersal's guard screaming for him rested in the back of his mind but he paid it no mind. The Moirgut were chasing him and they had to run.

Faster and faster, dodging through broken rock and fallen tree as they reached a tar pit of some kind. He turned to see where Ironblood was but she was gone...perhaps taking another route?

The tar bubbled and even though Ash felt the instinct to run, heard Cora screaming in his head, he waited at this pit. There was an object partly sinking near the edge...eyes opened and it was then that Ash realized it was the prophet. Feeling over his body he realized he had lost his spear in the chase. The only thing he had to reach with was his antlers and so he got down on his knees and extended his head.

"Prophet, GRAB ON! QUICKLY!" He said but as a tar covered hand reached out to grab the antler Ash felt a surge of sudden pain.

"You are corrupted Ash of the Heartwood," the prophet told him gripping his antlers harder,this time with both hands. "It matters not," replied Ash as he attempted to pull the prophet out but was held frozen by the strength of the Kin before him. "Everything matters," the Prophet replied and in an instant he had snapped Ash's antlers off at the root.

The undertaker fell back in pain, screaming as he rolled on the ground from the sudden surgery of his most precious antlers. When he found a moment to look at the prophet he saw what he meant by corruption. His antlers were rotting, poison oozing from holes that had been carved to the root. It was a sudden clarity of mind and he could hear Cora's voice clear as day.

"Ash we must flee!" Ash looked towards his chest, mentally staring at his heart and aux who were one in the same.

"But the Proph-" but before he could finish the Moirgut who in his memory still looked like him reached the edge of the tar pit.

"Find Amaltas!" the Prophet screamed before he threw Ash's broken antlers into the air. They exploded in a magnificent hue he couldn't begin to describe, causing the Moirgut to vanish but some how Ash knew it was temporary.

"FIND AMALTAS NOW!"

~

Suddenly Ash lifted his gaze, he was back near Edelon but not where he had been. He was on the outskirts some where, the Kin who were guarding him were gone. Cora slid out of his body and looked at him, her ethereal hoofs gently landing on the floor beneath her.

"You wouldn't stop running..." Cora told him. Ash blinked in confusion but both Crux and Aux looked up at once to see where they had gone. There was a herd marching towards Edelon, lead by a creature of monstrous intent. Lead by Amaltas.




[/fieldbox]

 

[unanun]

[fieldbox=Edelon Outskirts, green, solid, 15] A small bit of water dripped into the muddy Prosperos river. The currents were rough and stirred the silt below, but the waterwheels attached to the forges were either broken or stilled, and white rapids ran through their rotten wooden paddles.

The poison that welled from the ground was just as insidious as the sands of the Great Western Desert, a creeping corruption that invaded everything and required constant vigilance. The mangroves that the forest-kin carefully massaged into the ground died every two years from the poison. It seeped into their flowers and encouraged the growth of death spores, the white-and-purple clouds that drifted out of the Viridos jungle and over the Prosperos sea to poison the Kaustrian desert. Without the trees, the squelching black tar bubbled from the ground unabated.

Tattersal worked the mud in between his toes. A tightly wound bundle of herbs smoldered between his lips.

Naya, Ash, Ironblood, Mikael, Modakra ... how many plans had the old general set into place, how many bets had he hedged? They were all dead, by Sunne's grace or the aux-eater's. There were no options left, and this stubborn tree thought it better to throw the rest of his men into Edelon, to embrace the death that waited him there.

But perhaps one last hope laid with them. A feat that would need more than alignment of all the stars in the sky.

Some hours earlier, he sat inside a silent forge, an anvil serving as a table between him and Modakra.

"Interesting." Tattersal drew out his syllables, his voice fading to deeper and deeper pitches as he looked into his memory.

"The old Clad often spoke of this. When Kairos was still present, he often spoke of Ilium's feats. That she could speak words that changed the world. She spoke the divine word and opened a crater between the three provinces into which roared all the rain in Sunne. Her song created Sunne."

"There have only been a few of the most fervent Clad who have been able to recover her song through the deepest meditations. Such must have been the nature of the soothsayer you met in the Riven tree. The spider-kin are mysterious and weave countless secrets into their webs and the dew drops that they catch."

"Thank you." Tattersal was not a kin for mudra.

"Before, we would have walked into certain death. Now, death is all but certain. And for a general, that is the best one could ask." He stood and wrenched his spear from the floor. "You have done Viridos a great service, Modakra. Should you wish to return to the Riven tree, we will give you an escort."[/fieldbox]

 

[Saphen]

[fieldbox=" Outskirts of Edelon, green, solid"]

"Unicorn." From a line perpendicular to the unicorn's path flowed a sigil of the Lost Band, the moth-anima Vydus at their head. Clad in Shansheng or growing their own armor, these wild-soldiers blurred the line between forest and kin. However, their golden spears were not ambiguous, and their timing behind Ash made it look as if they were tailing the undertaker. "What are you intending to do?"

The only thing Amaltas hated more than weakness was a snitch; and dear Ash, undertaker and stag of the heartwood, was the worst kind of snitch: the kind that got away. With his antlers shattered, the stag had certainty seen better days...but what he had suffered would pale compared to what the unicorn intended to do to him...but that had to wait. The flies were everywhere today.

"Marching on Edelon and killing everyone you love. I will send your regards posthumously."

"Do you think we still live in the old days?" Vydus reached forward and shook Amaltas by his mane. The unicorn immediately went at him, spinning and turning and trying to bend his huge head back to bite, but Vydus held fast. "You fancy yourself an equine warlord? We don't live in such simple times, Amaltas!"

"You are insolent, and you are not Tattersal. Do not think I will suffer this alliance any further if you remain his right hand!"

"Run over the cities, then, knock our temples down! Kill Om and Kama. Then we will welcome Kairos (may he be verdant forever) back to a jungle of savages. Is that how you want to present yourself to him? There is structure, Amaltas, there is knowledge and wisdom too precious to be lost in your bloodlust." A flutter of spears lowered behind Vydus, his antenna twitching in agitation. They were not just golden, but crafted in the pattern of unicorn-bane, twisted and ephemeral to cut through the glam of a unicorn.

"Vydus, I know not of the plans Amaltas had when he marched towards Edelon," Ash interjected. "I will be the first to speak of the ill that this creature has caused on our once proud land. But despite all of this I was told by the Prophet himself to seek out Amaltas." The undertaker paused, lowering his head slightly to show them the shattered antlers on his head.

"I was corrupted, and may have perished if not for the prophet cleansing me. The last words he told me were this: Find Amaltas. We need him."

"Then it is all the more clear. If the prophet bade you to seek him out, then Amaltas knows what must be done." Vydus gave the unicorn a pointed look.

"Enter the Shartan obfuscated. Retrieve Ilium's mouth. It is hidden inside a one-armed Grimagar."

"The Shartan?!" Ash exclaimed as his chest glowed, a sign of Cora's concern for his safety. "Do you know what you ask? It's a place where the very walls close in on you. Where if you rest for one moment you might never wake up. You want to send Amaltas into that place of darkness when you stand here with an army behind you?! Why have you not gone in already!?" The undertaker waved his hand past the sea of spears and battled hardened faces. There was a ferocity in his eyes that was foolish to have in front of men trained to kill but he stared down Vydus as he waited for a response.

"Ignorant stag," It was Amaltas who answered, his baleful gaze catching all of them. "Ignorant hounds of Tattersal. You call this place home but you do not comprehend how it functions." The unicorn barked off a bitter laugh. "Inside the Spartan is a treasure beyond this fable relic: Warriors and entrophists, monsters and fey, sorceries and powers that you refuse to touch out of cowardice. The red closes in on us, and we are few and weary. You ask them how the Shartan would be entered, and I say to thee: It will not."

"Because I will break it."

Vydus nearly stumbled back, so aghast, and thumped his spear into the mossy ground. "For Ilium's sake, see the risk you take by merely entertaining that idea! The violence in the Shartan will solve no problems. You will destroy centuries of work and purification!"

"Bugger you. Bugger your soul, for it it not a warrior's, but a greenwife. Bugger the blue, and bugger the matching color of their balls. They will hold the blood sands for but a moment before crumbling. The Northern Fey and Entrophists have pledged their full assistance for the safe release of their-" Amaltas smirked that wide, crocodile smirk. "-maligned kin. This goes beyond your grand prison. This is the Prophet's dream of a unified Viridos."

The spears behind him wavered with the force of the unicorn's proposed blasphemy. Tattersal's lieutenant was shocked into silence. "You ...... You dare, you dare put words into the Prophets mouth ... !!"

Ash listened as both creatures ruffled their feathers, stroked their manes, and attempted to prove who was the strongest. This was not the time to be divided and yet here they were, bickering amongst themselves...it was too much for him. The undertaker's charcoal skin began to crack, fire flared out of his pores as he screamed "SILENCE BOTH OF YOU!" His skin glowed like the embers of a camp fire and his eyes oozed lava. "I will sever his head myself if he does anything to harm Viridos. We must be united if we are to succeed or everyone shall perish and there will be no one left to bury you."

All was still for a few moments. And the time stretched, for no one was willing to break this last piece of tranquility they, even as enemies, shared, because they knew only struggle lay ahead. The only sound that lingered was a quiet hissing as the undertaker's skin cooled off.

At last, Vydus spoke. "We are with our backs to the wall, and we do not stretch the fable by saying this will be our last chance at salvation." The spears lowered and the sigil blended back into the forest. "We will fight at Edelon's gates as a distraction. The signal will be obvious." He paused, whispering to Ash. "Please, Undertaker. You must appreciate the magnitude of the unicorn's proposed blasphemy. Please keep him on leash." Ash nodded, his gaze lingering on Amaltas as he created a circle with his hands. This was the universal sign of peace in Viridos, the symbol of the world they loved so dearly.

"Ilium light the way to your success."

"And yours too." Amaltas bit off irritably. Still, courtesy was to be met with courtesy. "For Kairos, and for the One Truth, Ilium."



[/fieldbox]
@unanun @Pastor ćhoi

 

[unanun]

VIRIDOS
THUNDER FALLS​

"How cooperative was Amaltas?"

Vydus pulled himself from nearby foliage. "Completely mad. He wants to tear down the Shartan. If the heretics inside are loosed, they could undo the Prophet's work in a day - and there is only an Undertaker to stop him!"

A decade ago Tattersal would have forced the unicorn down with his spear. But a great weariness bore down on his shoulder. Looking back, the strings of fate were so obviously weaved into his life, especially with the timing of his return to the capital, and the aux-eaters. He was seized with a sudden calm, a peculiar feeling that everything would work as planned - for once.

"General?"

"He will do no such thing. Amaltas snaps all the time. He may have lived in the Shartan, but it will remain beyond his understanding. Fortunately, he understands enough of it such that retrieving Ilium's mouth will not be unfathomable." Tattersal observed the remains of his Lost Band. How many of them would perish to give Amaltas and Ash their chance?

"General!!" A runner came to them. "From the canopy ... the canopy is ablaze!"

They ran, ran faster than any kin was accustomed to, their wooden joints creaking, twigs snapping, and foliage ground off their limbs, and gathered at a spot where the underbush of the jungle gave way to a clear view through the canopy. To the north-east, a cloud of smoke blackened the sky. As one their hearts tightened, the sap freezing in their veins, because it reminded them of the killing clouds the jungle so frequently released.

Tattersal sniffed the air. "There is no ash nearby. The fire is across the ocean."

"Is it a volcano? Have the Pegulis-Kaustir mountains awakened?"

"That," The inevitability made Tattersal's voice heavy, "is no volcano."

"That is what happens when an entire city is put to fire."​