Tag: bands of grounding

#Lore24 – Entry #246 – Fantasy Month III #3 – The Unicorn that Went up in Flames

As Told by Teelsa “the Swift” Dawndancer

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, good man!  I must say, though your accommodations are rather…spartan…I am nonetheless quite pleased that you’ve chosen to invite me into your humble establishment.  When shall the performances begin?  I would like some time to practice my craft, after all, though it seems the luggage boy has misplaced my instruments- Hmm?  What?  This isn’t an inn?  Well, I am shocked!  Absolutely shocked!  I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t complain about the quality of the meals, then, hmm?  When is meal time, by the way?  One’s stomach can only wait so long before it starts complaining, you know.

Oh, the Bronze Unicorn?  My, what a sad, sad affair that was.  Fine establishment, absolutely the best I’d ever performed at in Caerlon, and the best people!  Oh, the patrons were marvelous!  So willing to offer their coin for a song and dance, absolutely the best one could have ever asked for, really.  And their chef, oh, an absolute master of his craft, I can assure you!  Why, if I were to have stayed on there as the inn’s resident bard, I may well have been on the road to- My good man, would you stop interrupting me?  I’m telling the story you asked for.  Oh, very well…some cannot appreciate the art of the slow burn…um, well, perhaps that phrase is a bit inappropriate given the nature of what happened. 

So, it went something like this; mind you, this is but my initial draft, so it is quite rough.  Ahem…

“In the heart of Caerlon, where shadows blend and twine,

A warrior strode with purpose, her gaze a sharpened line.

She bested every challenge, with grace and steel so bright,

But as the darkness gathered, fate would test her might.

 

Hatae, the acrobat, danced in the fire’s glow,

A blur of shadowed motion, in rhythm’s ebb and flow.

But envy’s cruel embrace, in the hearts of men and drow,

Sent hunters to the Unicorn, to strike and lay them low.

 

Two forces dark converged, each unaware of kin,

One clad in night’s own veil, the other stained by sin.

Led by twins of fiendish blood, their eyes like burning coal,

They sought to claim the hero’s life and tear apart her soul.

 

But Eri stood unyielding, as chaos filled the air,

With Hatae at her side, they fought with strength and flair.

The flames consumed the inn, the Bronze Unicorn no more,

Yet from the ash, the heroes rose, with legends to explore.

 

The mazoku twins, in greed, sought to reap their deadly toll,

But in their grasping hunger, they lost all sense of control.

For heroes are not felled by those with hearts of blackened night,

They shine with ever burning fire and stand for what is right.”

 

Well, what did you think?  You’re positively awe-struck, aren’t you?  I know, it is a bit basic, but as I said, I’m still composing the ballad, so-  What?  What’s a drow?  It’s an archaic name for a dark elf, of course.  A bit too archaic, hmm?  Criticism noted!

No, I assure you, good sir, that every word of my tale is true!  There absolutely were two groups hunting my companions that night, and one of them was indeed led by a pair of twin mazoku!  Well, not exactly twins, you see, for one had skin of crimson, the other azure, but they were identical otherwise.  Quite the proficient spellcasters, I might add, and I do believe that it was the red one that used the fire spell that set the poor Unicorn alight.  No, I did not get their names…it never came up in the course of our most chaotic flight from the inn; when one is being chased as we were, you don’t stop to ask who is doing the chasing!  Though I do believe my companions know more than I about those hunters, perhaps you should ask them?  It is not yet my story to tell, you see. 

Well, yes, there was something curious about the twins…they each wore some rather peculiar jewelry; I do think they wore a set of Bands of Grounding, but curiously enough, those devices did nothing to hinder their spellcasting.  Broken, perhaps, or unique? 

My good man, I grow weary, and my throat is dry.  What’s the house wine, and may I trouble you for some of it?  Or ale?  Or, gods forbid, water?”

 

 

 

*Full disclosure:  I used ChatGPT to generate the song lyrics, because I don’t have a lyrical bone in my body and coming up with something that sounded decent would have taken far too long in the context of a daily lore entry like this.  

#Lore24 – Entry #146 – Muckenmyre Month #25 – Inside the House of the Lady of Justice

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris, Town Marshal of Grimbridge.

Entering into the temple, I found the interior to be somewhat sparse and simple in decoration, seeing Lashana’s symbol on display prominently on the wall hangings, but the actual area of worship reminded me more of a court room, with several rows of simple benches for seating, a box not unlike that a judge would sit behind instead of a more typical pulpit, even tables set before it like those that would be used by two parties presenting their cases, though these were currently filled with unremarkable pewter and silver candle holders, bowls, and the like.  I could see a trial being held here, and later, I would learn that was exactly what it was used for at times.

My eyes then went to the gray stone effigy of Lashana that stood above the altar, about ten feet tall, appearing as a human woman, eyes hidden by a red silk blindfold, wearing unremarkable robes while holding a scabbarded bastard sword in her hands, the scales upon the pommel balanced while large braziers bathed her in their light from either side.  I couldn’t exactly say then why I felt my heart racing as I looked upon her image and wouldn’t understand the reason until much later.

I was approached by a dwarven man after a few moments when I did not move from the doorway, his robes gray but fringed with a trio of silver threaded bands at the wrists and similar scrollwork on his chest and the collar of the robes.  His hair was brown and had more gray than not, the same with his neatly trimmed beard, and he wore silver-framed spectacles low on his nose.  He greeted me directly, introducing himself as Justicar of the Temple Detran Grayforge, asking if I sought justice, knowledge, vengeance, or perhaps a confession.  My confusion must have been plain upon my face, and certainly I couldn’t immediately form a response, for he then smiled and bid me to follow him to one of the benches to explain what it was that brought me into the Lady’s house.

I explained the business which had brought me to Ryanathyr specifically, which he seemed to heartily approve of, calling it “the Lady’s Work”, but then I explained that I was not of these lands and had come from the Empire, his visage darkening, and then rolled up my sleeve to reveal my slave brand, admitting that I knew nothing of Lashana, had only heard her name a few minutes before.  I sensed that some kind of anger had welled up in him, but he quickly hid it, rising and bidding me to follow him.  He led me behind the altar and into some of the private chambers reserved for confessions, retrieved a pitcher of water and cups for us, and we began to speak of why Lashana was not worshiped in my homeland.

I could not believe his words at first, my mind, long trained to reject such thoughts, immediately sounding the alarm bells of heresy.  The story he told me of the Great Cataclysm made no sense, contradicted most of what I had been taught, especially regarding the role the kerryn played in the events that lead to the upheaval of the world.  How could I believe that we were not responsible for the great breaking, that our goddess had been taken from us through treachery and conspiracy by demons, deities, and mortals alike?  He told me that our people had continued to fight on in the face of madness that swept through most of our priesthood when our goddess fell, against the Elvish Dominion that sought our downfall for our alliance with the long-extinct aerian people, that we had tried to stop the very cataclysm that we are blamed for within the Empire.  To add more to my confusion, he also told me that not everyone sees history in such a way, that the Elvish Greathouses tell a different story, that their accounts support the idea that the kerryn were the ones who brought forth the demons, that many more have their own histories that muddle the truth.  Lashana herself is quite clear on the matter, however, for she witnessed the downfall of Saressh, and this great injustice is what she seeks to avenge, and why she cannot be worshipped within the Empire.

So many things had just been told to me, so many contradictions to the truths I had been taught from birth, the facts of life that I knew to be just that.  I had never conceived that there could be another point of view, that I may have been lied to by the very Emperor I served with my utmost devotion.

It took some time before I realized that he had told me the name of the kerryn mother goddess, and that this was the first time I had ever heard her name. 

Saressh. 

I was completely overwhelmed by this point, feeling as if my entire world had suddenly collapsed.  I could detect no deception in Justicar Grayforge’s words, no signs that he was trying to deceive me for some other purpose.  I had tears in my eyes, running down my face to fall upon my hands.  He laid a hand upon my shoulder, offered a prayer to Lashana to give me strength, to light my way in this time of vulnerability. 

I’m not sure how long it took for me to recover from my initial shock, but once I had regained control of my faculties, I excused myself, for I did not want to worry Satella.  I had far too much weighing in my mind now that I had to sort through, and it would take a long time for me to do so.  He understood, wished me the best on my journey, and said that I would be in his prayers, that I would be welcome within Lashana’s temple should I need a place to go.  Before he saw me to the door, though, he offered me a parting gift, a small book that explained Lashana’s faith, the nature of her justice, and of the Great Injustice she sought to remedy. 

I thanked him, holding the book to my chest once I departed.  I found Satella sitting nearby, and she immediately came to me, embracing me, for she could tell I was unsettled.  After enjoying the comfort of her embrace for some moments, I thanked her, and we made our way back toward the inn; it was already dark beneath the trees, though the sky above showed the sun was just now setting. 

As we approached the inn, my thoughts churning with uncertainty and many questions I had never before thought to ask, my heart nearly leapt from chest as we came upon the square near the inn.  My ears rose, and I froze in place, daring not even to breathe, for I heard voices speaking in a language I had not heard since I set out on my ill-fated voyage to the Dragon Isles.

It was the secret language of the Stellae Illustris.

#Lore24 – Entry #145 – Muckenmyre Month #24 – The City of Ryanathyr

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris, Town Marshal of Grimbridge.

As we approached the northern end of the Grimbridge Way, I could smell fresher air blowing in, a different smell to the coming rains.  Then, the trees that had created the tunnel over the Way began to thin out, the line of Witch Lights came to an end, and the marshland began to fade, replaced with some low grasslands leading towards a forest of tall trees, a handful of farms lining the road into the woods.  We came upon a patrol from Ryanathyr around midday as we neared the edge of the woods, and they turned about to escort us into the city.

As we drew closer, and the trees grew tall around us, I saw that they were not packed as densely as those of the Muckenmyre, and there were other farms and small homes nestled in the larger clearings as we approached the city.  Soon the trees grew larger still, their trunks reaching far over head, many growing to twenty, thirty, perhaps even fifty feet or more in diameter, their limbs spreading far overhead for double or even triple the distance.  Though little light came through the high canopy, there were abundant lanterns along the roadway, as well as some luminescing insects floating around, similar to those I’d seen in the swamps. 

Nearing the outskirts of Ryanathyr, I began to see the walls of the city that had been built throughout the trees, a mixture of worked stone and strategically placed trees, providing cover for the defenders that patrolled atop them, and covered vantage points for the handful of sharpshooters I managed to spot who were well hidden within the foliage.  I didn’t get the impression they were on any kind of alerted status, but they were still plenty of eyes watching out along the road, and probably plenty more along the walls I hadn’t seen.  Above the city, the trees opened up into a massive clearing, allowing the dull, cloud-covered light through onto the city proper.  We passed through large wooden gates that still seemed to be made of still-living wood, and two more before we reached the actual city, the areas on the outer ring filled with the lower-class neighborhoods, the middle ring consisting of shops, craftsmen, and travelers’ rests, amongst other businesses, and the innermost section of the city housing the city’s rulers, temples, nobility, and wealthier merchants, as Ashley graciously explained to us.  The city was tiny compared to Draconis Magna, would barely equal one of its smaller districts, in fact, but after being in such a town as Grimbridge, it seemed quite magnificent indeed.

Our business with the magistrate was fairly straightforward and without much in the way of discussion:  the constable handled the briefing, the signed documents were passed over and examined, the prisoners accepted, the twins being properly secured with grounding bands before they were unbound, and the lot hauled off to the city jail until other arrangements could be made for their just punishments.  Our noblewoman gave her statement to the magistrate, fingering Jaggedtusk, and Ashley was quick to corroborate her testimony, swearing his solemn oath upon his honor that it was the truth.  With that out of the way, the magistrate bid our party to enjoy the city for the night, and any due rewards would be handed over in the morning following additional paperwork; even here the bureaucracy grinds ever slowly, it seems.

My duty for now ended, Satella and I walked about the city, Jessiryn and Augra their own business until we would meet up later in the evening at a nearby inn.  Satella had come through before when she had first come to Grimbridge after receiving her vision from Yurisaya regarding me, so had some knowledge of the city.  We ventured back into the trade district first, walking through the markets and sampling some of the sweets on offer.  Though I still felt a sense of impropriety at my actions, I still found myself becoming more and more used to them…simply going about as I pleased, not having to inflict pain, to train or retrain my brothers and sisters, only putting those to the question who had broken the law…it all seemed much more…right somehow.

We had wandered back through to the temple district as evening approached, a light rain beginning to fall as we did.  Many temples, while of different construction than within the Empire, bore familiar trappings and symbols, but one stood out for I did not recognize the symbol displayed upon its doors, that of a long-bladed sword with its point downward, a pair of scales balancing worked into the pommel, backed by the outline of a flame.  Seeing where my focus lay, Satella explained that this was the House of Justice, dedicated to Lady Lashana, goddess of justice, law, and righteous vengeance.  When I explained that I had not heard of her, nor seen her symbol within the Empire, she explained that was intentional, for Lashana sought justice that the Empire is unwilling to commit to.  With her usual smile, Satella placed her hand upon my back and nudged me forward, suggesting that I should discover for myself what it was she spoke of. 

Feeling some apprehension at entering the temple of such an unfamiliar deity, I was nonetheless curious as to why she would be omitted from worship within the Empire and felt myself being drawn inside.

#Lore24 – Entry #64 – Fantasy Month #4 – Bands of Grounding

 

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos:

 

Perhaps this is Felaria’s way of grounding my expectations of travel?  It would certainly fit her sense of humor.  Was I a bit too hopeful yesterday, a bit too eager to explore?  Perhaps I was; I did speak a lot about lands beyond the library, perhaps too much, though I heard no complaints from the others, and Gray Tiger was quite fascinated with what I had to say.

Anyway, Bands of Grounding, also known as Grounding Bands or mana-siphoning restraints, while a bit on the archaic side in terms of aesthetics, are no less effective at their intended purpose, restraining those who are capable of casting spells and constantly draining their energy reserves so they cannot cast spells, even with the use of their hands and mouths.  At the core of the design of these items are heavy-duty shackles and collars, often stout enough to restrain even the strongest of orcs, beset with numerous iron spikes, and multiple attachment points for chains and locks.  Securing even one such band to a spellcaster can result in diminished casting ability as their most powerful magics are siphoned away and their overall capacity for magic is reduced.  A full set of these restraints (consisting of bands on ankles and wrists, and a collar around the neck) will completely nullify even the most powerful spellcasters in minutes. 

Some observations regarding the design of these devices: 

1) The spikes, while instrumental in safely discharging the captured arcanist’s magical reserves, can be harmful to an overly animated arcanist or to those around them, should they know how to defend themselves without the use of magic, as was told to me by Gray Tiger, who has witnessed such things himself during his time training within his clan in the capital. 

2)  These devices are typically made of the densest metals, and/or with little regard for their overall weight and bulkiness; many spellcasters are physically weak due to long years of study, and thus encumbering them will further hinder their abilities. 

3)  The use of chains on the bands is entirely optional, and usually serves only to further restrain the wearer or secure them in place for transport or incarceration. 

4) The older designs of the Bands of Grounding had separate locks, which proved to be a security risk for spellcasters capable of picking locks, and though still in use in some distant regions of the Empire, have been replaced by the newer design, which rely upon spell-coded locks, their individual keys kept secured in another location until needed, or by the newest modification, which creates a kind of magnetic seal powered by the wearer’s own magical reserves, only removable by a separate control device.  As an additional security feature, the keys on the more modern designs are attuned so that if one restrained by the Bands attempts to use the keys, on themselves or others who are contained within the bands, they will receive a severe electrical shock, stunning them and causing a significant amount of pain.

5) A significant portion of the wealthy of the Empire often have sets of these created without their mana-siphoning enchantments as decorations for their kerryn slaves, perhaps with more refinement to the design, as something of a fashion accessory, some in silver or gold, or even encrusted with jewels in the case of the exceptionally wealthy.  The audacity of the wealthy nobles and merchants who make such displays is truly staggering.

Speaking from my personal experience with these devices during the course of my training, the feeling of having your magical reserves siphoned away is unsettling, leaving you with a distinct numbness within.  Given the high mobility style of swordplay I’ve adopted, the additional bulk of the restraints made it quite awkward to mount a proper defense, and I wound up poking myself several times with the spikes as I tried to move about, much to Filaria’s amusement, I might add.  I certainly could not think of a more insidious way to restrict magic users from using their abilities.