Tag: orcs

#Lore24 – Entry #326 – Fantasy Month IV #21 – Bandits and Brigands, To Plunder a Dungeon

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos

Our captors transported us quickly through the woods, no doubt having become quite familiar with them during their time hiding amongst them.  I could hear when we cleared them and approached their camp, for there were shouts alerting the others that they had “prizes aplenty, ripe and pretty”.  Though I was blindfolded, I could hear quite a few people coming out around us as we were brought to what I assume was the center of the camp and dropped none-to-gently upon the ground.  Risai was certainly vocal in her protests, however garbled by her gag they were.

The excitement around us died down quickly once a commanding voice called out from nearby, sounding very much Imperial in its way of speaking, and quite angry that we’d been brought to the camp.  Our captors made no secret of what it was they sought from us, saying they’d have to work to “crack that one’s shell if we want the sweet meats inside” in reference to me.  I heard the name Garri mentioned, who I figured was their leader, chastising our captors again for stupidly bringing us here.  When he asked about whether they’d dealt with the rest of our party, there was some nervous silence, then one of the orcs, I think, blurted out something about not even checking.  Garri, the leader, ordered us taken to the “cellar”, and the guard to be doubled, on the lookout for any other adventurers who may be lurking around looking for their missing women.

With the camp in an uproar, we were roughly picked up again and taken elsewhere, somewhere nearby and underground, for the sounds changed again, and the air grew cooler, and we were deposited upon cold stone, a door shutting behind our captors, the sound of wooden bar being thrown into place outside. 

We wasted no time in escaping from our bonds.  Though my hands were growing rather numb by this point, the moment we were left alone, we struggled and scooted our way together, somehow managing to coordinate our efforts to free one another, with Gresilda being the first to wiggle her hands free, making short work of the bonds upon Risai and I once she had done so.  It was dark here, only a sliver of light coming from the floor at the base of the door, so I called up a small orb of arcane light so that we could see our surroundings.

It seemed we were indeed in something of a cellar, though the architecture was decidedly draconic in nature, leaving no question that this was once part of the ancient city that once sprawled across this area.  The door was new, and relatively stout, likely from a carpenter amongst the bandits, for Risai couldn’t budge it when she tried to break it down, and only succeeded in earning more bruises.  There were barrels and boxes within the room, some broken, many empty, others with flour, wheat, and the other foodstuffs that would keep for a while.  As Gresilda calmed Risai from her insistence upon busting down the door, I studied the ancient carvings upon the walls.  As I came to a particular carving, I noticed a particular seam in the worked stone that seemed out of place behind some of the boxes containing some woodworking tools.  Upon closer inspection, I determined it to be a well-concealed doorway, and with a few more minutes of study, found the release mechanism.  The ancient door swung inward with barley a rumble, still smooth upon its ancient hinges, revealing a narrow set of stairs leading further down into darkness.

We debated for a few moments about whether to stay or go, and of course, being the bold adventuring types we are, decided to take the stairs, though we would do so cautiously.  We first made sure we could reopen the door from the opposite side, then proceeded carefully along, Risai having taken up a stout, cut board as a makeshift weapon to lead the way, with me following close behind with our light.  I had not mentioned the lack of signs of rats in the food containers in our makeshift prison, meaning that either the bandits were keeping them at bay, or perhaps more likely, something else was.

The passages below were on the cramped side, leading me to think that this area was perhaps once primarily used by the drakonae.  The damage was relatively light compared to other places, though there were signs that the roots of the trees above were inevitably working their way through the stonework.  We avoided any additional stairs, instead looking for another way to reach the surface, hopefully perhaps outside the area of the bandit camp.  After perhaps an hour of searching, we came upon a larger chamber, some of the ancient stone benches still intact around the periphery, along with scraps of wood and cloth of other furniture that had mostly rotted away.  More curious, though, were the weapon racks built into the walls between the benches.  Most were empty, though four remained that still held some metal weapons that looked, aside from dust and cobwebs, to be in usable condition.  As I looked more intently upon them, Risai approached one and reached out for the double-edged sword that stood there. 

I realized a moment too late that she was in danger. 

It clicked in my brain that two of the weapon racks were identical, down to the pattern of the cobwebs and their contents, even the broken nub that remained of a larger peg.  As I called out for her to stop, the rack she approached seemed to rapidly melt like candlewax, shifting into a mass of slimy tentacles and teeth.  Risai cried out in surprise, but was already too close, the tentacles striking out to seize her, wrapping tightly around her limbs and body.  Even Gresilda screamed in startlement, having not expected the mimic. 

Already suspecting such a thing, I was the first to respond, quickly chanting a spell to call forth slicing blades of fire upon the monster.  Careful to avoid Risai, I targeted the central mass and largest tentacles, getting a satisfying screech from the creature as it panicked and released Risai for the moment, the large warrior stumbling backward as fast as possible.  With the creature’s ire upon me, the flames quickly dying upon its singed flesh, I danced around its flailing tentacles as Gresilda chanted a prayer to Erisaya.  A moment later, holy fire spewed downward from the heavens upon the mimic, making it scream as its flesh boiled and melted, though it still had fight in it.  Risai snatched the blade from the real weapon rack and snarled a battle cry as she hurtled back into the mass, slicing smoking tentacles easily with the ancient blade, her strikes leaving burning cuts across the creature, before driving its tip deeply into the creature’s central mass, again and again until the mimic stopped moving.

Taking a few moments to recover, Gresilda healing the scrapes Risai had from her close encounter with the tentacles, I threw weaker fire upon the other weapon racks and stone benches, but thankfully found no other mimics hiding within.  That one was either young or perhaps sickly from a lack of food, for it seemed to have died rather easily in comparison to what I’ve read of them.  Of course, those stories could have simply made the encounters seem much more deadly than they really were.  Regardless, now that we had a few moments, I examined the weapons we had collected, and soon determined they were dragon-blown steel, attuned to the element of fire.  The other weapons we retrieved were of similar make and would prove quite useful, if not extremely valuable, upon our return to the party.

The rest of the “dungeon” was not nearly as exciting, for we found the remnants of the mimic’s past victims, a handful of humanoids, but mostly animals, in the next chambers, and found another pathway that led upward.  Soon enough, we had located a partially collapsed exit from the ancient draconic structure, but we were able to shift the fallen rock around enough for us to squeeze through.  The night was deep by now, morning approaching, though we had little trouble seeing due to the fires in the nearby bandit camp.  It didn’t take us long to hear panicked screams departing into the woods, and soon enough we were reunited with the rest of our party, who had managed a most deadly attack upon the bandits whilst we made our way through the dungeons.

There was a bounty on them, but we were days away from Vindinium, so did not immediately collect.  Shassk handled the grim business of collecting the heads, which he stored in a sack dedicated to just such a purpose, its enchantment making the load lighter while also preserving them.  With dawn approaching, we collected our missing gear and stowed the dragon-blown weapons that we weren’t immediately using, redressed ourselves, and headed off back toward the course we had originally been upon. 

#Lore24 – Entry #325 – Fantasy Month IV #20 – Back to the Trail, and the Third Ritual

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos

I could get little out of Lady Armenia once we had managed to extricate ourselves from her bed, and Risai was just as uncertain of what we had gone through as I was, her memories having gotten hazy even before mine.  I noticed that the magical rune upon her seemed to glow more brilliantly now, and she confirmed she was every bit as horny as I was.  Fortunately, we had plenty to keep us busy that day, and Lady Armenia did not summon us that evening, leaving us some time to recount our experiences in the quiet of the inn in Vindinium.  I once again shared Risai’s bed as together we tried, quite unsuccessfully, to relieve that horniness that consumed us, her rune proving every bit as capable as my cock cage and “armor”, which Lady Armenia had insisted I don before she allowed me to leave that morning.  It seems that Risai had found herself in a situation not unlike my own, though she at least still had her anatomy intact.  I daresay she was much happier with said situation than I was.

We set out from the village at daybreak the following morning, bearing south-southeast, looking for telltale signs of an ancient roadway like the others we had encountered to the north.  The forested nature of the area made this more difficult, but we continued onward, and were perhaps gifted with a blessing from Yurisaya (given what Risai and I had experienced the previous night, I daresay we had earned such a boon!), for on our second day out from Vindinium, Risai spotted remnants of an ancient draconic structure, mostly consumed by the landscape.  From this point, Shassk was able to climb a tree and get a good look around us, and was able to determine a path that followed our planned route that seemed to fit the nature of the ones to the north, and by midday on the third day, we had located the third set of standing stones, and, thankfully, without encountering any hostile forces.

We completed our ritual that evening, earning our third mark upon our opposite arm this time.  I somehow managing to keep myself on task in spite of the incessant buzzing of my accessories once again within the region of the standing stones, though I noted that Risai too seemed more worked up than last time as her rune was likely affected in a similar way as my gear.  From here, in the depression around the stones, we spotted a route to the west that we hoped would lead to our next destination and would be following it on the morrow.  If my calculations were accurate, I figured it would take us a week, maybe as much as two, depending on terrain, to reach the next site, for this represented the largest gap between the sites based on their pentagonal alignment.

Perhaps the effects of the draconic ritual had been amplified somewhat by our recent experience with Lady Armenia’s dedication ritual to Yurisaya, for Risai and I were feeling far hornier than we had previously once we had left the region of the stones, and throughout the next day as well, constantly fidgeting about and trying to (perhaps not so subtly) find relief for our needs.  Gresilda inquired about our distress, having sensed something going on with us, already having a very good idea of what had occurred with Lady Armenia that night.  Once we had camped that evening, we slipped off as we women tended to do, and we explained to our experience with the ritual, and of the nature of our current plight.

She was sympathetic, but was hesitant to delve too deeply, given the nature of her own faith in Erisaya.  Though the goddesses are sisters, if she did too much to relieve our frustration, she could very well step on the toes of Yurisaya and Lady Armenia and earn a punishment of her own in retaliation.  She did offer us some relief, though, enough to at least ensure that we would sleep soundly that night, perhaps long enough for the additional horniness from our own ritual to fade to a bearable level.  At that point, we were willing to try anything, so agreed.

It was not to be, however.  As Gresilda guided us through a relaxation technique used by the Erisayan faith, more like a calming massage, really, the three of us were caught unawares and were set upon by a group of well-concealed bandits led by orcish scouts.  So absorbed were we in trying to remedy our situation were we that they were amongst us before we could even make a grab for our weapons, the orcs seemingly well-practiced in the art of quickly binding and silencing their captives.  Before we knew it, even Risai had joined Gresilda and I (though it took three orcs to subdue her, and not without one getting a dislocated jaw and the other taking a kick to his groin), stripped naked (aside from my “armor”, unfortunately) and mercilessly hogtied with painfully tight leather thongs, our mouths filled with a mixture of our travel- and frustration-stained socks and underwear.  Try as they would, they could not dislodge my magically sealed chastity gear, and after some frustrated groping and rather rough handling, they gave up, instead deciding that they should haul us back to their camp.  We were then blindfolded and picked up by the orcs, who, I think rather enjoyed groping Risai and Gresilda from what I could hear, hauled none too gently through the woods, though I knew not where at the time.

#Lore24 – Entry #322 – Fantasy Month IV #17 – A Messy Situation

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos

For those readers who may not be aware of the exact timing, these journal entries are indeed written well after the events described within them; I can’t very well catalogue my thoughts when I’m being assailed by ravenous vines covered with lust-inducing venom, now can I?  As an example, this and the last entry were both written once the party safely returned to Vindinium.  As to how that happened, do read on.

I am uncertain how long the druids allowed the vines to enjoy our bodies, for it is all a pleasure-shrouded haze of frustration in my case, though perhaps Risai and Korvalis may indeed have a different opinion on the matter.  I would daresay Risai may have enjoyed the predicament for a time, and perhaps Korvalis as well, though the wrath he would bring upon the druids following our eventual escape may indeed indicate the opposite. 

We were taken into a well-hidden camp deep within the Thistlewood, nestled among some of the ruins of the ancient draconic city, the vines shaped and controlled by the druids to keep us restrained and at their mercy.  I can recall Risai fighting against the binding vines, to little effect other than the vines seemingly redoubling their efforts to feed upon her essence.  As my memories of the hours or days that we spent in captivity are hazy at best, I will skip to the parts I remember, the night we were to be sacrificed.

I believe their ritual was intended to correspond to the peak of the full moon, for the druidic cult had dedicated themselves to preparations during our captivity and grew ever more excited for what was to come, to the best of my recollection.  I am thankful that our companions who had not been captured remained vigilant, for on the day of the ritual, the druids rested later and more deeply than normal as they prepared themselves, leaving only a handful to keep watch over us.  Ellisar saw to cloaking our party members with his magic, while Shassk saw to dealing with our guards in a silent, if most gruesome, manner, aided by magical silence from Ellisar.  Once the druids controlling them were dealt with, the maidenbane vines lost interest in us, thoroughly gorged as they were upon our vital essence.  Gresilda thankfully had prepared several spells to remove the lingering effects of their poison upon us, giving us a proper chance to carry ourselves out of the hidden enclave, cloaked by more of Ellisar’s invisibility.

I was content to make a hasty retreat to Vindinium, but Korvalis would have none of it, insisting that he had to pay the druids back for their actions.  This was the first real conflict amongst our party, and I could understand wanting revenge, certainly, but our best interest lay in retreat to fight another day.  Still, Korvalis, once he had regained his equipment, set off on his own, followed soon by Shassk, while the rest of us rode ahead toward the river crossing a few miles away.  We would wait until sunset for them, and if they didn’t return, then we were to assume they had been captured or killed.  Nobody liked it, but Risai and I were nearly exhausted, and Ellisar and Gresilda had little left in the way of magic.  I still don’t know exactly where Korvalis found the energy to do what he did.

It was just an hour or so before sunset that our two wayward party members returned, the smell of blood heavy upon them, remarkably light of injury. I didn’t get all the details, but Korvalis seemed sated in his bloodlust, and all Shassk would tell me was that even he was now rather unsettled by the deadly efficiency with which Korvalis dealt with the druids. “I have never seen so silent a death befall so many…” was all he told me. There would be no further need to worry from that particular cult.

With that dark mood firmly established, we pushed onward to the village, arriving a couple hours after sunset, where we could finally take time to recover from our long excursion.

#Lore24 – Entry #321 – Fantasy Month IV #16 – Detours and Detainments

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos

Upon leaving the standing stones, the greatest source of my frustration finally stopped their incessant buzzing, returning to their more normal routine of random stimulation that only left me mildly frustrated in comparison.  The southeasterly course we had picked was not as easy to navigate as our previous route and thus took us several more days to traverse, but didn’t seem to pass through any kobold territory, so at least we were unmolested in that regard.  There were dangers aplenty, though, for with game being plentiful, it meant we also encountered more predators that were none too pleased to have intruders into their territory.  Though mostly your more mundane cougars, wolves, and the like, we did have to deal with another flame-drake that came at us from above.  I must say that for once I was quite pleased to see Ellisar’s Staff of Many Bindings be used, for it made short work of the creature once its ability to fly had been taken from it.

Our luck would not hold, however.  As we neared the region where we were likely to find the next set of standing stones, we began to see signs of humanoid habitation in the form of painted markings upon the rocks, old campfires, bones of harvested game.  The rock paintings indicated orcs, likely one of the many tribes of them that the Heroes had been facing on a semi-regular basis since they had begun their work in the region.  Soon enough we would begin to see cooking fires in the distance indicating a very large population of them.  Thus far, only a scant few tribes have proven themselves the least bit civilized, the Empire’s loyal Badaxe Clan foremost among them, so it was unlikely that these tribes would be willing to entertain outsiders in their lands, especially when said outsiders are likely responsible or killing a great many of their kin.

Thus, we were forced to move with extreme caution, detouring off our planned route for several days, following Shassk and Korvalis as they navigated a route that would avoid the worst of the orcish population.  At least we would gather some useful information about their location and numbers for future use.  Once we had come out of orcish territory, we had to swing back to the northwest, circling the rim of the valley that housed the standing stones for another day before we finally found a passable route down into it.  Thankfully the orcs had not claimed the area for their own, and like the previous stones, the primal energy that lay heavy upon the site had kept them away. 

We completed our next ritual without incident and made haste to clear the area, driving swiftly to the southeast once more in the direction of Vindinium.  Our good fortune would run out as we neared the Thistlewood and Lake Thistlelonica, on the far side from the village.  As we ventured along the upper shore of the lake in search of the river that fed it, and a crossing that would get us to the village, we found ourselves facing a sudden ambush that even our guides had failed to notice, for it was not at all what we had come to expect.

In our haste to return to the village, we had failed to notice the curious nature of the overgrowth in this region, the thick canopy of leafy vines that spread like a green sea over the hills, wood, and shore.  We skirted the mass, not wanting to go through blindly, but the mass of vegetation came alive, swelling and rising up like great leafy serpents.  Our horses were spooked, rearing and dancing wildly at the sudden movement, and Risai, Korvalis, and I were unable to control their wild behavior and were thrown.  As we tried to recover from our misfortune, bruised and dazed from our falls, I heard shouting and chanting in a language that I would later come to recognize as the secret tongue of the Druids.  Walls of thorns sprang up between us and the rest of our party, and the very trees began to come alive against us.  The vines closed in around us as spells filled the air, and try as I might, I could not keep the vines away from me or the others.  Risai’s heavy mace was mostly useless against the vegetation, as were Korvalis’s daggers. 

In my case, the vines swarmed around me in a fury, and as they latched onto me and their secretions began to tingle upon my skin, I realized that they were a form of maidenbane vines, for I grew somehow hornier and lethargic in their grasp, dropping my scimitar as they coiled about me and ripped my clothing away.  I suppose I was the lucky one here, for I was at least somewhat protected from their most erotic probing by Lady Armenia’s chastity gear, though they still found their way to my rear and into my mouth.  Fight as they would, Risai and Korvalis were likewise subdued by the combined strength of the vines themselves and the potency of their poison, leaving them helplessly wrapped in their invasive clutches.

The sounds of battle would fade as the others were forced into a hasty retreat, and through our pleasure-addled daze, we would see the fur- and foliage-covered druids we had not noticed approach us, watching with satisfaction as their vines continued to hold us helpless before them.  Using their magic, they urged the binding maidenbane vines to move, and we were brought deeper into the cover of the Thistlewood, for what purpose I could not imagine in that moment, for I was lost in the pleasure haze, even if the accursed chastity gear prevented me from climaxing, even with the poison coursing through my veins.

#Lore24 – Entry #316 – Fantasy Month IV #11 – The Heroes of Vindinium and the Journey to the Ruins

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos

As it happened, I was back in Vindinium when the heroes returned, sampling some of the local cooking and chatting with one of the town’s hunters about the geography around the town when the call came from one of the watchtowers that the adventuring party had been spotted coming along the road.  I hastily finished my lunch and the conversation and headed toward the westward gate which connected to the road leading deeper into the Wildlands to await their arrival.  I hoped that I wasn’t fidgeting too much, for the cage, plug, piercings had been particularly active today, and my changed anatomy was particularly sensitive and engorged inside its tiny enclosure.  How Lady Armenia expected me to perform in my expected role in surveying these ruins with these distractions remained a mystery.

The party rode through the gates without much in the way of fanfare, rather a series of friendly greetings and waves from friendly villagers and the handful of soldiers on watch duty.  They made their way quickly toward the town’s tavern, the Drunken Hog, without even pausing to clear off the dust from the road.  They had the look of seasoned adventurers about them, their gear worn but well-cared for, sporting a handful of scrapes and bruises that hadn’t yet been healed by their healer, friendly banter between themselves, that sort of thing.  I decided to give them a little time to settled down from their trip before I introduced myself.

After about half an hour, I made my way into the tavern, drawing their eyes immediately as I came inside.  The drakonae with them leaned in, whispering something to the dusk elf arcanist, who nodded affirmatively and whispered something back, and made some quick movements with his fingers, to which the purple-haired dawn elf nodded, flashing a rather hungry grin by way.  As I would come to learn, the drakonae was their scout, going by the name Shassk Darkscale, certainly an apt name given his pitch black scales.  The arcanist was Ellisar Chaeynor, dressed in common explorer’s clothes, his stark white hair tied back in a short tail, bore several charms about his person, along with a pair of wands upon his belt, as well as his staff, which, to my chagrin, was a Staff of Many Bindings.  The dawn elf, a remarkably beautiful man, whom I very nearly assumed a woman at first, had long purple hair, a lascivious smirk, and wore pants so tight that could only marvel at how he fit into them at all given the roundness of his rear and wideness of his hips (a most remarkable feature of his, I must admit); I knew at once he could be trouble, for he was not shy about his attraction toward me.  This was Korvalis Nightrunner.

The two women amongst the party were no less remarkable.  The first had given me a start when I’d first witnessed her riding into town, for she was very nearly the exact opposite of Lady Armenia.  She was a mazoku, named Gresilda Nazaria and bearing the holy symbol of Erisaya, her skin a deep blue color, hair of gold, her horns curling around the sides of her head, her eyes bright amber shade, and upon seeing her out of her armor, she tended to wear white and other brighter colors, if not so fine as what Lady Armenia wore.  The other woman came in a moment later, nearly having to duck to enter from the rear entrance from the stables, for she was well over six-feet tall and possessed of a huge, muscular build and a wild mane of fiery red hair, her tattoos indicating that she was of the barbaric tribes that roamed the northern reaches on the edges of the Empire, though she bore herself as much more civilized than her initial appearance would indicate, her speech decidedly that of a lifelong citizen of the Empire.  This was Risai Morningstar.

I introduced myself and began telling them of my reason for approaching, and they bid me to sit at their table, and we spoke for some time while they enjoyed drink and food, though I did not press them too hard on the details of the ruins they had found.  That we would save for that evening, after they had had time to rest and recover, for they had been invited to dine with Commander Asselin and Lady Armenia to discuss the coming exploration.  They seemed a little suspicious of me, understandably so, for I was indeed an outside among them, but friendly enough, though Shassk and Risai weren’t the most conversational amongst us.

I would have plenty of time to get to know them better on our journey to the ruins.  Following our discussions at dinner that night, they would resupply the following day and set out in the early morning the day after, with myself traveling with them this time.  Thankfully the night before we set out, Lady Armenia removed the accursed plug from me, even if she didn’t remove the other pieces of my “protection”.  She did give me the dildo I had both practiced my oral abilities upon and had used upon me, though, “just in case food is scarce” she said.  I was no less frustrated than I had been, of course, and would be greatly more so once I had experienced riding on horseback with my new anatomy; how men manage to do this at all is beyond me.

With my gear and equipment ready, I joined the party and we set off; the journey to the ruins would take about four days, assuming we didn’t run into any trouble.  In spite of their work so far, there were still plenty of tribals out there looking for blood, as well as a multitude of bandit groups who were still out roaming out there, many disaffected former citizens of the Empire, some supposedly former soldiers who had once fought in the Res’Taringal rebellion and went into exile, others from the elvish-held lands beyond the Wildlands and beyond.  I would learn that there were signs of cult activity in the area as well, for they had encountered at least one instance of a ritual sacrifice in the wilderness, and several people had gone missing from Vindinium.  Worse, perhaps, there was at least one party of adventurers who had come into the region and turned bandit and may be interested in the ruins as well.  No shortage of dangers to be wary of, certainly.

We would encounter a perhaps two dozen orcs, an armed raiding party, during our travels, which, thanks to Shassk’s expertise, we were able to ambush, leaving only the three or four who ran off alive.  There were other dangers along the way as well, for we encountered a pack of rather ravenous wolves, came dangerously close to some giant spiders that had found their way out of a section of woods to hunt, and even a rare fire-breathing drake that had attacked us from the skies, looking for food.  I held my own during these encounters, and though I was hardly as attuned to the surroundings as the rest of the party, I would quickly learn their ways and work with them as we went. 

A severe thunderstorm struck late on the third day, delaying our travel by a day while we waited for it to pass, but soon enough we would arrive at the site of the ruins, and my work would begin.

#Lore24 – Entry #238 – Helica Month #26 – Anonymous

Excerpt from the Journals of Azita Gaji, Explorer of Helica, Seeker of Knowledge, Blessed of Saghirah

I had long suspected that the reason the Ketzeryn language was difficult for the Phyresians to master was not simply their unwillingness to do so, but because it was composed of words and phrases from many separate languages that did not always mesh easily together.  This would prove to be correct, for once I was accepted by the Ketzeryn, I would finally see them without the masks they wore in front of strangers.  The Ketzeryn themselves were composed of several Helican races, most prominently humans of various ancestries, but with significant numbers of Orcs (of which Captain Rojen was a member), Sylvanae who had forsaken or been ejected from their own people, the rarer race of elves known as the Sabaknae (traditionally associated with desert regions), and the exceedingly rare Drakonae, a race whose lineage supposedly can be traced to the ancient and mythical dragons that supposedly formed Helica in times long forgotten.

I would learn that they valued their anonymity, hence them always covering their bodies and faces almost totally, with only the humans tending to reveal any flesh for they were the most accepted by the Church, and hence why they would handle the trade and any interactions, while the others would remain hidden, though the Drakonae rarely ventured away from their many ports and bases, given their smaller numbers.  I would also confirm that they have little care for the One True God, for its policies would see them exterminated without a second thought, though they could not deny its power and sway over the faithful.

Though it would take more time, something of which I had plenty, I would tell them of my history as I grew into their society, and eventually tell them of my need to explore ancient sites.  Once I had become fully a member of their society, I would be allowed to travel to these places, of which they knew many, so that I may search for knowledge long forgotten and forbidden.  It was during this time that I began to drop hints of Saghirah’s truths to them, even finding them receptive to them.  Thus, I began to plant seeds amongst my new people, and thus I would continue my search for the scrolls. 

I would even have the opportunity to visit the partially sunken temple of Saghirah during my shipboard travels, though we did not linger long there.  The Ketzeryn, while not fully understanding the nature of the Amaranths as they are now, know of their power, and give wide berth to their temples.  In the case of Saghirah’s, they have only ever used a single room of her temple for storage of emergency supplies and as a dead drop for relaying information in uncertain times and have never ventured inside.  Though I was deathly curious to visit the Empress’s domain, I resisted my urge to delve deeper, for she had not called upon me, and had yet to provide any clues as to the whereabouts of the next scroll.  I suspect she was giving me the time I needed to build new relationships and learn more of the world now that the chains of Phyresis had been shattered fully, for I was still possessed of her blessing, and still had not aged since I had attained it.

The anonymity of the Ketzeryn would certainly prove a boon in hiding that blessing in the coming years.

#Lore24 – Entry #165 – Wild West Month #13 – The Red Fang Tribe

As told by Kumiko Stalks-Amongst-the-Stars, shaman of the Midnight Panther tribe of Kerra-Kerra

Shameful are the Red Fang tribe, for they bring disgrace to all Kerra-Kerra and disappointment to the Great Mother Saressh.  I do not like to speak of them, for the very words taste foul upon my lips.  Though they are the youngest of the many tribes of Kerra-Kerra, with the spread of the Peoples from Beyond the Great Walls to our lands in recent times, many younger Kerra-Kerra who know not what they do have flocked to their tribe, for they battle those who would seek to take over our lands with their Howling Steel Chariots and Laws.

The Red Fangs are violent and brutal warriors who strike without fear, but also without honor or mercy.  They raid the places claimed by those who come from beyond the Great Walls and steal their cattle and horses and food and weapons.  If the gods and spirits are merciful, they will simply slay those who oppose them.  More often than not, the Red Fangs will butcher the settlers, leaving a clear message to those who would follow, often taking trophies and eating the hearts and organs of those they slay to take their power. 

Their ways are a corruption of the True Way, and they revere the most powerful and dangerous of the Spirits.  They do not follow the beliefs of the Great Mother Saressh, and so are lost to her embrace.  They believe in the cruel, unforgiving nature of the Bitter Frontier itself, that the strong will prosper while the weak shall perish to sustain the strong.  Their totem spirit is that of the great crimson wolf, and it is like a swarm of starving wolves that they sweep in against their enemies.  They often ally with the Orc Peoples of the Frigid North and have taken to raiding the Howling Steel Chariots alongside them.

This has caused much trouble for the Kerra-Kerra, for those from Beyond the Great Walls do not take time to learn of our ways and the markings of our tribes.  Many who come to the Bitter Frontier see one Kerra-Kerra just the same as any other, and the stories of the terrors of the Red Fangs spread much further and much more clearly than those of us who seek to live peacefully as we always have.  And so it has become dangerous for us to come too close to those who come from Beyond the Great Walls without making clear our peaceful intentions, and even then, some may not recognize the Sign of Peace.  More and more of our people are slain out of fear thanks to the Red Fangs, while others are taken captive and held within prisons of stone and steel or forced to labor against their will under the Peoples from Beyond the Great Walls.

Many troubling times lie ahead for our people, and the many peoples of the Broken Cage that Still Imprisons.

#Lore24 – Entry #164 – Wild West Month #12 – Followers of the Sister Goddess Lashana

As told by Kumiko Stalks-Amongst-the-Stars, shaman of the Midnight Panther tribe of Kerra-Kerra

It is told that during the Great Uproar, when the spirits of the world were still angry after they freed themselves and us from the Devil-Wardens, that chaos was everywhere.  Our ancestors who survived this chaos say that during the early days, when the land was still not settled, there were those who sought ways to bring order to the chaos who were not of the Kerra-Kerra.  These were the followers of the Sister Goddess Lashana, so called because she is as a sister to the Great Mother Saressh.

Great Sister Lashana called her people to the far eastern shores, beyond the Great Walls that would stand through the Uproar, and it is there they would gather the survivors who were agreeable to their faith to work together to survive.  To Great Sister Lashana, there must be order, and to have order, there must be laws, and so it is that those who are most faithful to her, the Justicars, try to spread law to the lawless and hunt down those who would break it. 

We rarely see the Justicars in our lands, though as more moons pass, their numbers have grown more common.  With the coming of the Howling Steel Chariots, those who the Justicars seek have spread to our lands, and so too have the Justicars who hunt them.  The Kerra-Kerra people handle those who wrong us in our own ways, though some tribes have taken to capturing the chaos-bringers and turning them over to the Justicars.

For now, we see the Justicars and those who follow the Great Sister Lashana as allies, though in recent times, some have disagreed with the ways of our people, and some no longer recognize that our goddesses are as sisters.  Siblings do squabble at times, so perhaps it is to be that our peoples too will squabble, though we hold no special hatred for them.  In the Lands Beyond the Great Walls, their laws are supreme, and here, we live free.  Freedom is as chaos to some, and so there will always be disagreement.

#Lore24 – Entry #163 – Wild West Month #11 – The Goblin People of the Far Southern Lands Beyond the Peaks that Never Rest

As told by Kumiko Stalks-Amongst-the-Stars, shaman of the Midnight Panther tribe of Kerra-Kerra

While the Orc Peoples of the north are strong and mighty warriors, there is perhaps a greater danger which lies to the far south, beyond the Peaks that Never Rest.  Long have our people told of the Night Goblin People of the Lands Beyond the Peaks that Never Rest, for it is said they are born of the Devil-Wardens’ foul sorcery.  The lost Mountain Bear tribe of Kerra-Kerra, who once roamed the lands around the Peaks that Never Rest, are said to have been taken by these goblins, though we know not what came of them, for any who venture beyond the Peaks never return.

Though none living amongst our people has seen these goblins, it is said by our ancestors that they are possessed by the spirits of the Devil-Wardens, skin the color of night and with eyes that blaze with terrible fire that can see better at night than even those of our tribe.  Using the secret ways of the Devil-Wardens, they travel unseen, unheard in the dead of night, leaving nothing behind in their wake save what they cannot carry, like some terrible dark spirit collecting souls, not a body left behind, and no blood to be found.  If they take them alive, what do they do with them?  Perhaps foul sorcery of their own, perhaps as food or slaves? 

For many moons, the Goblins of the Dark have been kept away by the Peaks that Never Rest, for travel through them is dangerous because of the constant unease of the powerful earth spirits that dwell within them.  In recent times, those from Beyond the Great Walls have placed settlements nearby, and have pushed further and further to the south, going deep into the Peaks that Never Rest in spite of the dangers.  I cannot know for certain if they even are aware of the goblins that lie beyond, but I fear it is only a matter of time before they learn of them; those from Beyond the Great Walls rarely seek wisdom from our people.

#Lore24 – Entry #162 – Wild West Month #10 – The Orc People of the Great Frigid North

As told by Kumiko Stalks-Amongst-the-Stars, shaman of the Midnight Panther tribe of Kerra-Kerra

To the north of the Plains Which Stretch Forever, where trees grow taller and taller, and the winters are harsher than even the worst we have experienced here, where some places are covered in snow and ice throughout the year, this is the region which the tribes of the Orc People have claimed as their domain.  There is much bounty to be had amongst the Frigid Tall Trees, but the dangers there are even greater than the middle regions of the Bitter Frontier that we inhabit.

The Orc People are a strong and powerful people, building strong homes of wood and stone found amongst the rugged and cold forests, and have opened some small parts of their lands to outsiders, in the form of walled cities used for trade and for expeditions into the wilderness, for the outsiders to look for the stones and Black Blood of the Land that they deem so valuable.  However, many of the Orc People have grown mistrustful of outsiders, keeping them out of their sacred territory with axe and bow and Thundering Weapons, leaving behind the mangled corpses of the foolish as warnings to others.  There is said to be a great Orc chief who gathers their tribes together, seeking to drive the outsiders from their lands, perhaps even to take over new lands.

In recent times, the Orc Peoples have begun to travel further south, into the Plains Which Stretch Forever and beyond, for trade and for hunting, but some have taken to attacking the Howling Steel Chariots used by the peoples from the Cities Beyond the Great Walls, for there is much wealth to be taken.  It is these bands of the Orc People that have joined with bands of the Red Fang tribe that have caused much strife for the tribes of the Kerra-Kerra, the Horse Peoples, and for those from Beyond the Great Walls who live within the Bitter Frontier.