Branching paths

Amif, Umbra and Vrikk

Branching paths

“They were fools not to take our offer, these woods claim lives” said Amif. The squat dour man ended his assessment staring at his two companions, daring a contradiction. Nature had seen fit to compliment his lack of height with an egregious amount of facial hair the upkeep of which had evidently lapsed recently.

“Foolish? I wonder about that, the bare-footed one Bloodbane is a soldier. She would have fought against your provinces military Amif” the voice came from an older man leaning heavily on a gnarled wooden stick. In comparison to his cohorts Vrikk had taken great pains to keep his person unsoiled by their various trails and misfortunes.

“Bad times for most of our people,” the final member chimed in. Umbra, a tall imposing woman paused from chopping firewood with her battle axe. “I liked the other one, the suspicious Slyvet. Maybe we should have offered them help to find Kovac?”

Turning his back instead of answering Amif went over the contents of their haul. He shivered involuntarily at the large spider corpse, dead and butchered it still scared him. Flashes of claustrophobia, endless skittering and gut-wrenching sickness from the spiders’ venom assaulted him. He closed the bag. Two corpses and a satchel filled with their damned eyes and mandibles, all they had managed to claim while fighting a retreat out of the tunnels. It would have to be enough for the Spoked Wheel.

Vrikk shook his head, “We still have a journey ahead of us and we have suffered our own loses. Those remains will not keep and we need proof to join.”

“Whatever took their friend must be a monster, killing monsters and protecting people isn’t that why we are joining in the first place?” Umbra had picked up her axe again, the splintering of wood punctuating her argument.

Studying Amif’s back Vrikk waited patiently for the Allitans opinion, when none was given he answered, “It is already dark looking for them now would be unwise. We can all make our decision in the morning. I met Kovac briefly in town and I believe it would be a loss to the community of Avrig if she didn’t return.”

“Kill the fire, I don’t want whatever took Kovac to come for us,” was all Amif said before disappearing into his bedroll.

Last Watch

Ash Kovac

Last Watch

              Ash Kovac

The woman sat exhausted, back to the crackling fire-pit, eyes searching the darkness where the wolves had appeared. Dagger gripped tight she went over the recent events, looking for her mistake.

 Thanks to the noise from the clever rangers spell they hadn’t been caught completely off guard.

The hunting traps served their purpose, hurting and immobilizing at least one.

The ranger and her wrestled against three snarling forest wolves. Each group jostling for a better position against the other. The creatures were emaciated, thinner than Ash had ever seen.

The wild one held her own against one wolf but predictably two more soon appeared. Another hidden hunting trap, metal jaws snapped finding prey.

Enough. Shaking her head, she drove her dagger into the base of the stump. The wolves had been dangerous but her companions were more than equal to the task.

Her mistake was the small folk. The child-like fey of the stealing variety. She should have known better.

But they were normally so timid, cautious of larger groups. She took precautions when travelling through Godsgrave forest alone but not with a group of three.

Another crack as she drove the dagger in, splintering.

Fey folk got in her tent with the Green Harbor supplies, druid saw them but was too late. They used thier magic to disappear out the back of the tent.

Her mistake. Now they would have to chase them down.

Remembering her rations were among the supplies stolen she looked over at the two remaining wolf carcasses. The wolves were desperate enough to drag two of their fallen number, food for the pack.

With renewed purpose she wrenched the dagger free and went to work attempting to carve what meat she could from the grisly remains.

Nhrmya: What Went wrong?

Professor J.S Movia

Chapter 3 The Stifling

Understanding Nhrmya’s sound defeat at the hands of our great province is impossible without first understanding Henryk Blackblood, hero to some, monster to many and druid king of Nhrmya once upon a time. My fellow esteemed Allitan scholars have compiled their own biographical research, place of birth, family and the like. I have included them in later chapters of this book, with their permission of course.

This chapter will focus on a singular aspect of the legend and the greatest mystery attached to Blackblood. The Stifling, as it has come to be called. 

As my learned readers are no doubt familiar with the singular ability of some Nhrmyains to transform into were-creatures I will not bore you with those details. Needless to say, this transformation held great social as well as military value defining most if not all of their culture. Henryk as far as records can be found came from a powerful house famous for its link with the impressive nhrmyain forest wolves. Henryk himself was able to shift.

Somewhere in the early five-hundreds we first find mention of Nhrmyains unable to shift. By five hundred and ten no children are able to transform. By five hundred and twenty the last adults lose their ability to transform. There is wide-spread panic and suspicion. Accusations fly wildly and all turn towards their druidic leaders. They in turn send runners far and wide, begging for aid or any answers. It is thanks to transcripts taken by our ancestor scholars that we have such a detailed picture of the chaos.

Five more years go by, prayers to the Wilds in all its aspects go unanswered. Nhrmya loses faith in their leaders the high-druids in Casima the lonely city, are desperate. Then enters Henryk Blackblood. Member of a powerful house and while the accounts vary from this point, telling after telling adding embellishment and dramatic flair, the core remains the same. Henryk arrived in Casima and in front of all the gathered leaders transformed into his werewolf form and let loose a howl that shook the foundations of the mountain. The people saw salvation, a chosen one, however some of the…

pg.93

Ash Kovac I

Ash Kovac I

The man gives you a hard look before answering, “Kovac? Yeah, she’s good people. Willing to help out when some fool foreigner gets lost in the woods. Or when some local fools, like my boy and his friends get the bright idea to spy on the forest creatures.”

A group of children hiding badly behind the open-door start whispering, pushing and shoving furiously. Finally, a small girl with dirty brown hair is pushed out.

Glaring at her traitors and not making eye-contact with the old man she speaks up, “We only wanted to see some little folk, we thought they would live at the river you know? Wash their little clothes. But we didn’t see them, just some mean looking wolves on the other side. I wasn’t scared, Jess got scared. Jess is stupid”

The girl looks back inside the house with a satisfied smirk. Whoever Jess was apparently would not come out and defend their honor. She continues, “Stupid Jess tried to run up the banks too quickly and some stones gave out from under him.”

Instead of narrating the rest the young girl acts out an elaborate falling motion with much flailing arms and then with an impressive splashing sound she collapses on the porch.

The old man barks, “That’s enough of that, stop teasing your brother. Get back inside.” Despite the harsh voice you notice the old man is barely able to conceal a smile.

“She was amazing, she saved Jess from the river and the wolves.” The girl yells out before disappearing inside and shutting the door behind her.

“Ash Kovack is good people, Agriv is lucky to count her as one of its own. Bad business what happened to her folks but anyway what did you want with her again?”

Movements

Movements

The half-hearted drizzle soaked both man and horse in equal measure. The unsympathetic dampness leaking through their leathers made for a miserable journey across the old border. They were the first part of an Allita company assigned to Henryks Copse. Two soldiers, Maso and Nicia, talked to pass the time on this dreary journey.  

Maso: I heard they bringing back anyone who fought in the Wounds.

Nicia: Makes sense, we all know how bad that got. Let them rest, see their families.

Maso: Yeah, sounds like a right nice thing for the Empress to do.

Nicia: What?

Maso: What?

Nicia: Please, enlighten me with your latest theory about our betters.

Maso: All am saying is its only been couple years. An if we supposed to go in and keep the peace, rule them, help them or whatever our orders. Our people that been here the longest would be most qualified. Right?

Nicia: Those are also the people that butchered men, woman and children in their homes.

A soldier just a little ahead of them who had been eavesdropping, more out of boredom than interest immediately spoke up.

“It was war, they killed our Emperor and his beloved son unprovoked. Assassins cowards, wolf monsters. The Empress only wanted those beasts found and killed. Nhrmya should have helped us instead of hiding and siding with them.”

Maso (Shrugging): You heard the man, Nicia.

Nicia: I heard him.

A few moments pass in silence,

Maso: So, what do you make of them being animal cursed. Half-rabbit humans and all that?

Nicia (Rolling her eyes): I do not believe rabbits are one of the were-forms nhrmyains are capable off.

Maso: Hmmm, what about were-squirrels?

Godsgrave, Avrig

Godsgrave, Avrig

Avrig is a small lumber settlement east of Casima. Like any good nhrmyain settlement the people kept to themselves and where suspicious of everyone else. They cut wood, they hunted and they traded with the bigger towns for the few things they could not make themselves.

Avrig was exceptional in only two ways, a geographical fact and a rumor no doubt influenced by the former. The people of Avrig lived closer than any other nhrmyian to Godsgrave canyon. Separated only by the thick dense woods they chopped daily. The gorge was a massive rent in the ground stretching for miles. Standing at the edge of the chasm people swore they could see all the way down to the abyss. On the rare occasion that the lumberjacks joked, they liked to say “Each swing of the axe is one step closer to the grave.”

The rumor is that Green Harbor is located on the edges of Godsgrave and that through Avrig many supplies are delivered.

If you ask the officials from the ruling Allita Province, they say Green Harbor doesn’t exist and if it did there would be no need for it.

If you ask the young of Avrig, they say it’s a safe place for shifters of any kind even wolves. But if you ask any of the older denizens you are encouraged to get on with your business then leave. Folktales about the gorge itself are much easier to coax out from the locals. Though the sheer number and variations do little for clarity. Some believe it is where the first god fell to human armies, or to another god or where it sacrificed itself to save humans. Most determinedly believe large packs of wolf shifters retreated there when their leader Henryk Blackblood was killed. Though whether they survived depends on who you ask.

Eaten out of house and home II

Eaten out of house and home II

            It was not finding the door to the hallway underneath the carpet that threw Yorick. Though he was nursing a bruised ankle from the fall.

It was not the walls packed with upturned fresh earth instead of the admittedly horrible faded red wallpaper. After failing at acting it had been grave-digging he took up next, a less demanding audience with no critical reviews. He was no stranger to dirt.

It was in fact the glowing, crackling barrier made of yellow and green light that blocked his way to the parlor that did it. Using a chair as a shield he slowly advanced on the abnormality. The barrier sparked, the heat radiating from it rising exponentially the closer he stepped.

At the last minute he lost his nerve. No point in starting a fire. Setting the chair down Yorick pondered the turn of events. He eyed his front door, maybe the monsters had found him but this seemed beyond their scope. The creatures at Southside cemetery were cannibalistic, scavengers feeding on the newly interred. His shovel or the handgun gifted to him usually fended them off. Maybe I should just leave. Getting up Yorick headed for the front door, he would stay at the church tonight and come back in the morning with someone. That seemed smart.  

Then he heard the noises, yelling, fighting? It was difficult to interpret through the constant static of the barrier distorting everything. But he was sure, he heard something, someone call out. “Shit,” he began searching the once familiar now unsettling house for something to break the barrier.

Eaten out of house and home I

Eaten out of house and home I

    This house is too big, Yorick thought to himself, not for the first time. Creaking and groaning came from the attic at the smallest breeze, the heating system was archaic and he loathed to venture down to the basement to feed the furnace in winter. The parlor for all the fond memories it held, now stood silent and disused. All that considered, it beat living at the Southside Church by heaps. More importantly the monsters hadn’t found him here, yet.

He slumped forward pushing piles of yellowed papers, files and damaged photos into further disarray almost tipping over the cup of cold coffee for a fourth time that night. This was his favorite room in the house, after most cast parties he and the old proprietor would come up and debate the theater, art and the meaning of life which she strongly contended was theater.

If the old woman was in a particularly good mood or sufficiently drunk, she would acquiesce to his requests and perform her beloved soliloquies. To this day he couldn’t place some of the productions or writers though she swore she had performed every single one of them.

Deciding to call it a night, he pulled himself up, knocking over a different stack of papers. “Shit,” police reports from a friend. Strange goings on, disappearances and most of interest to him, animal attacks. Bending over, fumbling to get them up he noticed a dense fog seeping up through the floorboards. Smoke? Fire? He panicked but couldn’t detect the familiar smell of burning. It was spreading rapidly, almost covering the entire floor. Better check downstairs, standing up and cautiously stepping through the mist he reached out for the door, a door he realized that wasn’t there anymore.