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Some Secrets Elude Even You; Caeles finds himself drawn to the wastes once again, perhaps this time the reason will reveal itself
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Topic Started: Dec 4 2013, 07:39 PM (98 Views)
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Pandasaur
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Dec 4 2013, 07:39 PM
Post #1
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- Prolog
- Caeles Terrestris
Find me when the northern winds pine for blood Find me when the calls of my fathers echo in your halls Find me there, buried beneath the ancient line of hallowed fields, Find me, and you will know the truth of my cries. - Excerpt from Garoth Tribal Songs, translated by Valterrian Solaris
It may be spring, but that means little north of the Icewall. While the tundra may not be entirely covered in snow, there's still enough to bury most men, but the lack of Garoth activity makes it at least passable. Most of the southern tribes have collected for a great meeting of chieftains, a herald of ill tidings. With the loss of the 7th Legion, Garoth Warlords have been able to consolidate their forces for the first time in over half a millennia and all desire blood. The Imperium has left a punitive force to guard the northern passages in their arrogance, not understanding what Anaraxis once knew. Ignore the tribes to your own peril. Still, not all is negative, as with the freedom of movement, Caeles and his faithful friend Sebastian were able to locate an ancient fortress belonging to the 7th Legion, long since abandoned and ransacked by barbarians. Despite his partial omniscience, the secrets of this place go beyond Caelas' understanding.
101 A.A., Garoth Southlands, Ignitus' Fortress
"Ah!" Sebastian squawked and scrambled into the snow bank. He set his back against his make-shift cover then slowly looked around the side to the disturbance. There, where he stood, was a small fluff ball of white fur. Oh. The Toaran sighed and stood. He brushed the snow off of the grey, shaggy cloak around his shoulders and tightened the hood around his head. "Shoo!" He waved a hand at the little creature - something akin to the otters of the East Bank of Corith, the thing had giant, black eyes, a cute button nose, and whiskers. It was too cute. "Shoo shoo!" He took another few steps forward and the creature flopped over on its back and tilted its head to the side. Sebastian sighed and stepped around it, leaning over to recollect the kindling he was out to collect. The little animal followed his motions. He shifted through the snow, picking out the small sticks, much to the delight of his new companion. It opened its mouth and issued a squeaking "kewh."
"I don't have food!" Sebastian lied. He glared at the adorable fluff ball and shoved the sticky ration sack into his cloak. He stared. The ball stared back. A cold wind blew over the tundra, fluttering the man's cloak out behind him.
"Kweh!"
"AH! Go away!"
The man hoisted himself up and scurried away, his boots crunch-thumping their way through the snow. Behind him the shuffling of a surprisingly quick fluff ball followed. He jogged then. It kept up. He ran. It followed. Sebastion raced past the old legion marker totem. He passed under the natural bridge of the flanking valley, its walls coated in ice and carrying the light of the mid-day sun. Further ahead lay a cauldron of stone. He turned down the hill, caught his foot on a rock and flipped over himself. He landed on his backside and tumbled, head over shoulder, down the slick, snow-covered slope. One hit, two, five, he continued to plummet for a few moments before he hit the bottom, his face dead-planting into the ground. From behind he heard the skitter of snow and a light slide of shifting snow. He opened an eye and found the creature sitting next to his face.
"Kweh!"
"Really."
Sebastian shook his head and turned over. He pushed up, sat, and went about recollecting the kindling. Again. He raised his gaze to the spectacle ahead, to the massive, stone structure that rivaled any great castle to the south. Fifty feet of high walls, all within an icy-coated enclosure, the only gate in held two iron portcullises and two houses on either side that could fit a hundred soldiers each. The buildings within were themselves massive, with high towers that stood over the cauldron, four-stories of a keep clad with the black, white, and gold of the 7th Legion, ancient banners of Anaraxis that still fluttered in the northern winds. The courtyard was a small village, or what was left of it. Still-pitched tents, barracks, homes and shops all inside those towering walls, now filled with holes and worse with ware and decay. Half the stone was worn down to the base. The weak foundations fell ages ago. The once great fortress was a ruin now, devoid of life.
With his unwitting friend in tow, the disciple made his way through the yard. He passed by and through the old smithy, its kiln dead now, the tables littered with debris; a hiltless legion gladius, rusted hammers, half repaired loricas. Even in the state it was in the blade would no doubt fetch a fortune on the black markets. He stepped through the back door and crossed by the well and into the kitchens of the keep proper, making his way over the stoves and discarded cutlery. The bloody place was a damnable city once. Once through the halls, Sebastion paused at the small, flickering fire inside an old study. A horde of rotted shelves decorated the interior. Books were scattered all about, some too old to read, but others were in prime condition; held together as they were by divinity seals. There were desks all about, most shattered or broken in some way.
"I see you got it started on your own." Sebastian sighed and tossed the kindling near door. The fuzzy creature followed him into the room and ran over to the sticks, where it proceeded to chomp down on one. Oh.
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Debo
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Dec 4 2013, 09:11 PM
Post #2
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Caelis sat arched over a pristine book one white gloved hand going over each and every glorious letter of knowledge while the other went to work copying it down with perfect accuracy. If it wasn’t for the thick black hair peeking out from under his toboggan he would have appeared as an old sage but instead simply settled for wayward vagabond. He had found the most stable desk and sat on his pack without a hint of being inconvenienced. A less fortunate desk sat beside him, already smoldering and giving off a dim light and slight heat.
“Quarreling with a kwable like common rabble. Dear, Sebastian you have fallen from the top shelf and into the scrap pile.” Caelis gave a light chuckle as he want about his writing, tapping pen to paper and back to ink well. “Give the wretch some water before it eats all the tinder. They are good omens to keep and terrible to ignore.” He went about uninterrupted in his work. “Remember to follow protocol, use gloves, separate volumes by language then dialect.”
The air about Caelis rarely changed. He was driven by knowledge, curiosity; a hidden purpose that no one whoever met him could seem to put a finger on. In truth this adventure in particular was brought on over a passing conversation with an Imperium scout. All it took was the mere mention that the barbarians had ransacked everything but the library to peak his interest. Here now, despite the cold was a gem, a place not even that halfwit Solaris braved. 7th Legion fortress ruins were the treasure troves of the North for those who knew how to unlock them and since most of the Garosh tribe tended to not put much stock in Imperial writing the study was virtually untouched beyond the rigors of time.
“Get a rejuvenating sleep tonight as well. On the morrow we ascend the battlements to collect some banners and rubbings. No telling how much longer these walls will stay standing.” The sound of writing continued uninterrupted and no one time did the man raise an eye to his companion.
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Pandasaur
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Dec 6 2013, 05:22 PM
Post #3
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- Prlog
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"Language, then dialect. Right." Sebastian turned to his gear pile and fished about, producing his waterflask and a small frying pan. He poured out some of the liquid. The kwable paused, spun about, then stuck its little black nose in the air, its nostrils flaring twice before it scampered over to the water. The disciple watched with his head tilted to one side. He stuck his hand out and stroked the soft, white fur on the creature's back as it lapped up the offering. How strange.
Most of the books here were copies. Tactical exercises, logistical studies, histories, and anthropological data, a vast portion of the material focused around the Garoth tribes and their northern cousins, the Wild Tribes that inhabited the darker places of the world. It appeared that General Ignitus valued the age old adage "know thine enemy," as several of the Garoth reports are layered with notes by his own hand. Fortunately, a majority of the collected writings were preserved by Keeping Seals; typical runes that accompanied Anaraxian book keeping.
While Sebastian fiddled about with his duties the kwable continued to follow him about. Although it was no longer chasing the sticks, the fuzzy creature was now darting around the Taorin's legs, kwehing and batting at the occasional strike. The noise was somewhat distracting, but the spectacle more than made up for the silliness.
Additional Information [Study I] While parsing through Songs and Silence: A Study of Garoth Culture through Music and Ritual, Ignitus appears to have marked a particular passage under the translation of "Harrigan's Lament," a local legend around the area in which his Fortress was built. The note reads:
"I have concluded that the lines beginning with 'find me' are not so much lyric as they are instruction. We know Harrigan was a real person, but my Garoth adviser is either unwilling or unfamiliar enough with the lore to aid me. The northern winds may refer to the howling that occurs within this very cauldron, a phenomenon that accompanies the Blood Moon of the Garoth Lunaius Cycle. The only halls here are my own and there are no records or evidence of any inhabiting civilization - could Harrigan have been an oracle? I will have to send an inquiry to the Cynosian emissary."
Additional Information [Secrets of Eternity I] Harrigan Helcleaver was a tribal heretic. She practiced the Dark Arts of Witchcraft and enslaved a large portion of the Garoth Southlands. She was defeated by the combined efforts of Destana Silwen, a 7th Legion Sage-Knight, and Vulgur Tyir'dagun, a Garoth Warlord in 405 A.R. (Anaraxian Reign)
The Lunaius Cycle refers to the waning and waxing moon that dictates the local tribal calendars. A Blood Moon occurs every thirty days on the 15th day of each new cycle, when the moon is full and is visibly red, a phenomenon only visible from the Northern Wastes.
Gariant Ignitus was promoted to Divine Warlord of the 7th Legion at 20 years of age. Not for his battlefield prowess or tactical mind, but his logistical and architectural brilliance. Most of the structures that housed the 7th Legion were constructed by Ignitus and many are still standing.
Additional Information [Logic I] It seems that if Ignitus wrote in the books here he wouldn't have done it inside the public study. No doubt he possessed a private solar within the main keep. Perhaps he would have kept his current readings - along with more recent notes - where they would be close.
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Debo
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Dec 8 2013, 03:48 AM
Post #4
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“I wonder if he ever found her,” Caelis spoke aloud as he read but to no one in particular. His left hand cupped his chin as he leaned back and stared into some far off place. “I wonder if anyone ever did.” The man continued to mumble to himself. He knew the song well, even the least versed Garothi scholars did but this was the first time he had ever be posited with the fact the folk song may actually be a literal command. Even more so it was hard to dismiss the theory outright simply because of where it came from. If ever there were and Anaraxian sage worth listening to it would have been Ignitus.
Caelis dropped his pen and let go of his chin bursting at once into a light song in Garosh. “Find me when the northern winds pine for blood,” he stopped, switching at once to Anaraxan. “Lunaius Blood Moon, yes.” The next line followed once again in Garosh, “Find me when the calls of my fathers’ echo in your halls.” Caelis nodded to himself and replied once more in Anaraxan, “If there is indeed an audible wind in this cursed ruin then perhaps this has salt.”
Caelis jolted up from his position grabbing his walking stick in hand and turning with a flourish to face Sebastian. “Sleep and organization can wait. We make for the main keep to find the private quarters of the former Divine Warlord.” Caelis stopped in his tracks and stared at his companion with a queer look on his face. “Where did you get the kwable?”
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