In a raspy, choked voice their Dread Lord spoke. “I am alive again.” It was half a statement of fact, and half a question and exclamation of disbelief. A slave ran forward with a cup of water in hand and proffered it to their lord. Their lord took the cup and stared at its contents for a few tense moments before he downed it in a single gulp and handed the cup back to the slave.
After another second or two of marveling at his new body, their lord’s attention moved to the crowd that surrounded him. His voice, now clear as hammer falls reached them all, powerful as the day he died. “I. Your Dread Lord, have arisen as I had promised! I have fought my way through the hosts of the Fallen, and found my way home again!” He raised his hands to accentuate the point and the crowd all around them cheered, roared, yelled, or in the case of the slaves cried with pleasure and ecstasy at the very sound of their master's voice. “Where,” Lord Marcus began as he looked around the room. “Is my Steward?” All of the people surrounding him looked on in silence. Finally, the Creature spoke.
“He was foolish enough to use the sword himself, my lord. Attempted to take your power for his own.” Lord Marcus looked at the Creature for a few seconds, then reached out and grabbed an errant finger that had lodged itself in a fold near the Creatures face.
“You’re telling me he insisted on doing the testing himself? The fool should have trusted I would return, it was as sure a thing as nightfall or daybreak and the spell explicitly requires such a sacrifice if I am to be brought back.” The Creature only nodded, as its master inspected and then tossed the loose finger of The Valley’s once-great Steward to the floor.
As the crowd rejoiced, and Dread Lord Marcus was surrounded by loving admirers, well-wishers, and sycophants who had all bowed and scraped to the steward’s power, the Creature relished the fact that all of its hard work in protecting the sword had finally paid off. Soon, creatures of the dark; necromancers, liches, occultists, and far far worse, would rise from the slumber that they had entered into when their master had died. The long sleep was over, and the Dark Court’s minions would arise in all the diverse parts of the world once again.
For a brief moment only, the Creature allowed itself to feel its true emotions, and think its true thoughts. It reveled in the fact that its plan was halfway to completion, and soon it would be free.
---
Far to the south, a seemingly young woman awoke. Stripped of her mind due to the cost of the sleeping spell she had cast nearly a hundred years ago, she began the bloody work of reclaiming her home, then her power, and finally her mind.
Prologue 2: The Gods
“… Since it is so likely that [children] will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage. Otherwise, you are making their destiny not brighter but darker.” - C.S. Lewis
Ethria, Sawtooth Mountain Range, Time Unknown, Date Unknown.
Kiertoss, goddess of the Pervolins watched as the last full-blooded Pervolin died. Had she been the same goddess as she was when the Wars of Purity had begun some thousands of years ago, she would have wept bitterly. Now? The small pang of grief at the passing of the last of the true-blooded Pervolins was more of an echo in the cold numbness that was her soul.
Korvus, her counterpart and once lover stood opposite Kiertoss, to her eyes he was nothing but an impotent imp, filled with rage and barely capable of coherent thought. It had not always been so, but as her people had been forced into war after war, and Korvus lead them into defeat after defeat, her once-lover had grown brutal, angry, and vengeful when once he was wise, gentle, and just.
As the imp raged at the dying of the elderly Pervolin who had snapped his own neck tripping on ice, climbing one of the Sawtooth Mountains in a desperate attempt to reach a tribe of his lesser, mutated brethren, Kiertoss pondered their fate. Kiertoss had given the poor elderly fool the idea some weeks ago, hoping that the introduction of the pure line into the lesser might mitigate some of the genetic degradation they had experienced. That, and she had hoped that the elderly hermit might have reintroduced the tribe of neolithic Pervolin’s to the worship of their patron god and goddess, but that was now for naught.
The lesser lines of the Pervolin species were numerous, and almost all stupid. The best of them little more than simpletons, the worst, beasts of burden. Those few lines that were intelligent were brutally evil or devoid of conscience all together, they would never invite their once gods to watch over them, and neither would Kiertoss or even Korvus in his fallen state, have anything to do with them. She had once worried that Korvus might have become mindless enough to enter the worst of the lesser beings service, but so far he showed enough of his older self to avoid that fate.
Kiertoss thought about all of the lesser beings she and Korvus now watched over. Some of the tribes had found new gods and goddesses to worship, beings who belonged to the land, or who had found and claimed the lessers by conquest or ritual. In fact, almost all of the ones who seemed capable of at least some thought, rudimentary tool use for instance, already had patrons. Most that was left to her and Korvus were the bestial lines, the ones who were little more than the animals whose flesh they fed upon uncooked, and unclean.
Their futures seemed bleak to Kiertoss. Her and Korvus would shepherd the most promising tribes and hope that perhaps, just perhaps, they could influence them enough that they might grow into some semblance of intelligence again. Then from there, they could rebuild their civilization. They had done so once, they could do it again. That would take millennia however, thousands of lonely, dull, wasted, and tragic years. What would they, and their gods, become in that time? Kiertoss had no idea.
“Feel that?” Korvus asked in his raspy, childish voice, as he went from raving to standing stone still and calm.
An odd behavior for him , Kiertoss thought as she watched him. He was now standing perfectly still, looking far to the south, as if seeing through both the stone and storm that now surrounded them.
“A tug, a single string in a weave that is old, tattered, and about to break, being pulled by feeble hands...” His words, seemingly filled with insight so similar to the old Korvus that Kiertoss had known long ago, had stunned her. Shaking herself mentally, she closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to feel what Korvus felt through the icy numbness wrapped around her heart, but she couldn’t.
Shaking her head Kiertoss said “I don’t feel anything. Perhaps we should go and see too our charges? If we begin work now, it might only take a few thousand years…”
“No,” Korvus said, a bit of the impotent, raging child coming back into his voice. “We need to follow that tug!” he stomped his foot to emphasize the point, ruining Kiertoss’s image of him once more.
“Fine then, I will indulge this,” Kiertoss said, impatience clear in her voice. “But if this turns out to be nothing, then we get right to work. Deal?” She extended her hand to Korvus, and the little god shook it.
-----
The two weakened gods stood outside a human town that seemed on the verge of violence. The air was tense with anger, frustration, and fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the other. Fear and pain of betrayal. “What are we doing here Korvus?” Kiertoss asked as their ethereal selves walked unseen into the settlement. “This is a human town, none of them even know we even exist let alone worship us…” The smaller god of law, wisdom, and war raised a hand to silence his younger, and yet somehow bafflingly taller counterpart.
“Watch” was all he said, as the large doors to the town's chapel to their human god of the sun opened and two crowds of people exited walking opposite each other. On one side stood many of the working class individuals of the town, the smith, barber, tradesmen, and their families. On the other side stood what looked primarily like farmers and herdsmen, those who had fewer of the finer things in life. “Look at them, read their descriptions. Or have you lost that power?”
Scowling, Kiertoss did as he asked and took a careful look at the humans on both sides of the street. She first looked
at one of the tradesmen and read their description as they appeared to her.
Name: Jonathan Pickle
Race: Human
Class: Smith - Lv 11
Heritage: Southern Marches, Guilds-family
Kiertoss scowled “they’re just normal humans. Nothing special about them that connects them to us.” She said to Korvus, unable to keep the petulance she felt out of her tone.
“Look at the others” Korvus demanded as he gestured to the other side of the street and the larger, poorer group that had formed there. Kiertoss, wanting to roll her eyes at her supposed elders instruction, did as he bid, choosing a younger child from the crowd.
Name: Amber Lee Schredrich
Race: Human
Class: Under level 10
Heritage: Southern Marches, From The Earth, Pervolin Bloodline (NOTE: recently uncovered, this person has a -1 modifier to all immaterial characteristic based checks for the next 3 hours due to the undermining of what they thought was their ingrained identity).
Kiertoss gasped. “They… They… They’re…”
“They are ours.” Korvus said, a smile as large as the distant mountains they had just come from plastered on his face.
Kiertoss’s attention returned to the space between the two crowds, where a man sheathed in heavy plate armor stood, hammer leaning against his leg as he read from an unfurled parchment.
“...Decree of the Arch-bishop of the Summer Halls in Tri-water acting as regent of the crown, all people found with any heritages or bloodlines not native to this plane are deemed unworthy of living in Tor, and are henceforth banished from the kingdom.” The large knight rolled up the parchment before he spoke again, this time addressing the farmers side of the village directly. “All those found with Pervolin Bloodline Heritages have three days to pack their belongings, and prepare to leave the kingdom.”
A murmur of fear swept through the crowd on both sides of the street. “Consider yourselves lucky you live so close to the borderlands. The filth in the center of the kingdom are having a much harder time of it then you all are.” Said a tiny man dressed in a brown robe from behind the knight. The knight raised a hand to quiet the little bald-headed man, who went silent at the gesture. The knight looked almost apologetic.
“I can extend that to three weeks as long as you are all working towards leaving. However, I will be at your disposal if any of you need assistance preparing for the journey.” The knight threw the parchment he had read from into a mud puddle in front of him. “Though the Arch-bishop has decided that you are not worthy of living here, the Emperor does not necessarily agree. Once he regains his health, or once his son attains the throne, I am sure things will change.”
“Don’t count on it,” came the voice of a tiny brown-robed man directly behind the knight. “The Arch-bishop knows the dangers of impure bloodlines, and allowing outsider filth to mingle with humans. It's unnatural, dangerous, and must be put to an end.”
“Oh please, friar,” said the knight, derision dripping from every word. “None of these people slept with, whatever the hell a Pervolin is, let alone demons or other outsiders. You know just as well as the rest of us, that most people have a little of one bloodline or another in their past, even if it's not enough to count as a heritage.”
“Dominus, the God of Truth and Purity, does not want filth in his kingdom!” The small man nearly screamed, voice cracking on the last word.
“And there it is.” Korvus said to Kiertoss, “Their current deity forsakes them. All of them.” He said with relish. “Shall we sister?”
Kiertoss shook her head, “I don’t think so Korvus. It might be a bad idea to let the Church of this Dominus know that we laid claim to them. It might spark another war of purity here and now.” Kiertoss thought about what to do, as Korvus nodded assent. “But, I do have an idea.” Korvus grinned, and unable to help herself Kiertoss did too.
The ice she felt deep inside her soul, began to heat up one or two degrees. As it did, she felt the tugs from this village, but also others. Kiertoss looked at Korvus, and an understanding that they would be visiting each of these tiny tethers passed between them. The scale of her plans was just amplified a hundredfold. They were going to need some help, and she knew just how to get it.
Chapter 1: The Beginning
“No other success in life can compensate for failure in the home.” - David O. McKay
Earth, United States, Utah. April 3rd, 2056
I stood across the battlefield, dead and dying warriors festooned the ground around me as I watched my brother, the traitor, prepare the last of his troops. “Brother! Why? We were so close to victory!” I yelled, my voice echoing over the groans and cries of the still dying around us. The battle had been hard-fought, yet victory had been at hand when half our forces turned against our true cause. What was left of my forces stood in straight ranks behind me, their blue and yellow banners tattered from the fierce fighting. My brothers' forces stood behind him, black and red and bloodied and bruised just as badly as my own.
“Because Daniel, this was…” I didn’t let him finish, I charged across the distance between us, blinking the last few feet directly in front of him and thrusting my sword deep into his belly. He laughed, a sound that sent shivers up my spine before the shadow clone puffed into smoke and disappeared.
“Where are you, Donny!”
“Here!” I turned my head skyward the direction I heard his voice. The sun blinded me as I raised my shield to block whatever strike my once loyal brother had prepared for me. My arm shook and thunder cracked across the field of the dead as his spear crashed against my shield. The force of the blow sent me to one knee, but undeterred, I brought my right arm forward in a classic attack designed to disembowel my newly minted opponent. “Close one!” He laughed and dashed back, as I took to both feet.
“Well, no matter,” I said shaking my shield arm of the numbness that had spread through it at the impact of my brothers skyward spear attack. “I will finish you here, and now. Then? I will take the fortress alone!” I yelled, pointing towards the dark fortress formed out of blackened steel and obsidian stone in the distance. Donny laughed again, as six identical clones appeared around him, walking out of his original body as if they were simply stepping out of their homes and onto the street. They all grinned at me.
I lifted my sword and shield, banging them together. The clones and my brother's eyes went red with rage as the taunting magic in my weapons affected their minds. An angry opponent is a foolish opponent, I thought as I watched the seven images of my brother dart towards me, spears gleaming in the sunlight and smoke. I threw my sword at the lead image, impaling it and turning it to smoke with a crackling of electricity from another enchantment embedded in the weapon. I summoned it back to my hand, and it flew through the air until it arrived just as the second clone came within striking distance.
I parried the clones spear thrust and stepped in close, shield bashing the constructs face stunning it, before using its body as a shield against the next clone. I sidestepped both of the smoky creatures and ended their brief existences with a flick of my wrist and the turning of my blade. Smoke briefly rose from where their heads had been before their bodies dissipated.
“Got you!” One of my brothers' clones yelled as it leaped on my back. I activated a defensive enchantment in my breastplate then, sending a shocking pulse of electrical energy into the clone as it touched me, stunning it for just a moment. I turned, knocked it prone with another shield bash, but before I could finish it off another clone struck me in the back sending me sprawling. My armor held, and retaliated against the clone with a harsh electrical discharge turning it back into smoke, but I was sent stumbling forward, off-balance.
My brother struck then from my left, I barely had time to raise my shield to defend my vitals. The spear struck with such force, it sent me sprawling to the ground a few feet away and sent my vision to swimming as the spear ricochet off my shield and into my unprotected head. “You really should
have worn that helmet, Daniel.” Donny taunted me. “Has an enchantment designed to prevent stuns.” He said as he walked over, standing over me. My vision was clearing, but slowly, far too slowly for me to do anything about what was going to happen next.
All three remaining images of my brother, his true form and his two remaining clones, stood over me grinning the same exact surfer dude grin that he always wore when he got what he wanted. “Well, see ya later bro.” With that, Donny and his two clones all raised their spears and struck down. I felt the spear points enter my body, before everything was engulfed in fire, and then blackness.
---
I emerged from the pod royally pissed off. I grabbed my clothes and went into the changing room, which was really just a small walk-in closet with a stool, that my family had off to the side of the gaming room that held our families three pods. Not many people could afford fully immersive gaming pods like these for personal use, in truth neither could we, but my mother had been lucky when she found a rather spectacular coupon for the things years ago in Western Women's Magazine.
The coupons were meant for pod arcades as a boost to the market to help get it going, but somehow whatever advertisement package the game pod manufacturers had purchased had also included ads and coupons in random magazines like the one my mother read religiously, Western Womans. And so, we had the opportunity to take advantage of the “buy one get three free” deal that the coupons advertised, as well as the ability to purchase the first of the pods at cost.
Ethria- the Pioneer Page 2