The first thing taught to all children of the North beneath the jagged, gloomy walls of Dhaugruz – never strode alone on the treacherous paths of the Vesgeriath Woodland. With centuries passed, the settlers and refugees swiftly learned the woodland itself was inhabited by trickster spirits of nature and finality who enjoyed calling the people into the endless mazes of the woodland, rarely allowing escape to the fooled adventurers.
Only those earned return, escape from the woodland who prayed for either the guidance of the old deossos, or those who bowed down onto their knees, pleading the spirits, offering to expand their trickery by trading the souls of others for their own. Strangely or not, the latter rarely produced the intended results, many of them cowards now still wandered the haunted lands of the Vesgeriath Woodland. Even after they earned their freedom by lacking compunction.
One such wandered of distant lands visiting the woodland was a niuvhen maiden whose name had been forcefully forgotten. Her vices ranged from minor twist of married men and women of the settlements to major ones including beckoning inept parties of adventurers into the crooked hands of the wicked fey of the woodland per their bargain.
For hundreds of years she eluded her accursed, inescapable fate of wandering the forest without the hope of rest. Hundreds of years, thousands of souls which then led to an army of the dead unleashed against the pursuing legions of the Empire just as the hordes of slaved gained entrance to the frozen womb of Dhaugruz.
Her foolishness revealed itself on that distant day seven hundred years ago, when the faux possibility of escape reared its fangs to her and as one of the largest battles at the time in the north unfolded, she tried to make haste to the warmer south yet as she stepped out from the gate of Theisibrar, fleshy roots burst forth the snow blanketed road, wrapped around her well-honed delicate form and dragged her deep into the bowels of the earth, her shrieks still heard to this day according to some foolish bards.
Though some say she still got away free of punishments as the wicked fay whom was her contractor resides in a small metallic box of the Empire, their freedom forever taken away by decree of the Emperor.
For this reason, her pale specter wandered the woodland aimlessly for centuries, hunting unfortunate souls who strayed from the blessed paths or sought glory where only death awaited. Through centuries long hunt of the living, she slowly stepped onto the stairs of accursed ascension, gaining the title of one of the Damned Lords of the Woodland.
While proud citizens, adventurers, magusos and brave warriors of the Empire stayed on the blessed paths, many other sought to stray into the decaying wilds of the woodland their aims varied in myriad ways.
Those who practiced the arts of calling the dead, taking their grudges upon them to gain their services sought her dreaded court in the heart of the woodland. Most put much on their self-believed silver tongue only to end up as one of her silent servitors.
Those from the Host of Dusk on the other end showed great respect to the avaricious specter, bringing hundreds of gifts comprised from baubles of arkhaine nature fueling her long desired ascension, slaves collected from the former kingdom felled many years after her death who now served as her loyal hounds.
And then there came out of nowhere the strange visitor on the twenty-sixth day of the Dawn Father’s month, draped in mostly black. At first, she believed this visitor were one of the mysterious scholarly race of aetherkiin, a race who long since ascended beyond their mortal coil after peering into fathomless mind of the Almodo – at least that’s what the tales told of the ancient aethereal race.
The visitor showed no fear or respect as she glided across the ruined fane serving as her court. Contrary, when she peered under His hood, the bottomless vicious darkness instilled an existential fear which brought her on the doorstep of delirium – a feat she thought was impossible after the day earth swallowed her.
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Yet this reaper of a tall figure came not to take her to her eternal rest, but to offer a greater ascension than the one she worked for centuries. He held his long arm out ending in a pitch black hand of elongated clawed fingers and she took it without hesitation.
A crooked smile bent onto her lips bleeding a dark mist revealing her rotten, asymmetrically arrayed teeth and a long pointed tongue wriggling as she felt excitement at the vision shown to her of a band of white armored warriors and a small bulky fellow of the mountains with hair and beard already white as the snow.
The golden eyed young man drew her attention, and the anger she felt for the one who got away rose up from the abyss of her tainted soul. Without any further words needed, she took the dark visitor’s offer.
**
“It has been some time.” Gna said as he fastened the belt of his oval shield, fixing it to his back in a series of clangs. Their little group consisted of Ulrich, Eadwald, Azugh, Aelfsigior, Priernuss, the elderly Hevaeck, Ashnan and young maiden Lioba converging at the small northern gate of Vonschneithar.
Surrounding them their loved ones brought heavy satchels which they aided onto their belts before offering a hopeful embrace, in some cases accompanied by single streams of tears along their cheeks. Even Mirdbruil couldn’t stifle the worry ailing her heart as she gazed upon the proud forms of her dear husband and second child almost grown fully to a man.
“Do not worry my love, I shall keep an eye on him like before, like always.” Ulrich said with a soothing tone as her arms pushed the metallic plate hugging his chest tighter onto his body.
She leaned away for a moment and as the two’s lips locked onto each other, Amiriniel and Eadwald looked away shyly while Sigiwaer stared taking in every little detail before he too looked away feeling awkwardly. “I know that, but do not forget about watching out to yourself too.”
Ulrich chuckled a little then slightly turned towards the others. “That is why I keep them close.”
“I shall watch his back.” Priernuss who finished saying goodbye to many maidens whom he wooed the past few months chided in with a hearty chuckle of his own.
“Thank you Priernuss!” Priernuss bowed as if he was showing respect to some royalty. “Naturally. Now I’ll leave you to continue your tearful farewells.”
Before he could turn away Sigi asked him with a greedily childish tone to bring a bauble from the road to which he answered with another, now playful bow. “Don’t you want me to bring something too?” Ulrich asked feeling a bit envious.
Sigi shook his head and answered simply. “Just bring yourself.” Then he leapt into his father’s neck with a little maghiath aid taught by his elderly uncle Aelfsigior. Ulrich was left speechless, and he himself teared up at the heartfelt gesture as he hugged him tightly.
“I agree. Though if either of you see some maghiath tome, that would be nice too.” Amiriniel said feeling a bit of guilt before she too embraced her father in a warm hug.
“Watch out too brother.” Following the end of his farewells, Eadwald followed as he kneeled down into the frozen mud as he embraced his two siblings one at a time. “I shall, and thanks to your gift I am confident we shall return in no time.” He said while placing the crude amulet hewn from stone by Sigi’s little hands over the rustling collection of medals bearing the marks of the One and the Eight.
“Fear not as the Almodo offers his protection to all his children – especially those who carry his blessed seed.” Hevaeck watching the tearful goodbyes unfolding all around him said to all. Sigi’s blessed eye buzzed as he stared at the elderly dwarf speaking, weaving unseen particles of mana into each word, into each sonance created by him out of sheer kindness.
He watched excitedly as each hidden rune brimming with arkhaine power floated towards the onlookers including himself and buried into his and their chests banishing the lingering shadows of doubt and worry, reborning them into the radiance of hope and certainty of their loved one's return.
Just like in their hearts, the tears of worry phased into tears of hope, and everyone reached one last time for their departing loved ones. With some final whispers, they stood back and watched as the group of armored settlers and the elderly vicar parted from the vast village courtyard.
Sigiwaer clutched onto the soft skirt of his mother, then just like everyone else, raised his small hand and waved at the back of his dear father and brother as they were slowly swallowed by the terrifyingly picturesque landscape of endless woodland of Vesgeriath.