Upon a ray of sunlight and murmuring breezes, a serpentine Naga –known to the human world as Stheno– glided through the waters of Greenwood’s only tributary of the Yrendel River. She reveled in the icy waters, her scales well adapted to arctic wastelands and deep oceans. For she was amongst the first-cursed; and queen-progenitor of all water dwelling naga.
But even naga, powerful as they were, could not swim through ice, so she had withdrawn from Sintra, questing for her aquatic daughters in the lands of humanity. These serpentine kin, long exiled by winter’s icy hand, now sought reunion with their beloved cousin Phaedra, who held steadfast in the beleaguered portress of Sintra.
Fins disturbed the water ahead. Like fresh water sharks. Stheno dove beneath the surface of the river. Ahead of her three winged crocodilians approached, undulating their wings to swim through the water. It was strange, but the way they held their wings backwards and bounced them up and down gave them surprising propulsion.
Like crocodiles, they were too stupid to comprehend death.
One flash of her blue gorgon eyes charmed the trio. The beasts halted, closing their maws. Sheathing rows of razor teeth as they succumbed to the witchcraft of her eyes.
A pity, thought Stheno, swimming closer, my eyes paralyzed all three of you at once? I haven’t seen such weak minds in centuries.
Stheno’s four brass hands snapped the necks of the stupefied wyverns, tossing them onto the sailing ship above in the hope that they tasted like their smaller kin, the chicken. After all, these wyverns were halflings, runts, incapable of true flight but able to fly for a few miles, or swim with their webbed feet and paddle tails. A true wyvern wasn’t aquatic, possessing a poison stinger on a whip tail and claws that pierced paladin’s armor. Such creatures were more akin to greater wyrms than these aquatic chicks. Sinuous coils passed below the waves once more, shimmering like forgotten jewels, scales of emerald and sapphire refracting the light in mesmerizing patterns as two naga joined their queen, taking to the water alongside her.
Captain Dorian –the peerless commander of King Aldric’s royal medium cavalry– stood above Stheno, observing her return to war. Behind him a galleon of immense proportions plied the current, the stout vessel laden with precious cargo—foodstuffs to sate the starving city. Salted meats of Curzon, cured to a savory perfection, mingled with honey-cured fruits from the jungles of Vere, each morsel promising succor to the beleaguered citizens. Barrels of aged cheeses, with flavors rich and complex, and jars of preserved vegetables, pickled with care, spoke of feasts long yearned for in a land grown weary of conflict.
As the city of Sintra came into view, the wearied palisade walls told tales of endless assault. Towers, once proud, now bore the scars of relentless siege; gates, once welcoming, now stood with burnt timbers, jagged holes, and splintered foundations, grim sentinels against further onslaughts. Scorched walls and claw marks wider than a man’s arm decorated Sintra’s palisades.
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Had they been wood alone, the city would have died, but stone and earth now coated the walls, sealing ragged breaches in the fortification, compliments of earth magicians. The air hung heavy with the scent of ash, while the cries of seagulls mingled with the distant clamor of the city's eternal struggle. Ballistae twanged, a deeper applause than any crossbow was capable of. And in the far distance, two pairs of eagle’s wings flapped, supporting the recently introduced sky-king, a griffon, busy swooping away with a hellhound in his claws.
Emerging from the river’s embrace, Stheno ascended the banks with effortless elegance. Cheerily waving to Yarrick’s company of Sintran warriors who reciprocated the gesture, well aware of the Naga and pleased to see her return. If only because it meant their watch duties were now halved. Two of her medusan cousins coiled on nearby structures, sunning themselves. Twin gorgons, identical in form yet fraternal in coloration, Thalya –the banana yellow viper– and Theia –green serpent with blood red eyes– greeted her. Their hearts, though burdened by separation, beat with the hope of reunion and Phaedra, who had kept the spirit of Sintra alive through these dark times, awaited them inside the newly constructed town hall. A fortified keep, situated on top of the former town hall. A necessary remodeling after a fire giant mistook the building for a sofa and turned the building into a cheek-print.
With voices raised in a joyous greeting, the royal outriders announced their arrival, leaping from the galleon and shouting for all to hear.
“For Taloc, For Saint Liam!” They cried, overjoyed at returning to the saddle; and the port of Sintra cracked open to admit them.
The Naga led the way, their presence eliciting gasps of reverence from the onlookers. Sintran soldiers –for all men in the city of mercenaries were soldiers of one stripe or another– stepped aside to salute the Naga. For they knew how potent the gorgons were, and owed their lives to the snake-women a dozen times over. While the city’s women and children, gaunt from the perpetual siege, gazed upon the galleon’s bounty with eyes full of new hope.
Within the courtyard of the new citadel of Sintra, Phaedra stood, her rattlesnake figure resilient as stone. Purple tears of joy welled in her eyes as she beheld her ‘cousin’, though in truth Stheno was more like her great-great-great-great aunt, separated by a few thousand years. The Naga queen had returned, glad to have recovered her daughters and seen the human world, yet gladder to be among her fellow gorgons. For humans did not respect gorgons of any morph, except in the lands of Greenwood.
"Phaedra," spoke Stheno, her voice like the clarion call of wedding bells, "Tis a joy to find you well, I’ve come to stand by your side once more. May our daughters find happiness together."
Captain Dorian joined them, saluting Phaedra with his pistol arm and reporting, "Hail Lady Phaedra! We bring sustenance for Sintra, that her strength may endure."
Phaedra embraced them with her palms, her heart swelling with thunderous joy. The Naga and the outriders, together, symbolized a renewed hope for Sintra, not just in holding the line, but pushing out into the larger barony and retaking lost lands.
And so, within the walls of the city, preparations began. The savory meats were simmered in rich broths, the honeyed fruits shared amongst the children, and the aged cheese, with its robust flavor, brought smiles to the faces of the weary. The feast that followed was not merely of sustenance, but of spirit, rekindling the fire of hope within every soul.
Thus, under the twilight sky, amidst the flickering light of countless torches, the city of Sintra found solace in unity, strengthened by the return of the Naga and the promise of brighter days ahead.
Except for Jenkins, who was smothered in ledgers he wished were ladies.