I’m going to cut through all the bullshit, Patreiya. Here’s all you need to know about her.
The Stone Mother is the Matriarch of the People of Stone, a collective of people who live below the tall mountain ranges of Triestwald, and who live in their underground city of ‘Earthen-Home’.
There are no records of her existence whatsoever in the last millennia or so, so it is assumed that she is a Deified Entity, her status brought about by the fervent worship of whatever was down below in these rocky mountains.
Her Elements are that of Earth, Nature, Community, and Family. As I am sure you are aware, there are only three other known Deified Entities that have Abstract Elements. Elements like Community and Family are not very well-known in terms of the Divine abilities that come from her status, so this is a perfect opportunity for us to delve deep and learn as much as we can.
I will have a chance to speak with her soon, where I will ask her many questions ranging from how she came to be to what her goals are for the future.
Should she grow to become a threat to Triestwald, I will send a missive to the Church posthaste.
Otherwise, she and her people are to be left alone. My orders are not to be ignored.
I hope this reaches you well, Commander-General.
~ Signed, Brache, Her Majesty’s Royal Servant, Grand Keeper of Knowledge
~ An intercepted message, stolen from a heavily-guarded carriage that was heading to the city of Triestwald
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Quiet-Leaf
Stone Ogre, Male, Berserker
Location: Inside his bedroom, in the Earthen-Home
A lone voice whistles a tune, cutting through the hustle and bustle of the underground city, a man by the winding riverbed being the cause of the melody. The water runs its course through Earthen-Home, adding a sort of gentleness to the rather sombre song.
It seems the coursing river and the man will be Quiet-Leaf’s music for the night.
He sticks his head out of the window that was carved into the stone wall of his home, looking directly down his stalagmite and at the constantly busy street he’s lived on for the last four years.
It’s incredibly lively, with all types of people chatting and bantering with one another, one orcish man bowled over with laughter as his goblin companion regales him of a story that Quiet-Leaf couldn’t quite parse through the many voices, only getting little tidbits that compared someone to a donkey’s donkey.
He doesn’t get it. But, to be fair, he doesn’t think he would get it even if someone did explain it to him. The Common language is just far too stupid for someone like himself.
Heh, let’s see them try to speak in my language. They’d be worse than babies!
With an amused grin, Quiet-leaf looks up from the orc and the goblin, looking ahead from his window.
Luxberry lanterns crisscross through wires attached to his stalagmite home, giving the stony floor and the folks below a warm glow. Rowdy groups of people of all races and types greet one another as they pass one another, talking to one another about the happenings of their lives. Vendors of all types hawk their wares to the passersby, their items for sale ranging from unique perfumes made from the bounty of the forest to the simplest and yet most delicious street food Quiet-Leaf’s ever had the opportunity to taste.
That meat and mushroom skewer was about as delicious as it was cheap, and that is to say that it was extremely delicious. He could even smell it now as he closed his eyes and sniffed the air, the aroma far too distinct to even be mistaken for something else.
He stops himself from going down the stairs that wind down and around his stalagmite home and buying a single skewer. Unfortunately, he’s already had his fill back in the tavern with his friends. Having one more nibble would probably cause him to vomit it all up, and Mum said never to waste good food.
He finally opens his eyes, the sights of Earthen-Home returning to the fore as a kid runs around excitedly through the crowd, following a fairy that flutters through the air.
The atmosphere perfectly encapsulates the exact feeling that this home of theirs provides to him. Warmth. Joy. All of that wishy-washy feelings nonsense that his Mum ingrained in him as a young kid.
It’s a beautiful sight, though; those weren’t common at all, he’s realised. There have only been two places through his long and arduous decade-long journey that he’d call a beautiful sight, so he’s eternally grateful that he’s been welcomed to the fold. And eternally grateful to the Stone Mother, of course — may the Earth bless her.
His eyes linger on the people down below, flitting from one person to the next.
The older human gentleman sitting by the river’s embankment — the one that was whistling earlier — swinging his head from side to side against the beat of the sorrowful melody; an incredibly energetic gnomish woman who he’s seen around every now and then, sitting still and quietly amongst a copse of trees, staring out into the stars above them through the massive holes that offer light for the forest; the many children that circle one particular elder as he tells them all stories, the kids entranced by the man’s storytelling.
Truth be told, Quiet-Leaf had listened to the man once before, and he was probably more into it back then than the kids are right now.
He chuckles to himself, his head still feeling a bit buzzed from all the drinking, as he peers down below at the elder, angling his ear towards the wise old man to better hear whatever story he was telling the kids. Unfortunately, even with his ear basically pointed at the old man, he still couldn’t make out what he was saying as his voice was hushed and most likely preparing to get into the juicy bits of the story.
Quiet-Leaf ponders for a moment and considers.
Fuck it, why not?
He rushes out of his stony abode, leaning against the wall so as to not fall as he makes his way down the carved stairway, making a beeline for the vendor with his pouch of coins in hand.
It clinks with every step, the many silvers moving about as he descends.
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Majesh, The Wanderer
Human, Male, Monk of the Earth
Location: Standing away from the streets and on the grass, near the forest
“For as you see, children,” Majesh continued, the story finally getting to the reveal, “He was no mere sheep at all, but a trickster! A wolf in sheep’s clothing!”
He turned around suddenly and stomps his left foot forward, a large crop of grassy earth below him rising out of the ground and collecting into the visage of a wolf with its teeth bared, the grass flattening itself in such a way that it became more like the fur of a ferocious wolf.
(Majesh) has casted: [Earth Manipulation: Breath of Life (Wolf)]
[Wolf]’s autonomy level set at: Controlled {MP Cost reduced by 50%}
The children all expressed surprise, shock, and wonder at the abrupt appearance, save for one boy who looked to be bored out of his mind.
Majesh didn’t really mind that child’s reaction, for there is no such thing as a universally liked experience. To each their own, as the saying went.
He kneels suddenly, punching the ground with his palm open, the wolf suddenly taking off and snarling as it neared one of the girls that he knew was very interested in the earthly animal.
The young girl’s eyes went wide, fumbling backward and off the log she was sitting on, as her breathing became more rapid.
He worried for a moment, thinking that he had misjudged the child and that she was instead not very keen on the sudden approach of the earthly wolf.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
But that was, indeed, just for a moment.
The young girl pushes herself back off the ground, her wide eyes, staring at the now-still snarling wolf. She apprehensively closes the distance between her and the wolf.
She pats the wolf’s head.
With a smile, Majesh pulls his forward foot back to him on the grass in a slithering pattern. The wolf’s aggression deflated, the wolf leaning into the girl’s touch and appreciating the pets that came its way.
The other kids, seeing the opportunity arise, stood up from their seats and converged on the animal, supplying their own affections to the earthly being. Even the kid that seemed uninterested was a bit curious, poking at the wagging tail of the wolf.
Majesh chuckled to himself as he lets it happen. The story is now admittedly a bit distanced from the original work, for there was certainly no petting of the villain mentioned anywhere, but this version is much, much better in his opinion.
He motions once again with more sweeping movements, the earth being carved where his feet graced the grass, the wolf lying on its back and freely accepting the onslaught of belly rubs that came its way.
The earth began to shake, heavy footsteps coming from the direction of the street.
Then came the heavenly smell.
“I got skewers for all you’se!” a voice rumbled loudly from behind, the footsteps getting closer.
Majesh turned around, seeing the gentle giant approaching, his hands filled with a bounty of meat and mushroom skewers to feed the children thrice over.
The ruckus that arose from the children was as cheerful as it was loud, one by one standing from where they sat beside the wolf and taking from the generous ogre, thanking Quiet-Leaf as they took two skewers each.
Quiet-Leaf noticed Majesh staring. “Want one too, sir? They’re good-good.” He reached out with his large, meaty arms, nodding for him to take some.
Majesh looked at the children, double-checking to see that each one of them got their own share, before taking only a single skewer for himself. “Your generosity is most kind, Quiet-Leaf,” he said, “The children are very appreciative of your gesture, and so am I. You are what every person should strive to be.” He turned to face the children, raising his voice slightly. “Please, children, give thanks to Uncle Quiet-Leaf once more!”
All of the children thanked him once again in some form or manner, somehow managing to sound cohesive and yet also incredibly disorganised. The large Berserker grinned sheepishly, deflecting the well-deserved thanks and acting as if his actions didn’t mean much.
Majesh looked at the ogre with a tinge of sadness.
Quiet-Leaf never told him much of his story, handing out tidbits of his upbringing only when it was only them two sat by the river, but Majesh knew when someone felt undeserving of love.
Yet, the ogre still tried, constantly making an effort to appease anyone and everyone in some way or another. Majesh once came across the large ogre losing at a game of cards with a few of the people here in this city, trying his damnedest to try and play without truly understanding how to win.
The number of times he’d lost that day was innumerable.
But when Quiet-Leaf saw the smiles of the people he was playing with and the money they’d returned to him for being such a good sport despite his many losses, he smiled deeply, thanking the other players for being so patient with him regardless of his “dimwittedness”.
Majesh wonders if Quiet-Leaf truly believes he is not smart, because to Majesh, Quiet-Leaf is one of the few people who were truly smart.
— Smart enough to know that deep in their hearts, love is the only thing that matters. Love is the only thing that will outlast anything, through thick and thin, through pain and sorrow.
“Excuse me, sir?”
Majesh is taken out of his thoughts, raising his head to look up at the ogre, the large man pulling skewered meat and mushrooms simultaneously from three skewers with his teeth and chewing loudly before rumbling once more.
“Can you tell story again?” Quiet-Leaf asked, chewing through a mouthful of food, “It can be new story so kids no get bored.”
“Of course, Quiet-Leaf, of course! Sit down and make yourself comfortable.”
The Berserker trodded along and sat beside the wolf, offering a single skewer to it.
Majesh, feeling the yearning pull of the wolf towards the delicious food, decided to let it roam free.
He clapped three times and stomped the ground once more.
[Wolf]’s autonomy level set at: Wild {MP Cost increased to 100%}
The wolf swatted at the ogre’s arm gently, lowering it down for it to gnaw on the skewer without issue as it rested on its stomach.
Majesh quickly finished his own skewer with practised skill and chugged from his waterskin, preparing to tell one more story for his hungry audience.
The Wanderer could only hope and pray that it is as captivating to them as that skewer was.
He loudly cleared his throat, everyone’s attention turning to face him once more.
“Once upon a time...“
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Grimm
Location: In the middle of the Shifting Trees on the Dungeon’s 2nd Floor, The Flourishing Forest
Grimm and Angel walked along the forest floor, venturing deeper and deeper through the dense greenery that surrounded them, rays of sunlight shining down through the canopy. Angel’s fur was wet from the river, the Huntress cleaned herself free of the dreadful muck that was on her from two floors ago.
He looks behind himself at the many masked people that surround the Mausoleum entrance, holding tightly onto their candles and quietly praying amongst themselves. Their voices were hushed — incredibly so — that Grimm had trouble hearing what they were saying.
But it’s not his place to pry into other people’s business, is it?
Turning around and continuing forward, both he and Angel came across a winding river. It was a pretty thing, the waters looking pure enough despite their slightly brownish colour; no doubt caused by the silt and the smooth stones that make up the entirety of the river’s bed. Pockets of algae grew on the stones, little fishes nibbling at the algae as it swayed with the water’s course.
Off to their side, Grimm could hear movement. With bated breath, both he and Angel stood still.
A bear makes its presence known, appearing out of the shrubs right beside them. Two cubs followed behind, playing with one another as their mother drank from the river.
However, it seemed that both he and Angel were paid no mind, the family of bears not even turning to face them despite the clear line of sight between them. Grimm would’ve thought that seeing a skeleton man and a dog would be cause for concern for a mother bear and her cubs, but that seems to perhaps be an incorrect assumption.
He looks down at his hands. All bone. No flesh nor skin nor ligaments to speak of.
It’s odd to him how coming face to face with something that could’ve killed an average man with no issue was what finally made him come to his senses, but he presumes it’s got to do with it outright ignoring him. He’s not sure whether the mother bear considers him just not worth the effort, or sees him as incapable of doing anything against her or her babies, or if he’s just invisible to her, but no matter the reality of it, the pain still stung.
He’d known that something was off the moment he awoke in the Graveyard, but he couldn’t quite pin it down. Even as he looked down at his now-skeletal body the moment he came to consciousness, it didn’t really click.
Perhaps he was in denial the entire time?
I really am dead, aren’t I? he thought, a pang of emotion flaring in his soul as he tries to come to terms with the realisation.
Angel bumps her nose gently against his hand, the pup looking worried, her ears drooped down.
It is not good for him to make such a pup worry about him. He will have to keep that in mind for the future, lest he let his troubled musings take over once again. He can contemplate it later when he’s alone.
“It’s okay. I am fine, young pup,” he lied, turning away from the pup, “Just thinking about the mother bear and where she came from, that’s all.”
Angel didn’t seem to buy any of it, bumping her nose once more against his hand, this time less gentle, her worried expression not faltering in even the slightest.
No wonder you’re a Huntress, he thought, cheering up a bit. You’ve some keen senses, young lady!
“Alright, alright, I’ll stop thinking about things. I don’t want you nudging into me forever.” He pets Angel’s head, the sweet girl accepting his relenting and leaning into the pets.
With a heavy sigh, Grimm let the atmosphere of the forest wash over him. The smell of the earth below his feet, the sound of the river, the many birds that tweet and call, the beautiful and angelic singing that comes from further downstream, the two cubs roughhousing with one another.
It was, in the simplest terms, incredibly pleasant. He would’ve loved to live in a place like this after he came back from the—
He paused.
Hold on just a moment. Singing? From downstream?
Grimm turned to Angel. “Do you hear that, girl? That singing?” He points in the direction of the voice, the Huntress quickly turning to where he pointed.
She didn’t seem to hear anything, turning back to face him with her head tilted to the side, her expression looking confused.
“Huh... That’s weird,” he said, “I swear I can hear singing downstream...” He scratches the top of his head, the robe’s hood rubbing against his skull.
He wished the Dungeon Core would be more forgiving with all of the Floors’ information. The Putrid Cesspit was not fun whatsoever; he was mindlessly trudging through the entire thing with no direction, being stuck there for hours. Poor Angel had to place her paws over his shoulder as he walked, the mighty Huntress incapable of swimming. Thankfully, he didn’t need to breathe. Not that he would’ve wanted to breathe in the rank smell of the wastewater and refuse they were subject to for hours on end.
Silver linings of being dead, I guess.
Whatever this singing was, it isn’t going to lead to anything good, he was sure of that much at least.
He turns around and goes upstream instead, walking past the trio of bears, the giant beasts not paying any attention to him, nor Angel who follows behind him.
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Milly Geoffreys
Human, Female, Bookkeeper
Location: Inside her best friend’s home, sat on a table across her best friend
“Soooo…” Jemma began, idly tapping against her own teacup, “Your dad’s alive? Like, alive alive?”
Milly runs her hand through her tousled hair, her left hand getting caught in a knot. She tsks in annoyance.
She didn’t get much sleep last night, refusing to even close her eyes for longer than a minute on the small chance that her dad came back in her sleep. The wooden coin is still there with her and residing in her pocket, the engraving of her and her parents still present.
It didn’t disappear, thank the Divines.
Frederick was as surprised as she was when she’d shown him the coin, her husband noticing that the older woman on the side of the coin embracing Milly looked exactly like her mother the last time they saw each other.
“That could just be a coincidence, my love, that could be anyone!” he said last night before he went to sleep. “Just go to sleep, okay? We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay? And I’m sorry for shouting at you back then, I’m just—” He breathed in deeply. “Sorry, my dear...”
Idiot husband...
“Yes!” Milly finally responded, irritably sighing to herself as she leaned back in her chair, “Didn’t you see the engraving on the coin, Jemma?”
“I did see it, I did.” Jemma puts on a face, thinking hard as she looked down at the table unfocused. “But, like, that doesn’t mean that it was him him, y’know? It could’ve—”
Milly stood up from her chair suddenly.
“I’m going.”
She paces out of Jemma’s home, walking outside and immediately heading towards the northern end of the Triestwald Mountain Ranges, ignoring Jemma’s outcries from behind her. She’ll walk down and along the mountainside, walking even further until she comes across that cave her dad’s grave told her to go to.
Milly knows that there are some people living in the caves. Stone people, if she remembers correctly. There’s no way they’d not keep the surrounding area clear of monsters that roam the woods...
— She stops in her steps as something kicks at her tummy.
Usually, she’d be happy at the prodding kicks of her child, but right now they’re holding her back.
Her conscience knows that going into those woods alone is such a stupid idea. A severe lapse in judgment. If anything happened to her child...
She doesn’t even want to imagine it.
But that just pisses her off even more.
The baby kicks once more. “Fucking hell...” Milly said quietly to herself, gently laying her arms against her tummy to feel the kicking.
She hopes that her child doesn’t pick up on her potty mouth. She’s not the best role model, truth be told.
She turns around and walks back to Jemma’s home, her best friend looking all too pissed at her, visibly furious at her for even walking in the direction of the mountains.
Definitely not the best role model. She rubs her stomach once more. Don’t be like Mama, okay, honey?