Chapter 25

Returning to Coastall afforded the party a much needed break. While of course the treehouse was quickly becoming a home away from home. There was something to be said of good food and the sanctuary of the city to put a troubled mind at ease. They decided to take it easy on their first day back and enjoyed a quiet evening in their rooms at the Golden Dew.

In the morning, Riakon and Errrkkkk practically dragged him to the arena in the hopes of getting a fight. Instead, they came across a series of banners and signs advertising The Coastall Arena Champions Tournament. Errrkkkk read the sign and was buzzing with anticipation. He immediately began rolling his shoulders and limbering up. Which lasted until Roden read the rest of the signs and saw the tournament wasn’t to be held for another month.

At the urging of Errrkkkk and Riakon, Roden went to the window and got them signed up for the Tournament in the team section. Roden had a funny feeling about this whole situation. Something wasn’t quite right with the timing of everything. He had already been feeling like events weren’t progressing just as they had during the campaign he had run before, but now he was sure they were off track.

That tournament was originally held pretty quickly after the gathering. A whole slew of consequences flew through his mind. All he could do was hope things would be okay in the long run. Looking at his team and remembering all they had done already gave him confidence they could handle whatever this world threw at them.

“We should get a fight for some practice, cacaw.”

“That does sound good, brother.”

“That does pose a bit of a conundrum though.”

“What do you mean, cacaw?”

“Think about it, a lot of the adventurers here are signing up for the tournament, right?”

The two nodded in agreement.

“If they are signing up, we may have to fight them at some point. If they’ve seen us fight, they can figure out our strengths and weaknesses.”

“You have a point.”

“Ca, caw.” Errrkkkk said dejected.

“Don’t be too sad, we have plenty of time to do some training.”

Both Errrkkkk and Riakon perked up a bit at Roden’s idea.

“I suppose the question is, where?” Riakon said thoughtfully.

After a moment of thinking both men looked at Roden expectantly

“Why are you guys looking at me like that?’

“This is your city, cacaw. Where can we go, cacaw?”

Fuck, his damn backstory coming back to haunt him again, he thought. He put his mind to the problem and let the memories come as they may. Whether fortunately or unfortunately a perfect place came to mind. It had a wide open space, away from buildings, and it wouldn’t be too big of a deal if they damaged the area a little. The problem was that the place was his mother’s house.

The home he grew up in as Roden. He had been putting this off as long as possible. He figured being around family would be the hardest thing for him to fake. He was thankful he hadn’t included any other close relationships in his backstory or that would have further complicated the situation. Part of his trepidation was the vagueness of the memories of his mother.

It was strange, he remembered moments of her presence in Roden’s life as a child, but he couldn’t narrow his perspective down enough to say he truly remembered the woman. He figured now was as good of a time as any.

With a big sigh he said, “Yeah I know a place. I think it's time I take you guys home.”

His companions' eyes opened wide at his admission.

“Oh how fun, we get to meet the woman who managed to catch master Rolen, cacaw.”

“What is your mother’s name?”

“Her name is Lady Miriana of Coastall. Priestess of Zamira.” He let his words hang in the air. He knew they knew what that meant. His mother was a priestess of the Goddess of Storms and Death. The Goddess who was in some ways the antithesis to Era the Goddess of the Sun, Travelers and Nature.

In the mythos and teachings from the churches, Zamira was the younger more impulsive deity compared to Era’s more mature considerate demeanor. Zamira’s storms would block out the sun or prevent travel. In some versions of the stories, Era was Zamira’s aunt through Era’s sister, Mirohna, the Goddess of the Seasons and Life.

“The Goddess of Death, huh?”

“Yeah…It’s not as macabre as it sounds.” Roden said meekly.

“How in the world did Master Rolen fall for…”

“Watch it. That’s my mother you’re talking about.” Roden found himself saying a bit sternly.

Riakon raised his hands in defense “Okay okay, no judgment.”

“Yeah brother, I’m sure she’s a nice lady, cacaw.”

“Just… Keep an open mind. It’s going to be an interesting experience for everyone involved.” Roden said sheepishly.

There was a pause in the conversation as they left the Arena lobby and set out on a trek across the city of Coastall. It was an interesting experience for Roden, as soon as he put his mind to the task of going home, he knew exactly how to get there.

It was like remembering something he had forgotten, yet never knew. Memories of his mother’s teachings bubbled up to the surface of his mind. By Roden’s memory, the clergy of Zamira did their best to shine a positive light on their goddess’ domains.

They would tell stories of Zamira conjuring up storms to guide ships through harsh seas caused by her father Dezu the God of Waves and Rage. They would play up the idea that as the Goddess of Death she was a gentle hand that consoled the spirit of a recently departed before sending them to the afterlife.

Unfortunately, all of their positive propaganda was never enough to completely remove the stigma of her more malevolent aspects. In a society that relied on sailing the sea, storms were a serious problem that killed many and cost merchants their fortunes when ships sank or went missing.

As a Goddess of Death, she took the blame for nearly all death, regardless of the circumstance. He could remember his mother saying that many religious scholars believe it is these incongruities in reverence and scorn that have prevented Zamira from manifesting in an avatar. All of the people of Mir would at least pay lip service to the malevolently portrayed deities, but none of them were celebrated in the same way as their counterparts.

His mother would always use the examples from the Dark Times. Like when Era had manifested after the defeat of the Lich Orvell and blessed King Roderick the First for banishing the darkness and allowing her light to shine on her people once again. Her manifestation was legendary and made her a prominent figure in the new kingdom’s religious practice.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

During the Dark Times, those who worshiped Byote the God of the Hunt, reported stories of him manifesting and leading them on glorious hunts through the Wilds against Orvell’s minions.

The followers of Aur the God of Magic and Knowledge had their religious libraries hallowed and sealed, preserving their contents for future generations. Zamira had no such stories. The only account of Zamira revolved around her birth, which was said to have caused treacherous shifts in weather and vast floods.

The myths are so old even the oldest elves were not alive to witness the events, but it was a tragic tale as her father had tricked her mother. The most commonly told origin was that Dezu told Mirohna he was just a God of the Sea and courted her by taking her on many adventures across the waves. It wasn’t until Mirohna was pregnant that Dezu’s embodiment of rage came to light.

When Mirohna saw how Dezu punished those under his dominion, she knew he had lied. Things get fuzzy around there, but the consensus is that Dezu stole Zamira and raised her away from her mother. Some believe Mirohna created fall and winter as a way to call out to her daughter, but no stories are told of them reuniting.

Most non-followers believe the story as a sign Zamira had nothing good to offer the living. Roden knew all of this when he revealed his mother’s status as a priestess to his friends. Their faces told him they also knew at least some of it.

“So what exactly were you guys taught about the Goddess Zamira at the temple?”

“Hmmmm now that I think about it. Not much really. She’s the Goddess of Death, what more do you need to know?”

“We learned she isn’t as good as Era, cacaw.”

Roden gave Errrkkkk a flat look.

Errrkkkk’s eyes narrowed “She can’t be that great, you didn’t join her clergy, cacaw.”

“Yeah what the fuck is up with that? That is your mother’s goddess and all.”

Fuck, is the only thought that crossed his mind. Roden hadn’t really come up with a reason for that when he wrote the backstory. He cursed himself for not thinking through the implications of choosing a rival God as his object of worship. He had to come up with something fast.

“Oh, well I mainly wanted to get out of the city and travel the world a bit. Most of the pilgrims are from Era’s church, plus I had the connection through my dad so I just rolled with it.”

“I bet mommy wasn’t happy about that.”

Roden had a feeling this was one of those rare moments where he could shape what has yet to be. Just like in Adventures and Antics, there were times when something from a character’s backstory was never quite set in stone. It was the beauty of improvisation.

If this were a game he might lean more towards a choice here that generated some conflict or made the upcoming interaction more interesting, but this wasn’t a game right now. He didn’t want any more conflict. It was bad enough they were making a detour that never happened.

“Oh she was a little disappointed, but she understood my reasons. I think she was just happy I went into the church.”

He led his companions along the harbor and up the hills that dominated the eastern portion of Coastall. Many wealthy families built their houses on the east side of Coastall specifically so they could place their home on top of one of the many hills. The first few miles were made up of homes built into the sides of the mounds in a sort of condo style that maximized the living space.

Past all of those were the hilltop homes. Roden took his friends up a path that led along the edge of a cliff that overlooked the Southern Sea. About halfway up the climb, Roden caught sight of his childhood home. Moments like that always gave him a sense of Deja vu and nostalgia. The two feelings would conflict with one another like water and oil before they would inevitably morph into a feeling of familiarity usually followed by flashes of memories from his backstory.

His mother’s home was more beautiful than he remembered. It was built among a small grove of trees his father had planted when he began its construction. It was nearly all wood, and done in a style reminiscent of some old Japanese buildings with its high peaked roofs and sliding doors. The structure had multiple sections that stood on thick wooden beams above gardens or patios.

“Well now we know why Roden’s treehouse looks the way it does, cacaw.”

Roden had to admit, Errrkkkk was right. The house before them looked like a much larger, more spacious version of his conjured treehouse. The estate itself was littered with colorful plants and walkways. Once on the same level as the building they could see the various bridges that extended from balcony to tree to cliffside.

The landscape was immaculately maintained, which only added to the truly stunning view of the sea from their vantage atop the hill. Roden’s instincts told him his mother would most likely be around back of the house at the shine to Zamira.

When the party rounded the side of the house, they could all see a woman, kneeling before a magnificent shrine. Two stone pillars rose up on either side, both were sculpted to look like bolts of lightning coming out of the clouds carved at the pinnacle of the pillars. In the center of the shrine was a stone slab with writings and proverbs from Zamira’s clergy.

Errrkkkk and Riakon were both blown away at the beauty of the scene. Everything about this place spoke to the beauty of life, and the view from the shrine was no different. Roden was stunned for a completely different reason.

The kneeling woman turned toward her visitors, Roden saw his mother in person for the first time and all of his memories with her became clear. This woman was his mother, but even more so than that, this was the Goddess Zamira in the flesh.

As a Game Master, he had chosen to create this world. Part of that creation was to develop his own pantheon. In that process, he had to decide what each god looked like in their manifestations. There was no doubt in his mind the woman in front of him was the Goddess he had dreamt up all those years ago.

She had long wavy black hair that looked like silk and flowed like water. Her features were sharp including her ears, denoting her half-elven heritage. She had dark green eyes that glowed brightly in the afternoon sun. She rose to her feet, a warm smile spread across her face. Her eyes sparkled as she took in her visitors.

“Well I’ll be, the prodigal son has returned.” Her voice was light and playful, “I was wondering when you’d come back and see your dear old mum.”

Roden was at a loss for words. The familiarity in her voice gave him a sense of home in a way he never really had even in his real life outside of this world. His memories of this woman were so wholesome and comforting.

They also had the luxury of being fantastical. They weren’t tarnished by conflict or the drudgery of day to day life. They had lived a wonderful life just the two of them. They hadn’t wanted for anything. It was hard for Roden to grasp just how perfect his childhood was in this world.

“Hi mom, it's good to see you.” Roden managed to make it sound genuine. The parts of himself he had written were smoothing out his uncertainty.

Miriana walked the short path to the men. She opened her arms inviting a hug from her son. Roden, acting the part of a good son, obliged and gave her a big hug. He breathed in her perfume, which set off numerous memories of growing up and being comforted by similar hugs when he’d fall out of a tree or hurt himself in any number of ways.

“It's so good to have you back home.” she whispered to him,

“It’s good to be home.” Roden felt himself mean it too. It did feel good to be there. It felt just right.

They broke their hug, “And who are these fine gentlemen with you?”

“Oh, this is Errrkkkk and Riakon. They are the ones from dad’s monastery.”

“Pleasure to meet you ma’am.”

“Nice to meet you, cacaw.”

“Oh how nice, I’m glad you were able to meet up with them. Your father’s message came with no warning. I was worried you wouldn’t make it in time.”

“Oh I made it, it wasn’t too bad of a hike.”

“Well that’s good. Well, as beautiful as it is out here I’m sure you boys are famished. Why don’t you come in and I’ll get you some snacks, hmm?”

At the mention of snacks, Grok poked his head out from behind Riakon’s leg. He had grown too large to comfortably fit in the pack anymore and instead clung closely to Riakon’s heels.

“And what do we have here?” her voice rose ever so slightly in comforting tones. Grok the ever lovable garg practically melted when Miriana reached down to give him a pet. She scratched behind his ear and he nuzzled into her hand.

“Well, I guess we will have to find a snack for you too, little one. What’s his name?”

The ball of fur under her ministrations responded to her question with a gravely, “Grrrrrrrokkkkkkkkk.”

“Oh my, well aren’t you something.” she looked up from the garg, “How about those snacks?”

All three men nodded vigorously at the invitation. There was something about this woman that pulled them into her motherly sphere. She guided them through the sliding door on the back of the house, Grok following closely at her heels.

She led them to an incredible sitting room with high ceilings, lush couches, and soft chairs. The decorations were in a mix of dark wood and gray marble. Large windows dominated the walls letting in warm sunlight.

Roden took his usual place on the right side of the couch, a habit he didn’t know he had until he was doing it. Riakon sunk into the big armchair, while Errrkkkk took the daybed in front of the wide bay window. Miriana came back carrying a tray of various cheeses, meats, and warm bread. In her other hand was a pitcher of a dark purple liquid with chunks of ice floating throughout it.

“You boys get started on this, I’ll be back with glasses and the rest.”

The three grown men attacked the tray of food as they were told despite none of them being particularly hungry. When she returned a few moments later, she had a tray covered in sliced fruit, and common h'orderve veggies like carrots, pickles and olives. She filled each glass and passed them out taking the last for herself.

“Now eat your snacks and tell me about your adventures.”

For the better part of the afternoon, Roden and his companions told his mother all about their journey together. Miriana was the perfect audience, she giggled when they told the bit about the tree who had an itch. She was distraught when they told of Roden’s first fight with the spiders and when he was nearly killed by the Zolem.

She grew stern when they mentioned the necromancer and nodded approvingly when Roden told the story of his defeat. She even slipped in “serves him right.” as any good priestess of Zamira should. Miriana was disturbed when they talked about their time at Bo’s, but came around to the idea when they mentioned how helpful their time with him was for them.

When they got to the part of their journey when they encountered the treant, sadness crossed her face at the destruction of their friend. Errrkkkk brought out his little plant from that day. It had been a few weeks since he planted it and it was starting to grow little buds where its leaves had died.

He set it in the light by the window and gave it a little water from his waterskin. From there Riakon took up the story and told Miriana how he ended up finding Grok, who did his part by laying belly up on the couch next to Miriana who obliged him with a belly rub.

Roden approached the next part of their story with some trepidation. He wasn’t sure how his mother was going to react at the news he had been in the city, off and on for the past couple of weeks. Roden tried to gloss over their time in the arena by skipping right to their communication with Bo about the werewolves, but Errrkkkk had other ideas.

“Hey don’t forget our arena fights, cacaw.”

“Oh well, mom doesn’t need to hear about all that. I mean, we had a fight… or three and everything was fine.”

Miriana’s face grew harsh, “You fought in the arena three times.” her eyes bore into Roden and he actually felt himself begin to sweat under her scrutiny.

“Oh yes, Roden was a big help in those fights. Especially, when Errrkkkk went down against the raptors.”

“Went down? You mean he was knocked unconscious.”

Errrrkkkk puffed up his feathers a bit, a small sign of indignation, “briefly, cacaw.”

“It was alright, I wasn’t ever in any real danger.”

“Mmmmhhhhmmmm, tell me all about these fights in the arena.”

Begrudgingly, Roden told his mother a rather tame version of their fights in the arena. Occasionally, shooting glares at Riakon and Errrkkkk when he wanted them to go along with his less dangerous version of events.

When he finished telling her of their fight with the raptors, he switched gears and took the opportunity to broach the reason for their visit, a welcomed distraction from their time at the lycan village.

“Actually, the arena is one of the reasons we are here, mom. I was hoping we could use the backyard for some training. We are going to enter the Champions Tournament and need somewhere to prepare.”

Miriana thought for a long moment and sighed, “ I guess boys will be boys. As much as I don’t love the idea of you fighting like that, I suppose I’d rather you do it here than somewhere else. You can use the backyard just be careful around my flowers.”

“Thanks Ma.”

“Thank you Roden’s mom.”

“Thank you ma’am, cacaw.”