The fox and the hunt

The sound of the footfall of horses and hounds rang through the forest, disrupting the song of nature and making the birds fall silent. Alexandria let out a deep sigh and set her mushroom shaped mace and shield behind a tree, calling out “vindicur” which allowed the items to get rooted and stand up on their own. She placed a hand out, as if to say “wait” to the black fox behind her. Reluctantly following the command, the fox let out a grumpy growl and crawled beneath the mushroom.

“Manach, manach, Manach,” alexandria said to herself, flipped her cloak inside out, and began to walk towards the sound. She could tell the animals were fast approaching, for the animals riding on the back of the horses were loud and obnoxious in their chase. A rabbit raced from the brush and past alexandria who called to it and told it where to hide. Short on its tail, several hounds broke through the clearing. Alexandria spoke and the dogs came to a quick hault.

“What are you doing you lazy mutts!–oh? What do we have here?” a large man on horseback came through the trees followed by two scrawnier men in furs and leathers wielding guns. “What is a little lady like yourself doing out here?”

“Oh, I was walkin’ through the forest, gatherin’ ‘erbs when I came upon this clearin’ and stopped to catch me breath. Ye can imagine the surprise I got when yer dogs came a runnin’ through the bushes, gave me quite a fright!” Alexandria said with sincerity and acted as though she had been scared by the dogs who now laid down and watched her as if waiting for another command. I really need to work on my Dunnick accent, she thought to herself.

“Well, lil’ lady, what do you call yourself?” the head huntsman asked, a grin on his cocky face.

“Saoirse,” she said sincerely once more and bowed some with her black cloak dipping with her movement and sweeping the ground, “What ‘er you fine gentlemen doin’ out in these lands? If it were huntin’, I would warn ye against it. There is a guardian up’in these woods who protects it. I hear there is good huntin’ ov’r yonder that be just the same if not bett’r. ‘Sides, this land is owned by a Lady in Stragosa who don’t like any poachin’ on ‘er land,” she makes a point of pointing to the north east, away from her parcels when she mentions the other hunting spot.

The huntsman stops for a moment, his brow raised as he looked upon the woman before him. Alexandria stood before him, her cloak turned black, her hair grown out to a dark red that was tucked partially inside the cloak, her eyes rust brown, and her pale skin painted with freckles. She certainly looked the like a Dunnick woman and they definitely seemed to believe her. Alexandria was happy they didn’t examine her up close or they’d see the freckles were more like spots and the hair like that of a horses mane. Though even then they likely would not notice the likeness to an animal she displayed.

“Well, young lady, we’d best be getting back to the hunt. I haven’t heard of any guardians and this land seems full of game. Can’t miss out on the opportunity and so long as you don’t go snitching,” the man leaned over his horse in a threatening manner, “ain’t nobody gonna know. Don’t do anything you’ll regret, just go on as if you never even saw us.”

Alexandria held back a growl. She was more disciplined than to fall to his intimidation tactics, but he didn’t know that. She turned her eyes to the ground and nodded once as if to say she agreed, then allowed the men to go on their way. Once they and the dogs had left the clearing, she shook the magic away and growled. Her hands we balled up in fists at her sides.

“I tried to warn them, these are MY lands and MY animals. But no, fine, want to be like that? Fine. Want to play intimidation games? I’ll show you intimidation games. I hate when men try and intimidate women like that and I hate when they don’t take women seriously. You think you’re scary, guy? Okay, let’s do this,” Alexandria walked with purpose back to her mushroom and fox. “Aura, lets go.”

The little gold eyed fox looked up at her with what appeared to be a grin, knowing exactly what Alexandria was planning. Alexandria uprooted her mushroom and carried it off, getting ready for an experiment that would soon be under way.

——–
The three men and their dogs ran throughout the woods for what seemed to be hours. The birds’ songs had died down and the animals all seemed to be in hiding. They cursed and swore, but still they could find anything to bring down and show for their day’s trek.

“Not one fucking deer or fox or even rabbit! I’m starting to think that guardian chased them off,” the scraggly brown black haired man on the last horse whined.

“Don’t buy into that shit. It’s probably just some rumor the noble who owns the parcel spread to keep people off of it, thinking the peasants would be too stupid to challenge their words,” the master huntsman grumbled. “If there were a guardian, we’d take it and gather it’s fur. Bear or monster alike, I dare it to come out and taste the bullets I have waiting for it. We’d hit it and let it run till it died then grab its hide all the same!” The man held up his gun and called to the woods as if taunting them.

Just as the man finished his sentence, a fox burst from the ground before the hounds who began to wail and bark. “Finally!” the men cried and they began their chase. Several shots rang out, but never did the shots seem to hit their mark. They chased the black furred fox through the trees and down to a river bank long enough that the dogs and horses seemed to grow tired. Once to the water’s edge, the fox still did not yield and it swam to the other side.

Once upon the other bank, the fox turned to them men and let out a startling, near human laugh which made the dogs shudder and retreat behind the horses. Though the men urged the dogs and horses forward, they would not listen to their commands. The men cursed and were about to shoot from where they sat when their eyes were drawn to the fox’s strange behavior. At first it seemed to taunt them, but then it dove clear out of sight and behind a rather large tree only to have a much larger figure appear from the other side. As it crept forward, the men all ceased their swearing and became fixated on the creature before them.

It stood the size of a man on four legs with black fur the color of a moonless night and looked upon the men with eyes that burned gold like the sun. Its legs were long and elegant and tipped in long black claws and it hoped upon a stump with speed and grace then sat before them in the dimming evening light. Even the remaining sunlight that sifted through the trees seemed to be swallowed up by the darkness of its fur. “You called, here I am, huntsmen. You have such disdain for the land, no respect, only in it for the next kill,” the horrifying creature spoke, “You have hunted me, you have hunted and tried to take from the land that I protect. Tell me then, why should I not come for you in turn? Were you not warned?”

The men stared in disbelief for several moments and the horses’ breaths became panicked though they did not dare move. The hounds had all gone into hiding.

The main huntsman seemed to begin to speak and lifted his gun just slightly, though at that moment the creature hopped from the stump and leaped to the bank across from them, readying itself to leap forward. “I, too, enjoy the hunt!” The creature roared. The horses with the men clinging to their saddles and the crying hounds began their frantic run from the woods. For a while the creature chased them, though by the time they were closing in to stragosa, they seemed to only be chased by a small black fox who ran hard on their heels all the way back. Many of the peasants who watched the men run into the city seemed perplexed and even laughed as they saw all the animals and hunters running so frightened with only a cute little fox in toe. The fox even stopped to pleasantly greet some of the people watching once the men had fled out of sight and into the city before returning to its woodland home.

——-

The next day the men found themselves seats at the bar, their eyes sunken, tired, and still filled with terror. They tried to drink away the memory of the traumatic experience, when they found themselves listening to a curious song. They turned their attention to the stage only to see the same Dunnick woman from before, singing:

“And up there sprung like lightning a fox from out of his hole
His fur was the colour of a starless night, and his eyes like burning coals

And they chased him over the valley, and they chased him over the fields;
They chased him down to the river bank, but never would he yield
And he’s jumped into the water, and he’s swum to the other side
And he’s laughed so loud that the green woods shook
Then he’s turned to the huntsmen and he’s cried:

‘Ride on, my gallant huntsmen! When must I come again?
For you should never want for a fox to chase all over the glen
And when your need is greatest, just call upon my name
And I will come, and you shall have the best of sport and game!’

And the men looked up in wonder and the hounds run back to hide
For the fox, it changed to the Devil himself where he stood on the other side
And the men, the hounds, the horses went flying back to town
And hard on their heels come a little black fox, laughing as he ran…”

The woman smiled as she looked over the audience until her eyes fell upon the huntsmen. As they did, for a moment, her eyes reminded them of the beasts and seemed to burn holes in their souls. While the others in the room seemed captivated by the woman’s voice and hopeful, the men were traumatized and quickly ran from the bar, hopped on their horses, and fled the city.

After the song had finally ended, the woman dismissed herself from the stage and the band who had played so beautifully beside her. She went up to the bar with a smile, and paid off the rest of their tab. Then returned home at last, confident that they had been taught a lesson, and ready to be her normal self once more.

Love and Duty 7: Olive Branch

Lion Age Spring 604

The knight strode out of the meeting hall, head high observing the surrounding with one hand resting on one of a pair of sheathed swords. Once fully clear of the shadow cast by the building, she whistles a few precise notes. Moments later, ten rugged looking men and women with bows and knives move out of the shadows before taking up positions around her.

The small group winds their way through the city taking multiple back alleys and switchbacks. As they progress through the city, additional men and women join the small procession until they make 20. A final women joins their group prior to leaving the city proper.

Once safely within the forest-line outside the city a final group of 10 joins.A man in this final group smiles at the knight. “As you appear unhurried Dana Isabella, I assume the meeting went well?”

Isabella takes the reins of her war horse, Serena, from one of the Spotters and begins leading her alongside the man. “It went as well as one could expect Captain Franco. We will be striking camp to deploy to the Bloodfields to somehow try and hold it potentially against both Orcs and Kuaralites.” She shakes her head, “If we are not betrayed and are both provisioned and supported with the additional troops promised from Heidrich and Trakt and we somehow we survive any battles, your Corsairs are to to return the swords to the city.” She pauses in speaking but keeps walking while she waits for the inevitable.

It only takes a few moments before the quiet of the forest is interrupted by every curse imagined by soldiers and pirates both. After a few loud minutes have passed, “Dana, we can take that dragon’s city and raid all of their parcel’s like you suggested when they first threatened to starve us out. How can you let them insult House Scordato in…..” The man stops mid sentence as he finds himself face to face with an increasingly too common look of rage in his commander’s eyes as of late. Meanwhile, the rest of the Spotters have moved, as if my magic, away from the captain.

“You would do well to remember what happened to your predecessor captain. Our position is tenuous and you know it.” Her voice raises in volume, “Si, I know we could plow through the flimsy defenses that House Drake has stationed within Silbren to obtain rations while our multiple scouting forces raid the countryside.” Again the volume increases as her hand reaches for a short blade strapped to the small of her back. “I HAVE LITTLE INTEREST IN COMMITTING AN ACT THAT SOME MIGHT CONSIDER TREASON WHEN AN OLIVE BRANCH HAS BEEN OFFERED.” The blade slips free and Franco’s eyes go wide with fear as he watches the knight swiftly cut her own wrist before returning the blade to its home.

Isabella closes her eyes and breathes deeply for a feel moments before holding her arm out for one of the soldiers to begin applying fresh bandages to stem the bleeding. “Graci, Pippo. As for the honor of the house, I have arranged a duel between myself and the Grafin to be held if we survive the blood fields.”

Captain Franco chokes out a nervous laugh, “I guess I will having to make a wager soon. May House Scordato always be blessed in the grace of God.”

Isabella turns away and again begins the long trek again to the Black Tower, “Yes captain, may House Scordato always flourish.”

The next step, the long step

Mother Superior.

As I write those two words, I still can’t believe they are in reference to me. Mitzi the farm girl. Mitzi the hobbler. I never would have dreamed it would happen so soon. I am not going to get too caught up in my pride, but even Mum said a little bit of pride is not bad, especially if it is something you worked hard for and earned.

I came to Stragosa to heal and now I am needed more than ever. I learned much from Bishop Carsten but I know God needs him elsewhere to deal with his grief. Even all these years of watching Mum be a vessel for healing and seeing the rituals, performing them feels so different.

I felt so helpless this last forum, that I was letting everyone down who had come to me for healing but there were rituals I was unable to perform. I have always been afraid to try rituals above my rank, but things became necessary if anyone had a chance of survival. Thank Lurian that he chose not yet to take the two people I treated to heaven.

I did my best with what I can do, and my leeches have never failed me since I gathered my own. Even the smallest creature can do great things. Am I a small creature? I suppose I am in the grand scheme of things it is true. I still have the visions that guided my path to where I am today. I have my injuries as a reminder of what I went through to get to them. Every day my faith is tested, as it should be.

For now, I have a church to tend to. A representative from House Trackt asked that I tend to the one they have built in the Library district. They wanted someone from home and that of course is me. I did make it clear this will not mean I am a House Priest. I must be a healer of all people. While we do have a Bishop of Lurian here, he is also a Paladin and is needed elsewhere. I have a rather large community to serve and the less people rely on one of those mages, the better.

And speaking of Mages, it turns out a new Prosecutor for the inquisition, is not only one of them, but a cursed Fire Mage. Memories came back to me of what my Aunt did that almost destroyed my family once her fire powers corrupted her beyond repair. I can only hope I am past any age where those kinds of powers might manifest in me. I am a woman of God, not of whatever or whomever those powers come from. I don’t know what I would do if it ever happened, as it is something I always fear.

God has a plan for me and I am following it to the best of my capability

Bjorn Chapter 6: Long Winter Sudden Spring

The Ironbreaker was scared and out of breath, the wind whipped at his face and ice chunks tore at his skin and armor, he was caught in a snow drift sinking every step so he couldn’t get away, and He was coming. He heard the crunch of ice feet behind him he turned around only to be picked up like a child by the largest man he had ever seen, dressed only in a raggedy loincloth. He brought the Ironbreaker face to face and looked at him like his father looked at him after he caught him trying to lift the grown man’s axe as a child, with slight amusement in his eyes. The Giant opened his mouth and with a voice of deep bass, rumbled. “My dear little Bjorn, you are mine, you have always been mine.”
The Ironbreaker screamed back with rage and futility “I AM MY OWN ULFRANDR, I DENY YOU”
The smile on the giants face quickly turned to a snarl and he slammed Bjorn down into the snow and brought his foot crashing down on his chest.
The Ironbreaker awoke with a start grabbing his ax and almost letting out a howl, it took him a moment to realize that he was in his own bed in the corner of a his room. let out out a sigh he let the ax fall to the ground and sighed, the dreams were getting worse, The Wolf Runner had touched him in his dreams, for the last few weeks he had been slowly gaining in his dreams but this was the first night that He had caught him. He had heard tales of men dying in their sleep from bad and evil dreams but for the time it looks like he was alive. He got up and prepared for the day. he worked the paints over his face in their practiced forms, Red for clan, the Ironbloods best fighters in the North, Blue for his chosen color, stability, wisdom, and strength, the runes to remind everyone who he is and where he’s from. Next his necklaces each a story to themselves, the wolf, the lion hanging next to each other his past and present. After that his shirt he looked at the pile of armor that was by his bed and considered leaving her but then remembered what happened last time he didn’t wear armor and quickly put it on. Lastly his sash, Blue for his color, marked proudly with the Stamp of the Metalli, he would rather be naked than go without that sash, it marked him out as a Merchant belonging to one of the best guilds in the world as far as he was concerned.
He slipped through the open room of the place he staying and smile and nodded to everyone he met, Undying was eating a chunk of meat he hoped was game, Balthazar was, as usual, in a constant state of movement through the room bouncing from here to there, Walt he hadn’t seen in a few days and Florence was most likely out in the city already, she was always the first up. Ironbreaker looked at the Shield by the door and lightly grazed his hand over its symbols then feeling ready, he walked out into the world. The streets as usual smelled like garbage and human waste the first step he took out of his door resulted in sinking ankle deep in the mud that always seemed to be present in these southlanders cities. shaking his head he started to move to the workshop were the lists of orders demanded his constant attention. Moving through the silent hooded crowds never got easier, they all looked the same to him, and a quote from his father echoed through his mind, “the age of heroes is dead, The Lion God has killed it, leaving humankind with nothing but weeping martyrs, fear and shame.” Hearing their whispers as he moved through the streets and saw their sideways glances, someone had started the damn rumor that he was baptized and it had spread like wildfire he wanted to smack that person for causing him a world of trouble. It had been months since he had lowered himself to the Gods and the fear that once gripped him was over. He was tired of the Gods both old and new throwing him around as their plaything, he remembered the inquisitors words and his promises but for some reason that seemed like a long long time ago. All he was left with was stubbornness and spite, and with his beloved leaving the valley there wasn’t even any soft comfort waiting for him.
The Ironbreaker reached the Guildhall, opening the door he waved to Borso and Bakara who where pouring over some papers, and maps, he should really learn how to read he thought to himself. he went int to back of the guild hall where his workstation was adorned by bones of bears, wolfs, and eagle feathers, the stones around the forge where the fire danced were marked with runes of power said to make the iron stronger and the coal last longer, in the back of his mind he knew it didn’t do anything but it was traditional that all proper forges have them so he placed them around it. it felt almost like home, picking up a bag of coal he poured it into the forge and started a small flame. The Ironbreaker then picked up a piece of Hard Iron and looked it over feeling the raw ingot in his hand. “Now what shall I do with you I wonder?” he said aloud and he placed it on the coals and started to work the billows. It was a bad winter with nothing getting done so he had to work hard to catch up on everything he slacked behind during the winter, but the day was new and the sun was just about the peak above the horizon he took the red piece iron out and placed it on his anvil smiling he picked up his hammer and like his namesake broke the raw iron so he could make it into something beautiful.

Mechanical Advantage 13: Inertia.

Objects in motion tend to stay in motion unless acted upon by an outside force.

So many people had argued that with him over the years, not understanding the bevy of nuance that existed in their world. People, at the hearts, were just well-meaning objects, and they tended to do whatever they had always done until someone forced them to do otherwise. Then there was a general outcry, and a scramble to defend what had been before without truly gauging the merit of the proposed change. The laws that governed all known bodies applied so beautifully to people that it was nearly ironic in its wonder.

More and more of his time was being pulled away by side projects, these days. Reviewing contracts. Approving tax rates. Assisting with land parcel development. Getting married. It was a wonder that he had time to think at all. Gone were the days-that-never-were of being able to blissfully sit carefree and think for hours on end. To mentally turn the world on its axis to examine a new idea or question an assumed reality. No, no, he was an honest man of this strange new faith in an old decayed city.

The tavern was noisy these days. Too noisy. His apprentices wanted for work, and he hadn’t time to direct them like he used to. So the other ones drank the day away, or caroused with the Hestrali strumpets about town while the youngest doodled in the corner. Jehanne had taken to them, at least, in her bright smiled way.

Such a smile.

An agitated puff of smoke left his lips and bounced off the confining wall opposite him. The one remaining room in his world that was firmly his, the quiet study at the top of the Metalli Guildhall. Below him, he could hear the work of hammers and saws, improved for efficiency by his own design. If he sat long enough, he even believed he could hear the bellow of Borso echoing off the halls. The old miner had proven to be an exceptional investment, but if the equally old Engineer was being honest, the Metalli hadn’t felt the same since Thorn had departed. She had been the… heart of them.

He sighs and turns the page of his weathered tome.

It was strange how long the winter had felt. The Cappacian beauty wrapped in his sheets, the warmth of her filling the room nearly to bursting. A genuine laugh before eyes hungry for answers latched onto him. She had a way of drawing him deeper and deeper into her wants. Before long, she’d have wrung every answer she could ever desire from him. What a blissful prison he had built. Soft and pale and witty. A small part of him wondered when this young lady would tire of so… grumpy a companion. Odd that his mind hadn’t turned towards its usual routes.

He cough a hurrumph of scented smoke into the room and turns another unread page.

It promised to be a busy Spring, he could already hear the clamor of the city as it slowly roused itself from the lethargy of Winter. Soon construction would begin. Soon he would find time to touch his quill to paper and allow the creations to flow. Soon the carefully set pieces would form the desires he wished.

The key to inertia was to account for the forces that would draw away energy, not to invest more energy. A smile touched his lips as his eyes turned to the book again. Another few hours of solitude wouldn’t harm anyone.

The Nature of Sin

The Triumvirate’s rebellion is what brought sin into the world.. When these creatures destroyed their Meaning to create a new Purpose they discarded their Divinity and allowed paths of wickedness to be walked. This was their childish, spiteful act against their creator- to lead Mankind astray and say “See! Your way isn’t perfect!” Were their acts not so destructive they might even be pitied as one might pity a child throwing a tantrum, but that time is long past and any sympathy for these creatures is merely the product of their twisted manipulations. Eons of stewing in their hatred and belief that they could not possibly be wrong have left them bereft of anything of value.

Regarding the nature of the damage they have inflicted, it would seem to me that sin exists in two intertwined, but separate ways. The first is the wound upon the soul of the person taking the sinful path, and the second is the wound inflicted upon the world. Here in Stragosa, I see people struggling with both and that highlights the need for wisdom, courage, and strong atonements for all.

The capacity for a person to sin is a product of the subversive Purpose that the Triumvirate have created. In the world as it was meant to be, God would test themself with all sorts of circumstances and in a world without sin, he would choose a sinless path every time. The most difficult conflicts would be solved and with each, God would grow and Meaning would be gained from the results. In the world that was wounded, we must guard ourselves for paths of darkness exist and they are tempting and easy. They draw us into Meaningless successes and Pyrrhic victories where nothing is truly learned, gained, or resolved and every man and woman looks upon what they have wrought and feels only anxiety or anguish. These paths can range from the venial like drawing you into conflicts and mistakes with too much alcohol, to the deadly of seeking to resolve a feud with an assassin’s blade. The lie that avoids conflict does not resolve it, and the lie will always be found out and make the eventual conflict harder. The Triumvirate have designed their wicked spiral to draw you in with the smallest missteps and you must be watchful to avoid them and right yourself swiftly when you stumble.

This is why atonement is so important. An appropriate atonement should include three parts. The first is the healing of the soul. The penitent should engage in an activity that’s purpose is to rehabilitate, not punish. The penitent should be shown, in this time of openness to the path of Meaning, that their sin is unnecessary and not as rewarding as taking the sinless path. The thief must be shown that their needs will be met by their community. The violent must be shown that conflict can resolved in other ways. The lustful and the gluttonous must be shown that fulfillment and happiness comes not from momentary, distracting pleasures, but from living a good life with good friends.

The second part of sin is that which damages the world, and an atonement must also help to heal the world. Sin manifests in the world as those monsters we call the Night Malefic. These are our sins made manifest.- our Divinity twisted and corrupted by unhealed sin and expressed as Acts upon the world. The world needs healing, too, and so our atonement must not just help ourselves, but our community and the world itself. All of our Acts must do this, but atonement especially is the time when you have most opened yourself to expanding God’s Meaning and are listening to his words in your heart. Therefore, protect yourself and others from the Malefic, but also work with those wise in the faith to resolve them. Give the orphan love and the soldier peace. And seek to right the wrongs of the living and help your neighbors so no more do they turn to sin.

The final part of atonement is simple, but also easily overlooked. Atonement may be difficult, but it must always be possible. There is no shame in seeking new guidance about an atonement to make peace with an enemy who has passed beyond your reach. Seek a path to healing in the wisdom of the clergy and trust them to help you.

Together we can find Meaning and become great- greater than any other race or deceptive creed. Together we are God. We are the Form God takes when poured into the world. Do not be taken in by the tantrums of the Triumvirate. Their paths have no Meaning and their rewards are false. Only the path of Divinity leads to a true victory.