Cingedoz Runjosagaoi - The Narratives of the Cingedos

[Ibn Khaldun 7729]

  

 

THE DEATH OF GAISORIX

 

PART I

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮

 

 

This child of mine, o’ how I’ve left him to grow unabated. Gaisorix sat himself gingerly at the end of the bed in the clan hall. He looked over shyly to the young man, tucked beneath bear furs and woolen blankets, and spied the golden blonde hair that made a pillow beneath the youth’s head. He got that from his mum, golden as the sun, and not from me - as dark as the stain of my sins. Gaisorix reached to pat his son’s feet gently and untucked a scroll from beneath his red mantle and made a beeline for the modest nightstand to place it.

 

“Wodagek, makosek, ogbagh fynn dobre tegos. Hafekoz teutava ok nemeto ach sin duron,”[1] Gaisorix mused, barely aloud, as if in monologue with himself with his son as an audience.

 

“Despite my occasional outbursts, you will serve the Piast well. Above all things, his heart is firmly planted in his people and so he serves them earnestly despite any wrong decisions made. If there is one thing I learned after migrating our people across the continent, it is that a people cannot be uprooted for long lest the roots wither and fall away from the trunk of the tree. Keep the faith in God, keep the ties of kin, keep your eyes skyward for there is nobility in rising above the mud of lowest land.”

 

Gaisorix wiped a tear from his eye, his monologue turning to confession now.

 

“I have been cut down and injured a few times in my younger years. The Great War made sure of that. We are not an invincible people o’ Brennus. Please respect my wishes when you wake and see yourself naught as a boy, but a man with purpose. I traveled this continent for many years plying trade and learning about the world and so I’ve left you with a few places to visit and a reason why for each. I’ve many sins to my name, but I hope not to accrue another by leaving you without a rhyme or reason for your living.”

 

He felt his chest grow heavy and heaved a sigh as if throwing off a burden one last time.

 

“I don’t think I will make it, where we are going. In all my time traveling, fighting, and contending with the wonders of the world; I have yet to find such a place as this that causes worry and dread to well within my heart. Know that I love you lad and be well,” he patted Brennus’ feet one last time with an unsteadiness about his hand before standing. He took each step carefully and quietly and exited the Langotegos[2].

 

 

 

PART II

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮

 

 

Gaisorix and Bodbmakos rode south to the sound of the occasional trumpet of Gaisorix’s karnyx, the gallop of horse hooves, and the creaking of Cormack’s chariot. Banners streamed above the heads of the Balian host and warhorns whose shrill yells welled from inside bronze bells shaped like shrieking boars’ mouths towered over the Cingedoz and Daelish troops. The armies of Balian, Daeland, and Redclyf eventually reached the outskirts of the dread city of Kivdrona. The mighty cathedral and colosseum came into view first for the approaching soldiers and seemed to tower menacingly like a bird of prey leaning its head forward and inspecting mice skittering the sand.

 

Casimir halted the procession and called forth the commanders of each host for a parlay near the rusted iron portcullis that rested closed inside the wall of the settlement. Gaisorix dismounted and ushered men to tie up their horses snugly at a stand of trees by the refugee encampment. Men and women exchanged masks and checked their equipment as they waited for Casimir’s command. The Cingedoz passed around javelins to stow in the clutch beneath their scutum shields and began to form up in a shieldwall with the Bronze Elves and Vistulians.

 

“With me now! We advance towards the wall soldiers!” Casimir called out with a directing wave of his sabre. The shieldwall steadily grew as men and women formed up ranks and approached Kivdrona. The soldiers debated among themselves whether to try and cut away at the rusted portcullis or to approach a notch in the wall where a hulking form that first appeared to be a battering ram remained. The Bronze Elves and Daelish contingent would enter first to try and secure a space for the rest of the army to safely enter through.

 

The vanguard decided to approach the rammed portion of the wall and found that the mass they mistook as a battering ram was instead a giant bull whose flesh reeked from its decay and parts of it being burned. The soldiers drew their masks tightly across their noses and mouths and stamped out flaming flesh and kicked sand over burning wood to ease their passage through. As they made their way into the town, they found many of the buildings torn asunder and ghastly sights that turned stomachs.

 

A giant tentacle with eyes protruding from its base lingered far to their west near the cathedral. Gaisorix turned his head to the east and urged the soldiers to turn to what he found. A couple of unsettling chimeras loitered the road to their east whose bodies appeared bipedal and human, but their heads were that of owls. A giant creature, tall and q_eer, loomed behind them and began to squawk at the soldiers newly entered. The shieldwall slowly turned and braced with an assortment of spears held overhand and underhand bristling from behind shields.

 

The chimeras began to flock towards the shieldwall, unsheathing swords and axes as they came closer. Gaisorix hoisted a javelin from his clutch and couched it while aiming; a quick pause with bated breath and he tossed it soon after. The javelin found its mark and pierced one of the chimeras in the chest and Gaisorix watched as it wilted and crumpled over. "Rabo! Werrekoz Cingedoz!"[3] Gaisorix chanted upon the success of his attack and encouraged others to launch their own javelins. He looked to his right and saw Casimir wrestling his spear from the clutch of another owl-headed chimera and saw Pamphilos gut it with his sarissa.

 

The shieldwall held its own against the oncoming aberrants and Gaisorix called out for Bodbmakos to usher in the remaining Redclyf soldiers and to watch their south-facing side and rear. A darker shadow loomed overhead and Yelena called out as a lycanthrope, walking on all fours, leapt from building to building before landing down before Woland. A second lycanthrope steered its way in front of the shieldwall with its legs bracing to pounce. Gaisorix slipped out another javelin and held it overhand as one of the lycanthropes set off in a grotesque gallop straight towards the shieldwall. 

 

A feeling of forlorn washed over him as he realized the lycanthrope meant to barrel through the center of the shieldwall and he was standing in its path. A toss of the javelin did little to thwart the inevitable and Gaisorix felt himself tossed down and trampled underneath one of the paws of the beast as it swung Pamphilos around like a ragdoll. Gaisorix felt his scutum shield break apart with pieces of wood puncturing his abdomen and shieldarm. The old man let out a ragged cry as the paw came off of him and held out a weak hand which Yelena took hold of to lift him to his feet.

 

The cohesion of the shieldwall had dissolved with men and women fighting around Gaisorix individually, relying on their own spirit rather than the organization of the group. He gripped what remained of his scutum shield by its iron handle now that the leather straps had torn away and recovered his spear nearby. He found himself dueling a chimera that pushed him further and further from the group. 

 

Gaisorix felt himself reeling backwards as he watched the army’s integrity break away as some opted to join together in combat with a lycanthrope while others dueled with the remaining chimeras. He turned to face his own assailant whose head swiveled left and right like an owl acutely observant as it pecked away at the existing holes in his shield. Gaisorix turned his spear to face the barb towards the chimera, holding it overhand, and began to pepper the creature with blows as a means to keep it at bay. He felt something solid against his back and realized he had stepped into the derelict wall of a charred home.

 

The chimera took a daring lunge towards Gaisorix’s face and he clapped the shield’s rim up against its throat. The chimera shrieked and recoiled and he turned his spear underhand and thrust it into its abdomen. He darted inside the home as the chimera fell to the ground lifeless; either from the trauma of its injury or from the aurum that adorned the spear’s barb. Gaisorix tossed aside his crumbling shield and kept his spear close as he huddled into a corner, hoping to become unassuming and unnoticeable. He slid against the wall until he sat, looking down at his wounds that continued to bleed and he sucked in enough air to whistle through his wounds as he took stock of what happened.

 

Gaisorix began to sob quietly as he heard the clamor of fighting in the distance. That I’ve seen the beauty in this world only to die seeing the dread. Gaisorix feebly brought bits of cloth from his undercoat over the wounds, a forlorn attempt to stop his slow death. That my son would lose his father in this city of abominations. He took out a scroll from one of his pockets, shifting lightly while doing so. He took in a mouthful of breath to steady his hands and began writing. 

 

My son - fear the abomination that is Kivdrona. Though I am lost here, do not seek me for I may turn against you as foe though I mean it not. If Daeland establishes a foothold, though I am unaware given what has happened today, keep to the Morion Gaisoz[4] - the sea of spears and wander not off to your singular death. I have left you all of my wealth to your disposal as I swore you I would and as you’ll find in the note I left by your bedside. Use it wisely. Take care of Bodbmakos and Cormack if they return. Trust in your uncle Arminius and care for old Senex if he returns. Know that Dumnoric is an adventurer, but is one of us. Trust the tribes of the Isles and build from there.

 

Gaisorix blinked away what tears rimmed his eyelids and tried to calm himself. He folded the scroll primitively in the shape of a bird and held it clutched between his two hands. An aura, colored darkest green, poured out from his hands like the sputtering flame from inside a lantern’s basket. The creak of splintered wood and talons on dirt stirred outside the house and an owl-shaped head poked its way through the entryway where a door once stood. The head darted to the left as a parchment bird flew past, too fast for the chimera to react. An old man, disheveled and nearly bled dry, laid crumpled in a corner and caught the attention of the prying beast. 

 

 

Translation from Sprækjom to Common:
 

Spoiler

1. "My intention, my son, was to find a good home. We have dignity and honor in this town."

2. Literally Longhome, a name for clan halls in Sprækjom

3. "Zeal! We Cingedoz are at war!"

4. Literally Sea of Spears, a common name for shield/spearwalls.

 

[OOC]

 

Spoiler

This character was really neat to return to the server with. I had a lot of fun playing a travelling merchant and I intend for my new character to do something similar. I decided to PK after an astounding event run by @Joltastikat Kivdrona and it was fitting given the fact that I had the persona on autoincrementing age and he was in his 60s. I already spoke with the Daeland folks and will remain with them on the new character, but will have some interesting changes in character development with Brennus hal'Iskraduron.

 

PS: Please humor me as I basically did the Letter Delivery spell associated with Housemagery (which I am the correct tier to use afaik) at the end of the narrative post. I only found out it was removed after writing this.

[Ibn Khaldun 7729]

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮

 

 

Bodbmakos and Brennus walked shoulder to shoulder down the road with their horses, tied down wains wheeling behind the beasts, following them closely. They cut through forest and marsh until the eldritch form of Du Loc scattered its monstrous silhouette away from the full moon and beams of shadow darted across the low vegetation like mice fleeing a predator. As they moved off the paved thoroughfare and through the woods, they stopped and continued as they freed the carriages from snag and snare. They eventually reached the particular mound outside the walls of Du Loc and unloaded the soapstone plinth and runestone they had ferried to the location.

 

Chisels, mallets, and brushes filled the air with din and whistle, enough to drive away curious wildlife and draw the concern of passing rabble loitering in the night. The two men worked first to get the runestone upright and secure on the hillside, then worked to carve away the imprint of letters both Common and Sprækjom. Brennus leaned his head against the runestone while Bodbmakos meticulously strung sentences into stone; the former providing translation where necessary and the latter pausing to recollect his experiences of how he defeated the Man-Maker's cabal to Brennus. They stood up the entire night regaling Bodbmakos' epic as they worked.

 

By the morning, a tall, spire-like runestone towered upward and commanded the attention of all visiting Du Loc. Upon its surface read letters and runes that spoke of a hero's journey, that of Bodbmakos'.

 

 

Spoiler

Great fun and glad to see a Cingedoz runestone raised outside of Vistulia & Dunrath! @Privetgo forth hero! 

 

[Ibn Khaldun 7729]

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮

 

 

A tapestry of stars ran from corner to corner across the horizon above Brennus as he led his horse down the derelict paths winding from Hyspia to Redclyf. A wain, attached to his horse made beast of burden, creaked beneath the weight of limestone and tools cradled in its chassis. Man and beast halted a little off the road at the slope of a pond beneath the watchful gaze of a marble statue of the Lady of the Lake. Brennus looked up to find the statue staining the dotted sky pitch black with silhouette and a second figure casting its own, smaller, silhouette in the night sky.

 

"What do you have there?" the figure asked. His tone managed to reflect the curiosity of the unexpected encounter while thinly veiling displeasure as if they were expecting someone else.

 

"Naught but stone and chisel, I mean to raise a waystone - a runestone - here in this very lake," Brennus answered. He pulled away at a flaxen tarp thrown haphazardly over his wagon to reveal limestone and tools. He tugged a little more at the cover to make plain he bore weapons. No point mincing words to a would-be threat when simply baring fangs would suffice.

 

"What do you intend to inscribe?" the figure took to approaching Brennus with his second question. He waded through the pond to come closer into view.

 

"I look to raise this runestone in this particular spot to commemorate the towns that once were, the towns of Hyspia, Redclyf, Chaldees, & Caer Raewyn. The towns which my tribe traded with from Vistulia and, whose absence now, causes my own town to languish. The land of Old Savoy, once home to a large kingdom, has managed to grow one last rosebush. The roses have died, all save for one, and that last rose is losing its petals."

 

"Quite the bard you are Vistulian," the figure remarked, betraying admiration before following, "Would you mind putting a remark about my brother, the Duke of Redclyf? I am Kol Ragnarrsson Mosu, brother of Bjorn Ragnarrsson Mosu and so loathed his deed of stealing what was mine and forsaking our town for Balian."

 

Brennus chuckled dryly. A Mosu disdainful of a Mosu, how can one family hate each other so. He retrieved a series of chisels, each with different shapes, and confided in himself out loud how to translate this word and that word as Kol requested his commissioned addendum. The two of them labored over wording and engraving until dawn, washing their hands and arms in the pond of lime dust and brushed debris. The remaining task of turning the runestone upright continued until the sun had fully risen above the line of horizon, the task made easier with Kol's assistance.

 

A column of calumnious record blotted out the sun with its width. Sunbeams lanced through the runestone's aperture notched a little above center mass. The two stood under its shadow for some time as Brennus and Kol discussed the latter's intentions for his brother.

 

 

Spoiler

Good fun mate! @TheEnglishDuck

 

[Ibn Khaldun 7729]

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮

 

One after another, the runestones came into view as the party approached the crag jutting out over the bay opposite the Vistulian Isles. Brennus ushered those following him along the path of least obstacle, the path of firmest footing as they stepped into the confines of the runestone circle. Three slabs of runestones riddled with inscriptions and engraved with reliefs faced the four gathered. Cathubodua, Guinevere, & Mayetenaten took turns attempting to decipher the language employed upon the monoliths before Brennus dissuaded them.

 

"Sprækjom is the name of the language we Cingedoz speak. Before my father recollected the tribes, it was nearly-dead with far few than one is comfortable with able to recount the words and engage with the grammar," Brennus explained. He traced a finger along one of the runestones, underlining one of the phrases that read Luxiana Uradir thinijozagh Brennus, ijoz dobre fianyd. 

 

"That sounds utterly unpronounceable," Mayetenaten remarked with her eyebrows cocked. The Farfolk lady from far flung lands struggled to dictate what she read, quieting as Brennus shot an incredulous look her way.

 

"This reads Luxiana Uradir met Brennus, she is a good freewoman. Thin is the verb for 'to meet', conjugated for the verb being performed by a female with the suffix -ijoz and this being an action in the past thus the added suffix -agh. The rest reads fairly straightforward with the pronoun for she, ijoz and the adjective describing the noun ending the sentence," Brennus offered in detail. He looked over at the three and chuckled dryly at each in their own state of focus, confusion, and surrender.

 

"I can always provide the translated inscriptions, but know that you both have the honor of being able to raise runestones in the Cingedoz tradition," Brennus lofted a forefinger from each hand towards Cathubodua & Guinevere before continuing, "Raise the klukarunjoz (runestones) to impart knowledge or to commemorate a great deed done by yourself or others. Let them be the pride of our kin with each passing-by or be the subject of admiration by all those who do not adopt our tradition."

 

Cathubodua lowered her head out of respect in the audience of runestones and kinfolk. She lofted her head once more, her painted face not obscuring a sense of urgency and pride.

 

"Then this might be a sign that I may earn the honor of an epithet, I shall attain such skill in forging metals that I might be a benefit to our tribe."

 

Brennus betrayed the delight he felt with a low gasp. The tribe will grow strong with the likes of her who throws herself willingly into ennobling herself with skill. He explained that her intentions would rectify what has always been the shortcomings of the Cingedoz, that their skill in the physical crafts had always been in woodworking with little endeavor in metalworking.

 

"I shall ride out with you to the Iron Hills to be by your side as you conduct diplomacy with the Lord Darek Irongrinder," Guinevere offered, stepping forward. That one goes forth to learn new skill, the other stays back to reinforce what is established. Both have their importance in the scheme of the world. Brennus stood with hands on hips, nodding proudly then to his new travel partner.

 

"Great days come with glad tidings, you have reminded me of that mission to the Iron Hills and snow-blown peaks. My kinfolk, we might be setting forth on an adventure that will change the course of our lives in the coming weeks."

 

 

Spoiler

Awesome RP introducing two new Cingedoz characters played by @Rattussmackus& @lemonke. The post compounds a bit what had happened, but it was great fun and great things shall come! Credit to @Lmcfc& @AstriaSfor being present!

 

[Ibn Khaldun 7729]

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮

 

 

Brennus stood on the bridge, his hands grasping shoulder after shoulder as he ushered men, women, and children away from the spit of islands and onto the Savoyard peninsula. Gabriel Law-Keeper took up the rear of the mob of fleeing residents as the air above the islands took on an ochre tint and the wooden buildings weakened and collapsed in on themselves with rot. The two men embraced with Gabriel whispering into Brennus' ear; the latter trying to brace against the other as the former pulled away to continue onto the mainland. Brennus looked into the island's interior with a look of forlorn sadness. Casimir died, my father's best friend.

 

An impromptu assembly of Cingedoz gathered at the runestone circle on the plateau overlooking the isles after the evacuation. Cathubodua, Cormack, and Guinevere offered to assemble wagons with wide enough chassis to mount crannogs on top and wains with deep enough hulls to load chests full of the tribe's supply. Dumnoric & Rinya committed to commandeer the few ships left from the deserted settlements around the isles to use to load the wagons and people on board and ferry them on the first leg of the migration. Bodbmakos swore to look after the old hag Azigate during the journey. The gathered assembly dispersed to attend to their commitments, leaving Brennus hunched against one of the runestones with grief.

 

Sucking in breath to extinguish the embers of sorrow, Brennus stood himself up and looked upon one of the runestones. Inscriptions detailing those who had visited the Vistulian Isles and earned the tribe's trust read across the limestone surface. He called for Cathubodua to bring him hemp rope and set out to bind the runestone around its width with rope.  With both man and horse, they sent the runestone toppling over the crag and into a stream below. The runestone circle broken means we gather here no more. An entire day passed with the runestone, its marred face staring up at the laboring Vistulians preparing to migrate, serving as a reminder of a disfigured home they intended to leave.

 

The next morning, families filed onto a motley armada of ships varying between schooners and longboats to smaller vessels like canoes and currachs. Brennus, Gabriel, Dalebor Kos, and Jasna Vilchyc, each representing the tribes of Cingedoz, Kos, Pasciak, & Radaghast, convened on the largest ship to map out and direct the migratory movement. The smaller vessels set out before the mass, intercepting any seafaring impasse inquiring on the large movement of peoples and dissuading any concern or tension found upon the waters. Within weeks, the small armada moored on the eastern shores of the Rimeveld.

 

Similar to how they proceeded over water, so did they upon land. From afar, no one could surmise if a mass of people could be a leader with a host at his back or simply a mob with nothing but the clothes on their back. Gabriel Law-Keeper dispatched riders to intercept sorties from varying settlements and implore them for passage and to inform them of their reason for migration. Brennus moved his tribe from town to town, many of which they had a history of trading with, inveighing against the rot that took Vistulia and pleading with local rulers to grant them passage. The migratory path of the Vistulians weaved through the northernmost reaches of the mainland continent until reaching the outskirts of Norland and the Dwedmar Undercity of Khron'Hundmar.

 

 

Spoiler

Introducing new characters @KrisppyKreme and welcoming new players @TheCaptain

 

[Ibn Khaldun 7729]

 

 

Two pairs of hands set upon the ropes lashed around the width of the limestone slab. Brennus motioned for the two helping him, Caitlin O'Lenaghan & Kargarn Doomforged, to bind the other end of the rope to the fixed harness around his horse Epoforhǣþed. Brennus took a thick wedge, roughly fashioned from the stump of an oak, and fixed it beneath the bottom edge of the runestone laying flat on its elongated side. He joined the two and his horse in laboring to bring the runestone upright with its long surface facing skyward like a single finger indicating the heavens above.

 

A young boy with a painted face of woad raced up to the plateau where the trio and runestones stood. He untucked a letter from beneath his mantle and handed it to Brennus. He held a letter from Guinevere hal'Cingedoz in his lap as he laid beneath the largest of the three runestones, newly turned upright, that towered over the entrance to Khron'Hundmar. I fear my judgment in our first gathering in the halls of the Undercity had been wrong and she may have been made to feel apprehensive by my decision. He flattened the parchment and read each line closer, repeating the word Corwinsburg and Aaun to himself as if committing it to memory. I fault naught but my own self that she may be apart, my father was a much better gatherer of people than I. He casted a jovial glance towards Caitlin O'Lenaghan and Kargarn Doomforged, the two resting on their haunches braced against opposite runestones. It gives me good joy to know she keeps the tradition despite our separation.

 

Brennus stood himself up and walked with the young page back down to the canyon passes winding towards the entrance of the Dwedmar undercity. They stepped over to a guarded nest of birds set up in an elevated aviary and Brennus motioned for the page to fetch parchment, quill, & ink. They sat down together at the base of the aviary with Brennus dictating his reply for the page to write. Brennus, after a time, looked up to find the Rhunlord Norli and two halflings standing before him and his page. I had naught seen a halfling since the days of Adalgrin Bunce, I ought attend to them at once.

 

Spoiler

Tying in some recent RP including the raising of a new runestone circle and a future post regarding the embassy of the Halflings. Fun RP @AstriaS & still fit you in despite having to head off @Acostrob. Upcoming post about halflings in Khron! @NotEvilAtAll @Nooblius @Norgeth @Hearth

 

[Ibn Khaldun 7729]

 

Oak and pine, one after another, fell and beat against the earth like the tail of a wyrm. Snow and debris precipitated around the men and women working to gather timber or repurpose an old palisade standing across from the village. The labor split thereupon gathering all the needed timber with part of the workforce fixing together wood in cross-hatch segments to constitute two great doors thick and unyielding while the other part took to slowly fashioning facades with sunk reliefs, engraving, and other woodworked designs.

 

The first of the facades served as a border to be fixed on all sides of the giant gateway. The facades had a marvelous lacquer finished over the carved surface depicting helmets of Cingedoz & Dwarven styles and the motif of the endless knot and sharp geometric patterns. These facades surrounded the face of the great wooden doors banded together with iron and that same face possessed fixtures in which torcs, Dwarven tools & implements, and rare mined gems and amber would be embedded.

 

Miner dwarves, such as Cornrow & Fulgrad Mineplenty, and the old Acrean smith Baerte gazed upon the mighty doors set upon massive iron hinges fixed to stout timbers driven into the earth and graced the gate with additional gifts to bedeck the gateway to the canyon pass facing Norland leading onto Khron'Hundmar. An enrapturing sapphire and a great Dwarven implement, a cross between smith & warhammer whose mallet Baerte shaped to imitate a bear's claw, now complemented a fascinating bronze torc and amber retrieved from the old bay of Vistulia.

 

Stout stood that mighty gate whose opening and closing left just room enough for those passing to pass one at a time. A watchtower peeked over the reconstituted palisade connecting to the gate with another in construction on the far side of the pass. The battlements, fashioned in that peculiar style of the Cingedoz, impressed naught but an honest concern for defense and vigilance with no inscriptions bidding visitors to feel unwelcome. The Dayrucawr looked more a piece of architecture carefully and caringly constructed than hastily assembled or built with wroth or arrogance.

[Ibn Khaldun 7729]

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮

 

A blaring peal from a warhorn signaled the riders advance from Brigwindosdur with each horse's saddle bearing a pair rather than one. The winding canyon passes of Khron'Hundmar soon smoothed over into hillocks with the more severe elevation at the Cingedoz party's back save for one large mountain jutting out in front of the cavalry. They rode close and hugged the incline of the mountain of Bjornfjall until reaching a fissure in the mountain's surface. Morag whistled and directed the party's attention to the cavern entrance torn into the mountainside and dismounted to fix a wooden cross into the gravelly entryway with a mallet.

 

Brennus, Kenneth, Morag, Morgause, & Vel'luci took turns dismounting, binding reins to the wooden cross, and gathering their arms and supply. The mountain cast an early dusk upon the gathered with the sun behind its castle-bearing peak. They entered the cavern with drawn weapon and braced shield, one after the other, with Vel'luci taking up the rearguard and bade to watch the rear of their advance into the hollow depths. No torchlight embraced them, so Brennus brought forth a yellow-green glow in the palm of his free hand that barely bathed the earthen walls and cast out all shadows save for his and the party's own shadows tossed behind them from the mana-lamp.

 

The earliest chambers and corridors of the cave system appeared nude of any sign of civilization, yet reeked the scent of mottled blood. Each winding corner conceded no sign of activity until they reached an innermost corridor where lingered still-burning torches fixed to crude sconces. The Cingedoz adventurers tightened their formation as they paced slower, taking in newfound signs of either life or past activity. They found a laboratory laid out in an offshoot grotto accompanied by dressers and cabinets filled with the garments of women.

 

Morgause, having advanced into another branching path, turned the corner and shuddered audibly with weakness in her knees. She found and motioned for others to bear witness to her finding. Therein in a dimly-lit niche in the cave stood a well-made and well-kept bed more like to be seen in a princess' quarters in an Hansetic castle than to be found in a derelict and doomed cavern. Toys of all makes and materials had been tossed across the embroidered blankets folded upon the bed. Audible retches from members of the party to the jarring and q*eer sight echoed across the cave and brought their attention to a larger chamber half-hid behind stalagmites and limestone columns as the noise of their protest returned to them.

 

An underground lake reflected torchlight and flowstone in the larger chamber that the Cingedoz approached. Great mushrooms towered like that of a boreal forest and half-surrounded the lake. Kenneth grimaced, pointing to bodies lynched and left to hang from the caps of few of the giant mushrooms. Each adventurer looked between each other and turned then to look over each surface of the chamber. No living being remained therein and those that they found dead had been dead for an indeterminate amount of time.

 

"Och, we ought to bring these bodies down, give them a proper burial," Morgause suggested with a voice laced in sorrow.

 

"I'm worried that might alarm whatever lurks here," Kenneth replied.

 

"I think it best that we do give them a burial, let wot'ever the **** did this know that its act is known. May even be good to raise a cairn and see if it disturbs the cairn so we might know if wot'ever did this still lurks," Morag advised. Brennus asked for Morag to elaborate on what a cairn was.

 

"A cairn is a set of gathered stones placed together to memorialize the dead," Morag answered.

 

"A fine idea t'at be Morag Bodbnemetoi, Revered Raven, I agree and say we ought to construct such a cairn at the cavern's entrance. It'll be like a rat trap in that if disturbed, we'd visibly be able to see it when we return to scout this cave again and will know something does indeed live here," Brennus stated, thanking Morag afterwards for having found the cave in question.

 

The gathered adventurers went to work taking falx-blade to the ropes that bound the dead and cobbled together large enough stones to entomb them. They made intentions to learn more about the castle Bjornfjall and to alert the Dwedmar colonists inside Khron'Hundmar of their findings.

 

 

 

Spoiler

Incredible RP with @far1ca @MolagBallin @DoubleSkullDice @ZiggyStarDusted

 

[Ibn Khaldun 7729]

 "Leadership passes from the Chieftain,

From Brennus to Lurana of same kin.

The Chieftess leads the tribe from the White Hill,

From above the Dwed for a new homeland to till"

Rixnemeto cambosiz di Rixuiro,

Di Brennus en Lurana havalonijoz.

Rixbena lǣwijoz Cingedoz di Brigwindosdur,

Ver Dweduronoz abo niujus lendhan waxijozoz.

 

 

Two figures stood beneath the translucent light of an aurora rippling across the night sky like a banner caught in wind. They stood on the precipice of a glacial outcropping that stood over the entrance into Khron'Hundmar and adjacent to the modest village of Brigwindosdur. A man, appearing twice as old as the woman opposite him, rested a relaxed palm on the other's shoulder and they stood there in that half-embrace and half-distancing motion with the men speaking audibly.

 

"You ask of me the authority to lead our tribe as if you are half-expecting me to spit out a retort. I have no retort to give, but rather a sigh of relief," Brennus conceded. The woman looked up to him, her painted face failing to hide her astonishment.

 

"Lurana hal'Cingedoz, this authority has no crown to covet nor kingdom to encompass with my heart like a dragon hoarding gold. We are a small folk, an honest folk, a folk few and far between and whose wandering makes it hard to corral us and the wonders we conjure are the treasures of our eyes as opposed to the mundane life of the larger kingdoms whereby the tracts of vast lands are the only things worth coveting."

 

Lurana looked past Brennus as if her mind's eye conjured an image upon the very leather laid against his shoulder.

 

"Lurana, I am but Bardnemetoi. Honored Bard, my leadership only being that I picked up where my father Gaisorix left off when he died in the dread city of Kivdrona. I prefer marking our runestones with animated engravings rather than counting coin or herding people. If you have the mind for it, the will for it, the desire for it; I will gladly give up my being Rix of the tribe - of being leader. I shall aid you in the ways that has most defined me, but will gladly call you my leader."

 

Brennus embraced Lurana like a father would a daughter. The two stood awhile longer upon the outcropping as the snow picked up. The new chieftess had been chosen and her first decisions would be to send word to all Cingedoz to return home. The tribe lives, the tribe survives, and now a new leader seeks for the tribe to thrive.

 

Spoiler

Introducing the new leader of the Cingedoz, @Hopeful. I will still be in the background writing lore and stories. You can join the Cingedoz Discord here: https://discord.gg/W5xzVHVH

 

[TN_TURKEY 101]

The following is the first tale of a young Cinged with much to learn, and so much more to see.

 

The Saga of Ceolwulf

First Story: ‘A Lesson in Cunning’

 

 

 

Ceolwulf hal’Trewohled is a young man. Inexperienced, perhaps naive even, but well-meaning and ambitious. Struck with a wanderlust from a young age, he had been inclined to solitary travel, scouring the isolated lands of the far north and west. It was not until the present he dared venture to what some of his elders call ‘the settled lands’.

 

These lands were foreign to Ceolwulf, those which lay south and east of any tundra or steppe he had wandered before. Hidden behind tall alps and dark forests, it was a place of strange customs and backwards living, so he had been told. But still, he was lured towards this strange country. Not out of ambition, but a desperation, for not a week ago the earth had writhed violently and the sky had screamed with crimson fire: disastrous omens that chilled the young Ceolwulf to the bone. After many restless nights, he needed answers to these happenings, but the elders of his people were as far-traveled and isolated as he was, it would take months to track a wiseman down… Unless he went to the place that people stayed put. So he had crossed the tall alps, and entered the settled lands.

 

It was a cramped, claustrophobic country, strangled by roads and hedges and high walls. The stone houses of the settled men were imposing at best, and ostentatious at worst. But the greater discomfort of the omens had driven him to these stone houses, and there he now sat, seeking the counsel of a settled wiseman bearing a cross. It was here, in the mead hall of the village called Minitz, that a warrior rushed into the space, calling out “The Duke of Adria has been kidnapped by Ferrymen, we need fighters!”

 

And so began the day Ceolwulf learned Cunning.

 

Ceolwulf knew not who this ‘Duke of Adria’ was, nor was he very familiar with the Ferrymen. But as a young man, he was in the business of rising in his station, and that was done through great deeds. Thus, he donned his armor, took up his shield, and rode with the warrior to rescue this Duke. 

 

The warband gathered in a nearby village, the very same Adria this Duke hailed from. A rag-tag party of disparate fighters, gathered haphazardly from across the Petrine river valley in response to the kidnapping of this Duke, along with other kidnappings Ceolwulf was presently not aware of. The motley crew of adventurers and sellswords gathered their arms, and under the guidance of a veteran warrior, rode north, and soon found themselves at the gates of the Ferrymens’ stone house. 

 

Ceolwulf stood aloof, shield raised behind a barrier as words and arrows were exchanged in tandem. He did not grasp the reason for the kidnapping of this ‘Duke’, nor what this warlike tribe they called the Ferrymen wanted in exchange, but he had pledged his blade out of courtesy and kindness, and was intent to keep his word. So he remained with the warband as words grew harsher and negotiations fell short, and violence was soberly guaranteed. 

 

As the two sides made the customary preparations for battle, it became apparent the Ferrymen held substantial advantage. As well as being far superior warriors according to the fellows in the ranks, the swarm of blue hoods atop their walls denoted superior numbers as well, on top of being safe behind said wall. But the veteran warrior who led the band was cunning, Ceolwulf soon learned, as he ordered the warriors to withdraw from the barriers around the stone house. The plan was clear: the Ferrymen were great warriors, and bloodthirsty ones at that, they would never abandon opportunity for battle. If the warband withdrew, they were guaranteed to sally from their stone walls, and meet them in the open. 

 

Knowing the numbers were still against them, the warband regrouped upon a hill overlooking the nearby road. With the Ferrymen already marching from their gate, the older warriors were intent on flipping the scenario, and hold the high ground against their foe. Ceolwulf found himself towards the back of the warband, astride his prized white mare Tremor, alongside a second mounted warrior, face obscured behind a silver helm. They were to fight in the manner of the Scydri, harrying the flanks from horseback with arrow and spear whilst the center line held the ground. That was the intent at least. The one thing none had counted on was how fast the Ferrymen could run.

 

Before weapons were even drawn, the blue-hooded tide had crested the hill. Ceolwulf had scarcely notched an arrow before he was struck by an unseen blow, sending him tumbling from Tremor’s saddle. As steel and blood burned the hilltop around him, the young wanderer struggled in vain to re-mount his panicked steed, but to no avail. 

 

Thus Ceolwulf met his first lesson in Cunning: The Brave man, according to the romantic stories, would have stood his ground amongst the chaos. He would draw his sword and throw himself into the frey as the frontlines shattered into a screaming, brawling pit of angry men. The Brave man would commit himself to suicide, but the Cunning man knows the value of his own life. Ceolwulf chose Cunning, and amongst the carnage of a route, he vanished into the nearby treeline. But he would not stray far, for he had left his beloved Tremor behind.

 

To the settled man, the obvious next step would be to run far from the aftermath, to return to the safety of his homestead before any pursuing foes make chase, and continue his life as normal. But the settled man has unique advantages the tribal man cannot rely on: finance. The settled man has consistent income, business and savings to rely on to replace and recover what may be lost on the battlefield. The tribal man has no such boons, and Ceolwulf was no different. A man with no homestead, no business, and no prospects, all his wealth was carried with him in the form of his previous few tools of trade. He had escaped with his armor and shield, his spear and his bow, but he had lost the most valuable possession: his horse. 

 

Tremor, as mentioned before, was a mare, and a well-bred one at that. With her Ceolwulf could rear for himself an exquisite herd of riding horses, and eventually become what he would call a wealthy man. But further still, she was more than just an expensive investment: she was a symbol. Tremor had been gifted to Ceolwulf by his elder and friend Abragan when he swore his sword to the Scydri confederacy, a living representation of his identity and standing. To lose her would be a great, and terrible, dishonor. So the answer was simple: he would have to reclaim her. But, after hours of hiding in the treeline, when Ceolwulf returned to the battlefield, he found it picked clean by the Ferrymen, and his steed was nowhere to be found.

 

Thus Ceolwulf met his second lesson in Cunning. The Brave man, as the stories go, would waste no time in infiltrating the Ferrymen’s stone house, bypassing the wall through stealth or physical prowess, leaving an epic trail of blood behind him as he fought his way through to his prize. The Brave man would attempt this, but the Cunning man knows his limits. The Ferrymen lived for battle, craving it as the snake craves the rat, and judging by their performance in the battle they had dedicated their very souls to its perfection: Ceolwulf would never infiltrate their walls and live. However, the Ferrymen had only just been satisfied in their hunger: they had gorged themselves on battle, and like the snake, they would likely be satisfied for months on end, and be less inclined to hunt further. So Ceolwulf placed his life in this prediction. 

 

He walked out of the treeline, right up to the front door of the Ferrymen, and asked to come inside.

 

They accepted.

 

The mighty warriors Ceolwulf had faced mere hours ago had clearly mellowed since the battle, becoming more akin to merchants than mercenaries. They flitted about, sorting through their battle loot and discussing the ransom of the Duke they still held captive, as casually as one may comment on the price of fresh vegetables at market. None even questioned his presence within the space; if any recognized the young man from across the battlefield, none commented. Ceolwulf looked about the space until he engaged one of the masked warriors in conversation, an elvish man by his stature. Ceolwulf greeted the man well, and merely told him the truth: He had lost his horse in the battle, and would like it back. The man told him to wait, vanishing into the bowels of the stone house. And a few moments after he returned, white mare led behind him. Words of gratitude were exchanged, along with a few iron pieces as recompense, and Ceolwulf was reunited with his prized Tremor, as simple as can be.

 

He left the house of the Ferrymen under peculiar circumstances; before departing, he volunteered to transport one of the captives back to Adria, whom the Ferrymen had seen well to release. A young woman, who had just begun her labors of childbirth. Riding swiftly but steadily, the young man returned the woman to her village and into the care of midwives, and just like that, he was right back where he had begun.

 

So Ceolwulf learned the lesson of Cunning. The Brave man would have acted purely by the sword that day, and likely would have died by the end of it. But the Cunning man knows the sword is but a single tool. The sword is for a specific time and place, to be drawn when it guarantees success. The Cunning man understands this, and is not afraid to use other tools: be that the speed of his legs, or the courtesy of a kind request. No, Ceolwulf did not win the battle with the Ferrymen, nor did he win glory in an epic final stand or a daring heist of their stronghold. But he lived, retaining all his wealth and possessions, and returned a hostage safely home. No, he did not win, but he learned. Which is sometimes equally important.

[Ibn Khaldun 7729]

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮

"Though we migrate from northerly hill

Friend will we remain to the Dwed still

Those who carve out mansions deep in mountains

North still above Norland, that Dweduron-enst-Brigoz

Those burly manufacturers of golem defenses

Where once we resided under the same stars"

 

 

The Rhunlord, whose shoulders sagged with the weight of hands near-constantly working golem limbs and unworked gems, bade Brennus welcome as the latter crossed through that winding tunnel from the snowy exterior to the gates of Khron'Hundmar. The Dwed of Khron'Hundmar, called Dweduron-enst-Brigoz (trans. Dwarf-town under the Hills) by the Cingedoz tribe who had lived above ground, chose to furnish a lavish smithy in the heart of their mansion. In that very smithy, Brennus knew he would chance upon the Rhunlord and he stepped forward with forlorn grief visible upon his face and his unkempt mustache and beard dripped with tears. He will raise a curse for the deed I've done, all the peace we built over years will be naught but ash in the instant.

 

"What troubles you Brennus of the Cingedoz?" the Rhunlord asked, not lacking in concern and turning from his anvil-work.

 

"I brace myself and ask that you do the same, for I come with grievous news that was truly out of my hands," Brennus began. He cupped his hands and rubbed them as if compelling himself to continue from a position of regret.

 

"Norli, you've known us to be a peaceful people and an honor-bound one. I come to relay, let my courage to stand before you myself be not forgotten, that I slew one of your Dwed in our village. My heart shudders at the deed, doubly so at its recounting, for it is not one I entertained nor took delight in. He had attacked one of mine own," Brennus announced. His head bent double as Norli let out a grief-stricken gasp.

 

"I attempted to arrest his axe-arm that he wielded against my own Morag hal'Cingedoz. They had some small spat that the Dwarf took to the extreme in both mocking and in turning to arms rather than keeping it between tongues. He continued to pursue Morag outside mine own hovel and ignored me thrice as I bade him calm and to lay down his axe."

 

Norli tugged his beard and let loose tears, though solemnly. Brennus took care to pause, to permit him his grieving without interruption.

 

"Where is the body my boy? Tell me you've at least buried him properly according to your tradition. . ," Norli asked with downcast eyes.

 

"We took care to preserve his body in the sleet, snow, and ice that I may ferry him down here so that you can bury him in his own tradition," Brennus reassured the Rhunlord. He dared to take a few steps forward and sat himself next to Norli.

 

"I will pay whatever blood-right is determined. This matter went from my hands and my choice after he tossed aside my own arresting hands and words. I can only ask that this act does not do away with the years we had, peace between our peoples. I will also forfeit my mantle as rix - as chieftain - that mine own tribe does not think their leader and his decisions be a model to follow as it concerns our two people," Brennus conceded.

 

 

Spoiler

Never really gave this entire story arc a proper introduction or post. Incredible RP between many players including @Nooblius, @Jihnyny, @far1ca, @MolagBallin, @Beholder, & others.

 

[Ibn Khaldun 7729]

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮

 

Clods of dirt kicked up beneath the hooves of horses barely registered a sound as riders saddled upon the horses hollered and howled. The sparse and disorganized wedge of cavalry rode down under the gaze of a great tower roofed with thatch and giving light from a cackling bonfire nestled inside like that of a lighthouse. The formation trampled and scattered southward towards a long chain of high hills ornamented by broad and eroded colonnades supporting great entablatures. The Barrowhills would become infested with riders all over its surface. The riders of the Cingedoz withdrew javelins as they scouted and circled the opening of passageways into the barrows beneath the hills while other riders from outside Danuglas took to investigating every marking, every relief, and every sign of stirring or foot traffic.

 

A rain let from the clouds above and intensified as the riders pushed further south and crossed vales to like hills with burrowed burial mounds. An entire necropolis carved into the roof of one such hill began to fill with rainwater and made for a muddy trench crossing for the scouts. The rain no longer came down as many drops, but entire sheets that kicked up a thickening fog over the environs. One druid, accompanying the party, let out a gasp as she peered into one of the many barrows and found a granite coffin with its lid shifted and pushed aside. The Cingedoz came together with their shields and held their javelins overhand in front of their guests and companions. The rain and fog restrained the eyes, save for the brief moments of clarity and sight granted by the flash of lightning, and the group huddled together with newfound unease.

 

Invited by peals of thunder that bade lightning farewell, the party looked around them during the brief intervals of the area being lit up to see. On one such hill, taller over the rest, sat a tall throne seemingly carved from jet-black stone. Airi Spiderrun and Ottomar von Alstreim both remarked at its sight and the rest of the group waited for the next strike of lightning to permit them to spy its form. With another flash of brightness, the throne was made apparent to them all and seemed to taunt them in its eldritch composure.

 

"Sedlon hal'forthan. . ," Brennus muttered and the other Cingedoz shifted and shuffled as if overcome with forlorn.

 

 

Spoiler

This post is meant to combine multiple interactions with the Cingedoz and the newfound haunted location south of our village Danuglas where we've invited multiple other players to visit and ride with us to check it out. Thank you @Ramon, @Scamelot, @RyuTheCoolest, @Hopeful, @TN_TURKEY, @wolfersquad2004, and others!

 

[Ibn Khaldun 7729]

 

THE DEATH OF BRENNUS
𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮

 

 

 

"You do charge too little!"

 

"T'is better t'charge too little t'at t'land knows me for a fair merchant than one looking to leech coins from the countryside," Brennus explained with a cheery tone and graceful grin. He worked his fingers along leather laces and cinched his saddlebags closed as Sarryn and Castiel glossed over their new bought goods. He sat satisfied in his saddle and looked with joy at the others gathered by the great fire kept kindled in Adria's town square.

 

"There is an emergency in New Vienne!"

 

Brennus turned his attention as did the others. A woman, Caterina Adelina, had rode her horse ragged into the populated square and bade those willing to help to ride alongside her. A Lechian knight, half-way off the grounds, turned and proclaimed his name as Ser August and swore to aid her. Two, three others chimed that they too will help. Bodbmakos would urge me on, to heroic deed, to harken the call of the wanting. He gave his saddlebag a tug to fix its position and wheeled his own horse around to flank Caterina and her newfound companions. The assembly left for the Aaunian capitol, letting neither forest nor river fords slow them until they reached the open gates of the newly repopulated city.

 

The cavalry troop passed beneath the gatehouse and broke up with the armed soldiers riding harder and deeper into the city while Caterina and the unarmed took to tending the wounded and the fleeing men and women scattered before the trampling hooves of a mounted highwayman. The Lechian knight took the lead of the armored troop with a lance directing them, Brennus couched a javelin along one arm and an archer by the name of Joseph Vasile took up position behind a colonnade running parallel on the street side across from the beginning combat. The highwayman, nearly riding down another victim before sighting the troop, broke his pursuit off to retreat deeper into New Vienne and towards the city plaza.

 

"Rabo! Sin bana flēiz adr ekoz!"[1] Brennus chanted as he released his javelin. The missile arced too far to the left and missed as the highwayman reached in the plaza. The Lechian let out a curse before riding out of the way for Brennus to find the highwayman stopped and brandishing a bottle. The knight in his heavy armor riding at full charge careened into a gaudy merchant's cart, one of many in the plaza, and the highwayman tossed the bottle towards the Lechian. The Cingedoz skirmisher, barely armored, made a better change of direction and circled around and past the Lechian who contended with a swift growth of vines enmeshing him into a mess of canvas and splintered wood and horse barding. He brandished a second javelin from the clutch held against the underside of his shield and faced the highwayman.

 

Joseph had the highwayman's attention and Brennus trained his javelin with a fluid motion from behind his shoulder bringing the javelin to rest level with his head. A second commotion goaded the highwayman to begin his approach towards the archer, that of the injured and the efforts to pull them inside shops and houses lining the street between the city plaza and gates. He released his javelin and let out a choked yelp of glee, the javelin struck true but did little to stagger his target. He broke into a gallop as the highwayman paused and regathered himself to proceed his course. He gritted his teeth as he felt for his falx and unworked it from its sheath, holding it up over his head as he set his course to intercept his target before reaching the colonnade where Joseph shot from.

 

Even if I could not have as many fabled stories as Bodbmakos, I fight as my father fought, against a foe as he did in Kivdrona. The braying of horses warned their riders of the impact, Brennus did little to brace for it and let his weight shift against the highwayman as the horses slammed awkwardly together. He drove the edge of his falx between a shoulder-pauldron and helmet and bowed his legs in an effort to keep himself saddled. The horses no sooner collided than they rode in separate directions with the tribesman pulling away his falx with a look of surprise and the highwayman sent past the archer out of reach and gripping his shoulder. That was neither flesh nor iron. Brennus looked to his falx and found an inch along the blade dented and coated in dust and debris.

 

"I am Maxx Baitman," the highwayman cried out with a laugh not giddy enough to suggest mere lunacy, but betraying pained surprise. He continued towards the gates slowly, rubbing the earthen-colored divot where the falx met between shoulder and neck.

 

"You any good at shooting that bow on horseback?" Brennus questioned as he circled in front of Joseph. The archer joined Brennus and mounted the horse in response. The two of them turned and found Maxx crying out in Elven, clutched fist over mouth and eyes fixated on a ring of gold bedecked with a ruby. The two broke off into a gallop towards him. They watched as Maxx brandished a lance and straightened his own steed as if readying to charge.

 

"I don't like the look of that ring," Joseph muttered. Brennus kicked at his gelding's flanks.

 

"I can't joust with a falx, you'll need to cripple his horse before we meet!" Brennus exclaimed as he steered his horse onward.

 

A fireball emanated from the highwayman's ring and catapulted towards the pair. The gelding reared as flames felt for horsehair and ensnared it and the forwardmost rider. Brennus yelled in pain and saw his ochre-colored mantle and the sleeves of his tunic burn away as he fell backwards. He leaned his head against the cobblestone and saw Joseph sprawled out three feet back. He rolled onto his side and saw Maxx disappear into an alley nearer the city gates than them. People began to peek past the jambs of shop windows and the frames of doorways out into the street. Caterina and the man nearly slain before the plaza combat came out to help Brennus and Joseph up.

 

A reminiscent cry in Elven called out from that same alley that Maxx slipped through. Brennus motioned with his fore- and middle finger spaced apart for Joseph to go to the opposite side of the street and for him to continue towards the alley. He ducked into niches and stepped into shop galleries. One such shop he entered appeared well-stocked and elegantly curated with all manners of gems and jewels arrayed, more than he could think a name for. Wealth I brought to my tribe, as did my father. It is just as necessary as great deeds, the one to be spent on the needs of our members and the other to be sent forth to gather up more members - the sum of the tribe. He tore himself from his fleeting distraction and stepped out of the shop.

 

Brennus saw the archer shouting before he heard anything. He turned to find Maxx closing in on him with a couched lance. Would that this last stand earn me a song by the bards preserving me a hero - one of the last sons of a waning tribe. He braced his shield and held his falx overhand like a short spear. No sound reached his ear as the barb of the lance splintered shield and exited the head of the Cingedoz tribesman.

 

 

Spoiler

Translation

1. Zeal! This enemy flees before us!

 

 

[Ibn Khaldun 7729]

 

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮

 

 

The Cingedoz youth arrived to find a wooden palisade hastily erected, the quick effort showing in each gap that betrayed the interior of the town. He led his horse from gate to gate until finally one opened for the young man whose only effect that disarmed concerns from inside were his banners of green and white with a black full circle that looked identical to the one in town draped outside his kinsmen' shop. Odoacer trotted inside the town with a pomp meant more to exude confidence than to offend. He appeared much too bedecked and armed to fool any into thinking he had experience in true combat; his dress and armor made more of a show than a reassurance in his ability.

 

A hawk cast in bronze stretched its wings over the helmet that it affixed. Chainmail hung loosely from Odoacer in places that indicated the armor being too large to fit him. He led his horse in a prance and offered to watch from the haphazard watchtowers that were constructed in corners where the palisade wall either bent its defenses at an angle or expanded to encompass more of the environs of Valfleur. He had with him a falx that seemed too unwieldy to swing and a clutch of javelins. He maneuvered with the latter with a surety that indicated that, though he had no experience in war, he did possess an ability to train and launch missiles at targets be it hunted game or on his enemy. He possessed with him the panoply of his father Brennus and his grandfather Gaisorix.

 

"Anastandenek banoz di Petra hvarr patrek prifagh karantsoz"1

 

Spoiler

Translation: 
"I oppose the enemies of Petra who my father took as friends."

 

[Ibn Khaldun 7729]

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮

 

 

The expanse of plains, dotted with hills and cliffs, that surrounded the earthenworks of Danuglas provided a great length of land to ride, to range, and to hunt. All manners of wild beasts grazed or fled a predator's pursuit; oxen and wild sheep loitered the flats while rams teetered on the slopes of hills and beneath the brink of cliffs. Odoacer took to ride through the expanse nearer the great lake that spanned between Danuglas on the southern shore and Dunrath on the northern. He cried out in excitement, in vigor, all manner of hey-heys yelped from his throat as he rode the rush that was the exhilaration of riding unburdened on horseback and unencumbered and unmolested by forest or by patrols.

 

As Odoacer scaled the incline of a hill, a new noise came to be heard on the opposite slope. The cries of a woman melted into a louder sound of hoofbeats; these hoofbeats sounded like weighted iron compared to his own horse's lighter motions. He spurred his horse on and over the edge of the hill to find two knights giving aid to a woman bent over a fourth body. His eyes caught sight of a fleeing mass thirty yards from the knights and the distance kept growing. He took out a javelin from the clutch beneath his shield and held it lazily to his side as he began his approach of the knights and their damsel.

 

"Slanu! What be the matter?" Odoacer asked as he approached in a canter.

 

"There be a vampyre that did this, we must capture the creature. . ," one of the knights replied before Odoacer continued. The knight looked astonished as Odoacer increased his speed to a gallop, riding around and past them. The two knights gave a start, realizing that he meant to pursue the vampyre.

 

"I'll round on the beast and force it to double back," Odoacer urged as he rode past them in an increasing speed. He held the mass between his eyes, its form growing in size and definition as he closed the distance between them. The knights, in their full panoply and heavily armored, followed while biding their horses' energy by riding not-so-quickly.

 

Odoacer broke from his straight-line pursuit and began to ride up along the vampyre's flank. He couched his javelin and launched it to land in front of the vampyre. The creature slowed expecting to try and dodge, but recoiled backwards as the javelin planted itself in the soil in front of it. Odoacer led his horse around to face the vampyre, now armed with a spear which he held overhand. The creature bore its fangs for a moment, then shrieked and galloped on all fours away from the young Cingedoz. The sound of heavy hoofbeats muted the vampyre's own hands and feet against dirt.

 

The young skirmisher winced in anticipation, his eyes watching and his mind interpreting the inevitable. One of the knights directed his charger to collide with the creature that had just turned away from Odoacer and unknowingly towards its other two pursuers. The vampyre gasped as the horse's chest impacted it and yelled as the frenzied legs of the steed tugged its body underneath in a stampede. The knight broke his charge and rode to the left of Odoacer and the second knight slowed and pressed the edge of his longsword against the trampled body.

 

"Stay yourself creature if you have any wit left in your head, you shall be taken to the town of Barrowton. Exercise restraint if you have any or suffer a swifter demise right here and now."

 

 

Spoiler

Was really fun RP a few weeks back, just randomly rode around Cingedoz lair to find a vampire being pursued! Kudos to @MalchediaelVultand co. in Barrowton!