Languished Temple, Vanquished Foes

[Samson Option 9652]

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮

 

Two mages exited the grand portal of that most illustrious of temples, carved in canyon stone, its portal agape facing eastward on the outskirts of Old Savoy. The two, robed in cerulean and swarthy enough to camouflage in the dusk horizon, embraced one last time in a brotherly grip. They separated with one nervously boarding a dinghy that rested half onto the sandy shore and the other one climbing the nearest plateau overlooking the temple. The two mages' locked gazes as the first set his raft onto the sea and the other disappeared in a sea of clay bodies, terracotta soldiers forming a testudo, and marched westward.

 

Marib sat in his dinghy, drawing his robes closer as if trying to find some sense of security in being swaddled in the garments. He felt little comfort in being exposed at sea and half-heartedly took his oars in hand. With each exertion and row, he distanced himself from the shore and set himself further out in the vastness unfamiliar to him. He knew only the general direction he intended to go, somewhere onto the mainland continent where Elvenesse & Urguan reigned, but had no more specific a destination. The boat rocked with the growing choppiness of the waters and it crawled from Old Savoy.

 

Il'Watar's face grew as white as one might expect from a dark-complexioned Farfolk. He had one last mission, both important yet ineffectually so for himself. The emotionless Sorvian spearmen proceeding in a testudo around him obeyed their orders listlessly, but he could not help dwelling upon what he had become. Forlorn hope am I, to give Marib enough time to evade spying eyes and prying hands. The small formation had been sent as a diversion. They would be part of a two-pronged attack on the Vistulian Isles, the nearest settlement and the main foes of the Chorasmians, with the other half of the effort coming from a third mage and his Sorvian contingent holed up in an abandoned keep in Freimark.

 

A sudden pause snapped Il'Watar to his senses. The Sorvian testudo halted their movement and began to brace their shields as the faint noise of hoofbeats drummed across the plateau. Il'Watar stood himself straight and began to concentrate, a deep green aura painting itself over his fingertips, unperturbed as the sound of arrows whirred into shields and over the formation. Clansguard horsearchers broke into a circle around the testudo in an attempt to encircle and catch the terracotta spearmen unprotected. The Sorvians, holding their spears overhand, peppered any cavalry that dared to get too close.

 

A faint glow cast itself over the plateau like that of the rising sun of dawn. Il'Watar sighed relief as the second contingent started their operations on the plateau overlooking the Narada Isle. Flaming shards of ammunition and the yawn of exhausted trebuchet beams caught the attention of the Vistulians and their riders peeled away from the testudo and towards the sight and noise. Il'Watar called out for the testudo to continue onward, approaching the bridge stretching from the Savoyard peninsula to the Vistulian Isles. The bombardment from the entrenched second contingent of Chorasmians continued with some munitions falling harmlessly against the face of the island crags while others found true targets; rooftops thrown open and exposed and burning.

 

The next volley from the trebuchets seemed brighter than before. Il'Watar squinted his eyes and observed as counterweights, trebuchet arms, and frames caught fire. Silhouettes swallowed the flames, the Vistulians having fallen upon the entrenched unit and engaged in hand-to-hand & horseback combat and cutting down the Sorvians and their master in the distance. Marib, how far have you gotten at this point, your forlorn hopes are being cut down too quickly. He ordered the testudo around him to halt at the foot of the bridge. No point continuing as they will return, it is time to put up our own part of the fight.

 

Sorvian spearmen proceeded to turn their testudo formation so that the two flanks faced either the gateway on the other side of the bridge and the approach of the bridge. Night cast an obscure veil over the grounds, sconces barely giving enough light to make out anything further than twenty feet away. Il'Watar motioned with his hands as he conjured sand along the ground around them. If any come near, I'll sense their steps. A horse passed at full gallop around the rear of the testudo, then another. The mage turned and felt one his legs buckle with a sharp pain that sent him onto his opposite knee.

 

An arrow protruded from Il'Watar's left leg, his eyes widening as he came to realize that very thing. The formation of spears and shields buckled on their own as warhammers and horse bodies pushed and shoved and broke clay bodies and wooden shields. The mage looked helplessly and was struck onto his back as shards of clay sprayed and dashed around him. The Vistulians, outnumbering and outmaneuvering, made quick work of his own troops and soon he came face to face with one such Radaghastian whose irate eyes seemed capable of setting anything he looked at aflame.

 

"This time we take nie chances," the furious Vistulian exclaimed as he tightened his grip on a bearded battleaxe in both his hands. Il'Watar shrank away from the insinuated comment and held up one of his arms over his face in fear.

 

"Wait! Piast! Moi think one last chance shall be given to the bastard. Sure, rats like this are not worthy of life, but he is being used as a tool!" another Vistulian, younger than the first, urged. The Piast rested the battleaxe slung across one shoulder and looked at the juvenile.

 

"Yes, yes. Mercy, listen to the young boy. . .," Il'Watar managed to get out as he pressed dry lips together parched with panic.

 

The Piast glared at Il'Watar, now standing over him, then looks to the petitioning Vistulian and mused, "If we spare him now, it ends all the same - again & again they will come and attack."

 

Il'Watar mustered enough spittle to wet his lips and commented, "O' Piast is it? Your soldiers have taken out all the mages save for Marib & I and destroyed what manufactories we had in our temple for producing the clay-soldiers. I'd dare say this is the last you have seen from us."

 

"And where is Marib?" the juvenile queried bluntly. Il'Watar looked past them, in a thousand-yard stare, and past the buildings too as if to sea, "He has left across the blue expanse. To Elvenesse? To Urguan? I do not know. It was an idea brought up when the three criminals broke us out of your prison."

 

The Piast took a step back and motioned for the youth to render him care. Il'Watar thanked the boy profusely, swearing neither harm from his own hands and offering the Vistulians to take his hands so he could not cast as a means to clarify his sincerity. Marib, sail far and sail fast, Sumfaya is dead and I a menial prisoner-servant. Our temple is empty and our people fled or vanquished. The juvenile introduced himself as Bogodar and took the injured mage into custody. The anchorage of the bridge looked as if a hundred vases had been dropped with clay shards and shrapnel littering the approach to the bridge. Two trebuchets adjacent to the bridge, on a plateau between Vistulia & Freimark, burned with the occasional creak of wood collapsing in on itself.

 

 

Spoiler

[OOC]

I enjoyed this storyline and hope you all did too. This storyline tied up an old event-build I made for Savoy back a couple of months ago and never got to actualize. I will be posting in this thread in reverse chronological order - so the end-game posted first and previous events afterwards.

 

The mage Il'Watar can NOT be used in town defense, to teach magic, but is otherwise interactable. The soldier Miqdad al'Lakhm can be interacted with, but otherwise cannot provide any items or anything of the sort.

 

My next storyline will involve multiple playerbases in South Hub. Marib al'Zanj may occasionally pop up as a malevolent and lone criminal. Enjoy and have fun!

 

[Wulfery 832]

 Casimir sat by the Radaghasts Tree that was slowly growing on the shrine island. In his mind plenty of thoughts came and went, as he recalled all the events that led to such a big trouble for them. There was the lingering feeling that something was just not right. That they stumbled upon something that was not meant for them, and they just got tangled in some wild scheme. But the very least, all in all he found his new reason in mind, not succumbing to his concerns and paranoia, instead listening to Bogodar and his advice.

 He may be young. He may be still stepping in the path of Duhovnik. But to have someone to hold him back whilst in front of the mage felt like a relief. A brief moment of calm amidst of a storm. Enough to not stain his hands with more blood, enough to make sure that his people will be protected and yet won't have to succumb further to the wronged path that Bies prepared for them with his schemes.

 

 Hvala Clandom.

 Hvala Vistulia.

[Samson Option 9652]

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮

 

 

Night crept in with the last shadows cast from the setting sun over the Vistulian Isles. The village green had little activity save for drunkards and loiterers still carrying conversation. A Sorvian made of terracotta worked itself into corners, alleyways, and other hiding places unbeknownst to all save one; a youthful Radaghastian who happened to have peaked out his window to see the scrawl of Qalashi calligraphy flourished in a spiral decorating the mask of the Sorvian as it too peered into his window. The Sorvian disappeared from the window with the young man clambering downstairs to follow.

 

Both Sorvian and the Radaghastian played cat & mouse until they encountered one another once more in the Clansguard Hall. The Sorvian, armed with a spear, came to blows with the young Radaghastian bearing a sabre. Blow, counter, blow; the two dueled in the hall when three more individuals entered the scene. The duel, resulting in a blown shoulder and bum foot for the Sorvian, paused as the young Radaghastian found a Frost Witch, an ebony dwarf, and a maille-dressed man interjecting themselves into the fight.

 

Vistulians awoke to the commotion from the Clansguard Hall. The new trio made haste to repel the youth and the armored hedge knight urged the Sorvian onward, giving his word that they would aid it in its mission. A closed wooden portcullis blocked access to the Isle's prison and the Sorvian brought down one of the many sconces to use to light the grating. The combat beyond the prison-yard grew louder and louder as more soldiers filed downstairs.

 

The Frost Witch drew a blade along with the ebony dwarf and faced the others that made their way down to join in the fray. The hedge knight threw himself at the nearest Vistulian, leaving the Sorvian alone to barrel through the burning portcullis and towards the prison cells. Two voices, groaning with restlessness, called out from one of the cells and the Sorvian turned to them. It offered the sconce towards the iron-grating of the cell and each mage took a turn burning away the hemp binding their hands behind their backs.

 

"Hyoooo!"

 

"Shield woll!"

 

"Push them back yoe!"

 

The Vistulians forming up a shieldwall before the Frost Witch and others looked up at the foreign voices. Skavik raiders proceeded downstairs and stepped shoulder-to-shoulder to form a separate shieldwall of their own. A cascade of sand slammed the iron-grate door of the prison cell open, smashing apart what remained of the Sorvian, on the opposite side of the Skavik shieldwall and two geoturgists stepped out as sand poured before them like a broken hourglass emptying its contents. Vistulian clansguards looked back and forth between the two sets of enemies on opposite flanks and opted to have most of their contingent engage the Skaviks.

 

Sumfaya il'Tariq & Il'Watar looked to each other as the Frost Witch, ebony dwarf, and hedge knight conceded that they had a near impossible path to cross. Skavik and Vistulian combatants pushed, shoved, and peppered each other with an assortment of spears, swords, and sabres in a melee that blocked the only way up from the Clansguard Hall.

 

"My fellow geoturgist and I are the remaining two out of three of us from Chorasmia," Sumfaya quipped. He clapped a hand on Il'Watar's shoulder as he continued, "Marib will be the last of us if we perform our ritual as a means to get you three out of here."

 

"We didn't go through all of this for nothing," the Frost Witch rebuked, her face twitching as frost continued to tesselate and linger on her cheekbones.

 

"Aye, oi'd say we fock up t'town guard an' use t'at as favor fer' t'raiders t'let us pass," the ebony dwarf argued as he took his axe and swung it down from overhead on the nearest Vistulian. The Frost Witch, hedge knight, and geoturgists followed suit and pincered the Vistulian shieldwall from the rear as they fought against the opposing shieldwall.

 

 

 

 

 

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮

 

 

Salt & soda ash littered the ground, the few thin puddles of water colored a pinkish-orange hue seemed to break as if brittle more than splash as if wet. Ossified creatures, a bird and a rodent, stood still as a painted picture and spooked the trio coming in from behind Sumfaya il'Tariq. Sumfaya danced towards a tall figure cast in stone. He ran a hand across a petrified chin, jerking at it mockingly, as the frost witch gasped as she realized it was a man frozen still and petrified. The man's skin was taunt as if parched paper and his skin was colored salt and pepper and mottled all over.

 

"This is the slow death my dear rescuers," a voice called out from a quiet corner of the room. The hedge knight turned to find another mage in cerulean sitting in a dark corner prayerful and serene.

 

"I thank you for rescuing my students Sumfaya & Il'Watar. I am Marib al'Zanj," Marib introduced himself, still sitting cross-legged on the floor.

 

"We did what we could, no one deserves to languish in those prison cells in dire condition," the ebony dwarf proudly remarked.

 

"Who are you all?" the hedge knight and Frost Witch inquired in unison. Sumfaya looked to Marib, as if waiting for permission which Marib gave.

 

"We are geoturgists of this great Temple, Chorasmia Jadida, and we are what remains after our temple was ransacked and our manufactories destroyed - we can no longer produce the terracotta soldiers nor can we stay here any longer.  We took over after killing," Sumfaya explained as he patted the ossified head and dried turban of the frozen figure next to him, "this fool Qahtan who had it in his head to befriend those zealots of Savoy. We feared the more recent settlements around here such as Canonist Hyspia and pagan Redclyf & Vistulia, feared what they would make of us and we feared rightly."

 

"You intend to leave?" the hedge knight asked.

 

"Yes, when we captured Qahtan, many of the townfolks & artisans fled. Whether they fled to Chaldees, to Saqr, or to a settlement of their own making - we do not know," Sumfaya confirmed.

 

"We do intend to sail across the sea, though we know not where we will beach. It may be in Elvenesse, it may be in Urguan," Marib discreetly added.

 

 

Spoiler

[OOC]

 

Very fun and interesting turn of events in this particular situation! I've left the three actual jailbreakers untagged so they don't have to worry about metagaming as they play various CAs/MAs. Kudos to @Jihnyny @Qizu @DrunkPapaBear @MisterBlitzkrieg @sanswarrior @far1ca @Wulfery  @Darthpiesel and others for a crazy experience!