Omen 10: Ascension

[janestarz]

Omen 10 was fucking awesome! I had such a great time. The details were amazing, and we as players really had an influence on what happened.
The problem with the big undead war was always that the main bad guy, Kalithé, could never be vanquished by just us. We only hurt him in pinpricks every time. And though we killed Arthur Souleater, it cost us bigtime.
So how do you kill something that is so big?

You make it into a God ...and let the Gods deal with it...

Friday
Surrounded by friends and Anarquendor we sat in the camp under a tarp. Darkness had fallen and it was quiet in town. The satyrs had paid us a brief visit earlier that evening, and my thoughts strayed in that direction.
"New people. Must test!" the lead satyr said.
"Test? How?" I asked.
The satyrs explained that it was a blood test. Undead didn't bleed and they needed to make sure. "Anyone got a knife?" I asked, and one of the satyrs held his up. I pushed my palm into the sharp edge, blood welling on the palm. They sniffed my hand, and all the Anarquendor followed of their own accord.
The wound in my palm still stung, but I ignored it. The Eventyr sat with us, discussing things of the day.

Suddenly, I felt something very strange and my thoughts returned to the present. The necklace I wore, the one Asterion had asked me to return to his kinswoman, became stone-cold. My legs moved of their own accord, and I stood up from the log I'd been sitting on. Something was wrong, very wrong. "Amras!" I called, running out of the camp in the middle of the conversation.
"Captain, Amras is not here." one said.
"Balamaethor!" I called instead, continuing. Outside the ring of light, the forest was nearly pitch-black. I knew exactly where I had to go, and I passed the outer tents of the encampent.
"Captain, where are you going?" Balamaethor asked behind me. I didn't answer.
I stopped beyond the camp, waiting and testing the night air. I saw something move, heard the chink of a chain. Slow movement, white shapes. Undead.

"Undead!" I called in elvish. "Get your weapons!" A moment later I realised which language I'd called and I switched to common, repeating myself. "UNDEAD! Get your swords!"
The call was repeated in the village, and again, as the undead drew closer. I withdrew, back to the edge of the camp, trying to find a way around the undead.
"Captain, what are you doing?"
"We need to go into the forest." I said, dodging a sword from one of the undead and moving around a tree. Others jumped forward to get the undead, but I saw no way I could pass them.
Balamaethor questioned me further, but I didn't reply. And moments later I heard the other Anarquendor shouting my name in near-panic.
"Captain, it's Asterion!"

Panic gripped my heart, but I knew it was true.
He found me before I found him, I think, near the tent of Lady Aimée. "You!" he called. "You're the reason I am dead."
"That is not true, Asterion Shadowpath."
"There is nothing you can do to stop him." Asterion replied, sounding sure. "You are fighting a lost cause."
"You know that is not true either." I replied. "And since when do you speak the common tongue, Asterion Shadowpath. Have you forgotten so much since you died? Did you forsake everything when you were made undead?"
"I can choose to speak any tongue I wish!" he said.
Our talk was interrupted by the arrival of others from the village. Asterion glanced at them, dwarves and men, and for a moment I could clearly see his warrior's markings on his face. Then he bolted into the undergrowth. I followed him, but I lost him in the shadows. No wonder, he would not be found if he didn't want to be.
I searched frantically, weaving between trees and trying to get a hint of where he could be, but if my crashing through the undergrowth wouldn't warn him, nothing would. In the end it was Dur'Ithil's voice that broke through the red haze. "Captain, he will come to you. You know he will."

It was true, I knew it was. I paced some more, and then I looked around at who was there. "He is mine." I growled. I looked at the big human close to me. "Krughal, promise me you will not touch him."
"You have my word." Krughal said. He shook my arm, the warrior's grip, and left me to it.
I sat in the encampment, trying to calm my breathing, meditating on what happened. Waiting.
I didn't have to wait for long.

He called through the woods, calling to me, to us. The words meant very little, corrupted by the touch of a lich on him. I approached him. "Have you forsaken Rystill then?" I shouted at him, desperate for my words to find his heart. "You have always served her faithfully."
"She has betrayed me!" he shouted.
"Asterion Shadowpath, I will not rest until I bring Her Peace to you, so help me Rystill!" I shouted back.
Closer and closer I came to him, but drawing my sword would be too obvious and I doubted whether it would work. By talking, he let me get closer and closer. The Anarquendor behind me cautioned me, telling me not to get too close, but close was just what I wanted.
"Your very nature has been corrupted!" I said. "This is not what you were in life! This is not what you have fought for! Have you forgotten everything?"
While Asterion answered, I half-turned. "Knife." I commanded softly. It was Amras behind me, of course, who slid his knife toward me. I held it back-handedly.
"Stay back you!" Asterion called to the Anarquendor. Then he turned to me and continued raging. "There is no more hope!"
"Where there is life, while there is life, there is still hope. And we must cherish all life, defend it from everything that threatens its very existence. That is what you used to live for, that was what you fought for. It is not too late to remember!" I said. "Show remorse, and ask forgiveness! I will help you find Rystill again."
"Stay back!" Asterion called again, to the Anarquendor that tried to surround him. I pointed with my hands to keep them back, but Asterion felt too threatened. He started an incantation. "By the Powers of Kalithé..."
"NO!!!!" I shouted, and jumped into his defenses, stabbing with the hunting knife Amras has given me. "NEVER BY THAT NAME!"
Asterion grabbed my arms and tried to push me away, but I kneed him in the kidneys. "YOU BELONG WITH RYSTILL!!!"
He managed to shove me off, stumbled, dodged, and sprinted away into the darkness. He called over his shoulder. "Don't you dare follow me!"

Minutes later, he was lying on the ground after having attacked a group of humans. I don't remember who got me there, but I kneeled next to him, making sure my sword was out of his reach. He was silent, but soon came to or was healed. A priest of Angharad wanted to read him his rights, but Asterion raged at them. "Idiots, betrayers!"
"Stay back!" I called. Tears were forming in my eyes. "I will need holy water or a blessed weapon."
"Captain...." someone hissed behind me.
"Shut up! I will finish this myself."
Asterion stayed down carefully, but his eyes rolled wildly, trying to look daggers at the Angharad priests that were around. But then I saw a change in him, and he looked at me. "My soul can not be saved." he said. "It's in Benjamin's hands now. He carries an armour crafted of souls. GHraaah!"
The wild look in his eyes was back, and again he struggled. Someone behind me said to be quiet, that everything Asterion heard would be carried back to Benjamin and Kalithé.
"I'll take care of Benjamin." I growled menacingly.
The Order of the Hammer had arrived as well, and had blessed one of their hammers. "Captain, you should move aside."
I took one final look at the haunted face, the wild eyes, and sat back so they could do their job. And I nodded.
With several heavy blows, they shattered the large warhammer into Asterion's chest, and he moved no more.
"Holy water." I said, my voice devoid of emotion. Someone handed me a bowl of water and I dipped my fingers in. "Asterion Shadowpath, may you find peace in Rystill's Grove."
I pressed my fingers to his forehead, drips of water causing tendrils of smoke to form. "May your body return to the circle of nature, where it can nourish others."
I dipped my fingers, and blessed his lips with the water. Luthine started humming a song behind me, and I slowly poured the holy water onto his body. Smoke and steam rose, a foul stench of undead rising.
I sang:

Bealocwealm hafað fréone frecan forth onsended
giedd sculon singan gléomenn sorgiende
on Meduselde þæt he ma no wære
his dryhtne dyrest and mæga deorost.
Bealo...

"An evil death has set forth the noble warrior
A song shall sing sorrowing minstrels
in Meduseld that he is no more,
to his lord dearest and kinsmen most beloved.
'An evil death..."
(Or on YouTube)

A priest of Angharad kneeled on the other side of Asterion's body. "Pray to Rystill." he said to us, and all of us prayed. I cannot remember exactly what I said, but in the end, the priest nodded. "He has passed the bridge now. He is with Rystill."
A soft voice whispered in my head. "You were right. I was wrong. Follow the path."
Roots from the oak tree he lay under grew from the ground, wrapping around his body. They retreated moments later, leaving only shattered bones, having taken the rest back into nature.
I fell forward, crying.
After a few minutes, I sat up again. There was no time for tears. I had a duty to all the Anarquendor. And so I pushed my grief down, resumed my calm facade, and led them as their captain.

Bereklauw needed our help. He had an eye on the World of Dreams and he saw there were undead there. We'd promised to aid him, and Radag'hen would lead us into a trance so we could enter the world of dreams. Wolf would join us, and some of the Eventyr joined us in our camp to keep us safe and to serve as our anchors.
We practiced our trance, but when the time came to go to the World of Dreams, I couldn't manage to keep my emotions under control. While the others slept, I slowly opened my eyes, knowing I had failed them.
We waited by their bodies until they returned.

Of course, Dur'Ithil spoke to me later. "You left us behind." he spat at me, pacing. "Did you even try?"
"I tried, Dur'Ithil. Believe me I did."
"You failed us. We believed in you, and you failed us. Let us do this on our own. How dare you call yourself our captain?"
"I've never done this before! I've never tried going to the World of Dreams! And you know I would give my life to keep you safe, but sometimes things are outside my control."
Our discussion soon escalated to a shouting match, but in the end I think I managed to hold my end of the conversation up. Somewhat. But I did not sleep soundly that night.

Saturday
I had hardly finished my breakfast when the satyrs returned. More news: cutting the finger was not enough.
"Blood...goes down. If cut on hand, always blood. Cut on arm, not always blood." their leader grunted.
"Alright." I said. "We will test again. Come, we'll speak to the general."
"Your clan, elf clan. Good. No test;" the satyr grunted; "Others, all test."
I nodded. "You, captain. You look they do. You look they test."
Reinard delegated the task to Darael, and then proceeded to make some announcements to the village.


Reinard speaks to the crowd -- Photo by me.

Next to the blood testing, there was also a new village council to be elected. Again.

I observed Krughal's newest pupils, Conn and Melas from the Mountain Lion clan, playing skaak (it's like chess, but quite different). Melas, being a wood-elf, was lithe and he was swaying on his feet a bit. Conn, human, had more muscle and punched Melas in the face. The trick to the exercise was to get one to leave his plate with both feet.
After watching Melas get beat up a few rounds, I approached him. "Skaak isn't always about strength, but it's about cunning too. He's stronger than you are, but you are more quick. Use that to your advantage."
Melas nodded, but he lost the next match again. I poked Erik. "For old times' sake?"
Conn and Melas stepped aside, and we took our places on the plates. I opened with a trick Erik should have known -- it worked on him a week earlier. My elbow connected with his nose, and while he grabbed his face in pain I stepped in with one foot and unbalanced him.
The next round was his, as he used his weight (and that of his metal armour) to get me off the plate. We slapped each other's shoulders and laughed, making place for the lesson once more.

Amras Dîrdholan, played by Keffie Photo by me.

After their skaak lesson, I told them where two large logs were which needed moving. Krughal had Erik and me dragging logs around too, and I could do with the extra sitting space under our tarp. While they were busy, my eye fell on Amras.
He'd not been himself lately, and I took the time to sit with him. He looked troubled. We spoke briefly, and I asked him whether being my second was too much of a burden to him.
Amras thought for a minute, and I waited patiently for his answer. "I still need to get the hang of it." he said frankly.
"And what about being my pengyll?" I countered. It was a different matter altogether.
"It might be too much." It was hard for him to admit it.
"Amras, I would love to have you as my pengyll but I need to know whether you can handle it. I cannot have you as my pengyll if it costs you too much. I need you to be your best, and if it is too much of a burden, then perhaps it is time I choose another."
Amras nodded. "Perhaps that wold be best."
"Let's talk." I said. "Sumolan, could you please come here?"
Sumolan joined us, and sat down.
"Amras has agreed that being my pengyll is too much for him right now." I said. Amras explained a bit further.
"I want to ask you to think about if you would be willing to take over the position. I don't need an answer yet, just think on it."
Sumolan nodded, and we got up again. The berserkers had just finished lifting the second log.

There were other pressing matters. The mission with Bereklauw had shown the other Anarquendor that there was a necromancer in the forest somewhere. Bereklauw's mission in the World of Dreams would fail unless we would take care of them, so I gathered a group of able people to go into the woods. Sir Percival, Dame Blanche and Bertram were among them, as well as Marcus and Hubrecht. All were new arrivals, but we took Krughal along for the extra power and most of the Anarquendor, save Balamaethor who had to work on the filactery for Benjamin, whom we intended to capture should he show up.

Somehow, though, we stumbled upon necromancers and zombies and ghouls from Stoppeldorp, the next village over. Despite waiting for them on a crossroads, with Anarquendor with bows and arrows stationed to both sides, we had trouble keeping them off us. Marcus, an annoying human who had insisted he walk with us in the front of the column, was gnawed on by a ghoul, and paralysed. I tried shooting the ghoul, but my arrows missed as it ducked behind the helpless Marcus.
I evaded another zombie and loosed arrows at the liches and death knights on the path, but nothing seemed to work. Krughal swung his mace, but they hardly seemed impressed.
And then Nessa went down.
"NESSA!"
Amras bolted, trying to get to her, while on the path Sir Percival called to me. We exchanged a look, and knew: We weren't going to make it.
"Retreat!" Sir Percival called out. I repeated the call in Elvish. "Amras, get out of there!
I saw Nessa run by me, and I pulled on the arm of one of the healers. "Go, go!"
The woman ran, Dame Blanche took her over and I looked behind, loosing an arrow over the shoulder of Sir Percival, missing a zombie by a hair's width. "AMRAS!"

There was no more time. The undead swarmed, trying to get to us. Marcus had been a lost cause for a while, but there was no way we could go back for him or Amras. We urged the healers to move, run, go! I checked my quiver and found Sumolan sticking his last two arrows at me. "I lost my bow back there."
We ran all the way back to the village, but Percival and Krughal had a plan. "We're just faking it. Keep them going, Captain." Sir Percivals brown eyes were dead serious, as he started limping, leaning on Bertram and Krughal. "We're trying to lure them closer."
I nodded, faked panic and called out to them as I urged the others on. Finally, we reached the field near the village. Our runners had sound the alarm and the paladins Jean Louis and Madeleine stood waiting for us.
"They're carrying one, which is why we faked the injury. Didn't want them to lose sight of us and nibble on him. Let's get our man back." Sir Percival briefed the paladins. "Let them come."
The undead tossed the poor Hubrecht onto the field. "Keep your trash out!" they called.
A short fight later, we counted heads. Hubrecht was back, but Marcus, Firtare, Cifka, and Amras were still missing. With heavy heads we returned to the bar to recuperate and I drank some tea.
"It could have been much worse." Sir Percival stated. "Despite us working together quite well for a first time, despite being faced with a superior foe, we only lost four."
"Two." Rafael said, joining our table. "Cifka and Firtare are back."
Firtare stood by nervously, and Cifka spoke. "Amras told us to go, to hide. We ran, and then we saw him fall. He saved us all."
Not long after, Marcus returned as well. Everyone expressed their sympathies, but we weren't out of options yet.

Radag'hen had tried a ritual to find Amras, but when she couldn't find him or his body at first, she was determined to try again. Meanwhile, I talked to Marcus and the others, drawing a map in the sand. "The field, the village, the path we took." I pointed out the points with a twig. "We took a left, and here's where we fought. How did you flee from there?"
Cifka pointed out a spot a little ways from there. "This is where we saw him go down."
It was not far from where we'd tried to fight the undead in the first place, and looking at the map I thought I might know a quicker way to get there. "Sumolan, Dur'Ithil. You're coming with me. Everyone else is staying behind. We'll go cross-country to get him. In and out."
Marcus checked his gear, and Krughal stood close as well. "Don't you want to take us along?"
"No! We three can get there and back unseen. If we can find him, we'll bring him back. The more we are, the more chance we're getting spotted."
We were just about to leave, when Radag'hen called out. "Quick! He's injured badly. Coming towards the village."
I didn't wait for her to finish, but sprinted off, the other two at my heels. I'd only brought my sword, leaving my bow in the village. It would only hinder me.

We ran down the path at first, cutting a clear line towards where we'd fought earlier. "I see something." Dur'Ithil called from the front. "It's Amras."
We ran on, but stopped a few meters from the elf. He was swaying on his feet and his head was covered in blood. "We need to test you, Amras."
Dur'Ithil took out his knife, and slashed Amras on the biceps, high up where the blood would not stay if he was undead. Amras cried out in pain. Dur'Ithil spoke. "Blood."
I held out my arms just in time to catch Amras before he fell, and we dragged him back to the village. Sumolan ran ahead, calling for Nessa, for healing. But at least we had our last man back.

Just before dinner, something strange happened though. Nostradrama, one of the seers, was attacked. Amras came to me, fuming. "I was sitting with him when suddenly he started doing a spell. He had no right to cast a spell behind my back!"
Slowly we pieced the story together. They had gone to sit together and Amras had attacked Nostradrama because he felt threatened. The archbishop of Haldor would investigate the case, but he was hesitant to return Amras' weapons.
"Amras, can I trust you with these?" I asked him. "That you will not attack another person, unless they attack you by means of a weapon or a spell. Actually finishing a spell."
"Yes." he said.
"Look me in the eye when you promise me this." I demanded. He did so.
"This is on your authority and your responsibility." the archbishop said, and I nodded that I understood. Amras' weapons were returned.

After dinner, we found out just how much of a mistake this was. I called for all of the Anarquendor so we could talk about what happened during the day, and how the evening would progress. I suspected Amras to be under some kind of influence, and had voiced my concerns to Radag'hen. But there was a ritual coming, and we needed to be sure that doing the ritual was the right course of action.
However, before we even managed to start the sit-down, the situation exploded. Amras said something to Luthine, and then attacked her.
When we pulled him off of her, we saw he had cut his own throat.

"Take care of Luthine first." I ordered, and Nessa set to work. She managed to heal Luthine and stabilize Amras, but Dur'Ithil was sitting over Amras and there was a warm glow spreading from his body. "Dur'Ithil, I would hear what he has to say for himself before you burn him to a crisp. Have a care with your magic."
"Yes Captain." he said.
"Amras, why did you attack Luthine?" I asked. "Answer me!"
Amras didn't answer at first, but then he spoke. "I wanted to save her."
"HOW!" I was shouting. "How can you save her by killing her?"
"Every prophecy comes at a price. I wanted to save her, to bring her to peace, before Kalithé could harm her further."
"What happened to you this afternoon, Amras?" I asked. "What did they do to you out there. There was no spirit that saved you, was there?"
Amras remained silent.
"You have betrayed me." I said. "Is there nothing you can say that will explain your actions?" He only laid there, silently.
"Who do you serve, Amras?" It was Dur'Ithil that spoke.
"I serve..." Amras hesitated. "...Kalithé"
"NO!!!" three voices in unison. I stepped back from the blow to my gut. My own best friend, my oldest friend, my trusted second, my faithful pengyll...
But Dur'Ithil had been more quickly to act. His Burning Hands spell flared up, his hands scorching the elf at his feet. The smell of charred flesh.

We built a pyre around Amras' body, and slowly the flames started licking the wood. One by one, Anarquendor, villagers and friends came to say goodbye to Amras as his body turned to ashes which floated on the wind.
Jacques, recently returned to the village, had bad news. "His soul is still in Kalithé's hands, and I cannot send it over the bridge. Perhaps tonight after the ritual, eh?"

That night we would have a ritual to raise Kalithé to be a God. It seemed like a really bad idea, but Arevalo had prayed and felt that it was the right thing to do. "The Gods do not trouble themselves with humans as he does. We must trust in Rystill."
I saw satyrs in the village again. A shaman and his grandson approached me. "Large group undead coming." he warned us. "We will fight them. You must leave."
"Leave? When?" I asked.
"When day again." he grunted.
"Tomorrow. Alright. We will leave." I agreed. We'd been a guest in their territory long enough, and if they wanted us gone now, we would go.
"Then we will fight for you." he said, poking his chest. "You choose one. One group, we keep. We fight them."
I gathered the other battle leaders around me. Reinard and Krughal without question, but now there were more who needed to have a say, including Conn of the Mountain Lions.
"You choose. Man eat man."
"Ghouls." I said.
"Man drink blood. Dead with flesh. Dead without flesh. Strong dead. Dead with spells. Man with spells."
"Vampires, zombies, skeletons, death knights, liches and necromancers." Krughal translated.
In the end we agreed on ghouls. They were quick and could paralyse our fighters. If Krughal or Reinard was paralysed, it could have devastating consequences. The satyrs nodded and grunted, and left again.
"Wait." I ran after them. "You know if they eat your flesh, you stop fighting. You can't move. It's very dangerous to all of you."
"We know." the satyr said. "We, thick skin. Fur on skin. We fight."
"Be safe."

Not long after that, several of us found the Child of the Forest in our camp. He was beautiful as the spring rains on a sunny morning, and he looked stronger than before.
"I need more room to grow." he said. He seemed distracted as usual, like he was hearing the trees around him sing a song. "And there is a dark shadow on the forest."
"We know. There are many undead coming for us. We will make a stand here tonight, and should we survive the night, we shall leave. The satyrs will fight too, and they have asked us to leave." I smiled. "It's time that the forest reclaimed these lands."
"Then I will help you, if I can."
Arevalo put his hand on my arm. "Perhaps the forest can do what we did to that vampire last week."
I nodded. "There is a being, that drinks the blood of others. It is very strong, but its weakness is that if a tree were to impale his chest, he will not be able to move much. We planted an acorn seed in one's chest some days ago, and it killed him."
"Yes. Yes. The trees can help." The spirit said. "And then we can grow."

Darkness came in darkness. The night was cool, and several people helped set up the ritual that was needed. The paladins and warriors set up a perimeter around it to protect it. A voice called from the trees, discouraging us to continue with the ritual, for all hope was lost anyway.
All I could think about was Benjamin. He had been killed before by Asterion and Frederick, and in revenge Benjamin had raised Asterion from the dead to do his bidding. Little did Benjamin know I had the Arrowhead of Morningsun remade into an arrow. I had put it in the scabbard of my sword, it being sharp as hell, and I intended to plant it into Benjamin's body in a final act of revenge. For Asterion.
Trynt, the Adaran Duke, came to me and gave me a shield of Moonlight, strengthening my armour, and others came with their spells as well. Sumolan granted me Rage of the Wolverine, which would help me get to Benjamin in a furious rage. I spoke to numerous people, to make sure they would come looking for my body afterwards. I did not expect to be able to walk from Benjamin on my own.

Wave after wave of undead fell onto our line, but it held and they perished slowly. Several broke through, but none managed to get to our healers near the ritual. Souls were offered, to grant Kalithé the power to become a God. I could only hope our ritual was in sync with the other rituals around the world. I could only pray that it was enough.
And then Benjamin showed up. He was flanked by strong undead, and I joined Krughal and the Mountain Lions that faced him. There was ten meters between our two lines, and Benjamin used spells to break the bones of people in the front. Rána was one of those unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.
I could only see one thing. The red mist in front of my eyes was forming. Krughal and the Mountain Lions were getting ready for a mad dash, and I called on Rystill and the spell that Sumolan had given me.

I dodged around two death knights by Benjamin's side, able to channel my rage better than expected. The arrow was light in my hand. I jumped onto Benjamin's back, and drove the arrow into his lungs with all my power. The knife Rafael had given me found his flesh time and time and time again, and undead were beating on my back, their strong arms striking me off the lich's body in the end.
All was blackness. The red haze receded and darkness claimed me.

"Capitain?"
Jacques bent over and lifted me onto his back, looking out for undead though most couldn't see him. He carried me to the healers and put me down. Aimée was called and she chanted a spell to Moyra, Lady of Healing to heal my body.
"She's not coming to."
"Captain?"
Lyavanna bent over me, and started casting a spell. More life flowed back, the warm healing powers of a woodelf.

Slowly I opened my eyes.
"Stay put for a moment, Beriadanwen. We nearly lost you there." Lyavanna's voice sounded relieved.
"I don't think I can move even if I wanted to." I said feebly. The berserker's rage had drained me so completely, even if the death knights had not played hockey with my body I doubted I would have been able to move.
Shouts drifted to me, and suddenly Lyavanna was on top of me, and a death knight charged through the healers.
"Lyavanna?" I asked softly. "Are you hurt?"
"No, but I'm staying down for now. Perhaps they'll leave us alone."

Someone helped me up and moved me to where the other berserkers were coming to. I stumbled and fell as soon as their arms let me go. Someone turned me over, and I smiled a thanks. A familiar face filled the sky above me.
"Melas."
"Hello."
"I don't think we've been formally introduced." I said. I mananged to lift an arm. "Beriadanwen Námiëmelda."
"Melas Amandil."
I laughed, an exhausted sigh. "Amandil. Now there's a story for you."
"Why? Do you know the name Amandil?"
"I do. It might explain what a woodelf is doing with a bunch of human beserkers." I smiled. "Perhaps later, when I've recuperated."
I tried to sit up. "Does anyone know the status of the Anarquendor? Are they... alright?"
Nobody answered. "I should sit up. They need to see I am okay." I struggled into a sitting position, leaning against my own knees.
Trynt found us then. "My lord Duke." I said. "Any news on the battle?"
"Are you wounded?" Trynt squatted next to me, his magic filling me. I felt revived somewhat, and slowly got up. The world wasn't fair and it certainly shouldn't spin so. I remembered pulling Noa out from behind enemy lines, and asked about her. Seemed like she was doing well enough. Before my mad dash towards Benjamin I'd pulled out enough of 'ours' that I certainly made my strength training count.
I went looking for the Anarquendor. The battle was nearly over, and they were clearing away the last undead. Dur'Ithil was still among us, against all odds, and he slumped down into Luthine's lap to recuperate.


Dur'Ithil and Luthine -- Photo by me.

After stumbling to my tent, I changed into a robe. Taking off my armour had never before felt so good, but even the weight of the robe threatened to make my knees buckle. I stumbled to the bar and took a seat near Luthine, and we spent the evening singing songs of remembrance and crying. And drinking that all-elvish favorite: uishge.

The satyrs had once more come to the camp, wounded but alive, and reminded us of our agreement. "Tomorrow we will leave." I promised them. "Before the sun sets. How did you manage in the fight?"
"Good." the shaman grunted. "We feast!"
"Very well. We will feast also. Can I offer you some uishge?"
The grandson of the shaman wanted to try some, and he drank of the firey elven-whisky.
"I will be sorry to leave you." I said.
"Then you come back. Visit."
"I would like that." I smiled.
"How you say... Good. Bye."
"That's right. And you?"
"Dag."

Sunday
Despite the uishge I woke early and broke my fast. We'd have to pack up camp that day, but there was something else that needed doing first. With Kalithé now a God, there was a chance that maybe, perhaps we could save Amras' soul from his evil clutches.
The Anarquendor gathered at the shrine and we prayed, calling to Amras to hear our voice, to come to us. To find Rystill. It seemed to take forever until Arevalo smiled, and said that now Amras was with Rystill, and that he was with Rystill.

Unexpectedly, it was Quel'zar that day that surprised me. "Beriadanwen. I wanted to speak to you." he said. I smiled. He was one of the priests of Angharad I'd tried to keep away from Asterion, and he was one of the people I'd told what I was planning to do with the silver arrow.
"I've come to respect you in the past few days, more than I did before. I wanted to tell you this."
"Thank you Quel'zar. I have a great respect for you as well."

And there was another surprise for me that day. As I walked down the village square, I noticed two woodelves. One of them noticed me and greeted me formally, and I returned the gesture.
"We bring news." his voice was music to my ears. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"
I nodded. "Please, join us in our encampment."
When we were there, Luthine offered them refreshments, but they declined.
"I am Beriadanwen Námiëmelda." I introduced myself.
"Then you are whom we are looking for." The elf said. "We were sent by the Queen. Torquil has fallen, but the White cathedral still stands. Millions of woodelves and humans lie slain, but Queen Shanaehan and the Emperor of Loghairnon are still alive."
"Oh, thank Rystill." I sighed, relieved.
"The Queen knows of your deeds and she is very grateful. She sends you new orders as well. You are to go to Eventyr."
I smiled. "The Eventyr family are good friends. I have named them Mellynedhil, friends of elves."
The woodelf smiled, and waited for me to say more.
"The war has, however, taken its toll." I said. "And I have very sad news for the Queen, which I must bring to her in person."
"Why did you not send word?"
"There was no messenger I could trust." I replied. "And I dare not bring this news in a letter."
"Is there a message we could convey for you?" he asked.
"Yes." I said. I would trust any woodelf with the news, especially now that the undead armies were dissipating, lost without Kalithé by their side. I took a deep breath. "We have lost several elves. Would you bring word to the queen and their families?"
He nodded.
"Eltha'rin Athiel, Galadhon Bregedur, Ava'nil, and Amras Dîrdholan have fallen." I said.
"Their names will be spoken." the elf said.
Tears sprang to my eyes. "And I have more sad tidings for the queen."
I looked away. I had made a promise to Asterion to return his necklace to the Queen. To tell her about his death. To send word with these elves...was it the right thing to do? I was torn in two. She would be waiting for news from him, and all I could bring was sad tidings...or a silence that would wrench at her heart.
I made a decision.
I reached into the neck of my coat, pulled out the necklace Asterion had given me. I'd kissed it two nights earlier, as he'd lain dead at my feet, again. I'd held it when I prayed for his soul. I never took it off, not even when I slept. And now I would part with it.
"Please tell the queen that her kinsman, Asterion Shadowpath, has fallen -- and that I am sorry. I could not protect him. He was a dear friend."
The elf took the necklace, and carefully tucked it away, bowing. "I will speak to the Queen. I will make sure you will get a personal audience with her, so that you can tell her what happened."
I swallowed. I didn't look forward to telling the queen that her kinsman had been murdered by barbarians.

When I walked back into the village to tell the Eventyr the good news, I noticed some commotion. Greenskins had returned and were building a war machine in the town square. It was a rickety thing, ready to fall over.
"You tolerate these creatures?" the woodelf messenger asked me.
"The satyrs say they are like moss. You can tell which way the sun comes from if you look at them, but if you step on one, you'll slip. They don't seem to harm nature, and so far they haven't harmed any of us." I said.
He pursed his lips. "What about this?"
I looked to where he was looking. A fire and water elemental seemed to have come to town. The water elemental was playing in the muck, splashing water about, and the fire elemental was weaving around trees, not quite yet setting them on fire.
"The fire, it has a purpose here." the woodelf said. "With the war and battles. But the water, it has to go."
I disagreed. It looked like something was out of balance, and both should not have been there.
It was Nessa who decided things. She pulled a dagger and tried to attack one of the elementals. I gave my bow to Sumolan and dashed to get her out. "Nessa!" I called as I pulled her out of the fray. An arrow flew into the water elemental as the woodelf messengers decided to act. "What has gotten into you!?"
"It shouldn't be here!" she shouted.
"Snap out of it, neither should be here. Now will you use your head and let me deal with it in stead of getting into a fist-fight with a fire elemental?"
I retrieved my bow and shot an arrow into the fire elemental. It burned until hardly anything was left before it impacted, but still the elemental reacted as the shaft pierced it.
And then the elementals finally found eachother, and they clashed, burning up themselves and taking away any cause for concern.

"Captain, what about Bereklauw?" Arevalo asked.
"We'll help him. Everyone is going to Eventyr. Reinard and his paladins have been called there as well, but we'll make a detour to the necromancers and get rid of this pest. We cannot abandon Bereklauw now."

My pictures from Omen 10 are here!

Emotional rollercoaster ahoy!
It was a fantastic event. The plot to get rid of the necromancers that are hurting the World of Dreams will be a special, and that will be scary in itself. Never you mind seeing the Queen! I can't decide which is more scary at this point, so I guess we'll find out....next Omen.

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