SoO 3 - War of Talons - Chapter 1

War of Talons: Tales of the Wylde

An account of the wylderfolk and their campaign to help save Orlandia.

Prologue - The Wylderfolk

Before time knew measure, and humankind first tread into the light, there existed a race of beings who walked this earth, lost now to the æther. These beings held great power and ruled as gods over the earliest mortal creatures that came into being. The greater race, in their arrogance and greed, waged war with one another, determined to gain dominion over all things, as they felt it their place to do so. Much of the blood of these beings was shed in their conflict, and the blood mixed with the water in the rivers, and sank into the soil. The mortal creatures drank of the tainted water and ate of the fruit from the tainted soil. From this, the wylderfolk were born. Eventually the Greater race fell into decline, and the wylder grew stronger. Elf and pixie, goblin and troll, all manner of fae and fel sprang forth from the bloodshed of the self-proclaimed gods, and in time the wylder came together as a great force to overthrow the remaining Greater beings, until they had made the Earth their own.

Centuries would pass, and eventually the differences between the fae and fel separated the two races. The wylder became divided. It was then that the age of humankind had begun, the untainted mortals growing in number, and becoming more intelligent. Many wars were waged as the humans staked their claim on the lands of the Earth. Despite the advantages that both fae and fel folk possessed, the determination and cunning of the humans proved them a formidable adversary, and at times, a valuable ally to any wylder willing to work with them. The fel folk were proud and relentless, and continued to hold lands and occasionally challenge human-held domains.

Many of the fae, and even some of the fel, chose a different approach to the situation. An accord was struck with an early king of Orlandia, in which the wylder agreed to avoid conflict with the humans. A vast and enchanted territory east of Orlandia was declared the domain of the wylder. Many of the fae and fel moved to this place and made their homes there, in a hidden kingdom that became known as the Wyldewood. Most of the wylder, aside from tribes that did not agree to the Accord, remained in the Wyldewood, avoiding humankind for generations. Once a year, an elected chieftain would be sent by the Wylder Council to act as an ambassador, and to host an Autumn festival in honor of the accord. In recent years, it was the satyr Aurelion Kelkallen who was chosen, and it was he who stood with his usual procession of revelers and merrymakers, discussing the journey back to the Wyldewood with his companions after another successful festival, when the crackle of dark energies thundered and rolled over the skies above Orlandia. The satyr had suspected a shadow of corruption might have been creeping through the kingdom as the weekend had progressed, but was unprepared for the sorcery that suddenly erupted around the city.

Chapter 1 - The Scattering

The Scattering was unstoppable... a spell cast by a demon as old as the realm itself. The revelers of the Wyldewood, a group of fae and fel beings known in Orlandia and throughout the land as keepers of the accord between humans and the wylder, found themselves in the same whirlwind of confusion and fear as the good people of Orlandia when the spell swept across the kingdom. The revelers were still in the heart of the city the day Corax Corvidious, the once-exiled Yaoguai, declared himself Emperor, taking a cruel hold of dominion over Orlandia, exercising overwhelming power through Prince Validus, his young and naive proxy. Mere moments had passed since the emperor had woven his will into forceful invocation, and the revelers were now picking themselves up from the floor of a dense forest, shaking their heads and blinking as though waking from a terrible and shocking dream. Aurelion Kelkallen, Chieftain of the revelers of the Wyldewood, shook the shadows and dizziness from his horned head as he re-oriented himself. He knew the trees, and the breeze that caressed their branches. The Sea of Oak, as it was known to travelers, was a dense, vast forest that many mortals avoided, as its seemingly infinite sprawl received many a wanderer, yet returned so few. It was within this great body of foliage that the passage to the Wyldewood existed. This was the kingdom of the wylder, hidden deep in the Sea of Oak, beyond the Oakenfold Gate, accessible only to those that knew the way. The satyr breathed a sigh, taking solace in the fact that at least home was nearby. His gaze passed over the area as he took account of those that were with him, assessing their well-being as his eyes found them. Once all were accounted for, and found to be of little injury, the satyr gathered his entourage into its familiar caravan, and commenced an unexpectedly abbreviated journey home.

After most of a day's travel through the Sea of Oak, Aurelion smiled as he spotted a structure well-known to him, that being an immense, high-vaulted corridor among the enormous, seemingly infinite expanse of trees. The walls and ceiling of this corridor were fashioned of living wood, as though the forest here was convinced to bend and shape itself to resemble the work of a master architect. This was the passage to the legendary portal used by the wylder to cross between the Wyldewood and the rest of the realm: the Oakenfold Gate. There it stood, in its foreboding scale and awe-inspiring majesty, glimmering in the rays of sunlight that were allowed into the forest corridor. The gate itself was a union of ancient wood and elven steel unseen in any structure before or since, metal winding and spiraling in a beautiful waltz of design and function, reinforcing intricately hewn oak that looked like it alone could repel the greatest foes. Volumes of runic text ran across its surface, the numerous glyphs bearing the blessings and wards of the most powerful High Mages in the Wyldewood. No creature could pass this gate without a key, and Aurelion possessed one, attached to one of many trinket-laden braids that rested upon his shoulders among his long locks of hair. The key, made of steel and bearing intricacies similar to the doors, grew warm and hummed as the satyr approached the gate. Once close enough, a pulse of energy washed visibly across the surface of the door like ripples on a pond. Deep within the doors of the gate, metal works shifted and pushed against one another. The Oakenfold gate groaned and clanked as it parted, granting enough of an opening into the Wyldewood as to allow the revelers to pass through. Aurelion and his entourage made their way into the kingdom they called home, the gate slowly and smoothly closing, rather definite and solid noises resonating behind them as the portal was once again secured.

The welcome into the courtyard by the faefolk in the Elven city of Delamarre was of course warm, filled with citizens eager to hear news from the human world, what progress they have made as a race, and to hear the anecdotes of misadventures experienced by the satyr and his companions. Such was commonplace with Aurelion as the Ambassador. He simply smiled, happy with the jubilant reception, but silently dismounted from his horse and began to make way to the council chambers. The elves and goblins that followed him, asked to hear tales of his travel, and Aurelion promised them that he might share his experiences later, after meeting with the council.

The intricate wrought-iron gates to the council chamber creaked open as the Elven guards pulled them open. Aurelion entered and descended the stone steps of the open-air amphitheater that served as a forum and meeting place for any matter that required the council's attention. The wylderfolk were already filtering in through the gate and filing in to take seats on the circles of hewn granite that surrounded the chamber. The satyr stood at the inner circle of marble that lie before the council's stage seating, and awaited his audience with the Wyldewood's statesmen, who were already making their way onto the stage. They were a careful, well-considered collection of wylder, dressed in glimmering robes and laurel crowns of fresh growth about their heads. They each took a seat and awaited the call to order. An older elf, Belthazan, remained standing since he was to speak as the official voice of the council for this session. The theater seats filled and the clamor of the crowd dwindled to whispers as the anticipation grew. Aurelion gazed upward at the canopy of growth created by the weaving branches of the tall oaks that made up the walls and ceiling of the chamber. He took a deep breath as the crowd grew silent, and lowered his vision to look upon Belthazan as the elf called the session to order.

"Greetings, Aurelion Kelkallen, Lord of the Autumn Festival," The elf began in an impressive tone that filled the chamber, "We are honestly surprised, as you are usually late for this discussion after the festival, what with all the tales of merriment you have when you return... yet today you came straight to the council. What concerns you that you come to us with such urgency?"
Aurelion responded with an equal volume, "Good council of the Wyldewood, I do have enjoyable tales to share, but they must wait. Trouble stirs in the world of humans, and I feel that we must act in order to stop a terrible force from taking hold."
Belthazan tilted his head curiously, but spoke sternly, "I would remind you, satyr, of the accord. We have vowed to remain neutral in all matters involving the humans."
The Satyr stepped forward. "I am well aware of the articles of the accord, councilman. But this matter was not accounted for when the agreement was forged. A demon-lord has taken the kingdom of Orlandia." The crowd murmured furtively as the council members leaned inward to each other and spoke amongst themselves," This demon intends to spread his domain across the Earth. Human and Wylder alike are in danger!"
Belthazar turned to the council, whispering in the discussion with the others momentarily, then raised a hand to call for silence among the crowd. "The council is aware of the danger to the humans, as well as the wylder who chose not to honor the accord. However, we are confident of the magic protecting the Wyldewood. The demon cannot reach us here. In honor of the accord we must remain neutral, and in the Wyldewood. The humans and others must face this adversary on their own.
Aurelion was shocked by the lack of compassion. "Council, I beseech you! The humans are powerless against this foe. We must relax our adherence to the accord for their sake-"
"The humans have proven their determination and resourcefulness time and again," the elf interrupted. "They will endure and overcome this oppression on their own. Our involvement would be a waste of resources and soldiers."
The satyr's voice grew louder, almost speaking through a growl, it seemed, " The threat this demon-lord poses has a reach beyond Orlandia! His minions will eventually find the Oakenfold gate. It is a matter of time until his conquests will bring him to our doorstep!"
"Impossible!," snapped the elf, pointing in the general direction of legendary gate as he bellowed, "That gate has stood for centuries against foes great and small, including Infernals! We are safe here. Your friends must face this evil alone. I will not endanger the wylder for the sake of the humans!"
"Then it is you who forget the the articles of the accord and what they stand for! When we left the human kingdoms, we did so as friends of the humans. By ignoring their plight, you would turn your back on that friendship!"
Belthazan's rebuttal came as thunder, rattling the chamber, "I will turn my back because I feel it is in the best interests of the Wyldewood, as a member of the council which represents the whole of the Wyldewood, not the individual with outward concerns! Know your place in this chamber and among your people, satyr! This is not my personal decision, borne to spite you, but the consensus of the council, which represents the people of this kingdom. If you cannot approach this council with respect, then you are in no position to represent the Wylde in external affairs with Orlandia... perhaps another should serve as Lord of the Autumn Festival!"
The satyr closed his eyes and took a calming breath as the elf's gaze bore down upon him, the council also glaring with disapproval. "I apologize, members of the council. My love for the humans has clouded my judgment."
Mangeral, a female troll among the council, stood and spoke," We share your compassion for humankind, satyr. We have quietly observed them for centuries, and their ability to thrive despite any adversity is most impressive. They are this strong because we have not interfered. We must continue to do so, for their sake. Have faith that they will endure this hardship, and do not worry about the Yaoguai reaching the Wyldewood. The High Mages will protect us from any intrusion,". The troll's tone was more pleasant, reassuring. "Rest now, Aurelion. Your journey was long and you are wracked with worries. Rejoin the good folk in the courtyard, and regail us with your stories,". The satyr nodded, feeling defeated, but somewhat more calm as he bowed his head and turned to leave. The crowd followed him up the steps and out of the chamber with their eyes, abuzz with speculation and curiosity as the council stood and exited the stage. In the upper branches of the canopy, a dark, gnarled bird stirred among the leaves,watching the dispersing audience depart from the chamber.

Aurelion managed to ease into a more jovial mood as he settled into his storytelling. Mead and cherry wine were passed around as he spoke of Orlandia. He did his best to keep the mood light, focusing on the festival, and on the new and wonderful inventions that humankind had produced since the year before. The gathering carried into the night, so deep that the first rays of morning light peered through the trees as the last few interested folk stumbled off to their abodes to sleep. The satyr lead his horse home, waving to the stragglers as they parted. He stopped a few times, looking around. Something watched him and followed, careful to obscure itself in the shadows whenever he became suspicious. Eventually he came upon his home, and led his horse to its stable, taking the time to relieve the beast of its burden, taking his bundles and sacks with him as he trudged into his home, tired enough to sleep for three seasons.