SoO 3 - Chapter 4

Swords of Orlandia: The Khaz'Radan Prophecy

Chapter 4 "Murder Most Foul"

Times for dissent, and those who would commit it, were never tougher. If you dared raise your voice in opposition to Corvidious, the foul king and Emperor of all Orlandia, you would quickly and brutally be silenced. Well, what is that you ask? Why yes...the Emperor had indeed revealed his name to all the land. He'd decided that so many secrets had fallen over the preceding months he did not want to remain a figure of imposing mystery, but one who had a name. And that name made all who uttered, or even thought of it, tremble. Corvidious had secluded himself for days following the theft of his iconic staff. This moral defeat weighed heavily upon him and the pressure of the loss forced anger heretofore unseen from every pore on his blackened face. The scuttlebutt amongst the people was that he was embarrassed. Songs were sung to celebrate this fact but the mounting pile of bodies with slit throats did much to keep those songs few and far between.
Another new fact of life in Orlandia was the daily appearances of the Emperor to announce his omnipotence and make an example of whomever had been forced into confession the night before. Corvidious would emerge and address the assembled throngs of townsfolk and remind them of the pain of death they were all subject to if any should act or even dare speak against his administration. Today a decrepit and frightened man was thrown harshly at his feet. "Unfaithful!" the Emperor hissed and pointed a long talon like finger at the man's quivering forehead. "No, no, no Sire! No, no, no..." and his voice trailed off as Corvidious bellowed "Then you deny having a scroll hanging in your tavern with the very words from those damnable rocks? You would display those lies? You would show support for the Anarchs?" The old man sat in terrified silence. A few cloaked figures in the crowd held their tongues, and swords, in check even as the pitiful citizen had the life choked from his frail body. As he crumpled at the Emperor's feet Corvidious bellowed "This...is your reminder! I let you live only as long as it pleases me and never long once I am displeased!" As harsh as this was the worst was still to come...

Shadowfowl, under direct order of the Emperor, took flight from site to site destroying anyone who even thought about going against the establishment. Those who dared stand against the might of the unholy Emperor even in jest were subject to death or at best the branding, henceforth relegated to "Anarch" status with a crimson "A" carved or scorched into their flesh of their left palm. The Fae folk were not immune to the whims of Corvidious, either, as they too were slaughtered; mayhap treated worse than the humans. All citizens cowered. Every creature trembled. Feared was the law of the land. And the law was terrifying.

Yet in this darkness the glint of hope still grew. The Anarchs, moving largely unseen, were steadily gathering the Sacred Ten. Their scarred palms a sign of freedom. Corvidious so loved his "reminders" and what he had felt would be a step towards ultimate subjugation, the eternal marking of any who opposed him, was now worn as a badge of honor by hundreds...maybe thousands. Orlandia was vast, as were Her secrets. No one knew for sure how many Anarchs there really were as day by day scores grew tired of living on their knees. Orlandia was awakening...but was it too late?

Aurelion stood at the parapet of a small sanctuary deep in the Evershyde Forest and his brow furrowed as the scouting party returned. Returned with far fewer members than it had left with. He stared out past watery eyes into his beloved countryside. The Monster still breaths and with every breath more poison into the hearts and lives of us all. Are we too far gone? He mused it seemed the weight of every lost life was bearing down with such weight that even his great shoulders quivered.
"Sire?" came a ragged voice from behind. Commander Verk came to stand at his side. Thick blood stuck to his hairline like a grim crown and his left arm hung oddly at his waist as he spoke with determined effort. "Nitesdown, Merrytook, Quarthmar, Pillsher and Bolkenfirth are all gone." "Survivors?" inquired Aurelion though he already knew the answer. "Sire, all the men, all the women and children and every beast in the field and...everything...it's just gone. Ash is all that remains." With this Verk's voice cracked and he fell silent, overcome with emotion both anger and despair. Despite a few small victories here and there Aurelion and his forces had suffered much more than they had gained. And yet still they fought. Aurelion placed a reassuring hand upon his commander's back, "Freedom, the promise of an unfettered life, demands no less a sacrifice. And to the last man we are willing to pay that price." "Indeed Sire," replied Verk as his composure returned "and tonight that bravery has brought us one step closer to victory." And with that he pulled a simple stein from his cloak. Aurelion's eyes widened and he bellowed "General Sigmund's Tankard!" It seemed unreal but there it was in their possession. Another of the Sacred 10 had been claimed by the Anarchs. The news quickly spread through the camp and over the coming days a sense of impending destiny began looming in everyone's eyes. Everyone saw it. So close now to having the 10, so close now to saving everything, so close now to a hope that knew no fear...indeed the coming of Kahz'radan drew nigh!

SoO 3 - War of Talons - Chapter 6

War of Talons: Tales of the Wylde
Chapter 6 - The Sacred Ten

Two weeks had passed since the liberation of Bedldem, and yet the humble town already bore the features of a well-prepared garrison. Its walls were being hastily reinforced by the townsfolk as it prepared for a militant reaction from the Emperor. The wylderfolk and humans labored together to solidify the first anxious foothold which the Anarch forces possessed in defying the Demonlord. Hedstrum wasted no time in helping to prepare Bedldem and its people. Those who were of able body began to train under command of the Orcish veteran. Even Aurelion found himself among the ranks, doing his best to learn more about fighting in what was sure to be a brief opportunity before the next battle. The satyr had proclaimed that Hedstrum was now general of the Anarch forces, and no human nor wylder disputed this, as the orc quickly proved himself to be a fair, yet effective leader. He led several raids and scouting missions, which yielded various assets, including new information, supplies, and even alliances from neighboring towns. Hedgenbury was the next town which held a tactical value, as it was closer to the main city. It was also a crossroads for the kingdom's most vital highways. To control Hedgenbury was to control the most important supply routes in Orlandia. It came as no surprise when the scouts reported heavier guard details and patrols there. The risk was even greater here, but a swift move into this town could cripple the empire's loyalist forces. It was for this advance that Hedstrum prepared the Anarch army. There was also a presence of Anarch resistance within Hedgenbury, and through secretive meetings, Hedstrum had gathered information that made him confident of victory. The time to march was almost at hand.

Aurelion swung a wooden sword at his opponent, gnashing his teeth as the blade met resistance from another weapon. Dandel Quickenbuck grunted as he blocked the satyr's strike and pushed against it to hop back a step. Aurelion reeled and made another swing, followed by another, the halfling a bit frightened as the satyr's blows held a bit more fury with each attack. The small one managed a solid kick to Aurelion's midsection before tumbling backwards into a defensive stance, panting. The satyr stumbled backwards before correcting his footing and holding his weapon at the ready for another advance, and was about to lunge at his friend when a horn sounded from the entrance wall. From the tone and rhythm, it was an alert that someone was approaching... apparently friendly. Aurelion's posture dropped into a relaxed state and he nodded to Dandel, offering his hand in friendship. "Excellent moves, small one," The satyr complimented as they clasped arms, the halfling breathing with relief," I've learned quite a bit from you today."
"Glad ta be of help to ya, my friend," Dandel replied, smiling. Aurelion turned and made his way to the front gate, the halfling dropping into a cross-legged position, letting out a light 'whew' as he shook his hands out, the wrists and knuckles aching from sparring from the satyr.

A simple black carriage rolled through the entrance, flanked by two armed riders, apparently Anarch fighters that volunteered to escort this important passenger.. It came to a halt as the satyr approached it, the driver climbing down to open the door for the vehicle's occupant. He swung it open and gave a respectful nod. He spoke in a voice of reverence, despite its graveled texture, "The Lady D'vorrah, Seer of Royal Orlandia, Keeper-"
"Enough of that!," a thick, exotic accent cut him off from inside the carriage. A bejeweled and veiled woman stepped out of the vehicle, carefully climbing down the small steps that hung from the carriage door. She stood before Aurelion, who bowed his head slightly yet humbly before addressing her. "We have been told to expect you, D'vorrah. I am hoping you can shine some light on an old legend, and help us defeat the Emperor."
"Greetings, Aurelion," she responded, returning esteem with a nod as she was equally honored to be in his presence, "There is much I must share with you, and quickly. The Demonlord is no doubt seeking the same knowledge. He suspects that I know a way to undo him, and his disgusting things have been hunting me."
"Then let us move to the town hall,". Aurelion gestured toward the building, and they walked, the carriage driver pulling a hinged box from the carriage before following them.

Word quickly spread through the town of this important meeting, and by the evening, the town hall was full of humans and wylderfolk gathering to hear the Seer speak. Hedstrum joined them in the main chamber, as did several of the Anarch soldiers who were summoned by the satyr to be present. The noise of the curious crowd quickly dwindled as Aurelion stood at the center table and raised his illustrated arm, calling for silence. "D'vorrah has traveled here, despite many dangers," He began, "and she may be able to help us defeat the Yaoguai Demonlord,". The satyr nodded to D'vorrah, "Please, my Lady. Share with us what you know."
The Seer looked up at Aurelion, her eyes wide from a level of perception that would stagger most beings. She rose from her seat and began to speak, "Despite my vision, my extensive research and my efforts to divine, Khaz'Radan eludes my knowing, in form and shape, even nature... yet I have been able to gather from the muddy water of the obscured past, what must be done to bring forth Khaz'Radan. Long ago, in the earliest days of the kingdom of Orlandia, there was great conflict. In an effort to end the war and the bloodshed, ten heroes gathered to find a solution. These heroes were mentioned in the scrolls of Bhudr, as thus:

a young prince who eventually became one of two kings to rule the kingdom in tandem;
a wise old druid who knew the oldest magic of the ancients;
a thief so skilled in stealth and speed that he was named 'King of Thieves' by his loyal guildmates;
an Orcish Chieftain whose fighting prowess knew no equal among his kind;
a troll greenwarden, who cared dearly for all flora and fauna of the earth;
a Grand Mage from the highest echelons of Wizardry;
a human general of Orlandia, respected even by his sworn enemies for his chivalry and tactical knowledge;
an Elven Councilman of the Wyldewood, whose wisdom and compassion made him a most beloved leader among the wylder;
an oracle known for her gift of foresight, revered as the very voice of the fates;
a Dwarven blacksmith, one of the greatest craftsmen of his time.

The satyr added, "The Wylder Council told me of these heroes, but knew very little... that they have long since passed on, but the essence of each one remains in relics they once possessed."

"Yes," nodded the Seer, "These were items which they bore at the time of Khaz'Radan's creation. The Sacred Ten, as they came to be known, gathered at Verdethena... it was there that Khaz'Radan first came into being. It is said that from that day, the heroes set out into the world and conquered great evils, and united the factions that fought for rule of Orlandia. Two rival kings became as brothers, and with the help of the Sacred Ten, brought forth a golden age of peace to the kingdom. It was after the coronation of the two kings that the ten heroes went their separate ways. Khaz'Radan is no longer mentioned in the histories, save for sparse passages which mention that Khaz'Radan may return one day to defeat a great evil, should the Sacred Ten gather again at the first oak. From what I have been able to divine, gathering the relics of the Sacred Ten at Verdethena will summon Khaz'Radan."

"I am in possession of one such relic," offered the satyr, producing Belthazan's jeweled pendant from a pouch on his belt.
"Ah...," D'vorrah marveled, her eyes brightening, "The pendant of the Elven Lord". She gestured to her carriage driver, who was standing nearby. He quickly and carefully placed a hinged box before the Seer. D'vorrah pulled a key from under a bangle on her wrist, and proceeded to unlock the box. She lifted the lid to reveal two items resting on a velvet cushion: A circlet of silver and gold, with an eerie eye sculpted from an ivory white stone set at its center; a worn and nicked golden coin lay inside the open space of the circlet, its surface bearing the profile of a grinning man. D'vorrah picked up the coin and held it aloft. "The Coin of the Thief-King," she began, "It belonged to the most cunning, successful rogue in Orlandia's history. His guild became so wealthy, that they actually pressed their own coins. This was the first coin that was pressed, and the rogue kept it with him at all times. It was recently recovered by an anarch who brought it to me despite great peril, a task given to him by the very same phoenix who has charged Aurelion with the quest of saving Orlandia". She set it down and then displayed the headpiece. "The Circlet of the Oracle... it was given to me as a child when my parents learned that I had the sight. The instant I first took hold of this relic, my mind was assaulted with visions of what is now coming to pass." The Seer paused as she looked at it, her face bearing fear and dread as though contact with the relic might be forcing more dreadful premonitions upon her mind's eye. She quickly placed the items back in the box, the lock clicking shut as she blinked, her breath catching in her throat as she suppressed a more extreme reaction. She caught herself staring at Aurelion, to which the satyr tilted his head slightly with curiosity.

"Seven more items," she said, regaining her composure, "must be recovered. The Staff of the Hermit, which is located in the courtyard of Castle Orlandia. It was the staff wielded by Diarmuid the Druid... and used by the Emperor Corax, its magic disguising him while he manipulated Validus into helping him attain power. The Totem of the Chieftain, which belonged to Hazzrabi, an Orcish Chieftain of the Mukkladesh clan, lies with him in his tomb in the Necropolis of the Valiant. The Fang of the Earth Dragon was a token of respect given to Hegadon the Prince by the last dragon to be seen in this realm, after proving his bravery in a fierce battle. Perhaps a visit to the Hegadon Monument on Harrowing Point may prove helpful. The Tankard of the Warlord was a prized drinking stein of General Sigmund, a trusted friend of the Prince who lead Orlandia's army to many victories. The tankard was a coveted item among brewers and tavern owners for generations, as they believed that possessing it brought them prosperity. We must seek out its current owner and attempt to bargain for it. The Runed Hammer of the Master Blacksmith was once wielded by Gundhern Fairsterm, who forged many legendary weapons in his day. He disappeared somewhere on Mount Hevelrem in the Bitterwind Mountains. The Scepter of the Grand Mage, the foci of Naj'Palal, was stolen from his tomb a few years ago. By whom, I am not aware, but as we gather the relics, we may be able to divine its whereabouts. The last relic has been something of legend... an item even High Mages believe to be a myth. Supposedly, when Verdethena first matured and all plants and creatures sprang from its branches, it produced a single acorn. This acorn is believed to be the only offspring of the first oak, and must be sown into the earth one day when the old oak dies, the next tree bringing with it new life, possibly even a new world! The greenwardens held this acorn sacred, passing it down through countless generations. Junedel, a young female troll, was its caretaker at the time of Khaz'Radan's creation. Her descendants live by the sea in a village near Lazuli Bay. The acorn, if it exists, may be found there."

Aurelion stroked his goatee as he took a moment to absorb all that the Seer had divulged. He then looked to Hedstrum, who stood nearby and spoke, "My friend, a true test awaits us... all of us. I must continue to seek out these relics, and our campaign to retake the kingdom of Orlandia must move forward. I feel I can count on you to lead the Anarchs while I am away."
"I will do so, Aurelion," the orc replied with a bold grin, "Our march to the main city will not only yield progress, but draw the Emperor's attention away from your actions. By the time you have found this Khaz'Radan that you seek, we shall be ten thousand strong, and at the city gates, ready to challenge the Demonlord!". The crowd cheered exhuberently.
The satyr placed a firm hand on Hedstrum's shoulder, smiling at the orc's confidence. "Very well, General. May the fates bless us. Now we must move swiftly. The staff, of all the relics, may be the most difficult to obtain. Have your scouts found any way into the city proper?"
"Indeed," replied the orc. He jerked his head in a directing gesture toward an elf named Ariadnesse, who stepped forward with an almost conceited smirk. Her form was clad in form-fitting leathers, her fine long hair tamed into a taught braid which rested over one shoulder. She gave a quick nod of salutation and spoke, "Lord Aurelion, I have explored the Dwarven mines deep under Orlandia. They once dug narrow air shafts upward, which terminate in a few spots within the city's walls. There was barely enough width to the shafts, and they have grates to keep out thieves, but I believe I can break through and recover the staff that the Seer mentioned."
"Then you have your mission, young elf. Go now, and be careful."
"Aye, my Lord," she responded, glancing for a moment at the general, who chuckled and nodded with approval. Ariadnesse hastily made her way out of the crowded chamber.

Aurelion turned back to the table and said, "Six more relics call to us, my fellow Anarchs. How shall we go about finding them?". Dandel was nearby with a map of the known realm, and he unfurled the cloth document, straightening it out as the satyr and others poured over it and began to discuss plans when a guard's horn sounded from the front gate. The sequence of tones told them that a scout was returning. They returned after a pause to inspecting the map, when desparate galloping sounded its way up the doors of the Town Hall. The scout, an excitable human who stumbled into the chamber and pushed his way through the onlookers, panted as he made his way to the table. "The Prince!," he shouted as he reached Aurelion, "Validus, the Prince... he is on horseback in the woods North of here... and he is alone!"
The crowd became excited and murmured around the table. Hedstrum spoke, "We have a perfect opportunity! If we capture him, we could gain an upper hand."
"Possibly," Aurelion said, "but he carries the cursed blade that was once Van and Nifl. He could strike us all down with its power... but I do have an idea. I will need assistance from a mage or two. I have learned something about that sword and how we might be able to use it to our advantage, but we need the Prince free in order to do it." Both Hedstrum and D'vorrah looked at the satyr curiously, to which he simply grinned and said, "Trust me. If we do this right, we can weaken the Emperor's power from within, and Khaz'Radan will do the rest."

SoO 3 - War of Talons - Chapter 5

War of Talons: Tales of the Wylde

Chapter 5 - The Assault on Bedldem

Before the Scattering, and the subsequent occupation by the Empire, Bedldem was a simple, unassuming place. Being the closest human town to the Sea of Oak and the portal to the Wyldewood, it occasionally enjoyed prosperous commerce with traders who knew the way to the wylder's kingdom. It then stood as a potential staging ground for the empire's forces, who would eventually attempt another breach upon the Oakenfold gate. Their recent battle with the phoenix in the Sea of Oak seemed to have culled an impressive number of shadowfowl and human loyalists for the time being. A rather humble detail of guards were stationed along the wooden walls and ramparts that had been built around the perimeter. The purging fires of the phoenix did not reach the forest near Bedldem, so Aurelion's army took advantage of its lush cover and lined up silently along the edge of the treeline that acted as a boundary between the wilderness and Bedldem. Aurelion and Hedstrum crouched behind a tree and studied the fortifications. They knew a frontal assault, even with their numbers, would be a bloody gambit. This was no time for an honorable advance. Aurelion called into the night, imitating an owl. Figures dashed forward, quickly yet quietly. The first line of Aurelion's troops slinked out into the field like panthers. A solitary guard on one of the ramparts puffed on his pipe as he lit it with a match, anticipating an uneventful night watch, when he paused, curiously staring into the night as he had just noticed movement on the ground. His eyes darted along the perimeter as he saw many forms crawling with starling speed. He gasped to yell and found his mouth stifled by an elven hand as sharp steel found its way under his pauldron, between his ribs and into his heart, in a deft, insidiously graceful action. His anguish was muffled as his killer gingerly laid him down onto the rampart floor. More wylder crawled up and climbed the wood pilings meant to repel them. Other guards disappeared with a mere gargling or whimpering as the limber and lithe wylderfolk made quick work of the outer guards. Two trolls had made their way to the gate and opened it. The town's guards noticed and rushed forward, only to be met by the Aurelion's main forces as they charged into Bredldem.

It was then that the shadowfowl appeared, the vile beasts emerging from the darkest shadows near the invaders and lashing out with cruel talons. The main courtyard erupted in conflict as the wylderfolk engaged the beasts for the first time. The fray was a storm of chaos as the undisciplined and inexperienced among Aurelion's army clashed fearfully with the fowl. The satyr's arm blazed with phoenix fire as he lunged and clawed at his foes, which squealed and retreated, some writhing in torment as the flames engulfed them. After many of the creatures fell at Aurelions touch, his followers rallied as they saw the might of the phoenix's blessing. The battle was swift as more wylderfolk joined in. Bedldem was theirs before morning had broken. A single remaining shadowfowl took to the air, so Hedstrum pointed, and several rangers launched a volley of arrows after the winged monstrosity. A few of the missles hit the evil bird, yet it managed to pull itself higher into the sky. Aurelion watched it fly away, its wings flapping desperately as it pointed itself toward the heart of Orlandia, where the Emperor sat upon his throne. "Corax will know about this victory," Hedstrum remarked, "We will not have much time..."

"There will be plenty of time for word to spread to the outlying towns... word that there is hope, and that they too can make a stand,". Windows of houses began to open, and the cautious heads of the people peered though doors that were once bolted shut in fear. Bedldem's citizens made their way into the morning light of the suns, cheering and embracing the wylderfolk who had rid the town of the Yaoguai's influence. The battle was not without its price. Dandel Quickenbuck gave a solemn count of thirty-three elves, trolls, and orcs, even a pixie that had met their end that night. Aurelion called his followers together and they paused to honor their fallen friends. "Always friends, never to end," the satyr added, as they stood in silence.

EmperorCorax sat in the great dining hall of Castle Orlandia, which was a cold, dreary, cavernous chamber with his presence at the lonely table. He sulked as he waited for his meal and stared with disdain at the stained glass rose window that faced the eastern exposure of the castle, its reddish hues managing a brightness from the morning rays despite the Emperor's shadowy influence. He muttered a complaint about having the glass painted over when he noticed something moving through the panes... something flying desperately toward the window. The glass shattered with an alarming clatter as a dark projectile barreled through it. The object came down into a brutal, bloody landing on the immense stone table, glass shards flying and tinkling across the chamber. The Demonlord scowled furiously as the dark mass slid towards him, finally halting before his place at the table. Now that it was still he ground his teeth as he identified it... one of his shadowfowl creatures, specifically one he created to act as captain of the guard for the border towns. The Yaoguai seethed as he also noticed a number of elven and orcish arrowshafts protruding from the creature. Corax Corvidious, Demonlord and Emperor of Orlandia, raged for the better part of a day, destroying everything in the dining hall. Someone dared to defy his rule, and he swore at the top of lungs, in between the foulest words he could muster, that he would obliterate the very souls of those responsible.

SoO 3 - War of Talons - Chapter 4

War of Talons: Tales of the Wylde

Chapter 4 - Into the Fray

Aurelion's eyes widened as he made his first steps out of the portal. The natural corridor was in complete ruin. Where once great trees stood and intertwined overhead in a lush, green canopy, was now a column of bare, blackened trunks. As the group made its way further into the Sea of Oak, the wylder found themselves in a sprawling wasteland of scorched wilderness that used to be an expanse of wild growth. The satyr thought of the phoenix, and the flames that rose from it just as the gate was sealed during the attack. He surmised that the forest must have been compromised by the encroaching shadowfowl, and the only way to halt their advance was to purge the Sea of Oak entirely. Some of the wylder that had joined him were visibly overwhelmed as they continued to travel, the reality of the devastation shaking their initial fervor. Aurelion brought the march to a halt and called for a young elf named Gregorra. She was a greenwarden, adept in magicks that enhanced the yield of wylder crops. She came forward after being found among the crowd and approached the satyr. Despite the despair and desolation around them, she had a calm smile as she gave a polite curtsy in greeting him. Aurelion returned the smile and asked, "Is there anything you can do to help this forest, young one?".

Gregorra looked about, almost whimsically, then replied, "All forests have fires sometimes, sir. It is part of a cycle. The spirit of this forest is still here, so the trees and the animals will come back. It just needs time."

"That's nice to know," the satyr said with a pleased chuckle,"but the way to Wyldewood needs to stay hidden. We mustn't let the shadowfoul find their way to the gate again. Do you suppose you could help things along?"

The young elf simply widened her smile, then walked a few steps away. She reached into one the pouches of her tender's satchel and produced a small handful of various seeds and acorns. The elf hummed to herself innocently and went about the nearby area, drawing a trowel from her satchel and turning the scorched soil in random places, interring a seed or acorn as she saw fit. Those who could see her watched her work, muttering with confusion and speculation. Some even wondered if she might have gone mad. Her humming continued, and Aurelion recognized its pleasing harmony as a song of summoning. He had heard her many times as he worked in the fields of Wyldewood. A calm spring breeze made its way through the dead forest and swirled around the wylder as they stood and watched. Then there was a creature in the distance, hard to see at first, then increasingly tangible as though it had just come into being. It was a tall beast that walked upright... definitely animal in nature, but nothing familiar as a whole, though parts of it were. It was great in size, as tall as the lowest remaining branches of the burnt trees, with grey fur. It lumbered like a bear on hind legs, with a fox-like face and ears. Its head bore the impressive antlers of a stag. This unknown beast approached Gregorra, who simply stood before it, her warm smile beaming at the thing as it towered over her. Many of the wylder took on a cautious stance, some wanting to pull Gregorra away from the monstrosity, a few grasping the handles of their weapons. Aurelion remained calm and raised a hand for them to be still. The beast looked around, blinking. It took it a deep, protracted breath and opened its large mouth. An unsettling roar erupted from the thing, vibrating through the satyr and his followers, and resonating through the wasteland around them. The wylderfolk as a whole trembled, shaken by the noise. After a moment or two, came the green. The ground around them gave way to sprouts of different plants. Aurelion stared in amazement as Gregorra curtsied before the beast, which curiously enough, responded with a gentle bow before it began to fade from visiblity. The satyr marveled to himself as the young elf approached him, still smiling in a way that only children know how. She spoke to him after a nod, "The Sea of Oak will return, my lord. It was burned with the flames of the phoenix, and its power of rebirth is in the soil and the air."

"You are a splendid warden, Gregorra. I can feel the very essence of the new life that springs forth here."

"The plants and animals here will need my attention," she added, "My family and I will need to stay."

Aurelion nodded, "Very well, young one. I leave the Sea of Oak in your capable hands."

The caravan soon regrouped, and continued its trek through the scorched, yet steadily changing landscape. Two days passed as they marched, stopping in the evenings to rest, yet keeping an urgent pace. Once the group was a few hours from Bredldem, the nearest human town, Aurelion sent word through his followers that he needed a couple volunteers on horseback to act as scouts. Before too long, a pair of able riders galloped to the front of the caravan. The satyr directed them to ride on ahead and assess the situation, yet remain careful enough to avoid any shadowfowl that might be about. The riders raced along the path on their mission. A tension began to grow among the group as an hour passed, and then another, as the scouts were away. The satyr and several others in the lead froze in place as they heard the rhythm of desperate hooves approaching them. "Steady...," Aurelion muttered as many wylder drew their weapons. Two horses galloped into view on the path, bearing the scouts, as well as a third person with one of the riders. The scouts approached Aurelion, who stepped forward to look at the additional passenger. He was human, what looked to be a simple, bearded man. He was cut, bruised and dirty, panting with an exhaustion that hinted at impending mortality. The man slumped over as the scout and Aurelion carefully helped him off of the horse. The satyr called for a healer as others came forth to help the injured stranger lay down. An elven woman was close by with water, and dampened a cloth to clean the wounds on his face and head. The satyr felt a turn in his stomach as he noticed scarred, recently burnt flesh on the stranger's arm. It looked to be a mark, branded into his flesh, in the shape of an old glyph. It belonged to a language that hadn't been used in centuries. The satyr spoke, "What is your name, stranger?"

"Berun," he sputtered.

"You are among friends, Berun," the satyr assured him. A troll in monk's robes stood over them, uttering a prayer. "Tell me, Berun. What happened to you?"

"I...," he began, grunting as the prayers of the troll began to mend his deepest wounds, "I was cast out. Out of my town. The Emperor's creatures... they caught me delivering food to a house that harbors those who fight against the empire.."

"And the branding?," the satyr asked.

"The Demonlord... realized that we were passing messages written in the runes of the ancients. He called those he found to be in the resistance 'anarchs'... said we were destroying the very order he has brought to Orlandia. He ordered us to be branded with an 'A' from the runes... not only to mock us for using the old runes, but so that those loyal to him could identify us. He kept us alive just so we could be beaten and stoned, or driven out of the cities by his subjects. I ran.. thought I had escaped, until the shadowfowl patrol caught up with me. I awoke in a ditch, with your men standing over me,". The beaten man's eyes fluttered as he coughed and continued to breathe with effort. The prayers of the troll were keeping him alive, but barely.

"Rest now, friend," the satyr said calmy, then stood and faced the riders. "Were you able to scout out Bredldem?," he queried.

One of the riders spoke after they both nodded, "We did, sir. The town looks lightly fortified, more than usual. It seems the empire's troops are using it as an outpost, not quite a garrison. I don't think they are expecting us."

"Then we must act quickly...," the satyr replied.

Hedstrum Balan, a sturdy-looking orc clad in ranger's gear, stepped forward and offered advice," My lord, if we can take Bedldem, it would grant us an excellent foothold. From there we could strengthen our resouces..."

"And free those good people," Aurelion added, gripping the orc's pauldron with assurance,"... as well as find resistance fighters and help their cause, and continue our search for the Sacred Ten,". The satyr mounted his horse and turned to his followers, speaking to them in a confident voice, "People of the Wyldewood, brave souls who have left their home to help Orlandia. The time has come to ask you for more than sentiment or support, more than your resourcefulness, or your craftsmanship, or you friendship. The enemy lies a short march up this road... and they will not grant you mercy. Blood will be shed, some of it our own. Those that follow me to Bredldem must know what we risk, and remember who we risk it for. Not just for ourselves, but anyone beyond who might suffer if we should fail here...,". Aurelion raised his right arm, clenching his fist high in the air. The markings glimmered in the air as he commanded his followers, "Those who would fight and die for the freedom of this realm, come forth... come forth and let the shadow know it has a light to fear again!,". All within the range of the satyr's voice raised their weapons and cheered into a cacaphony that grew louder as it made its way through the caravan. The throng of travelers was in motion, falling into an assumed, unspoken rank behind Aurelion as he turned his horse and commenced the march.

SoO 3 - War of Talons - Chapter 3

War of Talons: Tales of the Wylde
Chapter 3 - The Gathering Storm

The satyr awoke to the bristling discomfort of an unfamiliar cot. He surveyed his new surroundings, that being a small cell which he quickly came to recognize as part of the dungeons, known to usually contain Delamarre's less reputable citizens. Aurelion sat up and looked at the cool blue stones that made up the walls. The door occasionally crackled with the enchanted air which kept the wrought iron bars dangerously cold…the bane of any wylder criminal hoping to use magick to escape. He considered the last moment before he blacked out- thinking about the phoenix and what it had said to him. He looked at his right arm and stared with befuddlement as the limb was now festooned in elaborate markings, a series of winding spirals as well as runes unfamiliar to him. The satyr traced the lines with a finger and felt a strange warmth within his arm, wondering what purpose this so called 'gift' from the great bird possessed. His musing was cut short by the imposing footfalls of approaching guards. Aurelion stood and approached the door and two of the council’s elite soldiers, elves in elaborate yet effective plate armor, came into view and faced him. One of them spoke in a deft and emotionless tone, saying“ Aurelion Kellkallen, the council has assembled to inquire about the incident at the Oakenfold Gate.You are under suspicion of murder and treason, and shall come forth to give your account of the incident.” The satyr’s brow curled into a sharp arch of disbelief as the other guard unlocked the iron door. After securing the satyr's wrists in shackles of chilled iron, the guards escorted him to the council chamber. The trio made their way down the steps to the floor before the stage. The Elder Council was already seated, save for Belthazan, whose gaze was already fixed on the satyr as he was led to his place before the stage. The old elf’s face strained into a wicked visage of anger and hatred. The rest of the council remained silent yet eyed their fellow councilman with concern. Almost three centuries of wise and fair leadership had earned him the respect of his peers. To see Belthazan in such a state was unsettling to them. Mangeral stood and raised a hand to hush the anxious crowd that came to bear witness. She then spoke to the old elf in a commanding tone, "Councilman, we wish to proceed with the inquiry. I am presiding this session... please take your seat so we may begin,". He did not move or even break his eye contact with Aurelion. The council members looked at each other, confused and concerned.

Belthazan's baleful glare grew increasingly grotesque as he locked eyes with Aurelion. The satyr's arm began to sting again, a burning sensation that intensified as he stared back at the elder elf. The wizened eyes of the trusted councilman bore ink-like tendrils of blackness in the corners that quickly expanded, blotting out any humanity his gaze once held. The satyr looked at the markings on his arm , which seethed and tingled with pain. The lines and runes glimmered, illuminated like the angry embers of a stoked fire. Councilwoman Tennabrae, One of the High Mages charged with protecting the Wyldewood, stood and exclaimed," The darkest of shadows is among us!". She raised her staff and began an incantation, when Belthazan lept, his form moving in an unnatural arc to dive upon Aurelion. The elder grappled with him on impact, the two slamming into the stone floor. Aurelion found himself pinned by Betlthazan, and the elf's corruption became quite obvious as his hands, bearing cruel talons, clawed at his flesh. A single misshapen wing of the blackest feathers imaginable unfolded from his back, tearing through his pristine robe. The crowd erupted in panic, screaming and clamoring to escape the thing that was once a beloved leader. The satyr panted, attempting to swallow his fear as he struggled with the beast. He shoved at the elder's chest with his right hand, and a bright flash flared between them. A horrific shriek came from the corrupted elf as he burst into brilliant flames. All who remained in the chamber stopped, paralyzed as they witnessed the traumatic blaze. A charred figure fell backwards, and Aurelion stood up, the markings on his arm still brightly lit. The shackles meant to restrain him and prevent magick use simply fell to the floor with a weak clattering. He looked down at the remains of Belthazan, hero of the Infernal Incursion, Champion of the Wylder, trusted Councilman for three centuries. He then looked up at the remaining council members, panting from stress, his face frozen in confusion and terror. The council members stared, equally shocked. After awkward moments of silence, High Mage Tennabrae stepped forward and managed a few words, " Aurelion, those markings are from a lost time, and the light they produce is as the first dawn of our twin suns. How came you by such magick?".
"It..," stammered the satyr," it was a gift of the phoenix, given to me at the gate."

The High Mage glided down in hurried steps off of the stage and approached Aurelion. Tennabrae inspected the markings, a serious yet amazed expression crossing her face as she analyzed the lines. "This", she marveled,"...this is ancient magick! Lore only known by the Greater Ones". She glanced back at her fellow council members and continued to speak, "Aurelion's words ring true with these markings. The phoenix is an avatar of the Ancients, and it has called upon him for a great purpose."

Mangeral stepped forward and replied," Let it be known that Aurelion Kelkallen is free of the charges brought against him. Fellow council, are we in agreement?".

The remaining statesmen sounded in a unanimous, "Aye."

The troll then looked at Aurelion and continued," You have quite a burden upon your shoulders, satyr. Go with the blessings of this council and the whole of Wyldewood."

"Many thanks, good council," the satyr said with a nod. "We must act quickly to aid the humans of Orlandia."

"Unfortunately we cannot assist you," Tennebrae interrupted. "We have only now discovered that the Yaoguai's evil has found a foothold in the Wyldewood. Our priority is to uproot this vile influence before others fall prey to the corruption of the shadows."

"But I have no training, no skills to fight the Emperor on my own. I am also supposed to find something called Khaz'Radan. I haven't the slightest clue of where to begin my search!,". The council members looked at each other again, this time gazing back at Aurelion with amazement.

A few hours had passed, and Aurelion was now in a much more comfortable situation, though no less confused about his quest. He sat at a long table with the rest of the council, in a chamber used by the statesmen to dine and drink together in a less formal manner after dealing with the affairs of the Wyldewood. Food and ale were served, and after all at the table were allowed to enjoy their meal, Tennebrae rounded the table with a service of hot firefanweed tea. The satyr sipped it carefully as the mage set down her tray and began to speak, "Khaz'Radan.. I remember that name... from my earliest years as a student of magick. It was mentioned in scrolls and tomes, yet with little information. It is a secret that seems to have been deliberately veiled for generations. I do remember a passage that told of ten heroes that were gathered at the time of its creation, but no one knows what Khaz'Radan was. Many mages and historians had their theories. The one thing that seems to remain constant in any writings about Khaz'Radan is that it would one day be called upon by the ten heroes to defeat a great evil."

"These ten heroes," the satyr inquired, "where can I find them?"

"The are lost to us, satyr," Mangeral interjected, "the legend Tennebrae speaks of is rather old."

"Not completely, my friend," added the High Mage. "I have also read that there are relics, objects possessed by each of the ten heroes, which bear the essence of their original owners.

Jaddel, another elder elf who served on the council, spoke up, quoting an ancient text, "Yes yes, I remember now too... Gather ye the Sacred Ten under the boughs of Verdethena. There, shall an ancient one appear, and he shall call upon the power that time has forgotten. Go and ye shall summon Khaz'Radan, and he who is pure of heart shall join with the great power and cast out the darkest of evils."

"Verdethena," the troll said, with wonder in her voice," The First Oak..."

Tennebrae sipped her tea, then continued, "Your path is becoming decidedly clear, satyr. You must find the Sacred Ten and go to the First Oak. Bring forth this Khaz'Radan, and use it to destroy the Demonlord. You have quite a task ahead of you..."

Aurelion blinked at the mage. "Do you have any idea where I should begin my search?"

"Closer than you would think, satyr," she replied, and set down her teacup, before reaching into a pouch at her side. She produced from it a small pendant of silver, with cabachon ovals of emerald and citrine. Tennebrae went on," Belthazan was one of the keepers of those artifacts. This relic was found on his body after you defeated him, undamaged. You are one step closer to your quest. The blessing which the phoenix has placed upon you is also a source of great power, as well as a link to that ancient creature. The phoenix will help you find the rest of the Sacred Ten. Go now, and begin your search. Destroy the Yaoguai, save your human friends... and free them from tyrrany. The power is within you!,". She gave Aurelion the item, which he turned in his hand, feeling a warmth eminating from it that seemed to connect with the heat of the markings on his arm. The satyr thanked the statesmen for the food and their wisdom as they gathered in a cluster and began discussing their next course of action. The satyr left the chamber quickly, driven by the urgency of his task.

Aurelion wasted no time in preparing for his journey. He packed enough for fast travel on his horse. As he loaded his burden onto Poppet, a familiar halfling approached him. It was Dandel Quickenbuck, one of the revelers who has performed at many an Autumn Festival. His acrobatic skills rendered him capable of deft feats or amusing pratfalls, whatever the situation demanded of the agile man. "So ya think yer leavin' without yer old friend, Dandel," he chided. Aurelion paused in his work and raised a brow at the halfling. Dandel was not clad in his jovial colors as expected, but rather efficient and trim leather garb, the kind a thief or assassin might favor. The handles of many small blades, mostly throwing knives, could be seen in various places around his body.

"I cannot ask you to fight, Dandel," the satyr said, turning back to fasten a satchel.

"And you haven't, me friend. You should know yer revelers by now, man. We stand with ye, ta celebrate as well as ta fight. 'Tis a pact we have, and always had. Always friends, never to end."

"...never to end," the satyr added offering his arm in friendship. The two clasped arms with a mutual nod as other revelers approached Aurelion's home, battleclad and ready for travel. Seventeen loyal and able comrades gathered, and in a short time, the makeshift caravan began their journey. As the unlikely war party made its way through the villages, and eventually through Delemarre, more joined the march. Townsfolk, farmers, artisans, even veteran soldiers lent their numbers to the parade. By the time they had reached the Oakenfold Gate, Aurelion's company had a count that fell just shy of fifteen hundred. They fell into rank without banners or trumpets. No drums offered cadence for them to keep pace. Yet this gathering of wylder stood behind the satyr, ready to do whatever might be asked of them. Aurelion and his followers were met at the gate by Mangerel and several guards. The troll approached and spoke, "Aurelion Kellkallen. May the fates protect you, and all who have chosen to march with you. It is with a suffering conscience that I must ask something dire of you... you and your friends". The troll reached out a patient yet expecting hand. The satyr quickly realized what she meant. He looked back at the throng that stood with him. Any wylder that he made eye contact with seemed to know what was being demanded, and did not waver. Aurelion turned back to Mangarel and drew a knife from his belt. He reached for a particular braid among his locks, and cut it free. At its end dangled the only copy of the key to the Oakenfold gate that he posessed. As he surrendered it to the troll, he took a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh, knowing that he and the hundreds who followed him would be unable to return until the Demonlord Corvidious had been slain, his shadows eradicated. Mangeral grasped the key and nodded solemnly. By the will of the troll, the gate clanked and rattled as it began to open. Nobody spoke a word as the gate gave way, and Aurelion and his army passed through the portal.