By Divinity Sweet Nectar: Chapter 1
It was one such 'petty warlord', a 'surviving official', whom had sent word to Chandriss, the Unmade that he had in his possession one small portion of Ancalia's ancient Crown Jewel collection.  His invitation offered her a viewing of such, with hint that among these, she might find something more than mundane wealth.

He, in return, would undoubtedly negotiate for something much more than the mundane wealth of such royal treasure: for what good were jewels and baubles against the hordes of misbegotten Uncreated, and the ravening husks brought forth by the Hollowing Plague?


And yet, Fate itself felt uncertain for The Unmade.
Something tugged at her ancient anxieties;  for was it not said in the burning lands of the Oasis that 'Fear is Survival'?

Yet, such a lure.
Such bait ... could it really be resisted.


Apparently not.
Accompanied by the Aikhtiar, Chandriss now stood atop a hillock looking down into the nearby lost-city of 'Verano' ... the remaining husk of one of Ancalia's mighty southern cities.
Chandriss remembered Verano:  a powerful stronghold, and a major trade stop between Ancalia and the Oasis States.  It was nestled in a small, fertile valley in the south west of the Sere Plains, along the thoroughfare north towards the Ghjeb River.

And so, in shock, she stared down at this hollow, skeleton of a city: laying now in crumbled ruins.
In its far, distant northern quarter (what had once been the fortified seat of its jantirar lord, she could see the merger, survival-based outpost of humanity, that had managed to make that quarter their home, and stronghold.


Then let us begin, mistress of the Earth, daughter of Fate.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:08, Wed 04 Sept 2019.

Destruction, creation, such was the cruel fate of all Gods and men.

Chandriss the Unmade stood upon her bastion, surveying the decrepit husk of what had once been a vibrant city.  The bastion was not the earth of the hillock, for such was not her way.  To walk in the foot steps of the Fatebound was to walk the path of primordial creation, to walk upon the very bones of the earth.   Not one of her people had set foot upon the tainted soil of this broken land since leaving the Northern desert of the Oasis States.  No, for Chandriss' shattered will had poured her power into the earth with each step she had taken, and the earth had heard her siren cry.

The bastion was many things, and many other things it was not.  At that moment it was a fortress of solid stone, twenty feet high along its battlements, and twice as wide and thick.  Its walls held no windows, no doors, no inner sanctums or stairs.  No cracks or mortared stone marred its surface, a single piece of carved granite whose outer face was so smooth as to almost shine in the light of the sun.  It was not the great Tahul Alqalea, the ever shifting fortress of stone that was the seat of Chandriss' power.  It was simply the bastion, the resting place of the feet of the Fatebound and her disciples.  Even so, the bastion was not without its grandeur.  Every inch of the battlements was carved with an intricate series of runes, and seemingly endless repetition of warding glyphs and prayers in the Oasin script. Yet like every bastion that had come before, and every one that would come after, it had the potential to be more.  It existed between states, ready to become the Tahul Alqalea should the need arise.

The bastion was also a wall, twenty feet high, that continued in an uninterrupted line for miles leading to the South.  Should any have scaled it, or dared to walk beside it, they would have found that it continued unbroken all the way back to the Norther desert of the Oasian border.  The battlements faced in both directions, and not once in those many miles was there a ladder or staircase breaking the smooth stone of the wall.  For the bastion was not to keep things out, indeed any traversing it's length would have found an archway large enough for a horse drawn carriage to pass through the wall every thousand paces.  No, the bastion was to prevent that which shambled upon the face of this broken land from walking the path of the Aikhtiar.

They stood about their mistress now, their eyes surveying the same devastation she did, though they held no memory of what it had been before.  Laughing Mahu, known as the Dreamspeaker for his arcane gifts, Kalhata the Siren of Flame, Sitre, poor twisted Sitre, and many others.  The full company of the Aikhtiar, walking upon the stone road that was the bastion for the many days and nights it had taken to get here.

"We go together."

Chandris decreed, and many of the Aikhtiar breathed a sigh of relief.  They had seen the horrors of this land shambling along as they had walked the bastion.  Many of them told themselves that they had no desire to see their mistress face such things alone.  Yet the truth of it was just as many of them did not dare to see her leave them to descend into that accursed place either.

"We n-n-need supplies, food and water.  Even if this has been a fool's errand, for that which w-w-we can offer them, they will not turn us away."

And with a skittering, broken step she began to walk, the bastion rising from the earth with a deep rumble each footfall along the path fate had chosen for her.  Each foot fall continuing to shape the unbroken wall that had led her all the way to this place, to the whisper and rumor of what lay below.  There was no doubt that the people of Verano heard her approach, and that many eyes looked up to see the great wall unfurling like a tongue in their direction.  Perhaps even, those with sharp enough eyes saw the figures moving down the newly made parapet, and wondered what new doom approached.

It would not matter, all would know her name soon.

Her gait was not steady, but where she faltered the stones of the bastion waited for her.  It wasn't weakness, it was something altogether more alien.  She seemed to flicker at times between this reality and the next, limbs and flesh skittering off into different lines of fate.  The simple brown robes she bore were at times both solid and not, sometimes showing the ruin of glyphs that sealed the fault lines of her flesh.  Still, she moved with purpose.  In only a few short minutes, she stood high on the bastion beside the gates of the town, the assembled Aikhtiar behind her.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:04, Tue 06 Aug 2019.

The Aikhtiar-duct, that trailed behind them the tail of a masonry comet, certainly heralded the arrival of a God!
For truth: there wasn't a magician, or sorcerer, or even theurgist, who could produce such grandiose effect.

And so, for certain, all eyes were upon the arrival of Chandriss as she approached.

As the ever expanding bastion carved its path towards the unmanned outer walls of Verano, small outcrops of riders could be seen dispatched from the 'Lords Quarter' to flank and perform reconnaissance the primordial creation ... while the small stronghold of humanity within reacted akin to the proverbial ants' nest.

As Chandriss walked her pathway in the sky towards the city, she would have to make a decision; for eventually her 'red carpet' would come to the outer walls of the decrepit city.
Would she end her celestial walkway there?  Bringing it to companionship with the battlements provided.
Or would she plow her own creation right through the cities remnant fortifications, taking herself into the heart of the city (and the 'Lords Quarter') itself.

Behind her, she could hear the dim susurration as her disciples prepared, and evoked, their own petty magics in service to their God.

By the time Chandriss came close to the squalid human stronghold, though, she could see what might be considered a 'welcoming committee' making themselves ready upon the parapets ahead.

Chandriss came to a stop ten feet from the parapets, well within the range of any baring a bow, or even a thrown spear.  The bastion below her rumbled to a halt as well, too high and too far for any from within the town to leap to it.  She stopped short of bringing it about herself protectively though, leaving the front end open faced so that those below had a clear look at her.  Her mottled and ravaged flesh could never have been human, looking more akin to patchwork stone and earth than skin.  Her eyes glowed with green and red fire, the same fire that burned at the constantly shifting glyph at her forehead.  She grasped in both hands a heavy tome taller than her shoulders were broad, and almost as wide.  It looked to be bound in black metal, with gemstones along its cover, back, and binding who shone with a brilliant light matching the flames that danced along the stones embedded into her own body.

"Be not ala-a-a-armed."

She said, the cage of glowing gems beneath her tattered robes flickering with emerald and ruby fire as the magic within them strained to hold her form onto this line of fate.  Her torso blurring momentarily as it threatened to breach its matrix and collapse in upon itself.  Yet the magic which bound her was far stronger than the challenge it faced, old and grounded even before her ascension.

"We come in peace, and at the request of y-y-your Lord, though he did not give us a name b-by which to c-c-call him.  I am the one called Chandriss the Fatebound, known to theurges of the great Pyramid of Neith as the Unmade, and Stonemother to t-t-the Sand Princes of the Red Desert.  These are the Aikhtiar, and they are to be accorded all the courtesy and respect that is their due.  Do we have your Lord's permission to enter h-his domain?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:57, Thu 08 Aug 2019.

The coagulation of humanity upon the parapets below looked up at the sight before them with a mixture of expressions.
These were men and women who’d spent the previous years fighting a desperate war against all manner of undead, otherworldly horrors and shambling monstrosities of various ilk.
They were were, for sure, a hardened people.

But none of them had ever seen a scene such as this.
While many weapons remained pointed squarely at Chandriss, just as many dipped their tips towards the ground, as their owners starred in awe, fear, and fearful awe.

Front and centre of the gathering was a small group; from wence stepped a woman who commanded some modicum of attention and respect.

Speaking assertively, neither shouting nor angry, but with voice enough to be heard from Chandriss’ lofty stand, she said,
“I am Annalise, daughter of Dregin.  And I hold power in this place.
It was at my command that you were invited, for I have heard much of the new God of Sand and Stone.
And it is under my aegis that your people shall be safe.
I invite you to join us, within Verano, that we two may speak ... for I seek opportunities to create safety for my own”.
And with that, she stepped aside, symbolically, and with a gesture, usher led Chandriss and her entourage into the stronghold.

Chandriss' eyes crackled for a moment with emerald fire as the woman spoke her name and lineage.  There was power in such things, and much that she could do with it.

"Well me, Annalise, daughter of Dregin, Aegiskeeper of Verano.  W-w-we accept your offer of hospitality, and all the responsibilities that come with it."

With a rumbling groan, an archway of stone extended from the bastion, reaching out like a great limb to delicately touch the tips of the fallen city's outer wall without disturbing or damaging it, and continuing all the way to the ground.  Chandriss descended the stone steps of the archway, her disciples following in her wake.  The instant the last of their feet touched the earth and stone of the city proper, the stone tongue withdrew, retreating back into the bastion proper and severing the connection between the two worlds.  With the same vibrating hum, the wall of the bastion appeared to vanish into itself, collapsing back into the earth until it had withdrawn all the way back to the square bastion atop the hillock.

Seemingly unaware of this monumental display of power, Chandriss spoke loudly and clearly so as to be heard over the sound.

"Shall we prepare the bastion for my people while we speak of opportunities, or have you prepared shelter and nourishment for them already?"

She arched an eyebrow, a strangely human gesture on her otherwise utterly alien face.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:19, Thu 08 Aug 2019.

As the rumbling archway of stone extended from he bastion riches, like a great limb, to touch the tip of the fallen city's out wall, and the ground beyond, the gathering of humanity thereon parted like the proverbial Red Sea.

The awe and respect fear was palpable, really.  For these folk has never seen anything like Chandriss, the Unmade before ... nor the evident power that she commanded with casual ease.

And yet, maintaining a noble bearing among the stunned throng, Annalise (daughter of Dragon, apparently) stepped confidently onto the tongue of stone, moving agilely and surely to Chandriss' side, without invite ... assuming to walk beside the Stone Goddess, and accompany her down the ramp into Verano stronghold.

"I am grateful that you came, your ..." and hesitated here a moment, "Please, how should I title you, to show my respect?"


In the secure compound below, more people were gathering to watch the arrival.  In fact, Chandriss guessed that what she was seeing ... maybe six score individuals at most ... were the entire population of this human outpost in this ungodly, cursed land.

As the bastion behind vanished back into the landscape from whence it was borne, all but Annalise started in wonder.
"We have shelter and food to share, though not perhaps for so many", she said, glancing back at the Aikhtiar following, "I regret that we had not realised that your entourage would be so ... beautiful".
                               Please, how many Aikhtiar are there, do you envisage?

Beautiful did not do them justice.

There were seventeen of the Aikhtiar there, the full extent of the Fatebound’s following.  Each was the product of untold generations of eugenic breeding programs, bred as pawns in the unending games of power and control among the Oasian nobility.  The results were… devastating… to say the least.  For the nobility bred for beauty and grace as strongly as they did magical aptitude.  Among the scarred remnants of this curse blighted land, the inhuman perfection of the physical form of the Aikhtiar must have made them each look more akin to gods in their own right than mortals.  The clothes they wore were worn and threadbare, but they had once been nobles all of them, and it showed in the quality of the weave and the richness of the dyes.

They had power as well, to match the aesthetics of their form.  Seven were skilled in the fire magics of the Cinnabar Order, with Kalhata the Siren of Flame in her red silks the strongest among those.   Another six had been bred and trained as warriors of the Empty Way, their seemingly perfect bodies warped and enhanced by the flesh crafting magic and mind altering drugs of their respective families.  Two had served as Seers of the Bright Eye before choosing to follow Chandriss, with Laughing Mahu showing exceptional aptitude with her mastery of the art of oreinomacy.  They even had a healer, Anen, trained in the ways of the Merciful Hand.  And then there was Sitre, poor twisted Sitre, her mind warped forever by those nightmarish years at the Academy of Thought.  Each had come to Chadriss willingly, though few enough with the blessing of their family.  Most had been bought with favor or power, a few won by chances of fate, and several more simply slipping away in the night.  They stood now, impossibly beautiful in their robes and silks, surveying the devastation before them without judgement or reproach in their gaze.

In comparison?  Chandriss was a ruin, a husk barely keeping herself attached to this reality.

”We require no formal title.  We simply are.  Should your customs require you to address us with an honorific, F-F-Fatebound will serve.  If not?  I am Chadriss.  W-w-w-we will take what supplies you have to spare.  Though i-i-t is our intent to leave you far more prosperous than we have f-f-found you, when all accounts are settled.”

She waited until the Aikhtiar were all settled, what passed for servants dismissed, and the two of them finally some sense of privacy.

”I would speak now of that which was used to d-d-draw our a-attention to this place.  The Shard of the Celestial Engine.  There are many w-whose attention you could h-have captured with such an offer.  Why d-did you choose us?  What was your intent?”
This message was last edited by the player at 05:41, Tue 13 Aug 2019.

"I am afraid that I am far from schooled in the disciplines of such mystic matters, Fatebound.
To claim that what I have is of Celestial origin would be foolish of me.  What I have, however, is one small portion of my nations Crown Jewels.
It has been murmured in the courts, before our land fell, that the royal family had such wealth, however", explained Baron Annalise.

The two sat, presently, in what constituted the Baron's audience chambers.  Servants bustled about, and several armed men loitered dutifully nearby ... but this was a small outpost of desperate survivors, in a curse and savage land.
The closest that they had to royal finery these days was the tapestries that adorned the nearby walls, and the finery upon which 'refreshments' were being served.

"I am, of course, aware of the presence of divinity upon the earth, and have heard rumours of ... the Fatebound.
We have attempted to make contact with any rumours that came our way in the last years.
Alas, you are the first to respond to our message.

The fact is, most of our messengers never return.   Whomever found you did not; for I was unaware of your coming until your arrival was seen upon the horizon.

But I digress.   I am happy for the opportunity to provide you with a showing of what we have, by way of our royal investments.  And should any of it take your interest, be it mundane or mystical, I humbly beg the opportunity to trade it in exchange for resources or service ... as my people need these things much more than antique gems and baubles".

With a gesture, she summoned a small group of three people who had been respectfully waiting nearby.   They lifted a small chest, no bigger than jewellery box, from a table that contained several such chests.
And they brought it forward; placing it on the small table between the chairs that Chandriss and the Baron sat upon.

Opening it, the Baron revealed a stunning silver ring;  teardrop-shaped, designed in a style evocative of Dulimbian fashion.  It is accented with a huge opaque turquoise emerald-cut gem.

Chandriss could immediately tell that the ring's outer silver coating had been replace many times over the years, intuitively sensing the layers within like a trained forester might know a tree's age by the rings\ed layers within its flesh.
She could also tell that the turquoise had not always been home within the clasps; sensing remnants of ruby deeper within the clasp.  But knew that the turquoise had lived there longer than any living human could possibly remember.

It was a beautiful piece of workmanship, it was true.   But it held no Celestial energy, or connections.


Please, with your next post, give me a Wisdom check ... which for you, of course, will be a d20 check needing 7+ result.
I have checked your Facts, and none pertain to this check, sorry.

Chandriss sat down heavily upon the chair provided, the material that comprised it groaning and straining as her weight settled upon it.  The Shaelat’Azlia rested heavily upon her lap, the gemstones embedded in its cover glowing dully with the emerald and ruby fire.  She reached out one hand, touching the turquoise deftly with two fingers as she learned its true name, bonding it to her own soul even as she left it be within its case.

”Such an heirloom is beautiful, without doubt, but it is not why we crossed the desert and into these broken lands.  If you will permit it, we would see each and every royal investment that comprises your inheritance, trace these hands over every stone.  It is possible that the spark of creation is hidden among one, but it is not here in this ring.”

They withdrew their hand from the ring.

”As t-t-t-t-o o-o-opport-t-tunity, i-i-i-it is my intent-t-t to provide for you and y-yours regardless of the outcome of this e-e-xchange, Aegiskeeper.  You have witnessed the b-bastion…”

Her words were difficult to hear as her form fluttered and skittered, but the warding magic held.

”... and we have no doubt that its power has inspired many thoughts within your mind.  New paths and opportunities that were not available to you opening the moment the tread of our footsteps touched upon your l-l-land.  Speak truly, what favor is it you hope to win w-w-w-with such a display of wealth?”
This message was last edited by the player at 23:14, Tue 13 Aug 2019.

As Chandriss withdrew her fingers from the jewellery, Annalise shared gestures with the three men, whom understood her unspoken directions.  Closing the small chest, they removed it back to the table, and readied another chest.

As they did so, Annalise returned her attention to Chandriss, "I am afraid that I cannot claim these items as inheritance.  At least, not in the traditional, legitimate manner.   No, these were scavenged from a trade caravan that my people located several days north of here, not far from our nearest Hellgate.    Whatever had slaughtered the caravan's residents, and trashed the place for ... food" that last word said with some deeper meaning, " ... and supplies, left these scattered among the litter.
Perhaps these had no value to such ... creatures".
         Ok, lets try another Wisdom roll:  same as last time

The three men had returned with the next chest.   Chandriss could see that her presence disturbed them somewhat.
Maybe it disturbed Annalise also, as it did many of this world.
When they opened the next chest, Chandriss was witness to a bracelet consists of four strands of dusty red beads.  Each teardrop-shaped bead is inscribed with a glyph: none of which Chandriss recognises immediately.

But, there was no spark of divinity within this item either.

She was aware that Annalise was speaking again, "These items are, as you can guess, priceless.
Yet, even their value is tarnished by reality ... for they cannot defend my people.  They cannot feed them.  And they cannot be used as weapons against the darkness, or tools.
Our walls crumble, yet we cannot afford the hours or the sweat to repair them well enough; nor mine the materials from the nearby quarry", she replied to Chandriss' question.
And after a moments thought, she added, "And these ... baubles ... cannot help us close that Hellgate".

There was a small note of desperation in the woman's voice; though Chandriss' own noble training admired the woman for her conviction and the strong, patient face she maintained ... hiding that anxiety.

She looked at Chandriss earnestly now;  waiting for what Chandriss would say in reply.   But Chandriss got the impression that Annalise was watching for something much deeper than the words that Chandriss would speak.

Chandriss took a long steadying breath, calming herself and regaining her focus.  She had been forgetting to do so more and more these days, sometimes going untold minutes before it occurred to her that she had ceased breathing.  She had been too busy to explore it much, the lines of Fate drawing her ever onward.

"These are not what we seek, yet they perhaps might be the foundation of that which we desire."

Their mind calm, their existence held steady.

"It is time then to speak of foundations, and of destiny of Verano."

She reached into the leather bag that hung from a thick strap at her side, pulling forth a heavy scroll case.  She placed this upon the table, unfurling it and spreading it out for Annalise to see.


"This... is the Clan Bastion."

She intoned, and there was an almost religious quality to the deep rumble of her voice.

"And it is to be the foundation of New Verano."

She gestured with her hand, and from the ground sprung up with a rumble a miniature version of the blueprints upon the scroll.  It was a flat square of stone, slightly tapered, with a square hole in the middle that allowed light to shine down from above. Comparing the model to the blueprints, it was clear that the opening was likely ten feet wide and long on the full construction.

"Each Clan Bastion is by itself a fortress far more formidable than your own palisades."

Indeed, the full design would be a stone wall twenty feet high, with a curved lip at each edge making even the most skilled attempt to climb it next to impossible.

"B-b-beneath the outer layer is the floor of heaven, where the families and clans of New Verano will take shelter."

With a wave of her hand the roof of the model collapsed to dust, revealing the topmost rooms of the structure.  There were eight rooms in total, four in 10 by 10 and four of 10 by 20 on each of the corners.  None had windows, instead all were attached to a central balcony within the structure that allowed open space for the light from above to fall to the ground floor.

"The floor of stone is a common space, accessible only by a single doorway."

They waved their hand again, and the second level turned to dust as well.  The bottom floor was one large common area, accessible only by a single archway and broken up by six large support pillars.  Any standing in the middle of the 40 by 40 foot space would have open sky above them.

"By connecting each Clan Bastion together, their individual strength becomes a force to rival any castle or keep."

The whole structure collapsed, but immediately nine much smaller versions rose from the rubble.  They formed a grind, three by three, with one in the middle.  A small wall connected all the outer models together, forming a keep around a central structure.

"We will accept your offering, despite the absence of the Divine Spark which we desire.  It is o-o-o-our intention t-t-to construct a series of such Clan Bastions, connected by an outer wall, immediately o-o-outside of Verano.   Doing so will grant your people the safety and security that they require to begin to r-r-r-rebuild what has been l-lost.  Within the center of this reborn c-city will be a Temple of Lore.  None will be required to w-worpship our ascended divinity within this temple, but all who chose f-f-f-freely to do so will suffer no retaliation for their choice at your or anyone else's h-hands.  You will be their protector, as you would any other of your charges.  We will take your best scout with us, and inspect the site of the caravan attack.  The Aikhtiar will remain within the Temple of Lore while we are gone.  T-t-their needs are to b-be provided for.  Any who wish to s-study lore with them will do so, s-s-should they be found to have an aptitude for magic."

Their red eyes turned to regard Annalise, the sigil at her temple burning.

"You are Aegiskeeper of these lands, and so the decision rests with you.  Do we have an accord?"

Of the Hellgate, she said nothing.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:19, Thu 15 Aug 2019.

As Chandriss spoke her offer, she could sense the social nature of the room changing.

The last of the chests was also brought before her, displaying within, an earring sewn from bright turquoise leather.  It is designed in a classical style, and engraved with a horse.
But what really caught Chandriss' attention was the residual magic upon the earring.   No longer embued with magic, it used to be.  Long ago.   With some study, she might identify how ... and what.

But Annalise was speaking again: "That is truly a ... magnificent ... offer, Fatebound" somewhat breathlessly.
"I ...", she stammered, lost in consideration, "I would consult with my counsel on the matter.  Please?"


            Ok, lets try for one last Perception (Wisdom) test: third times the charm, right?!?

She reached out to touch each of the stones, but it was the earring to which she paid the most attention.

"Of course.  While you do so, w-we would take this last piece, and consult with the Aikhtiar."

If there was no objection, Chandriss would go and show the earring to Laughing Mahu.  There was no guarantee, but fate could see to it that the Seer of the Bright Eye have insight into the echo of greatness that Chandriss herself would not.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:07, Tue 20 Aug 2019.

As Chandriss left the room with the Jewellery chest, headed for their quarters in a nearby building, she noticed a group of three individuals standing to one side of the room ... in a corner to themselves.

What drew her attention, was the lack of theirs.   Everyone else in the room was staring at her; watching the Fatebound, the weird, strange, golemesque form, in awe.
But these three, did  not.   Two simply looked away, as though contemplating something deeply, or interested in yonder tapestry.
One stared at Annalise, and seemed annoyed.
But either the trio were unimpressed with Chandriss' presence; or were quite adamantly choosing to not acknowledge her.



I want to give you a chance to intercede in the storyline here, if you wish.
Or simply post Chandriss carrying on to her quarters.
Either way, when you post her arriving, please tell us what she is doing meanwhile ... as Annalise holds court, and Laughing Mahu investigates the charms.

Chandriss paused, sensing the eddies of change that were alight in the wind.

The Shaelat 'Azlia was already in her hands, it was always in her hands.  She had not put it down once since her consciousness and her body had reformed around it, save to sleep.  Even then, she had rested upon it, and the need for sleep was something that she had felt growing more and more distant as the wheel of time had passed.  More and more, the concerns of mortal flesh had felt like something she had done out of habit rather than need.  Even breathing...

No, that was a concern for another time.

Now the eddies of fate twirled before her, invisible and unseen to all but her.

It was dangerous, to do what she did now.  Her form was still a fragile thing, and in doing this she was expending the majority of her power.  Yet it would not leave her a defenseless calf, blind and helpless.  Some risks were worth the reward.  She opened the tome of fate, and in the air before her burst a living flame of emerald and ruby fire.  A sigil, unreadable and unknowable to all but the Fatebound burst to life before her as the heavy tome's pages flew open.   Those close to her heard it rumble and roar as it flickered and burned, a quite sound, yet deep and powerful despite that.

Chandriss had opened the Shaelat 'Azlia, grasping those eddies, and weaving the web of understanding before her eyes.

When Chandriss stopped by the door, and opened that mighty tome, the room held its breath in silence ... all those nearby feeling, as much as hearing, the distant, yet deeply present susurrus of power.
Even the angry man’s eyes slid into sideways glance towards her.

Even as he did, Chandriss read his fate.   And she had to ask herself, what was an (5HD/level) Anti-priest* doing here in Ancilia ... at the same time that she had been invited?
Coincidence?

The weaving threads of prophecy before her eyes told her that he’d risen swiftly through his ranks in the previous year, and had ambitions on acquiring both title and power within his church by expanding their reach ... along with personal desires to increase his own power.
And he would, too, if no ‘power’ interceded in his current fatepath.

He would also sire a child; whom Chandriss sensed significant Fate swirling around.  A fate entwined, she could feel, with her own.

Chandriss caught the man's leveled gaze, and for the first time in a long while felt human as her pulse began to race.  She kept it from her features, though perhaps her concentration slipped for a moment and her physical vessel slipped from this line of fate into the next.  The matrices of stones held though, the magic deep and strong, and she was left facing him.

She nodded once, a silent acknowledgement, and then turned and left to rejoin her people.  When she found them, she ensured that all outsiders had left the room, and then spoke in hushed tones.

"We are not s-s-safe here."

Sadeh, the most skilled of the practitioners of the Empty Way, immediately stepped forward to hear her words.  She was wrapped in black silk, only her face visible.  Like all of the flesh sculpted guardians of the noble families of the Oasis States, Sadeh's face was beautiful to behold.  What the silk obscured were the razor sharp scythe-like blades of bone that extended from her wrists, stronger than steel.  Uncovered, her arms looked more like that of a preying mantis than a human, and she was utterly deadly in their employ.

"The Aegiskeeper has also invited one of the Pyreburned, an Antipriest of Lom, to attend her.  We c-cannot trust in fate that this was a coincidence.  Sadeh, when next I leave this room, I would have you in attendance.  Two of your students are to be on guard over the Aikhtiar at all times, along with one of Kalhata's p-p-people.  W-w-we cannot assume that I am their only target, y-you all are in just a-as much danger."

Then she sought out Laughing Mahu, handing her the chest with the horse earring.

"Laughing Mahu.  If you would, we would have you ply your craft upon this earring.  None of what was shown to us possessed that which we sought, but there is a spark of divinity left within this piece.  I would know all of it that your art can reveal. Set your apprentice to attempting to divine the purpose of this Pyreburned man, perhaps she can tell us something."

Mahu nodded, the scar on her face that twisted her smile into the macabre thing that had earned her the title making her teeth gleam white in the light of the torches.

Sadeh, silent as ever, briefly bowed in acknowledgement.
She took a place by the door; an unwelcome surprise to any who might come barging through it unannounced.
Meanwhile, her apprentices and adepts moved quietly to secure the windows and such, all understanding the gravity of their Mistress’ news.
The remaining Aikhtiar milled, concerned.

Laughing Mahu, poor twisted Mahu, took the chest from Chandriss with anticipation: akin to a child given an unexpected gift by her mother.  She scampered away to a private corner, settling down (now inattentive to anything but her precious) and gleefully opening the chest.
Without further direction, her young apprentice sat herself, and attempted to transition her mind and being as Mahu had daughter her, that she might begin sending the threads of consequence and fate.

Of course, success by either woman would depend (among other things) on how long Chandriss could, or would, give them to perform their magics.

In the immediate, however, they were not disturbed.

"I-I-I w-would give y-you what time you need, y-you h-h-have a d-day."

Chandriss announced to Laughing Mahu, standing at the doorway.

"Sadeh, I can part the veil of the bastion, or be the Stonemother, I cannot do both.  That is assuming t-that the Pyreburned does not have tricks of his own.  I will need to rely on you for protection.  Come, let us see what the Aegiskeeper and her advisors have decided."

She turned to the other silent Empty Hand.

"Should you f-face any trouble, you know what to do."

And they did.  If something went wrong, the Aikhtiar would beat a song of war upon the mighty drum of ancestors.  Antipriest or no, Chandriss would hear it, and she would level mountains if that's what it took to get to her disciples.

And so it was that Chandriss left her disciples, and turned her attention and path back towards the Baron Annalise.
Sadeh, silent and deadly, fell in behind her like a silk-wrapper shadow.

Those of the Empty Way whom had not taken position by the doors and windows now sat together, an inward facing circle; each in her own semblance of a lotus position, each changing her own individual mantra that would empower her in her own way.
The image and mild cacophony creating a surreal scene.


As Chandriss and Sadeh approaches the chambers whence Chandriss had left Annalise, she observed two armed men guarding the closed door.
These hadn’t been there before, nor the door closed.  And the two politely moved to stand before the doors, blocking Chandriss’ entrance.

Inside, though, she could hear raised voices; not yelling, as such, but a heated discussion was indeed taking place.
Baron Annalise’s voice was one, as was another male ... though they were framed in a susurrus or background of conversation.

Chandriss was the Stonemother, and nothing so mundane as a guarded door would bar her progress.  She let go of the Shaelat 'Azlia, letting it fall open as she did.  The bright burning glyph appeared, ever shifting and ever changing.  The book did not fall though, instead hovering before her as if held aloft by invisible hands.  She took one step to the side, and with a wave of her hands simultaneously caused all hell to break loose.  A thick barrier of stone rose to block the door, preventing any and all from accessing it.  At the same time, a wall sprung forth dividing the room, trapping the guards to one side and the Fatebound and her escort on the other.  Both were covered from floor to ceiling in prayers and exhalations proclaiming her divinity.

Finally, the wall before her melted away, giving her open access to the room with the Baron and her guest.  Two large stone jackals, roaring silently and unmoving, flanked her on each side as the dust of her exertions settled.

"Aegiskeeper.  You had not informed us that you were entertaining such an esteemed guest as an Antipriest of Lom."

She said without stutter as she strode into the room, Sadeh silent at her heels.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:10, Sun 25 Aug 2019.

Well, there’s no arguing with that entrance, eh!


As the building seemed to meld and flow at Chandriss’ whim, the two guards were summarily denied any chance to argue their point ... and those within the audience chamber turned to stare in awe.

Dust swirled about the place, but nowhere as deeply as the within the silent jackels that now accompanied Chandriss into the room.


Baron Annalise, flushed with prior rage, now stood in shock.   As did the Anti-priest standing mere feet in front of her, and looking just as angry.
Beyond and around them all, Annalise’s most trusted advisors looked on in ... fear?

It was Annalise who managed to gather her wits before all others, and she turned to face Chandriss.
She took a deep breath of dust filled air (which caused her to have to stifle a cough), as she considered her response swiftly.
Fear in her eyes spoke of a need to grovel, and beg forgiveness: and yet she still managed to hold her bearing and authority, “Fatebound”, she stated, “I regr... I maintain the right to share my information as I see fit.

And you are correct, of course.   Please allow me to introduce you to His Honour, the Templar Stoic.
We have had the ... pleasure ... of his company for many months now”.
The implications and tone of her voice grated on him, and he grimaced in container rage.  But while he glanced at her for her petulance, his eyes barely left Chandriss ... and she could see within his face the readiness to fight.

“He was just leaving, I’m afraid.   Duties to his church have draw him away,” she said, with a rather dismissive wave of her hand, “to his chambers”.

Templar Stoic, turned to her with rebuke, but was cut off by the woman’s harsh tone, “I wish to speak with the Fatebound.
Alone” to her counsel.

As they all began to filter out (of the gaping wound Chandriss had left in the structure), Templar Stoic ground his teeth together, and headed for the same exit.

Nobody but Chandriss was looking at Annalise at that moment ... so none others saw the tear run down her dust covered cheek.
Though, it was hard for Chandriss to divine whether it was fear, stress of ‘something in her eye’ that caused the effect.

Too many lines of fate all at once, and she couldn’t risk draining herself completely to read any of them with one of the Pyreburned standing right in front of her.  She didn’t even know if her Gifts would affect the man.  She had, up until that point, had no contact with the Antipriests except for stories and lore.  Their name made them sound like they were a nullifying factor, perhaps somehow in direct opposition to her own spark of divinity.  The illusion of such could very well have been the intent behind it, but it could also be the reality.  She wanted to know, but not here, not now.

”Very well, Aegiskeeper.”

It was will that held her together, no flickering of fates or realities, as she answered the Baroness.  She waved her right hand, and with a liquid grinding the stone which barred the door melted away, allowing the guards to come bursting in if they wished.  At the same time, the wall behind her reformed, and the two jackals of stone turned to her and seemed to bow and stretch as if they were mortal beasts luxuriating at the feet of their master.  They continued twisting as they sank into the floor, in an instant reduced from massive statues of stone to intricate patterns of script and illustration carved into the floor in the vague geometric pattern of the animals they had once been.

She waited in long silence for the others to leave, ignoring the Antipriest utterly now that he had been dismissed.  Not so for Sadeh, whose dark eyes followed him every step he took until he had left the room.  She had made her point, and there was no need to grind it in any further, especially with the Aegiskeeper’s whole court there in attendance.  To attempt to bully or humiliate her would serve little purpose, despite the fact that Chandriss had the power within her to bring every last stone of Verano down if she needed to in order to protect her people.  No, she understood Annalisse’s strength well.  The Fatebound would not back her into a corner.  She had demonstrated power enough, now was the time to show that such power was not without restraint.

”Baron Annalise, we thank you for your intervention in this matter.  This world possesses forces that are diametrically opposed, forces who cannot exist in the same space without eternal conflict and strife.  There is a place for all such things, indeed there must be, but all too often the clashing of such forces leads to the suffering of the innocent.  It is your wisdom and foresight here that led to the path which we now walk, and for that, you are to be commended most highly.”

A nod, a gesture of respect before the Baron.

”Thus far, w-we have not found that which we sought within your walls, yet as I have told you before it is our intent to leave you richer than we found you regardless of our successes or failures here.  New Verano is yours, should you wish it.  The people of Ancalia have endured nightmare and horrors unknown to the rest of the world, and in doing so perhaps come closer to understanding the celestial conflict better than any other mortal mind.  Your people deserve this future, no matter the outcome of what passes between us.  I will grant them that fate.  Yet there is the potential for so much more.  New Verano’s Clan Bastions will keep your people safe, but it will do nothing to stop the horrors that stalk outside your walls.  To accomplish such a feat, to close the Night Roads themselves, we will need the assembled wisdom and knowledge of a great many Temples of Lore.  Not just in New Verano, but in a dozen cities, a hundred.  You have a chance here to be the first of something truly… m-m-miraculous, should you seize it.  But to do that, y-you have to make a choice.”

Her eyes had never left the Baron as she spoke.

”Destruction and creation cannot coexist where mortal’s feet tread, such elements are the makeup of the primordial forces, and not for you.  It must be one or the other.  Which fate do you choose for New Verano?  Which fate do you choose for your people?  My divinity, or the father?”
This message was lightly edited by the player at 00:23, Wed 28 Aug 2019.

Baron Annalise sighed.

She broke eye contact and wandered a few steps away, thinking deeply, as the room returned to its normal semblance about them in their solitude.
After a moment, she turned back.
"Your offer is, of course, magnificent.  But ...", she hesitated a moment, "like he says, it can be taken away just as quickly.
While I ... have distaste ... for his nation, and his church, they have provided essentials for us already.  Essentials that he cannot just take away again, if my decisions displease him.  What has been offered and given by his church is now ours.  And we can use it to fight even that church back, if we must.

But what you offer ..."  was incredible.  There was nothing that anyone could offer her people like the gift Chandiss had proposed.
But at what cost?   Annalise had no idea what this person/thing before her would demand once the Church of Reason had been driven away ... and her people were at Chandriss' mercy.

She stared deep into Chandriss' eyes glowing crystals ... but found only hard stone and light; something she couldn't read like she could read the eyes of a human.

And she found the courage to ask the hard question: "How can I know that we can trust you?"


I am going to ask for a Charisma Check with this ... regardless of Chandriss' answer.
A successful Check will not seal this deal, but it will certainly help.

Chandriss had not closed the book of fate, nor had she grasped it in her hands.  It simply hovered in the air before her, a constant reminder that the thing which stood before the Baron now was not human.

”What is an oath to a divine being?  N-nothing is p-p-permanent, and all c-c-can be taken away.  Accepting or r-rejecting all t-that which we have o-o-offered does not change that.  Your w-w-walls are no less susceptible to our w-w-will than those of the Clan Bastions.  Had o-our intention been to conquer, we w-w-would have walked the path of destruction.  Such is not our way, nor is such the intent of our gifts.  Earth and stone can c-c-crush and grind, but their essential nature is to be a foundation upon which to b-build and grow.  Fire consumes, no matter what other gifts it brings.  The gift of New Verano will be yours, e-even should you choose t-to continue to o-obligate yourself and y-your people to the Pyreburned and h-h-his antipriests.  W-w-we will accept the b-b-baubles you have offered, plant the seeds of the Clan Bastions, and depart with our people.  No Temple of Lore will be birthed here, and none of the Aikhtiar will remain.  We will not return, and you will forever pass from our divine gaze.”

She let the words sink in.

”Or you can choose to banish the Pyreburned and his support, and place your faith in our divinity.  There are no assurances to you that we can provide in this, no bindings of fate or word that can contain my power.  Yet in taking the chance, you guarantee the establishment of a Temple of Lore within the walls of your new city.  You guarantee that this will be the first of many such Temples, all devoted to studying and mastering the higher magic, t-the theurgy that will be needed to master the Night Roads and close them once and for all.  Most importantly, you will guarantee that New Verano will never leave our thoughts, and that our divine attention will always come back to this place.”

The rune over the Shaelat’Azlia burned brightly as the Aegiskeeper decided the fate of her people, and in doing so the future of all of Ancalia.

”The choice is yours, Aegiskeeper.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:53, Thu 29 Aug 2019.

The Baron Annalise stood listening to the Fatebound's words.

When Chandriss talked about walls being no less susceptible to her will, and talked about paths of destruction, she could see Annalise's heart sink.  For it was true, Annalise with her entire community could not stand against Chandriss.
The Fatebound's words now were very clear, in the Baron's ears, how impotent they were in her presence ... and how futile any resistance would be.
At least against the Lomites, Verada might stand and fight with some chance of success.
But what could they do against a being of such power that it could, literally, open the earth and swallow their entire enclave, with but a thought.

And yet, the Fatebound promised otherwise ... and more.   But it came with threat of abandonment should Verada not comply with the Fatebound's ultimatum regarding the Lomites.

The Templar had provided much some since his arrival over a year ago, it was true.  But, she had to admit to herself, such came with its own ultimatums and threats, promises and demands.

But it was her following thoughts, as Chandriss spoke of Temples of Lore, of establishment of power, of a centre of learning, that caught in Annalise's mind.   That if she didn't accept Chandriss' offer, maybe, just maybe, another Ancilian might.
For she suspected that there would be a Temple of Lore and learning to be within Ancilia: if not in Verada, then where ... and who would benefit from that political power.

Annalise, whether through desire for personal power, or to serve her people, knew what she must do.
"He says that you are far from divine.  That you are not a god.   Something powerful, to be sure ... but not a god.
I guess that, for we mere mortals, there is little difference between a god, and a golem of such great magical power", she said.

She sighed, as she looked upon Chandriss, as though contemplating deep and many things.   But 'her choice', as close as she felt she had in the matter, was obvious ... and made.

She nodded, "I accept your gracious offer.
The Templar will be required to take his retinue, and leave tomorrow at dawn".
Whether this was a mistake, or no, her decision was made ... and Annalise could only wait now, to see how her fate (and that of her community) would play out.

"He is half right, in his own way.  We are not a God, yet he is a fool to deny divinity is within us.  I am, and we are, the seeds of godhood.  In making this choice, Aegiskeeper, you have ensured that New Verano is the foundation of ascension."

The Shaelat 'Azlia closed with a booming thud, and Chandriss caught it in her outstretched hands.

"W-we will begin immediately."

She strode out of the room, her gait determined despite the skittering missteps her wavering form sometimes forced out of her.  She did not look behind her, trusting that those who needed to follow would do so, that they would see.   First, she went to her people, the Aikhtiar.

"It begins.  Gather up our sleeping brethren..."

Laughing Mahu and her apprentice were asleep on the floor, practicing their craft as they had been instructed.

"... we must remain vigilant.  The Pyreburned has lost this round, and vengeance is the nature of fire.  Surely, he will a-attempt some parting retribution."

The others gathered four long poles of wood, slipping them into the loops of cloth upon either side of the Seer's simple sleeping matts, and carrying them between them.  She exited the fort at the head of her growing procession, moving quickly towards the southern palisade as she began to draw her power up from the bones of the earth and into the matrices of power which contained her.  As she drew near the wooden wall, the bastion began to rumble at her feet, the first stones rising from the earth.  With a mighty roar of stone on stone, the bastion rose and soared into the sky, lifting her twenty feet into the air on a massive tower of black obsidian.  Prayers to her divinity were inscribed upon every stone, beautifully carved in the language of the Oasis states as well as the common tongue.   Dutifully, the Aikhtiar began to funnel into the black tower, Sadeh and the other Empty Hand maintaining their silent vigil.

High above the wall, she surveilled the clay upon which she would reshape Verano's destiny.

Twenty feet away from the palisade, the first of the Clan Bastions began to grow.  The stone which rose from the earth was gray granite, rather than the black obelisk upon which she now stood.  She shaped the building one quarter at a time, bringing each corner up to meet its neighbors in a massive demonstration of her own divine power.   In only moments, the four corners were joined, dust and dirt falling off of the pristine new stone.  Unlike the tower on which she now stood, the Clan Bastion was unmarred by any scribing or prayer.  By itself, it was the foundation of the Fatebound's legend, and she had only begun.

Barely two hours later, she had almost completed her great work. Eighteen of the Clan Bastions had been constructed, in a perfect grid five wide and four deep, with twenty feet of space between each.  In the middle of this grid was an open space where two more Clan Bastions could easily have stood, but Chandriss had for some reason chosen to leave them empty.  The outermost Clan Bastions were all joined by a wall, twenty feet high and five feet thick.  There were no battlements upon these walls, no platforms upon which soldiers could stand, for the Clan Bastions were each meant to serve as their own secure fortress.  A wall with raised platforms would act as a bridge between Clan Bastions, reducing their independence as separate structures.  Even without platforms, a normal wall might have served as such a connection.  This wall was no such thing, the top narrowing to a razor sharp point more akin to a sword blade than a structure of granite.   The stones of these walls were placed without mortar or cement, yet interlocked in such a way that one could only begin disassembling them if a great many men and women were standing atop the Clan Bastions and coordinating with those below.

There was only one gate on the whole great work, placed in the middle of the wall between the closest row of four Clan Bastions.  It stood empty, a gaping hole in New Verano's defenses that matched the open doorway of each Clan Bastion.  With a rumbling groan, a stairway formed at the base of the obsidian tower, allowing the Aegiskeeper to walk up to join the founder of New Verano.  If she climbed, Chandriss turned back to the gates of her creation, and two walls of simple brown stone with ten feet between them rose to connect the palisade of Old Verano with the gate of the new.

"Behold, your new foundation.  Behold New Verano.  You will n-n-need to secure the gate, building the door which will seal it shut.  The bastion does not allow for the construction of such, nor are w-we able to provide the materials.  We will stand vigil this day, and defend any and all from the U-u-unmade as your people go about their labor.  If they are unable to secure their new domain before the sun sets, we will seal the gateway with stone so that tonight they are safe.  We r-r-r-recommend that you position the f-f-f-families of y-your more m-martial clans within the Clan Bastions t-t-that support the wall.  We will leave the blueprints for the Clan Bastions with your sages, and from the earth we will pull enough stone to construct many more.  Your people will not need to venture to the quarry for many generations.  Provided they keep to the s-s-stonelore I set down when I am done, your people will never want for safety again.  This future, this fate?  You have secured it for them."

With a final gesture, she collapsed the palisade in the gap between the two walls, creating a route of safe passage between the two towns.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:28, Thu 29 Aug 2019.

For many hours, Chandriss had stood there, upon the obsidian bastion from which she focused every ounce of her attention and power.
For this task was immense, in extend and detail, and the Power needed to create in such magnificent abundance, to craft and sculpt, to orchestrate and choreography, left Chandriss with little ability to notice what was going on around her.

Thankfully, she knew the Aikhtiar were with her.  And in this, she needn't concern herself with the petty reality about her.

For it was that the entire population of Verano was drawn inexplicably to this scene ... like the stone drawn unquestionably from the land below.   They gathered on walls, and rooftops, as the witnessed what could only be counted as a miracle.
Hundreds and hundreds of eyes took in the spectacle of Power.


On one such rooftop, Templar Stoic watched and fumed, witnessing not a miracle, but magical power that only his superiors might have matched in their own arts.   Oh, he understood the power of this false idle, and he wanted an accurate account to return to his Senator's with.


Baron Annalise stood among the throng, of course, gazing out in equal measure upon the miracle being performed, and at her people.  She still was't sure what this was going to cost them ... or her.   But her decision was now made, and its consequences would reveal themselves soon enough.


Hours of such power channelled might have killed an mortal sorcerer, in fact.
But born of stone, Chandriss, the Unmade stood unmoving.   Like a statue upon her high pedestal, her form unmoving as her mind summoned and shaped the new city before her.  If she was of flesh, surely sweat would run rivulets from her aching body ... but stone does not bleed, nor break, or bend.


And when it was done, the Baron Annalise joined the Fatebound upon the obsidian tower.
She was, by definition, in awe, as she looked down upon the new structure before them.  It was, in every way, a new home for her people, and a bastion of safety and a foundation upon which they could rebuild their lives and retake their land.
"Thank you" was all she could utter.


As online gaming doesn't really define itself well in context of 'game session', I am going to adjudicate that this brings Chandriss to the end of her first session:  Chapter 1 of 'By Divinity Sweet Nectar'.
As such, I am awarding Chandriss 2 Dominion, as per the rules on p103.   I think that the character has been well introduced, and has indeed dome something particularly in line with their divine concept.


By Divinity Sweet Nectar: Chapter 2
Annalise had descended the Obsidian Tower, hours ago, to begin organising her people's move into 'New Verano'.
So much work had to be performed ... the logistics was immense.   Food, homes, possessions, families transferred, not to mention the scavenging and refurbishing all all things necessary for securing their new home.

Chandriss and the Aikhtiar watched from such height, as the community moved like (not-so-well organised) ants.


Night fell and, as Chandriss had suspected, New Verano's entrance had not been gated.
And it was a simply task for the Stone Fatebound to seal New Verano for the night.

The people of New Verano were ... unsure ... what to make of their new benefactor.  Fear and awe, gratitude and suspicion, sat in equal measure among them; although each person holding different measures of such.   Yet, none spoke with the Fatebound, nor the Aikhtiar.
These were seen as far beyond the mortal realms of New Verano's citizens.  They had no words that could express these feeling that overawed them.
Neither face nor eye were turned in the Fatebounds directions ... eyes were turned to the ground as people passed.


Except the Baron Annalise.   Who made sure that Chandriss and the Aikhtiar had first choice (the 'lion's share' so to speak) of Bastions for the night, along with any furnishings, food, supplies they needed.
It seemed that, for whatever reasons, Annalise was giving herself to Chandriss.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:22, Wed 04 Sept 2019.

The Obsidian Bastion began to sink to the ground, first gently depositing the Aikhtiar who stood within it.  Without looking behind her, Chandriss began walking to the front gate, pausing only long enough to ensure that all were inside before sealing it and collapsing the two walls that connected the New to the Old.

Then she set off for the middle of New Verano, to the space where she had left room for two Clan Bastions, but had built nothing.  She turned to the left of the open space, and with a silent working of her will rose another Clan Bastion from nothing.  This was identical to the others in shape, and yet different in so many ways.  Where the others had been gray granite, this was marble of the purest white.  Where the others had been devoid of carvings or motifs, this was covered from ground to crest in the prayers and exaltations of her people.  Thousands of lines of script, proclaiming in every tongue she knew that this was a place of knowledge, a place of learning, a place truly touched by the divine.

It was the first Temple of Lore, it would not be the last.

Then she turned to the right.  Another exertion of divine power, and a monument of purest black obsidian rose again from the earth.  Not a tower, no, a statue.  Standing upon a pyramid of black stone, the depiction of Chandriss the Fatebound rose high over the heads of the now furiously chanting and celebrating Aikhtiar.  Her features were perfect, capturing every crack and fault line in her flesh.  Even the jewelry which pierced her nose and ears was represented in stone, cut so finely that the chains swung in the breeze. She stood tall, resolute, her expression stern but without cruelty. In her stone hands she grasped the Shaelat 'Azlia, pages open wide to reveal to New Verano its destiny.  In the center of the book of living flame was a gem, a ruby taken from one of the Baron's lesser trinkets.  The monument faced the Temple of Lore, and the open door to the Temple faced the Monument of the Unmade.

With a final shouted exaltation to the heavens, the Aikhtiar began to joyously dance their way into the Temple of Lore, Chandriss bringing up the rear of the procession.  They walked into the Temple, and save for the occasional patrol of Sadeh's silent disciples upon the roof of the marble Bastion, none were seen again until morning.

The morning light revealed another thing too.  Written upon the base of the Monument of the Unmade, carved deep into the pyramid, was the stonelore that would guild New Verano from now until the last stone was ground to dust.


This message was last edited by the player at 06:33, Wed 04 Sept 2019.

For mechanical book keeping, and in the interests of helping everyone (especially me) better understand the rules system ...

Chandriss, the Unmade is doing the following:
A).  Have used my Earth Gift to bestow a level 2 Feature on New Verano that says, New Verano's walls are strong, its people are safe.  Rules for that are the sidebar on page 138.  I can't imagine what the trouble that creates will be, can't possibly be something to do with that angry Templar getting banished tomorrow.  :)

B).  Spend 2 Dominion to make a permanent Improbably Change to the citizenry of New Verano through the Sorcery Word, stating The People of New Verano are gifted with magic, with an improbable number of them demonstrating talent for it.  It's not "everyone's an arch mage," just "oh hey, weird that like three people in this village all have the  talent to learn magic.  That seems like a lot for such a small place."

C).  And finally, commit 2 Influence to say The Loremasters of New Verano are excellent teachers, quickly conveying complex magical concepts to their apprentices.  That third one will be based off of the Temple of Lore I've built.


To Be Added:   The GM's stat's for New Verano  ... coming soon

And so it was, that the next morning, rested, the people of New Verano were able to look upon their new home.
To many, the last 24 hours were still reeling in their minds ... and many still held varying levels of reservation, and awe, at this new development ... and the new 'intruders' among them.

Whether they revered Chandriss and her entourage, or feared them, the mood within the new city was still of uncertainty.
This was all a lot to take in for the average people.


The makeshift gate removed, work continued to shore up that insecurity, using woods pillaged from their previous fortifications.
Meanwhile, the interior of the Bastion were being renovated and furnished to facilitate homes and workshops, training areas and storage areas.
In truth, coming to terms with these immense changes to their lifestyle was somewhat overwhelmed by the activity that kept the townsfolk occupied.


Which meant Chandriss had the opportunity to 'take stock' herself, of her current situation.

Templar Stoic was witnessed leaving the old compound as the sun had risen.  Whether he had been forbidden hospitality by Baron Annalise this last night ... or had refused such ... was unknown to the Fatebound.

Laughing Mahu, and her apprentice, during the night had divined that the Anti-Priest's presence was due as much to personal choice as duty, and that his immediate plans had revolved his desires for power.  They also sensed betrayal at the heart of his recent decisions, and a definite feeling that he would return.

The earring which Chandriss had set Mahu to study was no longer active: it's magic dwindled long ago, and seemed to be of a design to impress and manipulate the feelings of sentient beings.
In truth, there was little by remnants of magic left, although Mahu believed that the previously enchanted jewellery was of theurgic nature.


But what her Aikhtiar were wondering, primarily, was ... what was their God-Mistress planning to do next?

Chandriss' fate was already set before her, what pages of hers in the Shaelat 'Azlia she could comprehend already read.  She knew the steps she had to take, even if the path led into the oblivion of unknowing.

As dawn broke upon New Verano, the Fatebound emerged from the Temple of Lore.

The Aikhtiar funneled out behind her,  moving in utter silence save for the swishing of their dessert robes.  In their hands they clasped books and tomes, at last matching the Unmade, though none of theirs burned brightly with stone flecked fire.  One by one they settled down at the base of the pyramid, each in turn opening their book or manual and placing it down upon their crossed feet.  One by one, they prayed at her monument's feet in the way they had been taught to pray.

They studied.

Chandriss ignored them, though part of her panged for it.  She had experienced no real time to read from the Book of Living Flame since the message that had summoned her to this distant land had first arrived.  There were few things that she desired more in the world than to explore the depths of what her mentor had to offer to her, yet one such deeper desire was before her now.  She had to pursue it, there would be time for study soon.

She found the Baroness alone.

"Aegiskeeper, it is time for the fourth chapter of our compact, for I see you have honored your commitment to us in the third.  The Aikhtiar will remain behind as we agreed, but I w-will take your best scout with me.  We will find the site where you recovered the treasures you have given us, and see if any trace of the cinder of the divine spark from which they were created can be found.  How many suns will it see us to be there and returned?"

Annalise could be found in her new Bastian;  among new, if sparce conditions.
She was in discussion with some of her courts: primarily a young man with whom she was (politely?) debating some matter of other.

When the goddess of stone, the Fate Bound, Chandriss, the Unmade entered, everything went silent.
Annalise gave the younger man one last look, which probably said ‘We’ll finish this conversation later’, and turned her attention to Chandriss.

Most of the court reigned in their awe-fear, and scuttled to find something (anything-) else to do.
Though, the young man gave Chandriss a curious look, before turning to join some nearby fellows in quiet conversation as they made their way from the room ... giving Chandriss wide berth.

Annalise listened to the Fatebound’s request, then nodded, “It shall be done, Fatebound.
I’ll have Dalton assemble is team, and meet you by the front gate in one hour, if that suits you”.
The tone in the Baroness’ voice spoke of tension, uncertainty, and concerns.    But she held a string, confident face ... at least for now, before her court and the Unmade Goddess.


Please feel free to roleplay anything else, or ‘then’ you wish to do ...
When you get to the front, the scout team will be ready

Chandriss ignored the others, focusing only on the Baron.

"We will depart within the hour then, Aegiskeeper.  While I am gone, the Aikhtiar will resume their studies of the arcane.  It is our desire to empower the people of New Verano with their own destiny.  In this, magic is the great equalizer.  A-a-as such, any who w-wish to be tested for the g-g-gift of magic are free to do s-s-so.  I am sure there are some a-a-among your people with the talent.   In addition, any of your warriors who wish to t-train with the Empty Hand can d-do so after the Hour of Contemplation.  We w-will not burden you with the full complement of the Aiktiar f-for long, we know well the strain of too many students at the Temple of Lore.  Once we have completed our survey of the place where the earring was found, we will return, and then take most with us.  Only a f-few will stay behind, to train those willing and able in matters arcane and martial, and to begin the great work of mastering what theurgy will be n-needed to close the Night Gates."

If Annalise had more to say, Chandriss waited to hear it.  Otherwise, she spent the final hour with the Aikhtiar, and then departed for the gates.

Waiting for Chandriss at the gates was a small group of people; 5 in all, some women, some men.
They had horses ready, and held them comfortably, indicating that this was normal for them.
Six horses, in fact.

As the goddess of stone approached, the tall Oasian man among them turned and moved to greet her.
He gave a traditional bow and greeting of Chandriss’ homelands; though with enough cultural variance that she knew didn’t recognise the arcology from which he hailed.

“Lady ...” he said, “Fatebound, our services are at your command.
I understand you wish to travel close to the local hellgate .. to examine the location we found the attacked caravan.
It will be several days travel, and”, he hesitated, “horse-stride will be the quickest and most efficient manner”.

"Agreed."

Chandriss said, the Shaelat 'Azlia resting in a heavy case at her back.  She threw out the fine silks of her robe as she spoke, casting it out behind her.  No, not a robe then, a cloak.  Beneath it she wore fine suit of leathers, well oiled and grey.  A twinned pair of knives rested at her belt, beautifully curved blades with a set of rubies gleaming from the grey steel of the hilts.

"We w-w-will travel in the method to which you are most accustomed, and attempt to attract n-n-o further attention to ourselves.  However, should we encounter the Unmade, you and your people will need to corral your mounts about me as quickly as possible.  I w-w-will be able to protect us all only if you all remain close.  You will need to remain sharp and well armed, for any that slip within the Bastion as it forms about us will need to be dealt with.  As such, you will also need t-to be able to summon light quickly.  Prepare yourselves accordingly."

She stared hard at the Oasian, her eyes burning in tandem with the sigil at her forehead, then tracked to the others.

"You are all w-within my Aegis, once we leave New Verano.  It will be my responsibility to see you all safely home.  I will weave the threads of fate to ensure that this is so, be not alarmed."

Behind her, the Shaelat 'Azlia had slipped free of it leather harness and begun to rise over her head.  It flew open with a heavy clang of metal, the burning sigil of the living flame exploding out in emerald and crimson as it flickered and danced.

"Dalton, you are fate bound to lead us safely to the Nightgate, there to find a treasure of incalculable worth.  You and those under your Aegis will return home safe and whole."

The words were Chandriss', but they rung with an indescribable power.  As the last one left her flecked lips, the book of fate slammed shut with a heavy clang and fell into her arms.  She caught it without looking, and almost reverently placed it back into the case at her back.

"Proceed."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:09, Wed 11 Sept 2019.

Along with his fellows, Dalton listened intently ... with great interest, suspicion and trepidation ... to the words of the strange creature that came before them.
The strange, magical creature that had raised New Verano in one afternoon's work; who seemed a golem and burned with inner crystal fire, and carried the strangest artefact that any in Verano had ever seen.

When she urged him to 'prepare yourselves accordingly', he nodded.  But before he could turn to do so, Chandriss was ... what?  Casting a spell on him? Binding him to some duty or geas?
He was uncomfortable with such ... but was to scared to interrupt.  He could only hope that it turned out as optimistically as she had made it sound.
Riding out into land, to inspect the locale of a Hell Mouth, and returning safe and whole ... and with some grand treasure??  Surely, that would indeed be a miracle.

He visibly jumped in alarm when the Shaelat 'Azlia slammed shut and fell into Chandriss' arms, and it took a moment for him to gather his wits.
But as the Stone Goddess tended to her book, Dalton turned and tended to her directions ... 'Preparing themselves accordingly' to summon light quickly if needed, and remaining militantly vigil (the latter already an over-riding concern, where they were going).


The 6th mount was brought unto Chandriss, and it strained under her weight as she took to the saddle.  The journey for this beast would be harder, and slower, than its companions.
But soon enough, the six riders were headed out of New Verano ... and into the wastelands that had once been one powerful and prosperous nation.


It was midday.
Chandriss' mount was not dealing well with the ride, and Dalton had decided to halt the ride and swap Chandriss to a new horse ... as well as give everyone a well-deserved rest.

It was as the scout patrol did so, and refreshed with dried foods and water, that Ivest, on of the scouts, notice movement among the forested shadows in the valley below.
She quickly pointed this out to Dalton, and soon everyone was looking hard.

"We stick to the ridge, then" Dalton said.   Normally, they would investigate ... but this mission was different.

Chandriss handed the reins of her mount to the scout directly in front of her.

"My a-a-attention will be occupied, so you all will need to r-remain vigilant.  Do not be d-distracted by the great work I am about to perform, though at least two of you should watch it to call out if any of the foe escape my sight.  Should we n-n-need speed, call out to me and I will retake the reins."

Then she turned in the saddle, directing her gaze to the movement down in the valley below.  With her will, she reached out to the stones deep beneath the earth, and as one they listened to their Stonemother.

Walls of jagged rock began to rise, not under her feet as they had on the journey to what was now New Verano, but far off and towards the shadowed clumps of trees from which Ivest had seen movement.  She could not wall off the whole valley in one massive extension of power, but with rapid alacrity she began cutting off path after path from the valley to the ridge that they now occupied.  The earth rumbled and groaned at her touch, the hilltop shuddering as she cast her will against it.  First she focused on the most direct routes, wall after wall rising and joining as she wove her craft.

If anything broke through, she sought to craft more walls to cut it off, forcing it towards steep cliffs and ravines that would slow it down or halt its progress all-together.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:59, Mon 16 Sept 2019.

As Dalton, Ivest and the others watched on, stone walls erupted among the forest and pathways throughout the valley below.
Within minutes any ability to see or track movement, let alone anyone down there, was completely obscured by the foliage and maze.

Dalton didn’t look happy about this, but said nothing.
When Chandriss was finished, he said, “We need to move now.   As quickly as possible”, as he mounted.

The group stuck to the ridge, as much as possible ... with the scouting party constantly on alert of threat.


Later that afternoon, they rode high into the local mountains, entering largely unwelcoming and inhospitable terrain.  Dalton had intimated that it was in this terrain that he intended camp down for the night.

As the group rode, another member of the team named Corsin brought his Mount up alongside Chandriss.
Initiating conversation, he politely asked, “Fatebound, your abilities are ... incredible.  Please, how did you come into such power?”

"Talent and hubris."

Chandriss answered simply, making no attempt to hide the nature of her ascension.

"The b-b-breeding programs of the n-nobility of the Oasin States go back farther than the nation of Ancalia itself.  Some of the oldest lines are more than seven hundred years old.
We w-were one such, bred for natural s-sorcerous talent and raw potential.  We were... a success, in the a-accounting of such things.  It made us arrogant."

She paused for a moment while her form flickered and waved, taking the time to still herself and regain control.

"We attempted t-too much, reached too far, grasped too much raw arcaninity at once and attempted to mold it.  We were punished.  For our hubris, we were torn into oblivion, torn into dust, less than dust."

It would not be possible to explain the concept of an atom to such a man, she had tried.

"In a million different Fates, we found no way to persevere.  In a million different lines, that was the end of it.  A million others could try what we tried, and face only oblivion and death.  An eternity of of agony captured in a single instant.  W-w-we were more, though.  We had pushed farther.  Now..."

Her eyes turned to him and flashed.

"Now I am more.  Now I read from the book of Fate, and the bones of the earth heed my song.  Now I am Fatebound, Stonemother, the Unmade Reborn."

The fire within her stilled, and she was silent.

---

When they stopped for the evening, she dismounted and began to circle the camp.  In her wake, the Bastion rose, a solid wall of blackest obsidian curved into vicious spikes at the top.  Stairs, ramparts, and battlements lined the inside, while the outer surface was nothing but a perfectly smooth surface of black topped with hooks and barbs of stone for any that tried to climb over it.

When the entire encampment was surrounded, she rested, and waited for the others to approach.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:55, Fri 20 Sept 2019.

Within their bastion, the scout team felt both safe and trapped.
They weren’t used to being so disassociated from their environs ... and this affected each of them differently.

Ivest paced.   Obviously feeling caged, she stared longingly up through the open top, at the starry sky far beyond: a narrow portal of connection to her world.
Dalton sat nearby, seemingly relaxed.  He meditated, in the manner Chandriss recognised from her time among the Sand Tribes of the Gallacer Reach ... but she also caught him, eyes open occasionally, studying her.

He young man who’d spoken with her as they rode through the late afternoon, Marcel, seemed excited by Chandriss, and the magics she brought.  Whenever he had the opportunity, he’d ask her something more about it, and herself.
          I won’t charge you Effort for any small, narrative miracles that Chandriss performs for him.
His enthusiasm seemed to draw eyerolls from Ivest, and smirks from the older woman, Tanner ... who seemed the ‘mother’ of the group, preparing dinner and such once they were secure for the night, as well as preparing what appeared to be a herbal medicine for Ivest.


Eventually, the oft-silent Dalton (the undisputed leader) said, “Everyone get some sleep”, and looking to Ivest, he repeated, “Everyone.
Tomorrow, we enter the Hidden Valley, and we’ll need our wits about us”.
And he led by example, by rolling over, turning his back to them all, and heading off to sleep.

It was Marcel that explained, “We named it the Hidden Valley, because since the opening of the Hellmouth, it has become haunted by malevelant spirits that cannot be seen.   They’re cruel and dangerous, but have little power unless they can possess a body.  Then,” he shrugged. There were to many distasteful possibilities to expand into there.
“We have charms and rites that we’ll use before we enter.  There’s a shrine to The One up on the ridge there; we’ll stop and perform our protections.   But going in to that place tired or injured .... we’ll, it’s not a good start”.

The entire team was preparing to sleep; although Ivest doesn’t seem happy with this.

One then, Chadriss sought out.

"B-be a-a-a-at peace, Ivest"

She gestured towards the closet wall, and a ladder carved itself into the stone and leading to the top.  There, a platform sprung to life, a watchtower from which one could safely watch in all directions.

"The s-stars are still yours."

To Marcel, she gave no more secrets, encouraging her to seek out those at the Temple of Lore for all that she sought.  She was gentle, but as unyielding as stone in this.  Already, she had told the woman much, the spark had been planted, it was time to let it bloom.  She ate of Tanner's cooking, unafraid to let the others see her in such a mortal state.

When Dalton spoke of the trials they faced, she frowned.

"We will trust to what has born you safely in the p-past then, for the Bastion will not protect against such.  Fear not, however, for your fates can be restored to you should any fall under this malevolent influence."

When all was done and settled, she pulled stone and earth about her as another might pull blankets.  A cocoon of stone, its base five feet above the ground, with holes for air so fine that those present could not have possibly see them.  Into this she settled, curling up as comfortably as if it had been a mattress of feathers.

The Fatebound rested.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:33, Thu 26 Sept 2019.

Soon enough Dalton snored peacefully against the bastion wall.
Ivest eyed Chandriss suspiciously for a moment, before taking to the ladder and ascending to the higher platform, where she sat quietly; looking at the stars above, and watching the locale for any signs of intrusion.
Marcel and Tanner settled in to slumber.
And soon enough, Chandriss slept beneath her blanket of stone.


The morning’s warmth and light woke the scouting party, and before long, the group was again on their way.
Hours later, the Hidden Valley stretched out before them.  The precipice they stood upon fell away into a canyon far, far below.   The forest and landscape therein looked ... haunted.    Dark and unwelcoming, it invited the group to turn around and leave, promising only hardship and venom to any who entered.

Marcel pointed to one distant mountain, “Once Mont Castlereigh.   We now refer to it as ‘the Hellmouth’.
When the gates opened from the unholy dimensions, Abaddon claimed hat one as his throne”.

The canyon below looked, from here, to flow out of that mountain range ... either from Mont Castlereigh, or around it.
To Chandriss’ mystic senses, it almost felt as though ill will flowed like water from those yonder, tainted mountains down through the canyon.

Marcel pointed in the other direction, ‘downstream’.   “That’s where we’re headed.   There’s a major tradeway that used to connect this part of the world with the north.   Even with Hough it’s far more dangerous now, it’s still about the only way to transverse he distance, without adding weeks to the journey”, he explained.

Tanner stepped up beside them.   “The Shrine we’re headed for is up there “, she said, pointing.
“We’ll make it there by noon”.

As the first rays of sunlight touched the Fatebound's cocoon, her gentle repose came to an end.  The burning rubies of her eyes snapped open, but it was not that dark stone that they saw.  They looked out from a different stone, the earring that she had embedded into the book in the obsidian statue at New Verano.  It was the Hour of Contemplation, and even though she was far away, Chandriss was ever vigilant for the safety of those she had placed under her Aegis.  Only when she was sure that all was well, did she emerge from the stone.


"L-let us set o-out immediately then."

She confirmed, moving on a column of stone to the wall to ensure that they had not attracted any attention.

"If our path is c-clear, I will collapse the Bastion and we may depart."

She raised a staircase for each to survey safely from the walls in all directions.

"Why were you so close to the Hellmouth in the first place?"

"When we found the caravan?" Tanner replied, "It's our job.
We need to keep an eye on this area.  Any force that might march from the Hellmouth towards Verano would come this way.
We'd need to know about it".

She pointed off in the direction past the apparent shrine location, towards the horizon, "If you look carefully, you can see the tradeway coming south towards us, then it disappears from sight near that bluff that looks like a crooked spire.

It comes up on this side of the canyon over that way," continuing to point.   "We found the caravan, destroyed and ransacked, everyone killed, almost through the canyon.
They'd almost made it to this side".


Dalton demanded that the scout group move on, at that point.
The shrine was still another hours ride away.

"We will need to survey the ruins of the caravan, t-though not for long.  If what we seek is there, we will sense it."

She doubted her prize would be there, but she had to search anyways.  If even a fragment of a Celestial Engine remained, she would feel it.  Thus, she let them lead the way.

"Why would they pass so near the Hellmouth, from where were they fleeing?

As the small company continued on, Marcel explained, "In this part of the world, we are the nearest civilisation.
Once Anderaccha fell, anything south of the Kaffan Mountains lost most all contact with the north.
Sure, anything over by the Bay of Gojeb was able to flee to Gifar ... and maybe even make it as far as Nekoik.

But here, anything on the western Plains", he shrugged, "Like Verano, they have little choice.  They're all holed up in whatever they can find for in the way of shelter and fortitude.
And eventually, as each small group fails, it comes looking for other small groups to meld with.
They load up their caravans and horses, and make the best trip they can, to wherever they think they can find allies.

Sometimes," he said, staring out into the valley below, "Sometimes they don't make it.
The tradeway here ... well, in years past, it was the best way to cross between the Anderaccha Lowlands into the Sere Plains
Maybe they thought it was best".  He sighed, "Maybe they just ... Hoped!

Either way, to come south towards Verano by any other means would have taken them weeks longer, and likely taken them into Lom.
Maybe they didn't want to take that chance.  Maybe they just didn't have enough supplies except for a fast run though the old Tradeways?"


As the sun reached near its zenith, the group came upon a small temple village.  It was in ruins, like most of Ancilia: abandoned and overgrown.  But it showed no signs of having been violated by any unholy source.   Symbols in the stones of the temple itself, and the shrine area's indicated a dedication to The One.
And Tanner pointed out the symbols of the Surcessant Order: the 'knight protectors' of Ancilia.  This had obviously been a place of importance to them.  But no longer.

It reminded Chandriss that she had neither seen nor heard anything of the Order since arriving in Verano ... although the Order had once been resplendant and revered across this nation in the days before the Night Roads had appeared five years ago.

"We'll rest for a while," Dalton said, dismounting in the shade, "then perform the rituals of protections.
Everyone see to your mounts, and your own bellies"

Chandriss dismounted, going into her own pack and pulling out a small portion of hard trail biscuit and dried meat.  Although she was more magic that flesh at this point, her body still required some nourishment.  She longed to consult the book of fate, but she knew she needed to keep her power and will within her.

"These malevolent spirits, h-h-has a-a-any seen them o-overcome walls of stone?"

She asked Marcel.

"A Bastion could be c-called, a raised and protected h-highway linking one enclave to another."

A grey hand reached out to the ground beneath her, and as she spoke a miniature version of what she described sprang to life.  Arched like an aqueduct,  the top wides than the arched columns of stone which supported it.  Only a thin crack along the top was open to the sky, forming a tunnel from one end to the other.

"Though perhaps New Verano has no wish for such a connection to the outside world, w-we will need to consult the Aegiskeeper."

She paused, contemplative.

"We will see these rituals, when you are ready."

She added at last.

The scout group gathered about Chandriss as she began her 'magic' again ... for the truth is, her workings were indeed the most magical things that any of them had ever seen: other than the enemies they had encountered.

Marcel didn't know the answer to her queries, though.  He was the youngest in the group, and his experiences were far less limited.  Tanner however, was happy to volunteer an answer, "I cannot say for sure, but these spirits are largely ephemeral.   I do not think that they are barred by obstacles or distance.
They are intangible, mostly.  By which I mean, weapons have been known to affect them only slightly ... mostly slicing straight through the air in which the spirit resides.

And they are hard to see.  Almost invisible.  Although you might see them out of the periphery of your vision at times, moving like ripples in the still pools of reality, as it were.  But if you know that there is one nearby, and you focus, it can be seen as a chameleon effect in the air, and the nearby surrounds.

They don't always attack, either.  It has been reported.  But, of course, we don't always know why, or how many of them are around at the time.
They will try to invade your body, invade your mind.  Those taken can be rescued by rituals we have developed, and they have no memory of their time possessed.  But the during that time, the spirits are clever; and seem to have some access to the victims memories and mind.  They will often bide their time, till they can act against the victim's companions.  And it's hard, sometimes, to notice that a companion is possessed.  Does that make sense?" she asked.


As Chandriss drew forth the stone at their feet for her display, she sensed something within the ground that she'd never felt before.   Call it 'faith', maybe.
She could feel the (not divinity) purpose of this place: this small temple outpost that sat upon this high clifftop, overlooking the land below for miles and miles.

It was a place of dedication and belief, of devotion and sacrifice, of pain and compassion ... it had its own presence, in a sense.
A presence and purpose infused by those who had once stood upon this rocky ledge.

It wasn't a 'power' as such; nothing that could be tapped.  But it had ... an identify.
An identity that stood against what the 'Hidden Valley' now stood for.
And a purpose that made Chandriss realise something: the protection rituals that Dalton and his followers performed her were served by the land, and empowered by it.
This was, in many ways, a sacred place.


Ivest watched the display and discussion from a distance, further off (if only by a few steps) than her fellows; eyeing that magic with ... suspicion.
Meanwhile, Dalton (who seemed the least impressed with Chandriss' creations) drifted off to begin preparing the rituals, while Chandriss, Tanner and Marcel discussed.

"T-thank you for the shared wisdom, Tanner.   Though sadly it means such a highway would not be of use."

Chandriss said, pushing that which she had summoned back into the earth.  With a nod, she moved towards Dalton.

"We will see the rituals in their entirety."

She intoned, and there was no questioning her edict.  She was as set as the stones which were embedded into her flesh.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:55, Mon 14 Oct 2019.

Dalton smiled at Chandriss, with a not so pleasant gleam, "Oh, You'll see them, alright.
Everyone participates.  Everyone gets the blessing and fortitude ... or they don't come with me into the Hidden Valley, see?"
It seemed that, while impressed with Chandriss' power, Dalton still considered himself the undisputed leader of this mission.

"Make Camp", he called out to the others, "We rise before the dawn to perform the ritual".


So it was that, pre-dawn, Dalton woke the company, and they came to him, and gathered around.   It seemed that they all knew the ritual process, for they all fell into place around a particular alter-looking stone, that was covered in worn, weathered glyphs.
Space was made for Chandriss in this circle without being directed.

Whether Chandriss joined them, or not, the ritual began.   Dalton lead the ritual, of course, while his companions began chanting a recurring and monotonous rhythm.   It was an easy chant to pick up, and participate in ... and Chandriss easily sensed the magical binding it created between the participants.  The chant was nothing more than a definition of willing participation; including those who sang, and leaving those who chose not to disassociated from the magic.

But Chandriss could see that Dalton knew the ritual well, and that he had a firm grasp of the occult.
He carefully sung an old Ancilian prayer known by the  Surcessant Order.
He worked in a meticulous manner to place objects (that he now unpacked from a well-kept bag) on various ledges and locations about the shrine/stone.
It was Hedge Magic, at best; a basic ritual of faith.  A folk magic that was so ingrained with cultural reality that it worked as much due to the belief as any other reason.
And it resonated with the land upon which they stood:  Chandriss could feel it awakening stirring with the rhythm, strengthening the ancient ways.

It took, in fact, many hours to perform: and for those involved, it must have been boring as hell.
But stone sits, and witnesses, and is uninfluenced by the ages.  And so the stone goddess, intently studying the ritual process, barely noticed the time go by.

And by the time the ritual was performed, Chandriss knew that she could perform the ritual herself.  She could sense the arcane, eldritch effects, and how the belief and magic and faith swirled ... and she could lead that dance.
If she invoked her divinity, she could make it work within seconds.  Otherwise, it would take much longer.


When it was done, the scout team seemed drained.  But not tired.  As though they had been travelling uneventfully for those hours.   "We leave now", Dalton commanded.
The sun had risen upon them during the ritual, and now, with a bright new day ahead of them, Dalton wanted to make the most of the ritual (which Chandriss could sense would falter and fail with the night) and the sunlight.

Chandriss had once again slept within her stone cocoon, but had left the rest of the Bastion where it had slumbered within the earth.  She could feel it there, calling to her, the sweet song of the earth beckoning her to accept its embrace.  She felt she could, but part of her feared losing herself to it.  The form she held now was just a fragile thing, magic and will binding her atoms together where reality and fate had failed.  She longed for that touch, but she did not know truly if she would be able to maintain herself if she accepted it.  Thus she slept, wrapped up in stone but still apart from it.

In the morning, she awoke to a different song, a different pull.

Magic.

She could feel it suffusing this place, calling her just as strongly as the earth did.  She could feel it in the stones, and she eagerly joined the others within the circle.  Her eyes devoured every moment of it as Dalton led the others in the ritual, committing the words and actions that crafted the ritual with divine precision.  Her eyes gleamed, burning in the dark, and saw all, understood all.  The magic sung to her, and she claimed it.

"We are ready, let us go."

She answered without hesitation or stutter, though part of her was turned inward.  It was the Hour of Contemplation, and she needed to ensure that her people were safe and well about their labors.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:57, Mon 14 Oct 2019.

As the group prepared their mounts, and possessions, to 'ride into the Valley of Death', Chandriss could sense the ritual's magic at work among them.
She sensed that it fortified their auras against mental or mystic intrusion.

It was likely that the ritual was once used to give the Knights of the Order a sense of willpower and enhanced dedication, but against  The Hidden, it would also serve.   But the ritual relied on those who participated remaining close to one another; remaining a 'unit'.
Seperation of one from the many would ... she could yet divine whether it would collapse the ritual's effect completely, or simply break the connection to that one member.
And while she sensed herself as part of that ritual's unit, she knew that its protections were too weak to protect her.  Her own divinity was such, and so much more powerful, that the folk magic was irrelevant.

But there was something else.  She could sense the weavings of Fate that she herself had placed upon and around Dalton ... that he "and those under your Aegis will return home safe and whole".
And she sensed something else in this, also.  She sense that she herself was not protected by that enchantment.
       By definition, Chandriss is NOT 'under Dalton's Aegis', is what I am saying

The whole insight made her think of the 'unit' she WAS a part of: her Aikhtiar.
Checking on them, she was comforted to see that her people were safe; that they were about their morning contemplations and rituals, without any seeming of distress.


And soon enough, Dalton's scout group moved out from the old Surcessant temple.
Their path took them some way further west along the ravine top, and soon, in the far distance, Chandriss could see the Gojeb river winding itself east towards the Bay many, many leagues away.

Then, they were on the Tradeway, and making their way down the winding cliffside towards the ravine bed.
Even as they did so, Chandriss ... always so in tune with the unseen energies ... could feel the change in mystic flow, like some cold, unwelcoming river that they now descended into.  It sent a cold shiver through her matrix in a way that she was not used to.

Her companions, whether they felt this or not, seemed uncomfortable and unsettled, as they watched the land around them with weary and suspicious eyes.

Her eyes narrowed as the sensation hit her, that recognition of malicious intent.  Again the longing came for her to return to the earth, to seek safety for herself and those with her in the embrace of what was below.  She resisted the urge, but only just.

Instead she looked to the horizon, her burning eyes tracking for the source of the unquiet and the cold.

”You k-know t-this truth, b-b-but stay c-close to me.”

She chittered, her body flickering through lines of fate in reaction to the sensation as she regained her sense of self.

”The magic you have woven over yourselves holds firm, but only so long as you stay together.  If one or more panics and bolts, the whole weaving begins to fall a-apart.  Ride swift, but ride together.  I will ensure that nothing penetrates the matrix of warding you have cast.”

She gazed at each in turn as the rode, ensuring that they remained steadfast.

”I do not know if the Stonemother can crush and grind that w-which has no flesh, but the Fatebound can ensure that your minds and wills remain your own.  N-nothing will claim you, so long as I remain.  Hold fast to that knowledge, and be swift.”

The group rode, as suggested, swiftly, holding together ... and trusting in each other, as much as in their own wills.

As the road plateau'd out onto the canyon bed, Chandriss could sense the cold, corrupt mana that ran through this ravine ... like a river of tainted, unhealthy magic, of fate misbegotten.
And she felt the presences.
Her own intimate connection with Sorcery made her much more sensitive to the mystic fabric about them than any mortal could ever comprehend.

She saw them.  Dark spirits of malevolence, seeking a stronger access to this world through native flesh.
They swam through the canyon around her like Payara on the prowl.
And they saw her, also.  Spiritually ragged, rotting souls that swam closer for a look a the strange creature that had come into their home ... shining with magic and power like a beacon.  Shining with magic and power that they were both afraid of, and lusted after.
For possession of such a being would be ...


But Chandriss' companions were in no less danger ... for the Hidden sensed their living energies also (even if they were somewhat eclipsed like stars beyond the morning sun).

Soon, schools of Hidden floated, circling ... as though the waters had been chummed.

Dalton, particularly, seemed to sense this fact.  He likely couldn't see these Hidden, but his manner and demeanour told Chandriss that he could feel the danger.  But so too did the others.
Like pray, they were hunted.

But the group moved on, holding together and firm;  and within an hour, they were approaching the site of the destroyed caravan.
It had been killed weeks ago, and its wooden carcass was already rotting in the otherwise idillic natural woodlands, upon the road that cut its way through the canyon.

There was no harm that the spectres could inflict upon her mind, she was the indisputable master of her own psyche.  There was no creature upon heaven, hell, or earth who could violate the sanctity of the near infinite matrices that comprised her divine thoughts.  That did not mean that they were no threat to her, however.  There were many ways that such entities could endeavor to inflict harm upon her that did not involve attempting to violate the sanctity of her mind.

Even the mortals with her could be rendered immune, though at considerable cost to her, and only for a moment.  So she gathered them up about her, speaking low.

"Your magic holds firm.  I will not need long, only a moment to search the ruins of the caravan for what it is I seek.  If it is here, it will c-call to me.  Regardless of my success or failure, we will flee soon, and return home.  Should that which dwells within this valley assault us, I will purge it all from your lines of fate, and we will be away.  Until then, stay close.  Do you all understand?"

Only when she was sure that all would follow her lead, did she begin to search the caravan.  She knew exactly what she was looking for, and she knew that if she could draw close enough she would sense it.

A Celestial Shard.

Preferably?  Many of them.  She'd sensed the essence of such things when she'd inspected the jewelry that the Aegiskeeper Annalise had shown her, and she hoped that she might find them here. She'd already attuned herself to the mystical energies of both the valley and the spellcraft of those about her.  Now she opened herself up to the push and pull of the earth.

She'd already done it, every time she gazed through the gem back at New Verano.  She had avoided such things when not doing just that, for part of her knew that to do so and to look down into the earth was to see it become void.  To see the bones of the earth become as air, to vanish beneath her and leave her standing on nothing.  Emptiness more profound than anything she had seen before.  The thought terrified her, but for this?  For a Shard of the Celestial itself?

She would face that fear.

A Word-bound creature recognizes a celestial shard on sight, and can feel the general presence of a shard if they come within fifty feet of it.   And Chandriss was sure that she had sensed the essence of such things when she'd inspected the jewellery that the Aegiskeeper Annalise had shown her.
And so she felt her anticipation rising significantly as they approached the caravan.

But, alas, even as she approached within fifty feet of the wreckage, she felt no such pull.

The bodies of the dead still lay among the carnage, and Chandriss was surprised that they had not been properly buried.  The Ancilians were traditionally a very devout folk, adhering to the general edicts of The One.

She also discovered two small chests, similar in design to those shown her in Verano; although these were bereft of jewellery, and tossed aside as though worthless.


Reaching out with celestial power, Chandriss divined the very earth itself; visually delving into the ground around her for any clues or signs of celestial shards.


        Please, give us a Wisdom roll (which I think for you is a 7+).

Standing in place, still as stone, Chandriss' mind shattered into untold and uncounted millions as she manifested as the Unmade Many.

The Theurges of the great Pyramid of Neith had first named her thus, but even they did not fully grasp the true meaning of the words, the true ramifications.  They had lacked the capability to comprehend such a thing, secure in their stone Pyramids and their great libraries in the boundaries of their own imaginations.  They had been fools, but it had not been their fault, for no mortal mind could comprehend what it truly was that the Unmade Many was accomplishing.

In an explosion that none but she could see or feel, her consciousness shattered and danced along the near infinite lines of Fate.  A truly uncountable number of woven strands, shimmers of possibility and destiny so faint that their existence was imperceptible to even the most finely attuned Seers and Scryers.  Bound by Fate, such was her domain, and with little more than a divine investment of her own being she found the few threads among the infinite in which her other senses properly attuned themselves.

As her senses, and her whole being, expanded out into the infinite reality about her ... equal elements of herself riding different currents of Fate and possibility ... Chandriss lost herself in the totality of everything, of existence and quintessential being.

And there, among the myriad threads of reality, one of her found what she was looking for: remnants of power.
Celestial Power, the nigh-overwhelming taste, touch and psionics of supreme eminence.

Chandriss was able to latch on to that distant, but distinct, scent, and refocus all of her selves back into the moment, and place, where her immortal body stood now.
She had no way of knowing how long she'd been standing there; but stone-goddess that she was, it really didn't matter.

As she pulled herself together, literally and proverbially, Chandriss was now aware that both of the discarded chests had contained celestial power.
The first had, indeed, contained a celestial shard.  The second, however, had contained something much more pure; pulsing with power and spinning, churning, dancing in it purpose.

An engine.

And the taste of them both lead upstream ... through the canyon, towards that one, ominous mountain to the east.

She inhaled deeply, and let out a long and strenuous sigh.

"I-i-i-it s-seems I w-will be h-h-headed East."

Her form fluttered and fluctuated, her words broken and disjointed.  Through pure force of will she reasserted her existence within that line of fate, but it was a tenuous thing. Fragile and volatile, the just formed crust on an eruption of lava hitting the surface.

"Y-y-you will r-return to New Verano, p-protected b-b-b-by my A-aegis."

She added, straining to be understood.

"Do y-y-you know what it is we w-w-will face along this path that F-fate has ordained?"

Gradually, she reasserted control.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:54, Wed 23 Oct 2019.

"If you go into that place," Dalton said, ominously, "You'll never return".

Every one of her companions were looking at Chandriss now like she was insane ... even the stoic Dalton was shaking his head slightly with the absurdity of the notion.

The looks told her that, damn straight, they would be returning to New Verano.  Not one of them intended going any closer to that mountain than they had to.  Just being in the canyon, now, was enough.

But if Chandriss insisted, Dalton offered, "That it will not be lost to your followers, I am willing to take your magic tome back with us. That it might reside safely until one of them can take up your mantle".
He honestly didn't expect Chandriss to return from such a journey.

And it occurred to Chandriss that her own weaving of Fate had decreed that Dalton would 'find a treasure of incalculable worth'.
What, after all, could be of incalculable worth' if not the Shaelat 'Azlia.

"That is not the question that was asked..."

She said, her form condensing as her will solidified.

"Do you know what it is we will face when we take this path?"

She asked again, resolute.

Dalton looked at his folk, who were all feeling very nervous about this ... the he returned his attention to Chandriss, "The ravine continues downstream", pointing to the east, and towards the imposing Mountain in the near distance (and beyond that, towards the ocean far, far away).

"It shallows out as it passes the mountain, and eventually meets with others.
It was obvious that long ago, mighty rivers flowed through these canyons.

There is not travelway through the canyon.   The major roads and paths all occupy the plateau's above ... but there USED to be a thiving river trade out of Lom, that came this way, and so you'll eventually find some remnants of old villages that facilitated and fed this.

There terrain, like above, is tolerable enough; the natural landscape is supported well by the ground.  The bush might be dense in parts.
But this whole valley is home to strange and unwelcoming things.  Its almost as though the ravines have filled with unnatural energies that make them home to what comes through from the Hellmouth in the Mountain", he warned.

Chandriss nodded.

"Then this is where we part ways."

She said at last, her tone brooking no argument.

"When you return to New Verano, you will inform The Aikhtiar that I will meet them back at the Tahul Alqalea."

Which was currently standing empty just at the edges of this befouled lands, in the safety of the desert.

"Those of mine who have been previously instructed to remain will do so, but the rest will depart along the Bastion road that we came to you from.  Ensure that they are properly provisioned for the journey."

She could not foretell how long this journey would take.  While she had gifted the citizens of New Verano with more practical wealth then Fate or sweat of brow of a hundred years might have earned, the Fatebound could not fill those newly risen stone halls with grain.  Five mages studying their art was a manageable burden, especially if two were skilled warriors who shared their training with the local militia.  Seventeen was simply too many mouths to feed, the awe of the Clan Bastion notwithstanding.  The main force of the Aikhtiar could return to their home, even with supplies, that would be less hungry mouths to feed.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:46, Sat 26 Oct 2019.

I am confused: nd you are the perfect person to help me understand.
I though "the tome of fate, the living flame, the Shaelat 'Azlia  (Artifact)" was the book Chandriss carries?
I was unaware of whatever this thing is that is standing 'at the edges of this befouled land, in the safety of the desert".


Dalton nodded.
In fact, he (and his fellows) had no intention of arguing, or accompanying the Stone Goddess any closer to the Hellmouth than they already were.

"Your directions will be relayed".  The bow he made, while small, might have been sarcastic or genuine ... it was hard for Chandriss to tell.

As he and his team were eager to return to the safety of the plateau, they immediately prepared to leave.
Though it became uncertain whether Chandriss intended to take one of the horses downstream with her, or go by foot.

Chandriss did indeed take the horse, though heavy as she was she went on foot beside it.  She ensured that her supplies were split equally between her own back and the horses', so that if something happened to one she would not be bereft of everything.

"Know that the Stonemother watches over her followers, now and forever."

She added ominously by way of a goodbye, turning to leave.

Ancalia was an extensive land ... with great diversity of environments and landscape.

The Sere Plains, in the south, bordered on the harsh deserts of the Oasis States; and were best described as savannah lands from anywhere south of the Gojeb River, slowly becoming simply arid the further south one went until the disolving indistinguishably into the hot sands of its neighbours.

But the Gojeb River, which flowed out of Lom, and through to the Bay of Gojeb in the far east, fertilised the massive canyons through which it ran.  It was't just the flow of life-giving waters, but also the minerals and silts that it brought from the mountains in the west that revitalised the land.

The canyon that Chandriss now followed downstream had been carved over hundreds of thousands of years from the flat, plateau lands of the Sere Plains (to its south) and the Anderaccha Lowlands (northward).
And the vegetation thrived here; making this canyonway as much a river of fertility and green as anything else:  A 'lost Valley' of growth and life.

I am envisaging that New Verano is in the north west of the Sere Plains; and that Mont Castlereigh sits on the north-east juncture where the two rivers meet (right above the 'G' in Gojeb River).

But Chandriss could sense the unnatural energies that flowed upstream through this gorge, washing to the west towards Lom.
The "Hidden Valley", as the Veranoan's had renamed the place, was filled with alien, strange mana that made Chandriss' stone skin crawl; for she could feel the ebbs and flows, like eddies in a river, as she forged against its current.
And as she sensed the unnatural, 'hidden' life around here ... which she could see, if she focused on them.

Strange spiritual creatures: some simply floating and carried by the current, yet some, predatorily and cunning, hunted.

One would't tell, though, with mundane eyes, for the landscape was, in essence, beautiful and vibrant and ... alive.


It was in the late afternoon that Chandriss came into sight of a small, riverside village.  What had once been a thriving community of fishing and trade.
It would have seemed serene and idillic, if not for the heart-freezing image of the bodies that hung, rotting, in the air .. as though dangling from unseen meat hooks.
Even from this distance, Chandriss could see dozen of dozens of human husks, just hanging in the air.

Chandriss drew a deep breath, focusing her mind and grounding her body in reality as she prepared for what she must do.  She knew that she needed to search this village, and she knew well the danger she was putting herself in by doing so.  The mindless things that drifted between worlds could not alter her fate, but the physical?  She had already expended so much of her reserves in order to alter the lines of her own destiny, she had so little reserves left to protect her existence now.  No small part of her wanted to simply bury the hanging dead now, assume the mantle of Stonemother and crush each and every swinging corpse in an avalanche of stone.  She could pull what she needed from the vengeful earth, could she not?

But no, she needed to not draw the attention of each and every Uncreated within the valley.  The Stonemother was many things, but she was not discreet.

And so Chandriss gathered the reins tight in her stony grasp and took the first steps toward village.

The village itself was overgrown and unkept; many years had past since any person had tended to any part of the village, and nature was taking over again.
Again, it seemed strange to witness the plush, vibrancy of nature isn’t his valley ... yet to feel the cold, unnatural ebbs and flow of uncreated energies that flooded and filled the area.

As Chandriss approached the village, her steed grew unsettled; and began violently opposing any attempt to urge it further once within shouting range of the floating corpses.

It was at this range that Chandriss noticed that the bodies had not decayed.   In fact, one could imagine that this atrocity had been inflicted upon them only days ago, for they looked pale and gaunt ...
... and that was when she noticed that the soft susurrus.    It was as though a mild breeze through the leaves and trees, yet no wind prevailed.

Chandriss could easily leave this place now; travel wide, giving the village a wide berth, and continue on to her destination.

What was drawing her within?
What IS her interest in this village; please tell.  Why IS she entering?

Chandriss stopped for a long moment, staring at her horse as it fought her will.

Heeding the beast, she at last turned around, and began the process of taking a wide birth around the village.  The prize she sought was not within that husk of what had been, nor would there be any joy in destroying the tortured creatures that inevitably would have risen to oppose her.  She had wanted to test herself, to test the mantle that was the Stonemother, but she was realizing that the desire to do so had been a human thing.  A mortal thing.  She was the Fatebound, and while she still felt the echos of what she had been, such things should truly have concerned her no longer.  This fight was not her Fate, and she would not ride headlong into it.

Her path sought out the Celestial Engine, or at least the fragments that remained.  The Shaelat 'Azlia yearned to be completed, and she would fulfill that destiny.

And so it was that Chandriss moved on from the haunted village of hanging bodies.

While her steed remained skittish, it settle somewhat once away from that place.  But this entire valley freaked the poor creature out so badly, Chandriss was aware that any sudden surprises or threats might make the beast of burden bolt.


Carrying on downstream through the Hidden Valley, it was mid afternoon when  to her concern, she became aware of movement among the bracken and landscape, as of something lurking nearby.  In fact, if her intuition was correct, it seemed maybe a pack of somethings ... tracking and observing her way.
With your next narrative, please give us a Wisdom check

The horse, also, was aware; and it acted as prey would, fearfully watching the terrain about it, expecting ambush at any time.

With observation, Chandriss was more than certain that a pack of creatures was stalking her now.

Such was inevitable.

Chandriss paused, and reached deep into the bones of the earth.  About her, a wall of stone erupted in a tight circle, a tower ten feet wide and twenty high.  It enclosed both her and the mount entirely, and if the beast panicked at the sudden darkness that enveloped it she paid it little heed, for the rising tower offered her a handhold to grasp even as it sprung from the earth.  Grasping this, she was vaulted high over the poor creature, a platform of stone emerging to give her feet purchase as she reached the top.  In an instant, she stood high atop her Bastion, her blazing eyes surveilling in the direction of the Hunters.

For she was the Stonemother, and she feared nothing that tread upon the earth.

The canopy towered above her, a threat to the sanctity of the perfect smooth stone of the Bastion.  Even as she scanned the horizon, she began calling up more rock from below to topple the trees about her.  the closest first, and moving outward, her song heard by the very bones of the earth.  With a terrible groaning roar of ripping roots, the nearest tree to her toppled.  No sooner had it begun to fall than the stones beneath it receded, rising again from beneath the next nearest set of roots.   She moved with a cold efficiency, hurried but not panicked, laying the foundation for the fight that was to come.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:47, Mon 04 Nov 2019.

From her high viewpoint, twenty feet up, Chandriss watched the wave of her will washed outward from the bastion, upheaving the ground and leveling the nearby trees.

And skittering among the deforestation showed her the creatures that had been stalking her.
They were small, maybe the size of a bloated/filled pigs intestine, such as children kick around for sport; or the size of a human head.
Quadruped greyish creatures ... but without heads, as Chandriss noticed.
Even without heads or faces, though, they moved agilely.

Chandriss, her blazing eyes attuned to the mystic and supernatural, sensed that these headless critters were intelligent .... and psychically well endowed.   They were hunters, for sure; and Chandriss had little doubt that they were not native to Arcem.

And even as the trees finished falling around them, the five little critters were regrouping among the safety and cover of the fallen foliage.
Chandriss could feel their psychic senses seeking her out.  She could feel their malice and cunning, even though she could only vaguely make out their presence in the ruined unbrush.


But there was something else, also.
Something seperate from this threat.  Something ... out there.  Back along the trail that she had come here by.
A presence; but one she couldn’t quite identify or locate.

There was more than just these critters stalking her.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:10, Mon 04 Nov 2019.

The Fatebound was patient, the Unmade was patient, the Stonemother was not.

There was a rumble, a growl, the only hint of warning. Stones exploded from below, an angry torrent as earth and rock raced up to try and bury the stalking beasts.  One was struck, but such was her might that she was able to hurl death at all of them, forcing them to scramble out of the way or be crushed.

From her high pedestal, The Stonemother looked down upon the skirmish grounds below her, raising the very earth in thunderous explosions ... targeting the agile, shadowy figures as they slunk about the debris and shattered landscape below.
Small Mob of psionic critters: worthy foes.
AC: 4
Hit Dice: 22
Morale: 6
Attack: +4 (physical)
Move: 15’ run
Save: 11+
Damage: 1d4 (physical), 1d4 (psionic)
Effort: 2

But her random explosions of stone did little more than graze and frighten the creatures lurking down there.
They were wily and cunning, and the 'casual blows and minor exertions of her divine power' were having no effect upon the enemy.
Fray dice do not count;   small mob below reduced to 21HD.

As Chandriss directed her magical strikes against the vague figures below, however, she realised that their same unnatural sensing that had been searching her out (in lieu of visual senses), was now directing towards her as psionic blasts.
Please make a Spirit Save to resist the Psionic/Mental energies being thrown up at you.
- rolled 3 using 1d4 with rolls of 3.  Psionic attack damage
If you fail the Save, take 1 point of damage.

Please note my usual disclaimer:  I'm new to this, if this isn't working the way I hope (to give you a worthy challenge) I will change it up at some point.
Suggestions, as always, will be accepted; if politely made.

The Unmade's will was iron, and the creature's twisted will broke against it like the ripples of a pond upon a wall of stone.

Unfortunately, the Stonemother's calling did little more.  Another boulder ripped itself free of the earth to fling itself at the creatures, but only caught one as the others skittered away.

Chandriss easily denied her aggressors attacks at her mental health, allowing the mystic blasts to wash over her as water off the proverbial ducks back.
Yet, their assault continued upon her mind ...
Please make a Spirit Save to resist the Psionic/Mental energies being thrown up at you.
- the NPC Psionic critters, rolled 4 using 1d4 with rolls of 4.  Possible damage to Chandriss.
If she fails, take 1 HP damage.


Chandriss continued to unleash the fury of The Stonemother upon the creatures below, but again found it hard to target the small, stealthy critters among the fallen foliage.
Small mob of Psionic critters  currently at 20HD

Chandriss grimaced as the continued psychic assault finallly battered through her defenses and stabbed her mind.

Her form shifted and wavered, disappearing for a moment entirely before the matrix of gemstones flared to life and stabilized her within this plane of existence.   This was not a war of attrition she wished to fight, and the agile creatures were proving adept at dodging out of the way of the Stonemother's earthen assault.  She drew the two curved knives at her sides, and stepped off the edge of the tower.  The Bastion rose to meet her, enveloping her in a tunnel of stone as she ran down its slope to meet the earth.  This tunnel punched along the surface of the ground like a fist, shielding her from the thing's sight as she moved to close the distance with them.  Her eyes blazed as she ran along the ground, piercing the stones and finding her marks as she drew near.  She lacked the power to both see through the stone and fight with it, but she could close the distance between them.

When she was, she would burst forth and strike.

The bastion of stone twisted and contorted to the will of the Stonemother, redesigning itself into a downward funnelling tube through which she equally ran and surfed towards the ground below.

The Divine Effort that she'd been using to create the explosions was redirected into there eye-gems, allowing her to see out through the stoney tunnel as it smashed its way through the fallen underbrush and deforestation, towards the small, bipedal creatures.

And at the last moment, as the bastion slide came within range of one such creature, the stone opened itself so that Chandriss could lash out with one of her curved knives as the critter.

Small Mob of psionic critters: worthy foes.
AC: 4
Hit Dice: 22
Morale: 6
Attack: +4 (physical)
Move: 15’ run
Save: 11+
Damage: 1d4 (physical), 1d4 (psionic)
Effort: 2

The being was small and agile, and quick of wit ... and it leapt to meet this new opponent; its bestial legs were strong and clawed.

Chandriss exploded out of the stone, her curved blades flashing as she cut down the closest creature.

She was in trouble, and she was beginning to recognize it.  These things were numerous, and agile enough to avoid the majority of her divine fury.  Their attacks were mere scratches, but eventually they would wear her down.  Still, she would test her blades on them before she even thought to flee.

The suddenly changing situation caught the Psionic critters by surprise.
The one that Chandriss opened herself up to had leapt at her, his clawed legs forward ...
       - rolled 7 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 3.  attack Chandriss.
... but the action was more out of instinct for survival than any worthwhile attack.

Meanwhile, Chandriss could sense the other psionic presences in the very close vicinity.
And they her, for they were coming.


Psionic Critter mob currently at 22HD.
Chandriss currently at 9HP

The four legged creatures might well have been a threat all on their own, the addition of more foes would easily overwhelm her.  Had she been in the height of her power, she might have been able to crush them all as the Stonemother, but the Fatebound had needed to manifest her will in order to sense the fragments of the Celestial Engine.  Half spent, she could not hold both of the gifts at the same time.

This was not a fight she could win.

She feared this choice more that any that she had made up until that point, more so than facing the Uncreated on her own, more so even than the Pyreburned.  Yet she had not the power to construct any other destiny for herself.  In a way, she knew that this would be a homecoming.  The bones of the earth had always called to her, and always she had resisted that siren song.  Though she had pulled the billion pieces of herself together into this form of earth and stone once, she had not the knowledge or surety of if she could do it again.  The effort had taken eons, even if the work itself had been accomplished in only days.  Yet with the Shaelat 'Azlia blazing at her back, she had all the tools she needed to attempt this final insanity.   Out of options, beset on all sides by foes, and with more powerful creatures on their way, she fled.  She fled.  She fled into the bones beneath her feet.

Her form flickered, and in an instant she burst into untold atoms, falling into the earth.

As she sank into the safety of mother earth, Chandriss felt the Stonemother about her.
Nothing could harm her now, in that cold, hard embrace.
Within the dirt, she was again one with the world in a way that she had not been since building that body with which to walk upon it.
It was like ... coming home.

Did she sleep then?  Chandriss' conscience drifted somewhat, diffused throughout and within the mother's breast, as she was.
Safe there, below the flow of unnatural energies that washed, ebbed and flowed, above her.
The dark, oily mystic energies that washed from the nearby mountain, up the gorge, towards a location unknown.

And yet, she could sense that dark oiliness slowly seeping into the mother.   Slowly, but inexorably.
Nearby, she sensed a great corruption of the mother ... like a cancerous wound, slowly eating the mother's body, consuming her and filling the empty space with its own, unworldly presence.


There was panic.    But it was not her's.   Yet it was with her.
Her steed.   As her consciousness floated in the earth, she remembered that she'd willed the horse to come with her.
A creature of flesh and bone; already panicked and distraught and in pain ... how was it here with her?
She'd willed it; that was why.
And her will had overridden the reality of the beast's existence: forcing it from its natural form, into untold atoms sucked into the earth.
Thrashing, unprepared and unconcieving, full of fear, it struggled.  Dying.
If it had a a body still (a body in its usual sense) the animal would be suffering a heart attack now.


And Chandriss could feel the pull of that Celestial Engine.  Deep ... deep into that malevolence not far from here.
Felt its purity within the dark oiliness of that unworldly place.
Felt that purity ... dying.

Chandriss felt the poor beast's struggles as vibrations through both the earth and the aether.  Even as she still pulled them both in the direction she was destined, she fell back to wrap her incorporeal arms about the disembodied neck of her dying mount.  She was empty, barely holding herself tethered to this reality as she guided them, and had not the power to alter its fate.  All she could do was offer it what comfort she could as it passed from this world into the next.

When the deed was done, she pulled the component atoms of her saddlebags free from its form, and with a breath dispelled its atoms into the earth in a billion different pieces.  She traveled through the bones of the earth for as long as it took, until she was halfway between where she had entered the earth and where she was headed.  Only then did she rise, approaching the surface and finding a sheltered alcove where she might hide.  Once she was certain whatever cave of crevice she had found was clear, she rose out of the earth entirely and reclaimed the component atoms of her form.  It took only an instant, but it felt like an eternity, aligning her fate with a precision no mortal mind could have ever dreamed to accomplish in a thousand years of study.

Gasping, she emerged from the earth and into shadow, the gems on her body shining brilliantly as they tethered her to reality.  With an almost inaudible groan she pulled the Bastion up over her, burying herself again in comforting walls of stone that would let nothing through from any side.  A comforting cocoon of stone.

And then, clutching the saddlebags of the mount that had served her so well, she passed out.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:56, Fri 15 Nov 2019.

Within her self-imposed crypt, the Lady of Stone slept.
When she finally awoke, her tomb remained ... dark and comforting and safe.

She felt refreshed, however.  The saddlebags clutched to her chest, and the Shaelat 'Azlia gently humming its song of fates contently upon her back.
Outside her demesne, she could still feel the wash of unnatural energies; but within her sanctum, she remained untouched.

And far off, though not so far as when she'd first sensed it, the Celestial Engine laboured; its effect and purpose running not-so-smoothly any longer.
How long had this Engine purred away at its duty?  But now, somehow, proverbial sands were within its gears, and entropy was slowly eating away at its efficiency.

Chandriss did not know how long she slept, or what time it was when she awoke to the darkness of the stone Bastion she had thrown up about her.  Darkness broken only by the dull glow light of the gems which helped her tether herself to this fate.  She had been exhausted and in shock when she had fled, her divine power depleted, her mind still reeling from the assault that had battered through her defenses.  It took her a while to realize she was curled up on her side in a fetal crouch, and longer still to uncurl her fingers from about her shins and straighten herself up into a sitting position.

Yet, what had been the source of her concern?  Already her mind was reeling with a thousand different possibilities.  Different paths she could have taken.  Yes, the vile creatures had been fast enough to dodge the Stonemother's crushing teeth, but why hadn't she thought to amplify the thaumaturgic glyphs about her own form?  Weaving layers of her own divine essence into the words of power, reinforcing the matrix that she pulled from to access the Stonemother's power.  Would that not have increased vengeance of the earthen maw?  She realized even as she had the idea that she had lacked the power, and yet she didn't now did she?

She had… she had broken the matrices which had contained her to withdraw into the bones of the earth, and yet she had been able to pull herself together again into this fate line so simply.  She could hardly believe how much her knowledge and understanding of the intricate spellwork involved had grown.  She could see her own magic woven about her in ways that she had never understood before.  Everything felt different, everything felt…

… her mount.

She had broken the poor beast down into millions of component atoms and pulled it down with her, down into the bones of the earth.  She had tried to save the creature, she had saved it, and yet she hadn't.  Panicked and afraid, it had died, and she had been able to do nothing but hold it.  She hadn't even know its name.  Yet she had held it, hadn't she?  Held it and given it what comfort she could while it had died.  She had held its millions of atoms together even as she had drawn them down, and the image of it was still burned into her mind.  She grasped that image now, fingers reaching down to the earth below as she began to pull up what she needed.  Black iron, and deeper still, to the reaches where the fires were never extinguished.  Down further, pulling upon the leylines of magic that crisscrossed the globe, even in this place.  Drawing it closer, drawing it to her, giving it shape, giving it purpose.

She would give her fallen horse a worthy monument.

An hour later, the Bastion sank into the earth and crumpled to dust.  Standing within where it had once stood was a shape, no, two shapes joined as one.  At the crown sat Chandriss, her wicked curved blades back where they belonged in their sheathes, her eyes blazing ruby in the midmorning sun.  Beneath her, a hulking shape of magic and blackest iron.  Four sturdy legs, a thick chest that breathed forth billowing black smoke, and blazing ruby eyes that matched her own.  A monster, yet all to familiar to one who might have seen her the day before.

Chandriss let out a great cry, her voice steady and resolute, and the tireless iron steed surged forward on hooves that blackened the earth behind her.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:06, Wed 20 Nov 2019.

Borne suddenly onward upon the magnificent power of her metal steed; this one would not ... could not ... panic like the last.
A beast of magic and earth, artificed for purpose, it would serve her as no mundane or mortal animal could.  It’s iron hooves thundered against the very ground.

And Chandriss could sense the magic of the device ahead ... she could almost smell the divine power it radiated.    Deep within yonder mountain, whence evil flowed.  And, for certain, that evil flowed into that divine structure: corrupting and twisting it, adding proverbial sand into its gears, and wearing away its delicate celestial mechanism with unrelenting entropy.

The Mountain itself drew closer by the minute, and she knew with certainty that by nightfall she would be within its shadow.

Her mind was aflame with the power of her newfound understanding, she did not hesitate as she pressed on.  Whatever she faced ahead, she did not doubt her Fate.

She would find that which she sought.

And so it was that, come nightfall, Chandriss found herself in the shadow of the Mountain.

Chandriss remained mounted upon her iron steed, bringing it to a slow cantor and then a halt.

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for what what to come.  She had been putting off this moment for so long, but she had known from the instant that she had set out that this would be her fate.  Could there have been any other, when a Celestial Engine itself was her prize?  She had to face the void, and embrace it, in order to glean the secrets that she desired.  She had always known, but that did not make the reality of it any less daunting.

For just an instant, she closed her stone eyelids, and them opened them to the void.  Before her, the stones of the mountain became air, the Engine she coveted no more obscured than if her power had been so great that she had been able to drag the very bones of the earth up to the surface.  The Fatebound saw all that was arrayed before her, and no stone or earth could obscure her sight.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:15, Tue 03 Dec 2019.

Certainly, no earth or stone could obscure her sight, and Chandriss was the civilisation that lived now within the mountain.
It wasn’t a huge civilisation; but certainly a new city had been carved into the roots, base and trunk of Mont Castlereigh.
Like termites excavating a massive, ancient tree, the creatures moved within.

The Stonemother allowed her to see through the stone and dirt of the mountains, but didn’t provide her with any enhanced ability to see detail at this distance ... for the mountain was deep and huge, and the city far off still.
But moving within yonder city, Chandriss could see, she guessed, several alien races of peoples.

Looking hard, she eventually identified what appeared to be a central temple; tended by many in robes and cloaks.
This temple, she sensed, was where the celestial engine was being corrupted.
And, something else.  Something that corrupted reality itself here.   A Night Gate.

That would be where she struck then.

At the lightest touch, her mount resumed its headlong charge up the base of the mountain.  She didn't even wait to draw near.  No sense warning any sentries who might be standing watch.  With the ease of one long remembered, she drew herself back into the bones of the earth, breaking down the body of both herself and her mount and sinking into the stone.  This time, the beast did not panic.  This time, it accepted the stone about it as easily as it had accepted her.  She did not need to close her gaze, did not need to avoid looking down.  Already she had become more than she had ever foreseen, capable of feats that even the day before had terrified her.  The earth was air, and she flew through it.  Liberated.

She would find that point that was closest to the Temple, moving through the walls and floors so as to remain undetected.  A fortress within a mountain was no fortress at all to the Unmade.  With her understanding of the matrices which held her body tethered to this fate, she could approach without any chance of those who dwelt within raising an alarm. Her senses would be primed for the wards and magics which might guard such a place, so that she did not unintentionally trigger a glyph or spell.

With black iron beneath her and stone within and without, she flew like an arrow towards her fate.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:44, Tue 10 Dec 2019.

As she rode within the stone, approaching the city built within the natural and created tunnels and caverns of Mont Castlereigh, Chandriss could see a thriving community within the confines of mountain.  She counted several races of inhuman beings; but could sense that one was, by far, dominant.
But there were humans here also.

This dominant race was not of Arcem; tall, strange beings with tentacled faces.    She could sense their magical power, their Psionic might.   Natives to such power, and trained.
Any human could brawl, but some were trained to become excellent.   These beings were masters of Psionic abilities; and they used their power to dominate and control others.

Chandriss was more of the small headless creatures that had hunted her earlier.  Some were as pets to the Dominators, while others seemed to have duties to perform: such as guarding locations, or oberwatching slaves.

The remaining two races of peoples fell into that last category:  controlled servants.   This included many recognisable Arcem humans, but also another race of beings that Chandriss didn’t recognise.


The entire civilisation here, from Dominator to lowliest slave, were working (in their own means) to build this city.
The Night Roads in Ancalia had opened only five years ago; and it was obvious that these invaders had set to work to fortify and control this place with alacrity ... and the goal remained.

But a fortress within a mountain was no fortress at all to the Unmade.
And Chandriss was able to approach the inner temple via stoneways that none other could.
However, while her presence went mostly undetected, she could feel the probing Psionic nature of those little creatures ... passively sensing the world around them like a dog smells it’s environs.
And she could sense them becoming ... distracted? conscious? agitated? ... by her existence, even if as they sought to understand what they were sensing.
If you wish, you may make a Spirit Save to ‘avoid’ detection

Chandriss had not known that such abominations existing within the world, and the revelation to her was a shocking one.  Perhaps they were not of this world at all, but rather born from whatever dark domain the Night Gate’s hailed.  She was thankful to the comforting bones of the earth about her, hardly able to remember a time when she had been scared to merge her fluctuating form with them, though it had been only yesterday when she had stopped letting that fear control her.  It was still hard to maintain that state of flux, and she could feel the hollow space that the divine energy she had needed to expend to achieve it like a great void within her, but it was a loss she could and would master.  The arcaninity of the act felt as comfortable to her as if she had been practicing with it for decades, not hours.  She felt at home.

Which was quite the thing, considering how utterly alien the rest of this harrowing experience was.
Still, the bones protected her, and she was sensitive enough to the auras of those who hunted that she wa able to dodge around them.  Closer and closer she drew to her target, her glowing gemstone eyes questing for that which had brought her to this terrible place.

With luck, none would ever know she was there.

OOC:  07:05, Today: Chandriss, the Unmade rolled 14 using 1d20 with rolls of 14.  Spirit.

The temple that Chandriss approached was near the centre of the community, far within the ant-hive structure that plumbed  the depths of the mountain roots.
But it was unmistakable;  both easy to find, and unmistakable as a place of worship.

As she drew close, Chandriss could feel the Night Gate even before she saw it; a rend within space, as though someone/thing had stuck its claws through from the other side, and ripped a gash tall enough for a giant to step through.
It wasn’t a ‘gate’ by any other description; and it was impossible to tell if a road existed on the other side.
But even now, the ragged, torn edges flapped as though by a non-existent wind that blew through from ... from where?

The temple was ‘manned’ by a number of robed aliens.

And there, in the centre of another cavernous room, was the Celestial Engine.   It hung in the air, and glowed: and from this distance, and through the radiance, Chandriss couldn’t tell the form it took.
Arrayed about it pentacularly stood five of the robed Psionic creatures, facing the Engine.   What they were attempting was not evident to Chandriss, but it was obvious that the five were focused upon the Engine.

Three other robed figures tended the room, and watched over the ritualists.
Four headless, Psionic beasts prowled the wall; one on each side of the entrance arch, and two opposite them on the other side of the room.
And even though Chandriss hid within the stone, these Psionic beings could sense ... something.  And it was making them a little edgy, even though they could not pinpoint why they felt this way.

They were right to be afraid, if such alien creatures could even feel something akin to fear.

For any who built themselves fortresses of stone were at the whim and the mercy of the Stonemother.  She had been so ignorant for so long of what she was capable of, but these creatures, these things, had forced her hand.  They had forced her to take risks that she had barely even contemplated before, and awoken her to an understanding she even now was only grasping the full implications of.

Reaching deep into the bones of the earth, the Fatebound felt the lines of force and power, fate and magic.  It was such a simple thing, to move mountains, when once could peer down into the very fires of the earth.  For that was what she saw, in that almost bottomless expanse, rivers and oceans of lava stretching out to the distant horizon far, far below her.  She, Chandriss the Unmade, both real and unreal, perched miles above in rock and earth that to her magic was little more than air.  Brilliant lattices of magic crisscrossed along her vision, dancing lines flowing beneath her.  Some wove their way along the same lines of the rivers of molten stone, following ancient leylines that positively burst with blinding power.  Others carved their own path, alone and free.  It was to the former that she concentrated her will, reaching out with the magic of the Unmade to alter the lines of fate that seared though it from end to end.  The smallest push, the tiniest application of will and intent...

... and the earth rumbled at the Stonemother's caress.

It started as such a small thing, barely perceptible at the edges of understanding.  Yet as the lines of fate snapped back into reality, the stone snapped with them.  With the weight of whole continents behind it, Chandriss brought her gaze up from the bowels of the earth and focused the blazing rubies of her eyes upon the fell temple.  At her back, the Shaelat 'Azlia blazed and sung in a language that only she could hear, its single rune an inferno of her magic.

She knew not the nature of the vile creatures she saw before her, tending this profane temple.

But she knew their fate.

To clarity, please:  is Chandriss planning to destroy the Celestial Engine if she can?

Focusing on the Nightgate and the Celestial Engine, Chandriss called upon the very earth to serve her will.
The mountain itself throbbed and rumbled at the divine desire of the Stonemother, and at her command began to crumble ... collapsing in upon itself.

The earthquakes, one after another, explosively destroyed the caverns and tunnels deep within the mountain’s belly
And it was as if millions of voices cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced, as thousands of psychic alien beings died horribly.

And when it was done, little remained.
Little, except deep within the stone and rubble and collapsed earth, a ragged tear in reality ... an one Celestial Engine, spinning endlessly about its core.


It took a long time to Chandriss’ mundane perceptions before the vibrations stilled.
But to their earth in which she rode, and the terran essence of her being, it might have been a blink of a moment.
Then, everything was silent.

Nestled deep within her cocoon of stone, utterly enveloped and yet utterly free, Chandriss released a breath she had not realized she had been holding.

None could see her features, and thus she made no effort to conceal her shock at the devastation the Stonemother's power had caused.  She had earned the title standing in opposition to the Sand Princes of the Red Desert.  They had thought her and her disciples easy bait, hapless victims to be robbed and enslaved.   She ahd shown them the folly of their ways, crushing bandit and horse alike beneath jagged teeth of rock and stone.  Never before had she attempted to rattle the very bones beneath her feet though, what would the point have been upon the dunes?  Here though, here was was more in tune with her new nature than anything she might have experienced out on the sand.  Here, she did not call the teeth to her as Stonemother, here she was something new. The devastation it had wrought had simply stunned her.  She had not just brought the cavern down where her will had been focused, she had collapsed most of the fortress.   It had no name, yet, but she knew such a thing would come in time.  Whatever those foul creatures had been, they had been ill fated fools to craft their citadel within the mountain.

She looked about with her gem bright eyes, seeing if even the Night Gate had survived the destiny she had summoned forth.  She could not imagine it would be destroyed by such a simple mundane effort, but neither had she countenanced the ruin that her actions would have inflicted.

More, she looked to the Celestial Engine itself.  Had it been freed of the corruption that had so ensnared it?  She reached out her divine senses to taste it, to touch it.  She prize she sought would be here, the prize she sought would have to be here.  With a touch, her stone steed surged forward through the earth.

The Unmade would find that which she sought.

The fate that the Stonemother had visited upon this place was ... devastating, and complete.
As Chandriss took in the enormity of her will, her attention eventually settled on that place where the Night Gate, and the Celestial Engine had been.

And to her, surprise(?), she discovered that both remained.

The Engine itself, pulsing with Celestial Power greater than anything this world could possible measure, lay crushed and trapped within the wreckage of the earth ... unbroken.  Coming close, and peering upon it with her gem bright eyes, Chandriss found herself in awe.
This ... thing ... was a piece of heaven.  A divine mechanism created by The One (if you believed in such); the sole architect of heaven and earth.  A mechanism to perfectly maintain one part of All Existence.

Untarnished and unmarred, it lay now on earth ... within the earth ... undaunted and spinning.
To her eyes it looked like three concentric rings, of identical sizes; each spinning around each of the other two, somehow without intersecting or interfering with any other ring.   Spinning, in perfect harmony, in chaotic orbits that somehow seemed perfect in their mechanism ... creating a vibrant, coruscating, gleaming sphere from the celestial light they generated, seemingly via the energy their orbits produced.
And within the sphere, what appeared to be three sparks.  No, not sparks: that would suggest 'small' and 'near'.   No, looking upon them, it seemed to Chandriss that she were looking upon three stars; monlithic powerhouses of energy, inconceivable distances away.  Untouchable and Unbearable.
Contained only by the celestial power and harmonic spinning of three gleaming rings.


Who knew how long Chandriss floated there within the earth, her mind and senses absorbed by the Engine.
But as her wits come back about her, she knew that this celestial device maintained ... what??   Her Words and Powers could NOT comprehend its purpose.

So engrossed she was in what she beheld, so utterly enthralled, there was no time or space in her myriad mind to contemplate the hundreds if not thousands of human fates she had just snuffed out.

There would be later, she she was away from the great Celestial Engine.  She had not intended their demise, not intended for the Stonemother's power to unleash so much devastation upon the mountain fortress.  Yet that was the path she had taken.  They had been slaves, it was true, mind and body forced to serve whatever those unnatural creatures had been.  Perhaps they would have considered such a death a mercy, given their fate, but she would never know.  She had never asked, so intent she had been on ending the threat of the Nightgate.

Had she ended it, or just delayed the schemes of whatever those creatures had been?  She had buried them within the mountain itself.  No matter their power, unless they could sing the songs of the earth it would take centuries for the horrors to carve their way out.  Time enough for her to master those threads of magic and fate that she needed to unbind the gate from this reality.  The theurgy was incomprehensible to her now, but already she was beginning to unravel its threads.  It would be hers, she could feel it.

At long last, she knew not how long, she willed her stone mount to began to circle the Celestial Engine.  Effortlessly she glided through the collapsed stone, her eyes scanning every inch of it.  It appeared unharmed, but perhaps a shard of its power had been taken by whatever had been harvesting its power, or something knocked free by her will.  She would not reach for those stars, she would not seek to damage the engine.  Reaching out with her senses, she searched for an echo of the power she witnessed before her.

But if a shard was there, free for the taking, she would find it.

Within the bones of the mountain, Chandriss focused her senses to find any Celestial Shards that might be about the place.

One had been being transported along with the Engine, she'd sensed it back in the valley.
Maybe the dimensional intruders had some present, to aid in whatever ceremony they were enacting.
And just perhaps, a shard of the Engine had been knocked loose during her own assault upon said ritual.

But here, in the presence of the Celestial Engine itself, it was hard to feel its presence.  It was  like trying to identify the flicking flame of a candle held up against the midday sun.


Please make a d2 roll, and describe Chandriss finding that many Shards.
I'll not ask for a Wisdom Roll, as the Fact that Chandriss 'is sensitive to the flows of magic' reduces the target number significantly enough that I don't see the point
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:33, Wed 29 Jan 2020.

With nothing more than an effort of will, she guided her stone mount upwards through the earth and towards the Engine, towards the pulsing source of power that had brought her here.  Even among the chaos, it was so simple for her to sense the flows of destiny and magic.  She was attuned to the very leylines beneath the earth, to see something like a Celestial Shard was to see a star reflecting in the ocean. It called to her, it beckoned, and the Fatebound took the path that would bring her to it.

Reaching up through stone no heavier than air, she extended her hand to grasp two of those most precious of gems.  Shards of burning potential, almost infinite fates expanding out in all directions like the forking branches of an impossibly large tree.  The matrix of power that contained her essence skittered and wavered as she reached out, the Unmade striving to push past the sheer power contained within these glowing crystalline pieces of the raw elements of the universe.

No sooner had her fingers grasped it than she was streaking away, streaking through the earth and back towards New Verano.  The main body of Aikhtiar had set out days before, and though her steed would continue tirelessly through the earth, it would still be a long journey before she caught up with them.

So to clarify, Chandriss is leaving the Celestial Engine untouched?  Buried deep within the roots of this mountain.


Although seeing a Celestial Shard was to see a star reflecting in the ocean, the presence of the Celestial Engine shone akin to the noonday sun; and so it was to Chandriss' credit that, even with her ability to sense the flows of destiny and magic ... the very leylines beneath the earth ... she was able to locate the Shards within that mystic radiance.

Yet she had.  And the Shards burned warmly in her grasp as she carried them through the utter darkness of the primordial earth.

But Chandriss was tired.  So very tired.
This whole ordeal, from entering the canyon filled with dark energies and unseeable psychic entities, her fight with the strange psychic critters, to her retreat within the mother, to the massive expenditure of power to reign godly retribution upon the alien civilisation.
As she fled the scene, she knew that she could not possibly make that long journey back to her people without rest.

Yet, the dark, unholy energies that flowed from, as she could now sense, the Night Gate, out into the mountain and the canyon beyond, continued unceased.
Those energies would only ever be dammed with the closing of that Gate.

And Chandriss didn't feel safe remaining, let alone resting, within this place.
She'd done so earlier, within her earthly dome ... but it had been a fitful and unrestful sleep.

If she could only make it out of the haunted canyon ... perhaps to that place once held by the Surcessant Order of Knights whence Dalton and his team had prayed, and sanctified themselves.

The Surcessant Order was an institution of healing, after all.   A nights rest there must surely bring comfort.

She did not have the will left within her to read the myriad lines of fate of what might happen if she tried to touch the Celestial Engine, and such was beyond her power even had she been at full strength.  So too with the Night Gate.  She understood the basic theory for how she might strive to close one, but translating that theory to practice would take long nights of experimentation and trial.  She had the foundations, but she still had much to learn before those foundations were built up into theurgistic formula.

Already she could feel the threads that allowed her to take shelter within the bones of the earth fading.  She could construct the matrices that allowed her to so effortlessly pass through the dirt and stone, but she was not yet skilled enough to maintain it for longer than an hour.  She could not sleep while melded with the elements, her will would not hold her atoms within such a space in such a state.  Both she and her mount would need to rise, and so as she fled away, rise she did.  As she broke away from the mountain, so too did she break the surface of the earth, returning to that from which she had begun.  Her iron steed left tracks of blackened earth behind it as it ran, its tireless engine charring the ground from which it drew its energy.

Yet it was truly tireless, it would carry her unceasing.

Dalton had showed her the path, and she would take it.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:51, Thu 30 Jan 2020.