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The earring which Chandriss had set Mahu to study was no longer active: it's magic dwindled long ago, and seemed to be of a design to impress and manipulate the feelings of sentient beings.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.