Age of the Colossus: Fire-Side Stories

Wralandir - Blighted Woods - Kirkdale
Abandoned Cabin, Hungry
Friday - August 2 - 7961 - 3:11:07 AM
Chanath Godeo : Hunter and Poet
Chanath hadn't the heart for singing. More and more in traveling he'd lost much of the joy in music. Now a song was a tool, to be used to break a stone or blur one's thoughts. By keeping the warsongs he'd lost so many ballads and tales of love. What a bargain he'd struck - melody for its own sake sold for grey companions and bitter work.

There was an engrossing damp, and a sourness in the air that loomed over the dour party. He mumbled, trying to catch the echo, and breathe in the unfamiliar forest - all of it began to look the same. Ever since he'd tasted society - warm fire halls, rich food, politics and all its intrigue - he came to see nature as more savage than beautiful. He feared how much he'd been changing, it made him feel weary, old, and distant. The group said little, and moved with their usual silent loathing. Then a crack of thunder and all the bitterness of the moment fell in the deluge.

Koga, with his usual subtlety, erupted and Chanath looked on unwavering, as the steam poured off the majestic man, hot as fresh magma. He prepared to roll his eyes, and shrug off his delight but there - like a mirage in this saturated desert, was an old cabin. There was no question, no need to suffer through rain, they were in no hurry. Certainly, he thought, direwolves were more easily fought when well rested.

The flames died down and they moved through the thinned brush towards the sad looking shack. "Sturdy enough to still be here, sturdy enough to have us." He gave a long look around the compound, and stepped inside the cabin. Not a palace, but dry enough to sleep under.

He pulled a chair from the table a little closer to the fire, and sat down, ringing out some of his robes and generally tending to himself. Koga's warmth began to permeate the room and the abandon cabin took on new life with each new member it took in. Then the silence, save for the dull roar of rain on the rooftops.

Koga gave an obligatory grunt, and Chanath turned to his travelling sack. Every movement gave a sickening creak, and the tension mounted. He retrieved a stained leather pouch which had held many of the groups meals. A companion of every elven hunter, such sacks were soaked and held over the fire to boil whatever stew or slurry was held inside. A benefit was that overtime the leather took on the aroma of those roasted meats and onions it cooked, releasing those flavors into each subsequent stew. Of course, when pickings were sparse, that left them with onion scented hot water. He tried his best to feed the group, most of them were self sufficient, but certainly food did more than stay hunger.

"I think I'll check the cellar. If it's empty, I saw mushrooms on a tree nearby - shouldn't be poisonous." He rose, pulling up his hood and hoped to move through the group without consequence. Outside he quickly remembered the miserable damp. Warm fires reminding him of still warmer places.

The cellar had a heavy lock on a rotting door. He knelt, and gave a sharp echoing whistle, and the lock broke as though rusted. Heaving the doors open he was greeted by a magnificent earthy smell, and then utter putrefaction. He heaved a little, and leaned his head into the dark cellar, his keen eyes piercing the darkness.

The whole dark place was alive with color and growth. Tendrils, mosses, the caps of mushrooms all draped themselves over broken crates and crushed glass. The smell was unholy, and every inch of earth was a mass of living filth. He spied an old dried leg of some unidentifiable beast, consumed by rot. He stepped carefully into the cellar, holding his breath. He saw a shelf that looked promising. Though it held a smashed ceramic dripping with honey and mildew, the potted meats seemed clean. Each in little containers, they didn't stick to the wood - a good sign. He brushed the dust from them, and pressed his hand into the cooled fat which sealed each jar. Obviously a survivalist knew his art - but even still, the fat seemed too fresh to have stayed so long in such filth. He grabbed three jars and abandoned his endeavor. As he crawled out of the cellar, straining his breathing, he saw what once must have been a root, now sprouted, swollen, and devouring a whole sack of something mildew-ladened. He broke free into the clean wet air and stood a while in the rain, breathing steadily, and wiping that sweeter water from his face. That cellar was the rotting organ of the corpse in which they now stooped. He felt the death in his lungs, and cradled the three ceramic jars, now washed clean by rain.

Nature was so ripe with beauty, so living, how could he have forgotten that? Nearby, ramps sprouted, and he was thankful for them, and sure enough mushrooms peeked their heads through the matted grass. He left them, having lost his taste for such deathly things. He stood a little longer in the rain, until his breathing calmed, and he felt that terrible stench wash off him.

He stepped back into the warmth, hanging his cloak on a splintered board, and laying the jars and bouquet of ramps on the table, comforted by the warmth.

"You might have reservations if you saw where this came from, but we've eaten worse."

Wralandir – Blighted Woods – Kirkdale Abandoned Cabin, Returning
Friday - August 2 - 7961 - 3:25:14 AM
Jhunvat Rashael

Rashael would have been triumphantly singing one of the plethora of hunting ballads she had memorized from her years of hunting, but most of them she had learned whilst out with her Father, and the wounds from her discovery that he was missing were still fresh. It had not been but a few short weeks ago that she had come upon the band of Legend Slayers, over-joyed at the idea that she would soon be reunited with her beloved Father, but her hopes had been dashed severely. When she came upon the group they were being led by a fiery-tempered man who was unaware of what self-control meant, a rogue to whom the idea of honor was never taught, a licentious bard who thought of nothing but women, and several other somewhat rag-tag members.

There was naught she could do though, except try and live up to Father’s expectations. It had not been easy to adjust to their habits and methods, and in truth had she not been a proud member of the Jhunvat Clan and Dragon-Kin she would have beheaded several of them long ago, but that would be a very brash and unreasonable thing to do. All she needed was some time to learn the group better, once she did that she could easily begin steering them down the path of honor and duty, the true path to which all warriors should stay true. Admittedly things were not looking very good for the moment though.

This was their first true assignment together, and apparently things had been somewhat slow on the Legend-Slaying for some time since a previous, and dangerous, encounter with a Frost Giant. If they had been in a familiar territory she might have been able to aid them in their time of need, but seeing as this land was just as new to her as most of the others she had also assumed Nephy had been truthful in her statement of knowing to where they were heading. Maybe the woman had mistakenly believed she knew the land, but it had not taken long for it to become apparent they were lost. It was about one hour of mindlessly wandering the Rashael decided it would be best to go hunting for game in the area. True she did not know what beasts lay waiting in the darkness, but she was sure they were manageable.

That was some time ago, before night descended upon the forest even, but she eventually shot down a fine beast for the party. It was a wonderful four-legged creature with hooves and a beautiful set of antlers sitting atop its head and a fine coat of soft fur. She would definitely be able to trade the fur and antlers off for a handsome price, and whatever she could manage with what was left would be worth the effort as well. True, the animal was not exactly light, but her strength more than accommodated for the beast’s size. What might be considered as unfortunate was her halting to slit the animal’s throat, open its belly, and leave its entrails as an offering to the forest in her prayers. If it had not been for this necessary ritual she would not be caught in the storm raging about her now, but it was a small price to pay for showing her respect to the forest. It also gave the creature time to bleed out as she continued on the trail made by her fellows, which would definitely save her some time in preparing the animal for food and trade.

Luckily her companions were seemingly naïve to the fact that they tromped about the forest as rampaging dragons of old would a battlefield, so tracking them proved a very simple process. This had become somewhat more difficult as the storm settled in, but their path was so obvious now she need not even bother looking at the ground to track their steps. So many twigs and branches were broken and strewn about she would have thought they were marking their trail intentionally, which was somewhat foolish when you thought about it. She had a picture-perfect memory for places she had traveled; it would not be difficult to head back the same way they had come. Much prayer would need to be said this night to accommodate for the uncaring attitudes of her fellow warriors.

She had only thought there would be much praying on their behalves when she came upon the scorched path leading to a cabin. Rashael’s mouth visibly dropped as she gaped in awe at the destruction which had been wrought. Only one of them would do something so careless and ignorant, and that was Koga, their so-called leader. He would definitely be praying with her when all was said and done, but first she needed to clean and prepare her kill. They would pray at the start of the new day, it was known that morning was the best time to pray as the Gods were awakening from their slumber.

The Dragon-Kin Ranger adjusted her prey one last time before walking down the charred path to the cabin’s door and entering to the sight of the group finishing a meal of some unknown origin. From the looks of the cabin it was probably old and spoiled, but that mattered little to her, if they could not wait for her to come back from the hunt then there would be food enough left for tomorrow when they awoke. Without a word spoken to her companions Rashael found a place to hang the beast and began skinning the creature. It was not long though before she spoke to those around her. “You make path in forest like beast in heat. Tomorrow we pray to nature. Must act with respect; watch how you step, careful how you move. Tomorrow, all pray, and maybe learn. To learn though, I not so sure.”

Several minutes later, after she had successfully skinned and removed two of the legs, she halted her project and carried the haunches to Koga. It would be more than enough for now should they all desire to partake in some, but nothing too much to be considered a feast where they could gorge. Gluttony was a dire sin in the world of the Dragon-Kin and Rashael would not enable any of that to happen. “You please cook these Tokugawa? No burn please, just cook some. I fine with little pink inside.

Wralandir – Blighted Woods – Kirkdale
Not saying “I told you so,” but definitely thinking it.
Friday – August 2 – 7961 – 3:00:00 a.m.
Nepthys, The Condemned

When she’d said “I know the Blighted Forest,” she had not intended to convey that she knew its every nook, cranny, and arboreal pathway. Her intent had been to specify that the was aware of its location, it’s lore, and several of the major landmarks within, including a derelict fey glen and a cursed lake, all of which she would be happy to steer her companions away from. But the fire-man in all his impulsiveness had declared her their guide through the woods, speaking over her muted protests that the paths in this place always changed, for the very soil was alive with dark magic, and more dead than living haunted the boughs.

She was unsurprised, however, that she was taking the blame for this. She always got blamed for things, regardless of whether they were her fault or not. She’d lost track of the cat-man and the lizard-woman some time ago, but they both seemed to have some legitimate claim to knowledge of the wild, and so it was that she travelled in the company of fire-man, song-man, and masked-man, wishing that, for once, someone would believe her when she said it wasn’t her fault, that no, she did not maliciously and purposefully confound them in this place, but that would require the ability to read thoughts, something that only she could do, since she would never complain aloud.

Apparently, fire-man was more upset than she’d thought, and the area about them exploded in a conflagration of flames shortly thereafter. Nephthys, herself immune to such damage, nevertheless stepped out of the way of a particularly large one and sighed quietly. Singing her clothing would be… unpleasant, and her flame-retardant capabilities did not extend to her cloth-and-leather trappings.

She spotted the cabin shortly afterwards, and though deeply suspicious of anything that showed up in this forest, pointed silently towards it. The rain was depressing, and she wanted to get out of it. Her normally relatively-sunny demeanor had been left at the forest’s edge; she did not like this place. Instead, she was patently miserable, but simply avoided speaking to impose as little as possible. She needed to travel with these people- her life quite literally depended on it. Bathe in the blood of the mighty… damn you. It was, of course, and entirely ineffectual curse on the likes of him, but she felt it necessary anyway.

Once inside the house, she sat as far away from fire-man as possible, hugging her knees to her chest and observing, golden eyes moving unabashedly from one soul to another. Her exposure to non-demons was greater than most from her homeland, but she had never met a werecat or a cindersoul, much less a… whatever masked-man was.

Lizard-woman joined them some time after, complaining of the violence of their passage, but Neph simply shrugged. “This one thinks your concern is misplaced. If any gods watched over this place before, they have long since abandoned it to the legions of the damned.”

Cat-man made his entrance shortly thereafter, in cat-shape, no less, his belongings carried between his bloodied jaws. Apparently, lizard-woman was not the only one that had been hunting. He disappeared into a small attached room for a moment, then reappeared, dressed in his usual fashion, and stretched languidly, propping himself into a corner from which he could see the door and had nothing but solid wall at his back. Song-man had arrayed a number of food items before them, and apparently fire-man was to cook their meat, though the request had pulled a knowing chuckle from cat-man. Did fire-man think himself above such uses? She would not guess otherwise, from what little she had seen of his demeanor.

“This one thanks you,” she said to song-man, selecting a couple of mushrooms, though she looked speculatively at them. Those two kinds were poisonous to humans, but she didn’t know about anyone else. She took them anyway, since at the very least cat-man and song-man might have difficulties with them. The rest, she either knew to be safe or had never seen before, so she’d have to trust her companion’s nature-knowledge.

It was quite embarrassing, really. After wandering around the woods lead by a Cambion for a long while, Saras had gotten so hungry and distracted by other "base needs" that he quickly excused himself from the party for a while. Not only had he filled himself up devouring the carcass of several woodland animals, he took the time to transform back in private to write down the particular fauna that inhabited the area. However, as soon as he became sentient once more, a flood of worrisome thoughts came back to hang over his head like a sword. What if they thought me odd? I must seem so rude to them. I can't believe I couldn't just hold out a little longer. What was I thinking? Did the monks teach me nothing? I should apologize. Should I apologize? These ruminations continued to turn in his head as he made his way back toward the direction the group was headed. He was about to suspect that he had gotten lost and that his part ended there, but after seeing a large conflagration erupt not too far away, he suspected that he had an inkling of what was going on. Note: Tokugawa has poor self-control Saras thought, stowing it away to be written down later.

He had attempted to enter the hut quietly, but to his dismay, the rotting floorboards did not grant him such a luxury as it whined and groaned with movement. "H-hello everyone." He greeted, before moving to sit down and lift the tome out of his pack. It was at this point, 3:10 AM to be a little more accurate, that he began writing again. It was an uncomfortable couple of minutes before the Dragonkin returned, who asked for her vension to be seared. Note: Jhunvat likes her meat medium-rare. He thought, flipping to the page where he logged all his comrades and wrote it down. Flipping quickly back to the current page, he noted that he was only a third of the way through the large book, and as his writing habitually became smaller, he managed to cram more facts into the page. Saras wrote down that his handwriting had gotten smaller as timed passed.

It was at that point that Felix entered the cabin himself, wordlessly gnawing on some food. He realized that he was the only one that greeted his companions on entry, and ducked his head quickly as his face became inflamed with sheepishness. However, even as he recovered from that momentary feeling, he began to sense with more and more tension that it was just a little bit too quiet and strained. Perhaps the group was still unfamiliar with each other? That should have been something I wrote down. Hm. I don't actually know how long they've know each other. The most important part, however, was this growing animosity he had been sensing toward Nepthys. Saras wouldn't be lying if he wasn't frustrated that the Cambion had gotten them lost, either. His eyes darted around the cabin, and it was at some point where he finally could not bear the strain any longer.

"H-hey, how about a story to pass the time, huh?" He asked, before immediately beginning to regret breaking the silence.