#Runach Hold

[theshapeshifter100]

Haneul’s Chaos

(Day 23 of @thewatchau‘s annual prompts! This one isn’t particularly serious, or long)

Gus had a distinctive, braying laugh, which he breathed in too quickly, made him sound a bit like a donkey.

It was unleashed in full force today as he read a report from Haneul. Nothing to do with the Watch, just news from a traveller. Which, once it had been told to one person, the entire Hold had to know.

“You know, I thought someone had let one of the donkey’s loose,” commented a Watcher wandering into common area.

It made Gus laugh harder, adding to the braying as he recovered.

“What’s tickling you Bellows?”

Gus just shoved the piece of paper in the direction of the Watcher, who read it over, and started giggling.

‘After this ‘Heist’ was announced, citizens of Haneul were seen running in all directions, looking for an artefact. Many went into the sewer system, with reports of monsters and an evil cult (currently unfounded).

Others checked the ocean, convinced the artefact was on a deserted island or a pirate ship. These rumours were not helped when a pirate captain; Captain Magnus, was named a Lord.

A few more broke into a prison, some declared that dead men were walking. Some say Lord’s Dark and Wilford were involved, although no one agree on how or why.’

“So,” the new Watcher spoke between giggles. “A bunch of folks from up north, running around, breaking into every place they can think of, to find this one thing?!”

Gus nodded, silently wheezing with laughter from the imagery.

“I’m surprised none of them used the Jim’s tunnels,” the Watcher managed to say dryly, and Gus fell off his chair.

(None of my characters go to Haneul until after Fae Hunt, which I am loathe to put to paper yet

If I remember my dates properly, Oct 1614)

[antikorg]

Ascoval échappe à la délocalisation, le flou demeure sur les contreparties

Ascoval échappe à la délocalisation, le flou demeure sur les contreparties

Agnès Pannier-Runacher et Karl-Ulrich Kohler, président du directoire de Stahl-Holding-Saar à Hayange en Moselle, le 13 septembre 2021 1/2 © AFP, JEAN-CHRISTOPHE VERHAEGEN AFP, publié le vendredi 19 novembre 2021 à 20h42 Le flou demeurait vendredi sur les contreparties exactes mises sur la table par le gouvernement français pour convaincre le groupe allemand Saarstahl de renoncer à transférer…

[theshapeshifter100]

Outpost

(Day 9 of @thewatchau‘s prompts)

The year Hank turned 22 was the year the Watch moved in.

There was an old Mage’s hold, further up the Rúnach river and less than a day’s ride from Imforis. No one really went there, no real need, and there was the old children’s story about the place being haunted.

Imforis was barely a village, definitely bordering on a hamlet. Everyone knew everyone. So when a stream of people came through out of nowhere, it caught attention.

Hank could hear them from his house. He and his mother were drying herbs, when the rumble of carts and chattering of voices could be heard all the way from the road.

He and his mother had shared a look, before Hank left the house and jogged down the track to the road. Well, calling it a road was laughable, just a slightly wider track.

“Hoy, a local!” called one of them, spotting Hank. He was easy to spot, being as tall as he was. “We’re on the right track to the Hold right?”

“Far as I know!” Hank hollered back.

“Great! Some folks be coming by river by the way!”

“Noted, thanks!” Hank paused for a bit, and had peered down at the long train that was slowly walking by. “What are you doing?”

“Fixing up the old Hold for the Watch!”

“That what?” it sounded familiar.

“That Watch! The organisation that’s going to look into the Enemy.”

Oh, yeah. The Enemy, who was currently hiding in the Western Forest right now. The forest they were currently backed onto. Hank didn’t like to think about that too much.

“Is that old place really good for that?!”

“That’s what we’re hoping!” that person had gone too far now to continue talking, and no one picked it up again.

Hank just, watched for a while, as horses pulling carts of stone and wood clopped by, and people carrying tools marched on. They were really going to do this.

Well their problem.

This continued on and off for the next few months, and finally, the rush downed down.

For about a week.

Then began a smaller trickle of people passing through town. Most would just go straight through, some would stop and look.

Most of them weren’t impressed. They’d look around the small market, some of the old buildings that were barely holding together, then look uninterested and leave.

Hank was not a man prone to anger, but every time he saw someone turn their nose at his home, he wanted to punch them. He would fold his arms on his stall selling herbs and feel his fingernails digging into his arms.

Then, again, things started to change. Someone he didn’t know wandered up to his stall, looking nervous.

“Er, hi,” they said, their accent more eastern than western. “Um, do you have a bakery?”

“’course, just down there, turn left. Got a loaf a’ bread sign. Can’t miss it,” Hank pointed them in the right direction, being of a reasonable sort.

“Ah, great! Thanks!” the newcomer grinned and walked off the same way Hank had pointed.

That newcomer kept coming back. Every market day.

“The Hold get’s crowded,” they explained. Frank was their name. “And I’m not a fighting type, just, some miller, you know?”

“What’s a miller doin’ joining the Watch?” Hank leaned on his stall, hands relaxed now.

“An army marches on its stomach my friend,” Frank shrugged. “Hoped to see if any of the bakers here would be willing to help out.”

To that Hank chuckled. “We have one baker, who deals with the whole village. She doesn’t have a lot of time.”

“Or an apprentice?”

“Yeah, but they’re busy too.”

“Shame,” Frank nodded to himself before changing the subject. “You know, some of these old buildings could really do with some work.”

“I know,” Hank sighed. “Ya don’t need to tell me. We try ta work on them every now and again. Probably the only reason they haven’t fallen down yet.”

“Well,” Frank leaned an elbow on the stall too, avoiding the carefully arranged bundles of herbs, “there were a bunch of folks from the Order of Stone that came, and a few other unaffiliated builders and carpenters that fixed the Hold up. Maybe we could get them to work on those buildings?”

Hank blew out his cheeks and raised his hands. “Not my place. I just sell herbs and help out where I can.”

“Oh come on Hank!” Frank shook his head. “I’ve only been here a few weeks and I can already see you’re a man who loves this place. And people can see that. People trust you around here.”

“They also know all my embarrassing childhood stories.”

“All the more reason to trust you,” Frank moved off the stand. “I’ve got to head back, but, think about it okay?”

“It’s not my decision to make!” Hank called after the miller as he left.

“You must know whose decision it is!” Frank called back.

Hank did. And she was stubborn.

He presented the idea to her though. Knocked on her door and told her of Frank’s offer.

“I’m not getting some weirdo from the Order of Stone to fix up those buildings!” she snapped. “They don’t understand these things.”

“Like what? They know stone, they know how to build things, they’ve been refurbishin’ the old Hold, how’s this any different?”

He knew the answer, and she gave to him.

“They’re not us.”

“If they had one of us with them then!”

“Are you volunteerin’ Hank Greenwood?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

He paused. Both his siblings had left home. It was just him and his parents to look after the pigs and to grow, gather and dry herbs. Both of these could be labour intensive, and his parents… they weren’t old. They could manage without him for a little bit.

“I am, yes.”

Her eyebrow went higher. “Well then. Let me know how you get on,” and she closed the door.

When he next saw Frank he told the miller what happened, and then everything happened, very quickly.

It didn’t take long for the builders to arrive, and Hank found himself co-ordinating between the builders from the Order and the handyfolk of Imforis. He wasn’t cut out of this! He was simple man, he prided himself on it! He wasn’t meant for giving orders like this!

But, here he was, running back and forth and trying to deal with arguments as the builders critiqued the old repairs and the local handyfolk taking that as an insult. The architects wanted to change the old buildings and were angrily and loudly shot down. Sometimes, both sides were just far too stubborn, but they slowly got something out of it.

No builder had managed to replicate the old Feadhainn architecture, and that showed. They tried to repair the oldest buildings, to make them habitable again, but some of them were too far gone. Those ones were torn down and new, more modern buildings out in their place, mostly made of local wood.

Hank could feel the ripple of anger throughout Imforis when this happened, and the new building felt like an unwelcome growth. Something you’d go into the nearest market town to see a doctor about.

He could see it from his stall, and he just rested his head on his forearms.

“Erm, excuse me?”

He lifted his head up, feeling a bit too tired to be dealing with an unfamiliar customer today.

“Yes?” he answered. The woman standing before him was clearly not from here, with curly red hair, bright blue eyes and pale skin. “Can I help you?”

“Could you tell me about some of these herbs? I don’t recognise all of them,” she said. At least she was polite, made a nice change.

Hank blinked for a second, trying to get his brain to work. Thankfully, he had learnt most of these while he was learning to read.

He rattled off a few of the more unusual ones, and the woman folded her arms, thinking before buying a few bundles.

“You look tired,” she commented as she handed over the necessary coins. “Long day?”

“Long month,” he sighed.

“Wow,” she looked around, “lots of work going on. Got anything to do with that?”

“Everything to do with it.”

The woman winced in sympathy. “I can see. It’ll be over soon enough, you’ll see,” she smiled, and then held her hand out. “I’m Fiona Flannail.”

“Hank Greenwood,” he shook. “Don’t tell me you’re involved with this lot?”

“Me? Oh no, just someone, wandering around. I’ve actually got work at the bakery,” she pointed in the right direction. “That’s what the herbs are for.”

“Never seen anyone bake with these,” Hank noted.

“Me neither!” her grin was giddy. “That’s what’s exciting!”

Hank found himself smiling too, her glee infectious. “Well, I hope you stay around for a while Miss Flannail.”

“We’ll see Mr Greenwood,” she had this odd smile on her face, which in his tired state, Hank couldn’t quite place. “Well, I’d better get to work. I’ll see you next time!” she waved and disappeared to the bakery while Hank waved back.

Fiona had been right, the construction didn’t last too long. At least, not on the old buildings. One of the builders had built up some rapport in Imforis, so built themselves a house, and became the local carpenter. Meanwhile, more people trickled to and fro from the Hold, and not everyone liked being there.

From what Hank heard, it was like a Guard base, but bigger, and not everyone wanted to live in a barracks. In fact, some people just, liked Imforis.

More houses were built. A school was built, which was a first, most people sent their children to the nearest town for schooling. All the old houses were clustered around the forest edge, but new houses built up on the north and south sides, arcing around to an extended business hub. A doctor popped up, so now they didn’t just have a herbalist.

Sitting at his stall now, with his daughter working on her school work beside him, Hank marvelling at the whole thing. In 15 years Imforis had changed into something twice, three times the size of what it had been.

It all happened, he supposed, because the Watch decided that the old tower just north of them would be perfect. How strange, that one decision could affect so many people.

(Phew, that might be the longest one I’ve done so far! To date it, well the Watch was announced May 1599, so I imagine construction would begin not too long after that.

I actually messed with my own timeline here, because Fiona wasn’t originally going to show up until 1600/1601, but given that the timeline is mostly in my head it’s pretty fluid and subject to change. Also yes, Fiona is slighlty flirting with Hank)

[theshapeshifter100]

Enemy’s Magic

(Day 17 of @thewatchau‘s Annual Prompts!

TW: Drowning)

Ivy was sometimes very happy to have missed the Overnight Defence entirely. Sometimes she was a bit jealous, but she had seen what it had done to people she knew.

Mags could have days where she was irritable and skittish, Kat from Conchúr could get very angry for seemingly no reason, and both of those were horrible to watch. She didn’t want to think about how bad that must be to experience.

That said, that didn’t mean Ivy hadn’t experienced the Enemy’s magic. She’d seen dead men and women moving like puppets on strings. She’d seen abominations of nature the same acid green dear old Anti was associated with.

She’d heard stories from Slinad of farms who had lost everything to him. Firefly had come to her because the ranch where she had been born had been set alight in a raid.

Ivy was four years old when Antonius had first attacked the King. She didn’t remember much, just some worried discussions she shouldn’t have overheard from her parents. She didn’t work out the context until years later.

Was she scared of him? Of course, she’d be a damn idiot if she wasn’t. She’d seen the damage, the scars (physical and mental), although, it would be a lie to say that’s why she was a Watcher.

One thing she hadn’t thought about though, was its effect on her.

There were nightmares, fairly obviously. They’d died down a lot in the last few years, so now she probably got them with the same frequency as the average person. However the weirdest thing was one patrol a few years ago.

Someone on the border patrol at the Hold had fallen ill, Ivy had no messages so offered to fill in.

It was a night patrol, along the Rúnach river, which was right on the edge of the Western Forest. So already spooky.

It was made more spooky, and terrifying, when something leapt out of the forest.

There was a Mage on the boat, so a shield quickly went up to block it. Ivy’s hand went to her knife on instinct as the thing splashed into the water. It scrabbled against the shield and boat, rocking the whole vessel.

Everyone rushed to the grip the boat as it rocked to and fro, water splashing over the side through the specialised barrier.

The monster was hard to see, only illuminated by the lanterns on the boat and the faint glow of the magical shield. The thing glittered a sick green colour, while black claws the size of a child scraped against the side of the shield.

“BRACE!” someone shouted, and Watchers ran to evenly distribute themselves along the sides of the boat, bracing their legs against the hull. Ivy copied and drew her sword, holding on to the boat with one hand as she essentially tried to poke the beast.

Her sword bounced off the scales of the thing, doing nothing. There was then a sudden movement, and Ivy was falling.

People screamed and the world turned upside down. Terror kicked in once Ivy hit the water.

The river tugged and dragged her along. It was impossible to see and Ivy could feel her weapons dragging her down. She struggled and kicked in the water, every piece of swimming or drowning advice making a swift exit from her mind.

She had to breathe! She had to breathe, she had to escape this thing oh fuck where was it?!

Something slapped into her back and she was sent tumbling through the dark water. A lot of her air was shot out in stream of invisible bubbles, and the need to breathe was more urgent than ever!

Her movements became desperate, lungs screaming as she flailed in one direction hoping it was the surface. She needed to breath she needed tobreathesheneededtobreath!

Her head broke the surface and she gasped before sinking back down. She kicked harder and got above the surface again, and this time she managed to stay there.

The cold was seeping into her bones, and water splashed into her mouth, making her cough and splutter. She scanned wildly for the boat. Where was it where was it?! She couldn’t keep going, she couldn’t…

There was light!

There was a faint blue light glowing in the darkness and Ivy could make out the silhouette of the capsized patrol boat. The blue shield glimmered all around it, and it looked like people were clinging to it, just inside the shield.

With hope in sight Ivy began to swim. The Rúnach was much stronger than the Airceann tributary she had learnt to swim in, and she went under a few more times. Each time it was harder to get back to the surface, but she managed to get over. Hands reached out to help her climb aboard and she reached out for them.

Her hand met resistance.

It was like trying to push through a strong wind, which wouldn’t be a problem if she had been walking. Instead she was trying to tread water and climb onto a boat, and the shield was deciding to be a dick!

The other hands also seemed to have some resistance, and the two managed to meet in the middle to haul her on.

Somehow Ivy was still clutching her sword. In fact it was probably frozen to her hand at this point. So she slipped and scrambled up the wood to hit on to top of the hull. Her muscles were chilled and aching, trembling under her weight until she half collapsed on the top of the boat, shivering.

The rest of the group wasn’t much better, some had lost their weapons, some had tried to peel off soaked clothes, but the shivering didn’t stop. They gathered around the lantern to try and keep warm.

The Mage was visibly sweating, illuminated by the lantern and the glow of their magic. The monster was still churning up the water, but seemed less worried about dealing with the boat. Not when there were easier meals available.

They spent the rest of the night trying to find everyone and avoid the monster. It seemed to disappear after a while, but the damage was done. Not all the of the patrol made it back. Many of the ones who did stayed in the infirmary for several days.

Now, Ivy lay staring at the stars, listening a nearby brook burble by. It was a weird night to be thinking about this. The only real similarity was that there was water nearby, but the way the shield worked played on her mind.

She knew what it was. There had been several angry Watchers once everyone was dry and safe. They demanded the Mage to tell them why the shield had given them such trouble. Simple answer was the shield was designed to keep the magic of the Enemy out, and nearly everyone on the boat had had contact with it at some point in the past.

That’s why her wandering mind had led her to this point. The effect the Enemy’s magic had had on her. It wasn’t as bad as most, but in the right situation, could mean the difference between life and death.

(So this started out as a retrospective that turned into a flashback of something I made up on the spot.

The flashback is sometime in 1611, since according the timeline not a lot happened apart from the odd skirmish. This particular monster was not under orders to do anything, it just wandered off, found the patrol and decided to fuck shit up.

As for when Ivy’s thinking about it? I’m not sure honestly. Anywhere between 1612-1614)

[theshapeshifter100]

Mags’s home town of Imeall Foraoise

Used to be spread out along the forest edge, mostly sap harvesters, herb growers, foragers, bee keepers etc, so not well off. When the Watch became active they started seeing a lot of traffic to and from the Runach Hold, so while the population hasn’t boomed per se, the trade has. More amenities became available and the population slowly increased. It’s still small and spread out, just not as much as it used to be. There wasn’t even an inn until the Watch started passing through, or schoolhouse. Folks would either travel to another town or be taught by their parents. The doctor is also new, previously relying on a herbalist who knew the plants of the forest edge. If things took a turn for the worst, it was either the nearest town or pray. Most houses have small vegetable patches and either keep chickens or hunt in the forest. A large farm sprang up even more recently and well, they’re trying, but the Western Forest does weird shit to the animals (a note, be careful with eggs). A couple of the houses along the forest edge are old Gaelic that have managed to be maintained, although the rest are either poorly made old ones or just more modern thanks to the various Watchers. Some Watchers who volunteer have settled in this village.

@thewatchau @dumbthinmint