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aquadestinyswriting · 2 years

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Where Secrets Lie

Summary: An entry for this week's Flash Fiction Friday. Set during the time Meredith was back in Fangthane after leaving her party behind in Toreguarde. Meredith has been Called down to the Contemplation Chamber deep beneath the Cathedral of Kherillim only to find more than she ever bargained for

Words: 986

Warnings: depiction of a frightening vision?Religious themes? Let me know if I need to tag this with anything specific because I have no idea.

Tags: @druidx @homesteadchronicles @flashfictionfridayofficial, @blind-the-winds, @freedominique

Meredith frowned as she looked around the Contemplation Chamber. While the cavern was clearly abandoned, it still thrummed with power. Meredith stepped up to the main dais and observed the liquid in the massive Scrying Pool. Even now she could sense the shadows cast by the molten metal lengthening and the now horribly familiar feeling that pervaded the rest of the Cathedral settling on her shoulders like a heavy, weighted blanket. She startled as the molten metal in the pool bubbled violently and slowly cleared;

Fangthane stood in the middle of the plain, its golden cap glowing brilliantly in the sunlight. The sunlight dimmed and the world was thrown into utter darkness as a lightning bolt hit the mountain’s peak, cracking it wide open from top to bottom. The vision shifted to a large Warhammer falling to the floor and shattering into pieces. A huge, two headed, draconic figure climbed out the top and laughed maniacally, spreading its wings and casting its shadow all over not just the immediate area around Fangthane, but over the rest of Allansia. The figure turned its attention to Meredith, who was transfixed by the terrifying sight,

“See the glory that is to come My Daughter.” the figure leered, “This world is mine!”

Suddenly a force pushed Meredith back and away from the Scrying Pool, where the golden liquid continued to bubble and spit around the edges, never settling even as the image was covered over once again. The atmosphere in the massive chamber lifted slightly around the young cleric’s shoulders.

Meredith pulled herself to her feet, shaking as a soft wheat-yellow glow wrapped itself around her. The shadows lengthened even further, but the darkness could not seem to touch her any more. Meredith sent the Earth Mother a quiet prayer of thanks, clearly She was still protecting Her children even if Moradin could not. Meredith looked around the room and almost fell back again as she noticed that all of the statues that had once been of Moradin depicted the monster from the vision instead. In its clawed hand it held aloft a huge black hammer, one dragon-like head staring triumphantly at the hammer, the other leering at Meredith. She tore her gaze away from the horrifying sight and glanced around the room, looking for the way back out. Instead the young dwarf's attention was drawn to another door that had quietly slid open at the far end of the chamber. Cautiously, the Inquisitor crept towards it, constantly glancing around the cavern in case anyone else had followed her in. The place seemed deserted, but Meredith brought her warmace to her hand anyway, just to be safe. Slowly she poked her head through the door only to see another tunnel, leading even further into the depths of the mountain.

The tunnel was clearly old, far older than the Contemplation Chamber if the pitted and crumbling stonework was anything to go by. Meredith took one last look around the Contemplation Chamber, checking all of the deepest shadows for the barest hint of movement and straining to hear any sounds other than the bubbling of molten metal in the Scrying Pool. Finding nothing, Meredith nodded to herself and quietly made her way down the old passage, both relieved and terrified that she was not wearing her armour.

The narrow passage continued down into the earth for what seemed like an eternity, before a stonework door depicting the fair face of Throff finally stopped the young cleric. In the top right corner was a carving of a flame held aloft in a hand, while in the top left corner a sheaf of wheat or barley was carved. Both were well known symbols of the Earth Mother. Meredith dithered for a moment before finally pushing the door open, her heart thudding in her chest as she wondered exactly why she had been guided down here.

The chamber that the passage led into was damp and a carpet of moss surrounded an earthenware table. Upon this, a jeweled earthenware jar of some kind rested along with a book. Ancient runes covered both the table and the jar, a few of which Meredith recognised, but many she did not. The air was musty and smelled heavily of earth. Curiosity now overcame the fear and panic that Meredith had initially felt ever since making her way into the Contemplation Chamber. On the left hand wall was a frieze of some kind, depicting the journey of the first dwarves to come to Fangthane. Another depicted the alliance of Throff and Moradin, though large parts of the frieze were eroded beyond recognition. On the right hand wall, however, was a far different frieze. Meredith frowned as she gingerly ran her fingers over it. Though she could not read the runes, she could follow the pictographs. One showed the splitting of Fangthane in two, as the cleric had seen in the vision through the scrying pool earlier. The next showed a small group of dwarves fleeing the area while a two-headed dragon coiled around what was left of the top, the other dwarves seemingly completely unaware of the monster that had taken up residence above them. Meredith tore her gaze away, feeling utterly sick to her stomach. It seemed that whoever had built this place had seen the same vision she had witnessed, many ages before. They had clearly placed a warning here, only for the shrine to become abandoned and forgotten over the intervening millenia. Now it seemed that Throff’s children, in their own arrogance and pride, had failed to pay attention to the warning that had been given and were now paying the price for it. Choking back a bitter sob, Meredith fell to her knees, clutching at the Holy Symbol around her neck,

“Are we truly so lost that there is no hope left for us?” she asked quietly, not even daring to hope for any answer.

#writing #aquadestinyswriting #titan fighting fantasy #meredith gruksdottir #fangthanes folly and the anvils fall

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aquadestinyswriting · 1 year

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A Hero's Respite

Summary: Meredith makes her way down to the docks of Toreguarde's canal network to find passage to Stonebridge. It's proving a bit of a challenge.

Words: 2,164

Warnings: None, it's pretty inoffensive

Tags: @druidx @homesteadchronicles @asher-orion-writes, @blind-the-winds, @odysseywritings, @writeblrsupport,@freedominique

Note: Merri hasn't slept in about two days at this point (yay, trauma!) and hasn't had any fresh spells since the morning before. Takes place pretty much immediately after Letting Go and about three days after Broken Soul.

The early morning air was cold and damp as Meredith finally made it to a canal dock. It had taken far longer than she’d liked to get to one, but she could not risk being seen by any stray members of the Brotherhood of Cleaving. At least the priest of the church of Farlanghan had been helpful enough to give her a route that was least likely to be patrolled by them. The cleric pulled her cloak around her a little more tightly as she neared the water’s edge. It wasn’t just the mist that was chilling her to the bone.

Meredith blinked blearily as she ducked and weaved around the people working the docks. The chatter between them was nearly enough to overwhelm her, but she grit her teeth and kept her ears and eyes as open as she could, trying her best to locate someone to talk to. She whirled around as a voice called out,

“‘Ere, who’s goin’ to Stonebridge?” A young half-elf hopped off a wagon that was filled to the brim with barrels. Meredith scanned the crowds around her, her face splitting into a tired smile as she noticed a bargeman waving at the elven youth.

“Over here!” he called, “That the shipment of southland barley we were waiting on? We were about to cast off without you.” Meredith pulled her hood further over her head and squeezed in between the legs of several people as she hurried over to the barge. While it would take far longer to get to Fangthane from Stonebridge, she could at least ask about the goings on back in Fangthane without getting any awkward questions herself.

The bargeman cocked his head as he spotted the short, stout, bearded figure approaching his boat. He smiled and tipped his cap at the newcomer,

“Mornin’. Up a bit early ain’t we?” he asked. Meredith shrugged as she took out her coin pouch,

“Been up earlier.” she stated, “You got room for a passenger to Stonebridge?” she asked. The lanky man leaned over the side of the barge, looking to a much larger man, who was hefting a barrel off the wagon,

“Oi, Gerald, we got room for a passenger?” he called. Gerald finished placing the barrel onto the barge’s flatbed and nodded,

“Can make some.” he called back, “Just the one?”

“Aye, got another dwarf that’s had enough.” The lanky man shook his head and turned back to Meredith as Gerald nodded and got back to work with a mild grumble, “I’ve got some tea on the go if you fancy any. We’ve got about fifteen minutes or so before we set off.” Meredith nodded gratefully, pulling her hood down,

“Aye, thank you. How much for the trip and the tea?” she asked. The human cocked his head for a moment as he thought,

“You’re a Cleric right?” he asked, nodding to the two books of Moradin Meredith had hanging from her belt. Meredith eyed the man warily and nodded slowly. The bargeman smiled, relieved,

“If you don’t mind patching up some of the men that’re loading the barge, that’ll be payment enough.” he said, “We had a bit of a… disagreement with some Brotherhood members about our prices a couple of days ago and some of the lads got more’n a bit roughed up.” Meredith pondered the request for a few moments. Her magic reserves were running low, but she wasn’t entirely tapped out. Yet. Then again, it was incredibly unlikely that she’d need to use it before getting to Stonebridge. It wasn’t as though the Brotherhood were anywhere near the place and the barge was heading straight there…

“How many?” she asked wearily, “I’ve got some healin’ to spare, but not as much as I’d probably like.” she admitted. The bargeman tapped his finger on his chin,

“There are three that could probably do with some proper healing. The others can just be patched up.” he replied. Meredith nodded,

“Aye, alright. I can manage that.” she said. “If I could get that tea first, though, that’d be grand, Mr..?” she trailed off. The human flushed a little as he took off his cap and bowed,

“I’m so sorry, I plum forgot me manners.” he said, “Eddie, ma’am, Eddie Walters.” he stood back upright and placed his cap on his head and eyed Meredith with a questioning look,

“Meredith Gruksdottir.” the Inquisitor replied with a bob of her own head. Eddie nodded,

“Right then, I’ll get you that cuppa, then I can take you to the lads that need the healing.” he said, gesturing for Meredith to follow him into the cabin.

~*~

A little over twenty minutes later, Meredith was sitting in the Captain’s cabin while the barge made its way through the canals that connected Toreguarde to the rest of Allansia. Gerald clomped down the stairs into the cramped space, a steaming mug in his hands,

“Cap asked me to get you some Bloc.” he said, handing the mug to Meredith. She took it gratefully,

“Thank you.” she sighed, taking a sip of the beverage. The human peered at her, taking in the battered breastplate and pauldrons that the dwarf was wearing and the stained warmace that had been laid on the floor next to her feet. His eyes widened,

“Hang on a tick. Aren’t you that dwarf that sealed up that great hole to the Pit under the Wizard’s Tower? I think I saw you bein’ rushed off to the Council Chambers along with your friends.” he asked. Meredith froze, eyeing the human warily.

“An’ what if I was?” she asked slowly. Gerald’s face fell into a concerned frown,

“Then I’m wondering why you’re even on your way to Stonebridge all by yourself.” he said, “I mean, you’re a bloody hero for what you and your friends did.” he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide, grinning widely. Meredith shook her head,

“There’re a good few folk that would disagree with ye there. Not least the Toreguarde Council.” she sighed, “Look, I ken ye’re grateful an’ all, but I could do without the ‘hero’ stuff. It tends to rub the wrong people the wrong way.” The ruddy face of the large human fell, considering the dwarf’s words. He shook his head

“Yeah… I suppose it does.” he sighed, “It’s a damn shame too. I kinda get the feeling that Toreguarde still needs them, you know? Adventurers, I mean. Still think that Edict thing is a load of bollocks.” Meredith hummed as she took another swig of her coffee,

“The rest of my friends are still in the city.” she pointed out, “They can manage whatever else comes along. There are matters I personally need to deal with back –” Meredith frowned as the slim face of Eddie appeared in the doorway,

“Sorry to interrupt, but I’m gonna have to lock the door for a bit. Trying to get through the last lock and some idiot’s trying to stir up trouble.” he explained. Gerald snorted,

“I’ll be right up Captain.” he said. The dark-haired human turned to Meredith, “You good to lay low?” he asked. Meredith shrugged,

“Not got much of a choice.” she pointed out, “If the folks causin’ trouble are who I think they are, I’m as well staying out of it. I really don’t want to cause you any more trouble than you’re getting.” Eddie nodded,

“Hopefully it won’t take long to sort this all out. C’mon Gerald.” Meredith settled down into a chair that was in the corner of the little cabin, glanced up to make sure she couldn’t be seen from the window and pulled out a book from her pack. The mixture of the caffeine and anxiety over the Brotherhood causing trouble at the exits of the city kept her from being able to concentrate on what she was reading. The Inquisitor, instead, watched the window as loud and heavy footsteps paced around the far end of the barge. Though muffled, she could make out some of what was being said,

“...gers? Check… see if…”

“...need… ocked… lost key…”

Meredith held her breath as the heavy footsteps made their way up towards the cabin. She shrank back as far as she could while a scarred face peered in the window. The brown eyes lingered on the shadows for a few moments, but eventually the human appeared to snort, shake his head and look away again,

“S’all clear boss!” a gruff voice called, “I think there’s only the one left anyway and she’s gonna be a bugger to catch.” Meredith let out the breath she was holding as the bulky male left, his footsteps tromping across to the other side of the barge and finally stopping as he got off. Meredith whooshed out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding and muttered a grateful prayer to Moradin. She frowned as she looked down at her Holy Symbol,

“Hopefully I can reconnect once I get to Stonebridge.” she muttered. The cleric adjusted her position and yawned widely. She settled back into a more comfortable position, asleep even before her head hit the back of the chair.

Meredith startled, hearing the door to the cabin swing open with a loud creak,

“Hey there, sleepyhead, need to use the kitchen down here so I can get us some lunch.” Gerald called cheerfully from the now brightly-lit doorway. Meredith grumbled and tried to block out the light with a cushion,

“Five more minutes” she groaned, rolling onto her side in an attempt to go back to sleep. The stout human laughed as he quickly descended the stairs,

“I’d leave you be to sleep, gods knows you probably need it, but you’re in the way.” he pointed out. Meredith groaned, but pulled herself up, blinking blearily,

“What time is it?” she asked, stifling a yawn. Gerald glanced up at the sky through the window,

“Can’t say for certain, but it’s gone noon.” he replied, picking up a sack of potatoes and a knife, “Captain said to let you sleep as long as possible, but the lads’re getting hungry and we’ve another three or four hours before we make it to Stonebridge yet.” Meredith nodded sleepily as she moved aside to let Gerald to get to the little stove in the corner,

“It’s not a bother, I’m gonna find another spot to settle down in.” she muttered sleepily. The dark-haired human nodded and pointed to a spot just to the right of the stairs,

“There should be a spot just underneath the stairs over there. I’ll give you a shake once the food’s done.” The still exhausted dwarf, mumbled a ‘thanks’, picked up her pack and stumbled over to the area Gerald had indicated and promptly fell asleep again.

It felt like she had only been asleep for five minutes before Meredith was shaken awake again, this time by Eddie,

“We’re ‘ere.” he said, “I made sure Gerald packed you some of the grub he made, just in case.” Meredith mumbled a ‘thanks’, yawning widely. Eddie helped the young dwarf gather her things while she regained her bearings and handed her a little package of baked potatoes,

“It’s not much, but you can offer that to whoever’s making food at the inn you’re staying at. Should knock a little off the price.” he said. Meredith nodded, placing the package into her backpack,

“Thank you, it’s appreciated.” Eddie shrugged as he stepped to one side to allow Meredith to ascend the stairs onto the deck,

“It was no problem.” He said, “Always happy to help those that need it. You going to be good from here on?” he asked. Meredith nodded, breathing in the fresh night air. It was cold, but bearable. She closed her eyes, smiling as she finally felt a familiar warmth in her chest. She opened her eyes and smiled more widely at Eddie,

“Aye, I’ll be alright. There’s probably at least three or four people that know me here already anyway. I can probably catch a lift with them.” Eddie returned the smile with a satisfied nod,

“Well, if the idiots in charge ever decide to sort things out, I’ll be happy to give you a lift back. You want me to pass on any messages to your friends when we get back to Toreguarde?” he asked. Meredith’s smile faded slightly; Gerald had obviously informed his captain of just who his passenger was. She shook her head

“They’ll likely be a bit busy. I can get a message sent another way.” she said. Eddie hummed, unconvinced, but he didn’t push the matter,

“Alright then. You take care and I’ll hopefully get to see you again at some point sooner rather than later.” he told the dwarf. Meredith nodded, bowed and stepped off the barge and back onto dry land. She turned around and bowed once more before heading down the stairs that would lead into Stonebridge proper. It would be nice to see some dwarves again, even if the circumstances weren’t the most ideal.

#aquadestinyswriting #titan fighting fantasy #fangthanes folly and the anvils fall #meredith gruksdottir #writeblrcafe

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aquadestinyswriting · 2 years

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Trapped in the Dark

Apologies for everyone who liked and reblogged the original. Tumblr mobile editing is a pita and wouldn't let me do stuff I can manage on desktop, so I had to repost this instead of continuing trying to edit

Summary: An entry for this week's Flash Fiction Friday. This is a piece detailing Meredith's thoughts and feelings after Moradin's supposed death the night His anvil fell to the Material Plane and then how she felt immediately after the anvil was repaired, sent back to the heavens and Moradin was restored to His position.

Words: 348

Tags: @druidx @homesteadchronicles @flashfictionfridayofficial @asher-orion-writes,@warriorbookworm, @odysseywritings

Warnings: ptsd flashback, near death experience, drowning imagery and descriptions

Notes: this is a very different style than I'm used to writing. The drowning incident did happen during the campaign and was so traumatic that everyone around the table now flinches any time new characters encounter water they need to cross, particularly if it's underground.

It's a disconcerting feeling when a connection you've had all your life is suddenly cut off with no warning whatsoever. It's a bit like a lamp suddenly being extinguished and having the pitch black consume everything around you before your eyes adjust enough to see again. Only it doesn't go away and you're suddenly trapped by it, fumbling around to try and find your way, to reorient yourself. But you can't. Then you find yourself drowning, unable to tell up from down; which way leads to air and salvation and which way leads to your closer to your demise. Can't see. Can't breathe.

Fear, blinding panic sets in. The struggle to free oneself from the pitch black void where a fire, warm, bright and comforting should be. There are others in the same boat, but how can you possibly help when you're struggling yourself? Up, which way is up?

Then, just as you accept your doom; accept that you'll be forever trapped in a lightless void for eternity, someone yanks you up. And suddenly there's air and light and warmth again. It's almost too much to start with, but the relief sets in and it's all you can do to not just break down and cry for hours. Then, as everything settles and the reality that you're safe and secure sets in- when you finally receive the reassurance that the connection so suddenly ripped from your very soul will never leave you again- it's all you can do not to sleep for the next several days.

Now I think I can begin to understand why the worshippers of Deep Sachellas insisted on declaring me a living saint. I still don't like that they did it, and I'm not going to put Elowyn and the others through that kind of embarrassment- the poor lassie's had more than enough hero worship for several lifetimes no thanks to Felix running his mouth- but I can understand the sentiment.

All I can do to repay the favour now is to do my damndest to make sure my dear 'mother-in-law' gets her comeuppance.

#writing #aquadestinyswriting #drowning tw #ptsd flashbacks #fangthanes folly and the anvils fall #meredith gruksdottir #flash fiction friday

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aquadestinyswriting · 2 years

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Broken Soul

Context: Based off a ttrpg session that actually happened. Some creative liberties have been taken to add a bit more drama, but otherwise the things that happen in this piece were actually roleplayed out.

Summary: The Adventurers have just returned from a mission in the Freezeblood Mountains, and Meredith is off to get a mentor figure who died some days earlier resurrected. Despite the problems facing the few dwarves left within Toreguarde’s walls, she has gone to the Temple of Moradin alone.

Words: 3,332

Warnings: a rather gruesome depiction of a death, depictions of fantasy racism and some problematic behaviour from the equivalent of a police officer. Also, grief and trauma (oh so much trauma)

tags: @druidx, @strosmkai-rum, @homesteadchronicles, @asher-orion-writes, @blind-the-winds, @freedominique

Note: Re-posting this because my writing style has evolved a bit and this needed some editing to fit.

The Dwarven district was eerily quiet as the young dwarf walked through the empty streets. Almost all the shop and forge fronts had been boarded up,the few that were not, looted and pillaged for whatever valuables the former residents had left behind. One or two were still caked in blood from where the Gore Jesters had attacked a few weeks prior. What had once been one of the busiest parts of Toreguarde was now a ghost town. Meredith shivered and pulled the cloak she had been gifted by the elves of Arborea around her body a little tighter, quickening her pace as she strode towards the Temple of Moradin.

Meredith breathed a sigh of relief as she made it to the front door of the large, marble building and rapped hard on the currently closed door. There was the sound of distinctly unhappy grumbling and wood sliding on stone. The door swung in only slightly, revealing the haggard and annoyed face of the temple's high priest. The old dwarf's expression brightened slightly upon seeing the familiar auburn hair and blue eyes of Moradin's latest Inquisitor,

"Och, it's you." He sighed, "Sorry hen, fer a minute I thought ye were one o' those bloody Brotherhood numpties. They've been tryin' to get in to 'have a word' for the last three weeks." The grey-haired cleric opened the door a little wider and ushered Meredith inside, quickly closing the door and replacing the wooden bar across the inside. Meredith looked around the empty vestibule with a frown,

"Everybody else decided they'd had enough?" She asked. Starhammer shook his head,

"I sent most o' them away no' long after you all left with Ghulkari." He explained, running a tired hand down his face and walking through the building to the barroom, "Some of the Guard are still aboot, but seein' as how things are going, I'm of a mind to send them packing and all." Meredith sat heavily on one of the stools at the bar with a weary sigh,

"As much as I hate to admit it… I really don't think that this is something that we can fix." She said, "I ken Elowyn and the others will want to try regardless but…" she trailed off and waved a hand at the otherwise empty room. Starhammer nodded, pouring out two mugs of beer from a barrel sat on a rack behind the bar,

"That's because yer friends are good and decent folk." He reminded the younger dwarf, "Sadly, there's a bit o' a shortage o' people like that around at the moment, even among our own." He pointed out. Meredith took a hold of the tankard and huffed a sigh,

"Aye, I noticed." She mumbled, recalling the plot to poison the Toreguarde Council only weeks before. She looked up at the older dwarf, who had sat down heavily on the stool behind the bar.and was now regarding her a little more critically,

"Well, I rather get the feelin' yer no' just here fer a catchup, lass, so what do ye need?" He asked. Meredith took a swig of the beer in her hands and reached into a pocket,

"Ah… aye." She muttered, pulling out the small, clay container containing what little was left of the priest's old Orcish friend, "Ghulkari met with a bit of an accident." She said, handing the item over the bartop. Starhammer sighed heavily as he took it,

"Silly bugger." He muttered, "What is it with paladins rushing off and getting themselves killed?" Meredith snorted,

"If ye find out the answer, can ye let me ken?" She asked, "Because I've been wonderin' the same thing." Meredith’s face fell into a frustrated frown. She’d lost count of the number of times that Elowyn had almost gotten herself killed lately. Not that she was one to talk.

Starhammer shook his head, downed his pint and gestured for Meredith to follow him. The younger dwarf nodded, took a large gulp of her beer and left the tankard on the bartop. She slid off the stool she was sitting on and followed the priest through a door next to the bar and into a more richly decorated side room.

The pillars were carved with various passages from the Book of Moradin and a beautiful mosaic was inlaid into the marble floor, depicting the Dwarf Father's holy symbol. On a dais near the middle of the room was a large, ironcast anvil, over which a beautiful gold and red silk runner was laid. A huge statue of Moradin stood on a dais at the back of the room, hands resting on the pommel of his hammer, which was placed head down on the floor. Smaller statues of Moradin with his hammer raised above his head stood on either side of the little room. Tucked into a corner, a large iron-bound barrel sat on its side on a rack. A small table with several wooden tankards was placed next to it. Starhammer laid the little pot Meredith had given him on the centre of the anvil and took the lid off, tutting as he looked at the grey and red goop that was within it,

"Ach, ye silly bugger, what did ye go an' piss off now?" He muttered. Meredith shrugged as she walked to the opposite side of the anvil,

"Some extra-planar constructs from what I could tell. He was protectin’ the rest o’ us from their weaponry." She replied, shoving down the memory of what had happened. There would be time enough to process that particular trauma once they got the orc back to the world of the living. Starhammer snorted as he bustled over to the barrel and poured out two mugs of beer from it,

"Well, I can have a yell at the daft idiot when we get him back." He grumbled, walking back over and handing Meredith one of the mugs. The younger cleric took it, watching as Starhammer picked up a hammer from a peg under the tip of the anvil. The high priest looked to Meredith expectantly. The younger dwarf nodded and took a hold of her holy symbol in her free hand. Starhammer gave a satisfied grunt and set about laying out several other items onto the anvil in preparation for the Resurrection Ritual. Meredith bowed her head to begin her prayer, frowning as a low voice whispered in her ear,

“The shadows gather. He belongs to us.” it hissed. A chill ran down her spine. She glanced up briefly at Starhammer, wondering if he’d heard the voice too. The old priest didn’t seem to have noticed that anythingwas amiss. He took a swig of his beer and raised the hammer above his head. Meredith mentally shook her head and closed her eyes to begin her prayer. Not even a moment later, her head jerked up at the sound of strangled choking. Meredith’s eyes widened as she saw Starhammer drop his mug and the hammer, clutching at his throat. The hammer rang sharply as it hit the anvil on its way to the floor. Before the young woman could even move, the older dwarf had fallen to the floor, gurgling.

“Starhammer!” she yelped, dropping her mug and instinctively raising her hands to cast as she finally started to move around to the other side of the anvil. The sight that greeted her on the other side, made Meredith skid to a stop and clap her hands over her mouth. Starhammer’s mouth exuded a bloody foam that still dripped from his lips and onto his beard. The old dwarf’s chest was still and his stomach… Meredith swallowed down the bile that rose up in her throat as she noticed that her mentor’s body had already begun to dissolve. An acrid, acidy smell came from his body as it melted into a stinking, sticky goo. She glanced over to the mug that had clattered to the floor, only barely registering the tiny, black ooze that was even now drinking the beer that had been spilled on the once beautiful marble floor.

“No… nononono…” Meredith moaned, suddenly finding herself kneeling on the floor next to the rapidly dissolving body. She reached out to touch Starhammer’s hand, but quickly withdrew it as skin and muscle slid off the appendage. The young cleric shook as she felt the chill from before creep around her, seeping into her vestments. The shadows created by the glowstones on the walls lengthened until they swallowed almost the entire room. Meredith glanced over to where the shadows hadn’t quite touched Starhammer’s personal Holy Book, the dim light glinting off the metal cover. With shaking hands and rapid breaths, Meredith grabbed the book from the floor and clutched it to her chest. A loud cracking sound resounded above her head. Meredith looked up and launched herself to one side just as the hammer of the nearby statue crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces and cracking the tiles of the mosaic below. Meredith stared at the statue. Cracks lined every surface of the magnificent figure, the features of the Dwarf Father crumbling into dust even as the cleric watched. Meredith’s breath hitched as she reached out for Moradin’s grace. Nothing. Her heart almost stopped its thundering beat. She tried again, gripping onto her holy symbol with one hand, reaching out again. Still nothing. Meredith’s breath shook. She had never been unable to reach her god before. And yet, here she was, suddenly bereft of the connection she had cherished since she was a bright-eyed dwarflet. Choking back a sob, Meredith shakily pulled herself to her feet, trying desperately to ignore the iron that crumbled away from the anvil as she used it to steady herself. The cleric looked up at the largest statue in the room, her eyes brimming and clouding her vision as she noticed that it too was beginning to crumble into nothing more than dust and pebbles. Shaking almost too badly to walk, Meredith somehow managed to find the willpower to leave the little chapel and stumble to the front doors of the temple. All around her the Desecration of what should have been the most Holy site in the area continued unabated, causing Meredith’s heart to shatter. Even Moradin had His limits, she realised as she staggered blearily out onto the street.

The night had drawn in while Meredith had been inside the temple and the streetlamps guttered in the freezing breeze. Meredith leaned against the wall of the temple, clutching to Starhammer’s Holy Book as though it were her only lifeline. A deep chuckle caused the dwarf to look up,

“Well, well. Lookie here lads, looks like the place ain’t completely abandoned after all.” A voice from beneath a deep hood sneered. Meredith shrank back against the wall as she looked around her. Twenty people, most likely humans, had surrounded her. All of them were wearing travel cloaks with deep hoods and had swords sheathed on their hips. The man who had spoken casually placed his hand on the hilt of his sword,

“So who are you then darlin’?” he asked, leaning down, the flash of a sadistic grin only barely visible through the darkness. Meredith took a deep, if somewhat shaky breath, and glared up him,

“Meredith Gruksdottir, Inquisitor o’ Moradin.” she stated as firmly as she could manage, “Now, d'ye mind tellin' me what the Brotherhood is doing, trespassing on sacred ground?” she growled. The human undid the buckle on his sheath and leaned in further,

“I’m the one asking the questions here.” he sneered, “Besides, the place don’t look so sacred to me.” he added, glancing up at the building. Meredith, a swell of righteous anger overtaking her fear, bowled into the human, knocking him over. She a dashed for an opening in the crowd around her, only for the group to crowd together, blocking her escape. Meredith dodged through a pair of legs, only to catch her foot on one of their ankles. Sprawling the the floor with a quiet ‘oof’, Meredith pulled herself up, only to find that she was still surrounded.

“You’re gonna pay for that you little bitch.” the apparent leader growled as he spat onto the ground next to the terrified cleric. Meredith clutched at her holy symbol and prayed desperately,

~Holy Faither, please. I need yer help.~ she begged, reaching out once more for her God’s grace. Her heart lifted as she felt a gentle, if distant, touch within her chest. The humans shielded their eyes as a blinding golden light suddenly lit up the darkness,

“Niek, I can’t see!”

“What the hells?!”

Meredith looked up as something wet touched her cheek. A golden coloured dog stood beside the dwarf, wagging its tail and nudging at her with its snout. Meredith reached out and patted the creature,

“Good boy. Go and find Elowyn and let her ken I’m in big trouble.” she told the dog. The celestial canine barked, nodded and raced off towards the east, while Meredith took the opportunity to run through the distracted crowd of humans and dashed off towards the north.

“Don’t just stand there gawking! After her!” the group’s leader yelled somewhere behind the terrified dwarf. Meredith forced herself to run faster. The more distance she put between herself and her assailants, the better. She glanced behind her to see how far behind they were, only to run straight into the side of a horse. She bounced off the creature and fell onto her bottom with a sight ‘oof’.

“Whoah there, boy. Easy.” the human on the horse’s back muttered as he regained control of his mount, who was not all that happy about having a dwarf run right into his flank. The watch officer peered down at Meredith, who was in the middle of standing as he regained control,

“What’re you in such a rush for then?” he asked nonchalantly, “And what’re you doing out here all alone?” Meredith glanced behind her, hearing the jeers of the Brotherhood members slowly catching up,

“I’m so sorry officer, but please. I need yer help.” she said, “There’s- ” The officer held up a hand and looked down the street in the direction the dwarf had come from. He gestured for Meredith to stay where she was as the group of men that had chased her from the Temple of Moradin finally caught up. The leader threw back his hood, revealing a young human man with dirty blonde hair and a goatee. He smiled,

“Good evenin’ officer.” he greeted with a bob of his head, “Fine night isn’t it?” The officer looked down his nose at the other human,

“It is indeed a fine night.” he agreed slowly, “Care to tell me what’s going on here?” he asked. Meredith glared at the cloaked human,

“They’ve been chasin’ me from the Temple o’...” she trailed off as she realised that the watch officer wasn’t even paying any attention to her and was patiently waiting for a reply from the leader of the other humans. The blonde-haired man smiled,

“Just doin’ a bit of bounty hunting, sir.” he replied cheerily, “That there half-pint has a real pretty price on her head. We’d appreciate it if you ‘anded her over.” The watch officer snorted, somewhat derisively,

“And what makes you think I will?” he asked, raising an expectant eyebrow at the younger man. Meredith looked between the two human men, her heart beginning to skip at the tone the officer was using. Surely he wouldn’t? The gang leader reached into an inside pocket of his cloak and pulled out a large coinpurse, holding it out to the watchman,

“Tell you what officer. Consider this a good faith gesture on behalf of the Brotherhood of Cleaving.” he said lightly, “‘And over the half-pint now and I’ll put in a word so’s you can get a cut off the profits.'' The blonde-haired human tossed the coinpurse to the watchman, who caught it easily and placed it inside his own cloak. Meredith, who had been slowly backing off during the exchange, turned to start running. The click of a crossbow made her freeze,

“I didn’t say you were free to leave.” the watchman stated irritably. Shaking with combined anger, grief and shock, Meredith turned and glared at the man,

“Try and stop me.” she spat, running pell-mell up the street to who knew where at this point. She flinched slightly as a crossbow bolt whistled past her ear and heard the shrill shriek of the watch officer’s whistle. She heard the man bellow something, but couldn’t tell exactly what he was saying as she skittered around a corner.

All around the dwarf, shutters and doors were slammed shut as she ran past houses and hovels alike. Hot, angry tears blinded her as Meredith carried on running. Her only hope at this point was to try and lose her pursuers so she could gather her bearings and head towards the Shield, or Acacia Avenue. Watchhouse Eight was too far, and she couldn't trust the officers in the local watchhouse. Not that she knew where it was anyway. The cleric practically threw herself down an alley, stumbling over a sleeping drunkard, who merely shouted ‘Oi!’ at her before the lone dwarf disappeared out of his sight.

Meredith looked desperately around her. Hide. She needed to hide. But where? Eventually she noticed the shadow of trees and brambles out of the corner of her eye. Without thinking, Meredith barrelled into the brambles, ignoring the cuts and scrapes on her face and hands as she squirmed through them, desperately trying to make sure she couldn't be seen. Meredith gasped as she came through the other side of the bramble bush, only to find a large tree blocking her path. Exhausted, cold and terrified. Meredith collapsed against the trunk, trembling and hiccoughing, clutching her Holy Symbol. She muttered a desperate prayer, pleading for divine aid from whichever god or gods happened to be listening. A loud creak caused Meredith to flinch away from the tree, her heart racing even faster. Slowly a face materialised in the bark, looking impassively at the terrified dwarf,

“To whom do you pray, child of Throff?” a deep, resonant voice asked. Meredith took several shaky breaths before she was able to find her voice,

“T-to whoever’s listening at this point honestly.” she muttered, grimacing as she realised that her connection to Moradin had faded once more. Had He simply given up on her? The face regarded her critically,

“This is the Grove of Obad-Hai, dwarf.” it stated, “Who are you and why have you come here?” Meredith sniffled as she glanced through the brambles. Angry voices shouted from the street, getting closer with every second. The cleric froze, terror gripping her and making her voice catch in her throat,

“M-Meredith Gruksd-dottir, In-Inquisitor o-of Moradin.'' She replied haltingly, “I-I’m seekin’ refuge f-from a group o’ humans who want t-to-” she broke off with a terrified sob, grasping Starhammer’s Holy Book so tightly that it cut into her hands. The stern face softened and nodded. Slowly, the brambles knitted more closely together, sealing off the area around the tree entirely from the outside,

“Obad-Hai has seen fit to grant you refuge Daughter of Moradin.” the voice stated, “Come, we would speak with you inside.” Meredith watched, still shaking as the face vanished to be replaced by an opening. She winced at the lance of pain in her palms, slowly releasing her hold from Starhammer’s book. The voices outside the grove sped past, trailing off towards the east. Meredith wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her vestments and forced herself to stand. Her legs threatened to buckle underneath her, but she grit her teeth and willed herself down into the tunnel that had appeared before her. There would be time to collapse into a heap once she was completely safe. For now, all she could do was wait, and hope that the Celestial dog she had summoned would be able to lead her friends to her

#writing #aquadestinyswriting #fangthanes folly and the anvils fall #titan fighting fantasy #meredith gruksdottir #character death tw #death tw #body horror tw #fantasy police violence #grief tw #fantasy racism tw #ttrpg fiction

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aquadestinyswriting · 2 years

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The Hand that Wields

Summary: Meredith has been asked to set up a Stone Spike ritual to help with catching someone who has been stirring up trouble between the humans and dwarves in Toreguarde. A brief chat with Moradin follows when she fails to spot the assassin still lurking on a nearby roof.

Note: First person pov because this was something that was fully roleplayed out at the time. Creative liberties have been taken because this was before we started recording sessions and I don't recall everything that was said or done. This takes place two days after 'Cracking the Anvil'

Words: 2,137

Warnings: major character death, implied blood mention

tags: @druidx, @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @mariahwritesstuff, @asher-orion-writes, @blind-the-winds, @freedominique

The chaos of the last couple of days has taken its toll. I’m jumping at every last damn shadow, thinking it's one of those damn Brotherhood idiots who chased me from the temple of Moradin yesterday morning. I’m not entirely happy with Elowyn’s plan to find this Captain Calico person, but it’s the best one we have, and if it’ll get the Brotherhood off the backs of the other dwarves, then all the better.

It’s a misty morning, and cold too. I’ve not worn my new vestments in yet and they’re just a touch too stiff for my liking. Not to mention I’ve not had my usual morning Bloc yet. Darius is even less awake than I am, moaning about how damn early it is. I just hope he’s compus mentus enough to keep an eye and ear out for trouble while I get this damn Stone Spike ritual started. I freeze as soon as I step just outside the door. The stiff and still bodies of the people who had taken up guard duty around the watchhouse the previous night litter the street. Dead. Every last one. Shot right through the heart. Darius gasps in horror as he comes up behind me,

“What in the…?” he whispers, trailing off with a gulp. I shove the teenaged human back into the door,

“Go on, we need to tell Elo-”

I never get to finish my sentence. I had just finished shoving Darius back inside, turning to follow him, when pain suddenly erupts in my chest. My ears start ringing and spots cloud my vision as I tip forward. So our assassin friend hadn’t left yet. That was a bit silly of me. I barely feel my body hit the cobbles, can’t hear what Darius has yelled over the rushing sound that’s overtaken everything. I try to take a breath to yell something back to him, but I can’t. Darkness seeps in from the edges of what vision I have left. An overwhelming tiredness sets in and I close my eyes, the last thing on my mind being what a pain in the arse getting bloodstains out of linen is.

~*~

I startle awake, suddenly aware that I’m no longer lying on cold, wet cobblestones. I shut my eyes again with a hiss. The light in here is too bright. Slowly, I blink them back open, pushing myself up. I frown as I take a bleary look at my surroundings. The chairs I was lying on are a construction made of some kind of treated wood and metal, neatly welded together into a long row against a wall. There’s a small wooden and glass table sitting about a foot in front of me, littered with some kind of glossy paper booklets. All of them have pictures of unfamiliar places and people on them and words in bright, bold letters stating ‘Yours’ and ‘Hello’ at the top. In a far corner, blinking erratically with some sort of magic, is a machine of some kind. The words ‘Coffee, Tea, Hot Chocolate and Soup’ are emblazoned across it. There are various buttons, a hatch and some strange cups attached to one side. Next to it is a half-constructed bar, wood piled up in another corner and the back of it shrouded in darkness that I can’t see through. Where in all Creation am I?

A warm breeze, bringing with it the smell of hops, iron and forgesmoke, gently wraps around me. I feel myself calm, the reminder of home and its comforts enough to ground me in a place that is so alien to me. I close my eyes to soak it in, then feel the presence of someone else sitting down next to me. The presence is powerful, but warm, inviting, comfortable and oh so familiar. My heart sinks as the realisation of where I am settles into my mind. I huff a weary sigh as I open my eyes and look over to see a familiar dwarven man wearing ornate full plate sitting next to me. He’s smiling at me under a glossy black beard, adorned with plaits and clasps. His eyes are creased as He looks at me, almost fit to burst with a kind of fatherly pride,

“Oh, ma daughter, ye’ve done so well.” He says, “Ye’ve no idea how proud I am that ye made it this far.” I smile up at Him,

“Thank you, Lord, to hear ye say as much is deeply humbling.” I reply, “My only regret is that I ended up back in yer presence through my own carelessness.” Moradin shakes His head, clasps and other ornaments jangling at the motion,

“I can hardly call not noticing someone who didn’t want to be noticed careless.” He tells me, “Anyroad, that hardly matters. Ye’ve got a load of people in my hall that canna wait to see ye. They’ve been waiting a while.” I consider His words, my heart lifting a little at the thought that he didn’t blame me for what had happened, but quickly sinking again as I realised that I hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye to my friends. Not to mention the fact that Darkhide was still on the loose and about to create even more havoc. And what about the problems the dwarven people living in Toreguarde were enduring with the Brotherhood? I couldn’t very well leave them to face whatever was coming without doing something about it. I slowly shake my head,

“I’m sorry, Lord, but I think they’ll need to wait a wee bit longer.” I tell Him, “I can’t, in good conscience, leave my friends to sort out everything going on by themselves. Darkhide is still a threat to everyone and everything I love.” Moradin’s expression softens as He lays a hand on my shoulder,

“And that’s why ye’re here in the Waiting Room and not already in my Hall enjoying yer well deserved rest.” He says. I’m not sure, but I think I saw a brief glint of regret in those bottomless eyes. He sighs and leans back in his seat, the wood and metal creaking in protest,

“Yer friends will probably want to get on with a Resurrection once they’ve dealt with the situation that got ye killed, and they remember that they’re in good standing with a priest that will be more than willing to do it for them.” Moradin says, adding on the latter part with a mutter. He returns His attention to me, “Normally this would mean ye’d lose a bit of power in exchange for the ability to return to the world of the livin’.” He strokes his beard, His great brow furrowing slightly, “I am, however, willin’ to return ye with all the power ye’ve gained intact, provided ye do a little something for me in return.” My heart leaps and I’m almost instantly on my knee in front of Him, head bowed,

“Whatever it is, name it.” I tell him. It doesn’t matter to me what my God wants me to do. The mere fact that He’s offering me an opportunity to carry on His work, to return to Elowyn- my friends- and to fix everything that’s gone so wrong is all that matters at this point. I feel the floor beneath me vibrate as He chuckles and the ring of metal on metal as He pats the seat next to him,

“No need fer all that, hen.” He chastises mildly, “I know who I’m dealing with.” I flush under my beard as I get back up and sit back down, looking and listening attentively while Moradin waves a hand in front of him,

“Right, so I’ve had a word with Wee Jas, and She’s agreed that Darkhide is a problem that needs to be dealt with.” Moradin fixes me with a look. It’s somewhere between pride, regret and something else that I can’t quite pinpoint. I keep quiet as He carries on, “Since Darkhide has gone so far, Wee Jas told me to tell you to bring Her his head.” I frown a little,

“Why me though?” I ask, “Or is it a case of the group in general?” Moradin shakes his head,

“No, lass. Wee Jas asked that you, specifically, do the deed if possible.” He says, “As to why it has to be you, She didn’t say. I rather get the feeling She thinks yer friends might not be up to outright killing the man, given the chance.” I look down at my hands. The Ruby Lady wasn’t wrong. Darius is so young that I doubt that he’s experienced severely hurting anyone, never mind killing them. Felix is very soft-hearted and might not be able to finish Darkhide off by himself. Elowyn is too constrained by the laws of her city and the various oaths and vows she’d likely personally take as a paladin of Justice. The only other person in our group that would outright kill Darkhide is Enezeage. But even then, he often looks to Elowyn for guidance and might well hesitate if he thinks that she might know better. While I might be reluctant to kill, there are crimes that cannot go unpunished, and there are people who are just too dangerous to be left alive. Darkhide couldn’t be contained to a cell for long, certainly not long enough to go through a full trial in the courts. My resolve hardened. I already knew Darkhide had to die in order to save Allansia from his dark schemes, having permission to do so from his erstwhile Goddess would at least save me from the headache of arguing with Elowyn about the necessity of doing so. I look up at Moradin and nod,

“I understand.” I say, “Do I need to actually bring his head anywhere or…?” I ask, suddenly aware that due to the nature of the way some Gods deal with the world that I would need some clarification. Moradin bites back a chuckle,

“No, just killing him will be enough for Her. I did ask afore She left.” I relax, one less thing to worry about then. A door creaks open on my left, a fine mist crawling in from the grey, bleak expanse on the other side. Moradin claps his hands on his knees and stands, towering over me,

“On ye go, lass, don’t want to keep yer friends waiting.” He says, gesturing to the door. I hop off my own seat, briefly turn and bow to my God, then dash out the door as fast as my legs will carry me.

~*~

The first thing I’m aware of is muffled voices, then slowly I’m aware of the hard, cold iron on my back and the soft light of glowstones above me. I groan, my head aches, but I squint my eyes open, only to have several faces try to crowd themselves around me. I wince as the relieved shouts and yells of my friends assault my ears,

“Will all of ye, shut it?!” I yelp, trying to not have the everything happening all at once overwhelm me. The faces retreat as Starhammer shoos everyone away,

“Right, you lot, give her some space. Right, welcome back to the world of the livin’ lass.” The old priest says, helping me sit up and shoving a tankard of beer into my hands in the same motion. I blink away the bleariness in my vision and look around at the relived expressions on my friends’ faces. Well, they’re almost all relieved. Enezeage, much like he did when Elowyn was Resurrected by the old kobold priest ages ago, simply snorts, nods and stays a respectable distance away. Darius and Felix are the first to assault me with hugs, one around my shoulders, the other around my waist, both sobbing loudly,

“I’m sorry! I should have gone first!”

“I was so worried you wouldn’t come back!” Starhammer huffs a sigh, drags the two boys off my body and plonks them down next to Enezeage. I finally manage to take a swig of the beer I was handed and look over to Elowyn. Hey eyes are red, but she’s smiling as she comes over and leans on the anvil I’m sitting on. Aurianna leaps off her shoulder and rubs against me, purring madly,

“Glad to know you wanted to come back.” she says, voice a little raw, “Don’t go scaring me- us- like that again.” she adds. I smirk back at her,

“I’ll bear that in mind the next time someone wants to shoot an arrow through my heart.” I retort. I look down at my vestments, ready to moan about how they’re basically brand new and already ruined when there’s a pounding on the front door of the temple. I suppose I’d better finish my beer before the world forces itself back on me again.

#writing #aquadestinyswriting #major character death tw #blood mention tw #fangthanes folly and the anvils fall #meredith gruksdottir #elowyn o'toreguarde #darius wesker #felix parker tinker #enezeage

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aquadestinyswriting · 2 years

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Cracking the Anvil

Summary: Chaos erupts the middle of the dwarven district after a bar brawl gets out of hand. Things are said and done that can’t be taken back. Meanwhile the orchestrators get away scott free, at least for now.

Note: this one is based on implied events that took place during the campaign. I had my suspicions about who orchestrated the whole thing to begin with at the time. I've fleshed that out some more here. Thanks go to my wonderful husband for the title

Words: 1,039

Warnings: fantasy racism/xenophobia, violence, lots of swearing in a semi-fictional language

tags: @druidx, @strosmkai-rum, @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @asher-orion-writes, @blind-the-winds, @freedominique

No one knew who or what had started the fight- probably some poor sod getting their drink knocked out of their hand, or someone getting a bit too frisky with the ladies- but what had started as a standard bar brawl had now spilled out into the street.

"Oi! Gerrof!" A young dwarven cleric protested loudly as he was knocked to the ground. The human man that had punched him sneered, swaying drunkenly,

"An' whut you gonna do about it, stunty?" He slurred loudly, "Preach at me 'til I falls asleep?" The dwarf snorted and rolled to his feet, dusting down his vestments,

"Oh like ye'd sit still long enough to listen, ye stupid, swarf-y kus." He shot back, turning to continue on his way back to the temple of Moradin. He suddenly found his way barred by a large group of other human men,

"Hey, Reggie, you hear what this 'alf-pint called you? You gonna let 'im get away with it?" One of them called, grabbing the dwarf by his stole. The cleric struggled in the grip of the man, only to be suddenly dropped to the ground again as the man holding him was swatted with a hammer,

"Leave the beardlin' alone, ye felspar beskur!" A voice yelled. The cleric got back to his feet, only to have to duck as another dwarf swung a bar of wood at the humans surrounding him. Chaos erupted as weapons were drawn on both sides and the shouting got more insulting on both sides. The young cleric tried to squirm through the crush, only to be run through by a sword someone had started waving around. He fell to the floor and was immediately trampled. The dwarves closest to the situation yelled out a warcry and charged the humans, dragging their fellows along with them.

The humans were pushed back, several badly injured as the dwarves attacked them. One of the men who had surrounded the now dead cleric grabbed the body and hauled it up,

"Back off, or we shave 'im!" He called out. He was forced to shove the body onto one of his friends as the dwarves charged again. More humans, apparently insulted that the dwarves were winning despite their smaller number, joined the fray. A small group lit several barrels that had been abandoned near the temple's brewery on fire, while another shaved the beard off the dead cleric. Slowly, the dwarves were pushed back towards the temple of Moradin. The temple's high priest opened the door at the insistent banging, only to be nearly bowled over by the crush. He quickly ushered what dwarves he could inside, slamming the door shut and barring it just as a massive explosion rocked the district.

The humans outside cheered, waving their various weapons around as a group of men pinned the now beardless body of the cleric to the door of the temple. One of them, a tall, broad shouldered man with blonde hair and a goatee turned to the crowd,

"We've been insulted and degraded by the dwarves for the last time!" He called out, "Those stunties think they're so much better than us, and then go and cower in their mountain while we poured our blood, sweat and tears into building this city into what it is now!" He paused as the crowd roared,

"And yet, they have the gall to tell us we can't mine and sell stone and metal? That our work is inherently inferior to their own? No more! We are the people of this city, and I say we teach these overhaired, stunted half folk some bloody manners!" Those few dwarves that were left outside the temple scattered as the humans continued cheering, despite the arrival of the local watch. As the watch went about pushing people away from the temple doors, the human who had given the speech smiled, his features shifting and changing to those of an older man as he slipped through the crowd and quietly made his way to an alley. He pulled out a mirror from a pocket, casting over it and waiting.

After a moment, the glass fogged up and cleared to reveal the hooded face of a gaunt human man,

"Yes, what is it?" He snapped. The human grinned as his form shifted once more, this time into a grey haired, skinny dwarf,

"The task ye set me to is done." He stated, holding back a gleeful titter, "The folk livin' round these parts proved far too easy to rile up." The man on the other side of the mirror smiled,

"Excellent work, Garl. Once word gets back about what happened, the Fangthane Council will have little choice but to bar trade with and travel to Toreguarde. It's probably not enough to declare a full Grudge yet, but now the wheels have been set in motion, it should only be a matter of time." Garl Grimbeard grinned,

"I'll see what I can do to expidite things." He said, "I'm gonna hang around fer a bit. Make the lassie's life an absolute misery." The necromancer tutted,

"She'll be dealt with soon enough. I need you to find a way to get rid of Starhammer before he becomes too much of a thorn in our side." He told the disappointed dwarf. Grimbeard huffed a sigh,

"Aye, alright." He muttered, "If that's all ye need me to do here, I might as well make my way back to the mountain after. My master has his own plans after all." The hooded human shrugged,

"Given that our goals currently align, I won't stop you." He said, "It was a pleasure working with you, Inquisitor." Grimbeard smiled,

"The pleasure was mine, Darkhide. Hopefully we can both rid the world of the menaces that plague us." He said, closing the connection and placing the mirror back in his pocket. The dwarf whistled as he changed shape into a half elf wearing a watchman's uniform and stepped out into the street. No one paid him any mind, enraptured as they were with the woodling standing on a box at the temple of Moradin's door. Scowling, the half elf skulked away from the crowd and slipped through a wall to the inner district.

#writing #aquadestinyswriting #fantasy racism tw #fantasy xenophobia tw #violence tw #titan fighting fantasy #fangthanes folly and the anvils fall

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aquadestinyswriting · 2 years

Note

Happy STS! What would your WIP be like as a cartoon? Is there a particular animation studio you would want?

Sorry it took so long to get back to you, I had literally no thoughts in my head at all all weekend ^_^;.

I'm not familiar with animation studios per se, but as far as my WIPs go, if they (or, preferably, the campaign they're based on) were made into an animated series I would love a style similar to Netflix's Castlevania. I mean, Sypha is basically a young!Selene with shorter hair, blue eyes instead of green and better social skills, and you cannot convince me otherwise. Also, first season Trevor is basically Chrackle if the magpie were a human man.

It helps that, for the most part, the animation of Castlevania is *gorgeous* and how I've pretty much imagined things would look in my own head both while roleplaying and writing.

I say animated series because, while I appreciate that cartoon does not necessarily mean it's for children, that is the connotation associated with the word here. A lot of what happened in that campaign (and, in tandem both my wip series) is definitely not suitable for children below the ages of about 13-15. More because of the themes and all the swearing that happens (in various, colourful languages :D) than any of the action, to be fair, but still- suitable for the little children it is not. The original GM was a bit of a dick and could get pretty graphic when he wanted, and I tried my best to keep the vibes going when I took over, hence the need for the higher rating.

Thanks again for the ask, I love thinking about stuff like this and getting the opportunity to daydream and gush about it is my favourite thing.

#writeblr community #storyteller saturday #sts #answered ask #titan fighting fantasy #the wizard's tale #fangthanes folly and the anvils fall #destiny's new servants #ttrpg fiction

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aquadestinyswriting · 2 years

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Worldbuilding: Kar Kherril

Seeing as its Worldbuilding Wednesday, let me introduce you to a location I homebrewed for the campaign I've written about. I've placed everything under a read more because it's gonna be a long one.

Kar Kherril is located in the far northern reaches of Frostholme at the southern end of the Freezeblood mountains. It is an ancient dwarven hold that was thought to be long since abandoned, but has actually hosted a thriving population of mountain dwarves for at least 3,500 years.

It was established at that time by a splinter faction of the Stonespeaker and Redhammer clans during the first Schism between the Moradhir and Throffites when Moradin first established a presence on Titan. As a result, the dwarves living in Kar Kherril are ardent Throffites and were extremely distrustful of their Moradhir cousins until recently.

The hold originally existed under a long-forgotten name and is thought to have been one of the eight original Great Holds established by the dwarves following their creation. It is unknown why it was abandoned, though there are many theories. The most popular one is that the winters became harsh enough to force the population to move south, which led to Hangar Goldseeker finding and establishing Fangthane.

Kar Kherril does not have a monarchy. It is, instead, run by an elected ruling council headed up the High Priestess of Throff. The role of the High Priestess is merely to provide counsel to the rest of the council. She has no real power, but she can strongly advise them if she feels they are making a decision that is detrimental to the Hold or the lives of others.

The hold houses a fragment of the divine essence of Throff in the form of an elder Emerald Dragon. The dwarves living in the mountain came across Her after finding the God Vault of the original hold. She is held in very high reverence and is often used as a source of advice by the high priests/priestesses and acts as an Archlector of sorts.

Contact was re-established with Fangthane during their sister mount’s recent civil war. The high priestess of the time knocked a few heads together so that the initial refugees had somewhere to go. As the civil war progressed the refugees were mostly redirected to the nearby city of Vynheim since Kar Kherril was too small to house them all.

Due to its small population, the Hold was almost entirely wiped out during the events of Ragnarok. It is slowly beginning to recover thanks to the efforts of their sister Holds of Wyrmholme and Fangthane, and the people of Vynheim.

Kar Kherril has a fraught relationship with the remainder of the Redhammer clan that previously lived in Wyrmholme, but have since left the mountain to live elsewhere. Mostly because they’re all Duregar who worshipped Ladeurger, and have spent several centuries working for a vampiric red dragon.

#writing #wbw #worldbuilding #titan fighting fantasy #worldbuilding wednesday #fangthanes folly and the anvils fall

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aquadestinyswriting · 2 months

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Writing Exercise 2

I was tagged by @druidx to do the 3rd writing exercise from this post as well; Describe a character by turning out their pockets.

While Meredith's vestments do have pockets, let's have the moment from Fangthane's Folly where she's being processed after being wrongfully arrested on the charges of Heresy and Treason since she wears and carries a bunch of stuff on her person that they really don't want her to have. Popping under a cut because there's some... creative swearing in here.

Tagging in @davycoquette as requested, along with @ashirisu, @lexiklecksi and @sparrow-orion-writes

The elderly Inquisitor behind the desk met the glower that was being levelled at him with a bored yawn. He eyed the young dwarven woman in front of him,

"Right, so we're gonna need ye to take off the armour and hand over your weapon and any items that could be considered property of the Church."

Meredith snorted,

"Well, unless ye've got something for me to change into, the vestments are gonna have to stay on." she sniped. Meredith grunted as Fergus shoved her into the desk,

"You better shut that mouth afore I shut it for you." he growled, tightening his grip on her wrists to an almost painful degree

"Oh, awa' and bile yer heid, ye scummy wankstain." Meredith spat, her patience having been left all the way back in the Contemplation Chamber. The desk officer heaved a sigh and glared at the two dwarves directly in front of him,

"Alright, that's enough!" he snapped, "Seeing as we're out of spare clothes, ye can keep the vestments on for now, but everything else is going to have to be handed in."

Meredith did not know how she managed to keep as still as she did as Agnar and Vera began divesting her of her possessions. Probably because neither of them were blazing red with Evil and were simply doing their job.

Her mace was and crossbow were, understandably, the first things to go. Both items were quickly taken to the storage room behind the desk. Well, she wasn't going to be seeing either of them again, of that Meredith was certain. She bristled as both her own Holy Book and the one that had belonged to Starhammer were unhooked from her belt and handed over to the desk officer. The longbeard inspected both books,

"Two?" he queried. Meredith grumbled out a sigh,

"The mythril-bound one belonged to Starhammer. I wasn't going to just leave it for the Brotherhood to find and flog off to the highest bidder." she said, a pang of grief and regret hitting her heart at the memory of how she had acquired it. The longbeard gave her a long look, while Fergus muttered something about 'lying whores' behind her. Meredith ignored the older Inquisitor, rising to the bait would only make this more difficult than it already was. Both books were, like her weapons, taken back into the storage room.

Next was the armour. It took everything Meredith had in her to allow Vera to unbuckle and take off every piece of it. She only hoped that, once this was all over with, that she could get it back. Explaining how and why she couldn't wear it to her uncle would be too damn awkward otherwise, especially given all the trouble he'd gone to to finish it on such short notice. Meredith noticed Vera and the desk officer marvelling at the runic inscriptions and the array of gemstones set into the metal. Well, she would be more than happy to recommend her uncle's runesmithing business if asked, he could use some extra work.

Vera frowned as she patted Meredith down, carefully pulling out the small, leather-bound book Meredith had found in the little chapel underneath the Contemplation Chamber. She felt Meredith's nervous twitch, nodded slightly and opened the book, pretending to leaf through the pages without actually reading them. When she was done, she looked at the desk officer,

"An old personal journal. Nothing in here that looks incriminating, it's mostly personal thoughts and some prayers." she said. The desk officer nodded and waved at the sandy-haired young woman,

"Aye, that's fine for her to keep." he said, ignoring the infuriated glare that Fergus sent him. Vera nodded, put the book back and continued her patdown, pulling out some sealed inkpots, a couple of small quills and some parchment from the other pockets, all of which Meredith was permitted to keep, though the coin purse was swiftly handed over once it was found.

Vera frowned as she half-pulled another book out of another pocket, but quickly put it back upon feeling Meredith tense. She finished fishing through the rest of the pockets - handing over some more loose change, a few loose bolt heads, about a dozen sticks of incense, a small bottle of oil and about a dozen vials filled with Blessed water- then stood up and dusted herself down,

"That's everything Eric, not much on her aside from the obvious."

Eric nodded and finished making a note of everything he was given,

"Right, good. Here's the papers for all the items ye gave me, and here's the paperwork ye need to fill out to finish booking her in." he said, smiling a little too widely as Fergus snatched the papers from his hands,

"Ye don't have to look so damned pleased about it." he grumbled, stalking off ahead of his prisoner and attending officers, "Goddamn bloody paperwork! I swear on Moradin's Beard, if I have to fill out one more set of bloody forms I'm gonna shove them down Grimbeard's throat so far..."

Fergus' voice trailed off down the hall as he vanished around a corner. Agnar shook his head and put a firm hand on Meredith's shoulder, starting to lead her down the corridor Fergus had disappeared down,

"Might as well follow the old grump." he said. Meredith didn't resist. As naked as she felt, despite still getting to wear her vestments, at least she'd managed to keep a hold of the two most important things she owned.

#writing exercise #aquadestinys writing #titan fighting fantasy #fangthane's folly and the anvil's fall #meredith gruksdottir #swearing tw

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aquadestinyswriting · 1 year

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Eye of the Storm

Summary: Elowyn helps Morag sort out some sort of breakfast while everyone else recovers from their assorted hangovers the morning after the trial's conclusion. Written for the Flash Fiction Friday prompt 'Found Family'

Words: 832

Tags: @druidx @homesteadchronicles @flashfictionfridayofficial @sparrow-orion-writes-orion-writes,@warriorbookworm, @odysseywritings, @blind-the-winds, @thesorcerersapprentice,@writeblrcafe, @ashiru, @writeblrcafe

Warnings: None

Notes: Based on an actual bit that was roleplayed out, but some creative liberties have been taken as I can't remember what exactly was said in the session any more.

Morag smiled at Elowyn as the woodling busied herself sorting out a pot of bloc,

"Ta for the help, hen." She said, straightening up again with a groan, "It's much appreciated." Elowyn shrugged her shoulders,

"I can't very well leave you to sort out everything for us all by yourself. Especially since no one else is in any position to, at the moment." She pointed out, nudging Snotgrut, who had fallen asleep curled up next to 'Arry in the corner of the kitchen, with her toe.

The green and brown lump groaned as the goblin stirred,

"My head is about to explode." He complained, "Why do people insist on drinking to excess if this is the outcome the next day?" He blinked blearily as a mug of hot and bitter coffee was thrust into his hands,

"This should help a bit, along with a decent breakfast." Elowyn told him. She turned her attention to the piece of rope dangling from seemingly nowhere, "Now how am I going to get this to Felix?" She wondered looking between the mug in her hand and the area where the rope seemingly vanished into thin air near the ceiling. She wafted the bitter steam up in the general direction of the Rope Trick opening after shouting for Felix to get up failed to rouse the gnome. Eventually Felix's arm shot out of nowhere, took the mug from Elowyn's hand with a mumbled 'Thank you' before vanishing once again. Elowyn shook her head as her ears picked up the renewed snoring from the extra dimensional space.

"That's the last time I get myself talked into a drinking contest with a dwarf." Quentin moaned as he stumbled into the kitchen.

"I did say it was a terrible idea, Quentin. Not that I have room to talk." Laurence groaned, collapsing into a chair at the table and burying his head into his hands. Elowyn clucked her tongue,

"Well that's what you get for going out and getting wankered isn't it?" She said, placing her hands on her hips. Neither man nor elf said anything and simply moaned into the table. She looked over to the younger woodling woman that now stumbled into the kitchen with a softer smile, "Lesson learned?" She asked. Aurianna nodded her head, wincing at the pain that lanced through her head at the motion.

"Breakfast's pretty much ready. Just hold on while I get the rest of them up." Morag piped up, picking up the frying pan and a wooden spoon from the counter. Elowyn smiled, winced and covered her ears, gesturing for everyone else in the kitchen to do the same seconds before Morag started bashing the two implements together.

"Right! Come on, you lazy sods! Up! It's about lunchtime already!" The housewife's voice boomed through the house, echoing slightly, alongside the ringing of the frying pan. Various moans and groans of protest quickly followed suit, but Morag stood firm, simply banging the frying pan again when no one appeared on the stairs.

"I said up! Breakfast's ready and I swear on Moradin's bloody beard if I dinna see anyone down here in the next two minutes there's gonna be more than the hells to pay!" She snapped. Elowyn winced but turned her attention to her own little family,

"Well, seeing as our host was kind enough to make breakfast for us, I'm calling not it for the dishes." She said. Morag shook her head as she waddled back into the room,

"Och, dinna fash yerselves." She protested, "Ye helped more than enough the other night, and you all put in the work to see proper justice done." She beamed at the motley group of adventurers, "Besides, the lot o' ye are basically family at this point, and seeing as ye are, I'll not have ye taking on more than your fair share of the chores while you're here." Elowyn opened her mouth to protest when a rough, but blessedly familiar voice, came from the doorway,

"I'd save yer breath, hen. You were basically adopted the minute I brought ye back here the first time. Now, that includes the rest of you sorry lot." Meredith added, poking at Quentin's ribs as she sat down next to him.

"Oi! This is the thanks I get for helping you avoid the executioner's block?" The elf protested. Meredith stuck her tongue out at him,

"What help, ye pointy eared git? From what I can tell yer goblin friend did most of the work!"

Elowyn stifled a laugh as others joined the friendly argument. A warm feeling settled in her chest as she looked around the cramped room as everyone finally converged around the table. Her family were finally all in one place, happy, healthy and whole. Well, half of it, the other half were back in Toreguarde after all. Once everything was taken care of she'd need to find a way to get the whole lot together. For now, though, this was all the family she needed.

#aquadestinyswriting #fangthane's folly and the anvil's fall #titan fighting fantasy #flash fiction friday #elowyn o'toreguarde #morag ironforge #meredith gruksdottir

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aquadestinyswriting · 11 months

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Bitter Truths, Sweet Lies

Summary: An entry for this week's Flash Fiction Friday prompt 'I Can't Tell'. Meredith and Yoruk have just finished having a conversation with the Emerald Dragon of Kar Kherril about how to solve the problem of mending Moradin's Anvil. The dragon notices Meredith hasn't mentioned the risks of this plan and asks to speak to Meredith alone.

Words: 518

Warnings: a small warning for mentions of death, but nothing major.

Tags: @druidx, @sparrow-orion-writes , @warriorbookworm, @mariahwritesstuff, @writeblrsupport, @ashirisu, @blind-the-winds, @flashfictionfridayofficial

Eyes made entirely of amethyst looked between the two dwarves that currently occupied a cavern, deep within the depths of Kar Kherril. The cleric was clearly uncomfortable, while the paladin worried over her. The Emerald Dragon's nostrils flared as she nodded to the taller of the pair,

"I would speak with your beloved alone. Be assured that she will join you shortly." She rumbled. Yoruk grumbled, but a sharp look from his wife was enough to make him acquiesce. He bowed,

"As you wish, my lady." He murmured, glancing at Meredith with a worried expression as he left. Meredith returned his frown with a small smile and returned her attention to the gigantic dragon in front of her. Neither spoke until the door to the cavern slid shut.

"You do not wish for your intended to hear more of the task ahead?" She queried. Meredith shook her head,

"I don't need to worry him with the details." She replied, fiddling with the end of one of the braids in her beard, staring at the moss covered floor, "It's bad enough he knows what needs to be done."

Smáragh cocked her head to one side, her gaze softening,

"You are aware of the risks involved, he is not." She surmised. Meredith nodded, still not lifting her gaze from the floor,

"I can't tell him. He'd never let me do what needs to be done if he knew." She said, her voice tightening.

"You would rather he find out the hard way?" The question shot through Meredith's heart, a shock of phantom pain causing her head to snap up to stare wide-eyed at the draconic form lounging on the stone platform in front of her,

"What? No! I mean – I just don't want – He's got enough to worry about." She stammered. Smáragh closed her eyes and shook her great head,

"Had our Mistress any other recourse, She would take it." She murmured, "I know you do not fear the possibility of death, having faced it many times before. However, your fears for those you care for? They will cloud your thoughts and this will only increase the risks." She pointed out. Meredith set her jaw and stared up at the ceiling of the cavern, devastation writ large across her face. She blinked back tears,

"I know that." She said, "And I'm sure that, in his heart, Yoruk knows what the risks are too. But if I say them out loud then…" she trailed off, swallowing down the lump in her throat. Stubbornly refusing to break, even in the presence of another Servant of Kherillim. Smáragh nodded,

"I understand. The pain of facing reality can be almost too much to bear at times. However, is it not preferable to do so than cling to false hope?" She asked. "As I said before, Yoruk will find out one way or another."

Meredith grimaced, closing her eyes. Her head acknowledging the wisdom in the dragon's words, but her heart refusing to be responsible for making her love grieve her before she was even gone. Tears slid down her cheeks as whispered,

"I can't."

#aquadestinyswriting #flash fiction friday #writeblrcafe #titan fighting fantasy #fangthane's folly and the anvil's fall #meredith gruksdottir #yoruk copperheart #death mention tw

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aquadestinyswriting · 1 year

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On the Edge

Summary: Meredith goes over what happened on the night of the riots that changed everything from her perspective

Words: 953

Tags: @druidx @homesteadchronicles @flashfictionfridayofficial @asher-orion-writes,@warriorbookworm, @odysseywritings, @blind-the-winds, @thesorcerersapprentice,@writeblrcafe, @ashiru

Warnings: None

Notes: Takes place the same night as Cracking the Anvil and is a part of the flash friday prompt.

I swear I'd only just gotten to sleep when an explosion large enough to reach Acacia Avenue makes my bed shake me awake again. It takes me a moment to register the direction it came from, but the moment I realise it had come from the Dwarven Quarter, I'm up like a shot, looking out of the window. Smoke and embers rise from the area around the Temple of Moradin, prompting me to throw my vestments on over my nightgown, then yell to the others to get the hells up.

I don't bother waiting for the others as I race out of the townhouse and immediately rush over to see what's going on around the church I've made my spiritual home since arriving in Toreguarde. My thoughts race as quickly as my heart as I pound through the only barely lit streets. Had Grimebeard and his family come back to exact some sort of revenge on Starhammer? Had Darkhide sent some of his minions along to create havoc and chaos to distract from his siege of Fangthane?

What I had not expected to find was a mob of humans surrounding the temple's doors, many of them waving makeshift weapons or torches around while one of them made some sort of inflammatory speech. My gut turns at the sight of the shaved dwarf that had been pinned to the doors and I quietly make my way around to the back entrance.

I only barely start knocking before the door flies open and I'm quickly dragged inside. My eyes widen as I realise that almost the entire district is huddled inside and I overhear someone saying that 'the brewery is totally buggered'. Most of the dwarves inside the building are too terrified to do much, but Starhammer and several Moradhir Guard do their best to direct those that want to leave down into the deep road or the catacombs under the church.

It takes another half an hour before we hear the angry, jeering mob outside quiet down and the voices of what seem to be the Watch telling everyone to disperse. My ears manage to pick up the sound of Elowyn's voice calling out to the crowd. I can't hear what she's saying, but my heart lifts on hearing her voice.

Starhammer gestures to myself and several other clerics,

"Go get that poor laddie down from the door." He requests, "We need to give the poor sod a proper burial." I nod and follow about five other clerics out the front door. I notice that the crowd of angry humans is still mostly there, but have been pushed about ten feet back. I glance to one side, catching sight of Elowyn. I shake my head at her questioning look. As much as I would love nothing more than to have her at my side while we found out what was going on, it wasn't a good idea. Some of the humans would likely take offence at the idea of us letting anyone into the Temple right now, and kick things off again. I see her nod and she returns her attention to keeping the mob at bay while I help guide the body into the church.

As soon as I heard what had caused all this ruckus to begin with, and heard Starhammer's rant about it; I realised that the community that we dwarves had built here in Toreguarde stood on the edge of a dangerous precipice, through no fault of our own that I could discern.

As angry as I feel about the attack, I know in my heart that to retaliate will only push us over the edge of that precipice. I can't allow that and say as much to Starhammer, who reluctantly agrees with me. He sends most of the families still sheltering in the temple to the deep road to make their way out of Toreguarde while the going is good. Most are more than happy to leave; apparently this animosity towards us had been brewing under the surface for some time. I'd only been spared due to the amount of time I'd spent away from Toreguarde and the company I've kept since I first arrived here. Most of the clergy and half the temple guard follow suit, leaving the temple eerily empty.

Starhammer offers me the position of Church Inquisitor, telling me that I'm the only one currently qualified despite my almost obscenely young age. I take him up on the offer; I know, in my heart, that it's the right thing to do given everything that's gone on in Toreguarde recently. There's no time for ceremony though, so I'm simply handed a spare set of Inquisitor's vestments and a new holy book for my trouble. The vestments are a bit big for me, I'll need to ask Felix to help me adjust them later. For now I need to find a way to get to Elowyn to tell her what happened tonight so we can try to stop things from getting worse. A watch officer stops by briefly once the crowd outside is fully dispersed, informing us that every dwarf still in the city now needs a non-dwarf escort to move around it. For our safety, apparently.

Our safety my arse. As soon as the officer leaves, I tell Starhammer that I need to get to watchhouse eight, and that I'm going even if he tries to stop me. Starhammer merely chuckles and tells me he can't, I outrank him now. He hands me a spare travel cloak and reminds me to be careful. I smile at him as I leave the temple, hoping against hope that it's not too late to stop this from getting any worse.

#aquadestinyswriting #writeblrcafe #flash fiction friday #titan fighting fantasy #fangthane's folly and the anvil's fall #meredith gruksdottir

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aquadestinyswriting · 1 year

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Happy WBW/STS! :D Aqua, you can't just ask a question like that with a preface like that and not expect a fire back. 8) 8) 8) What is Fangthane hidiiiiiing? (Worry not about spoilers. I get the feeling I'm bouncing around the timeline anyway, so eff me up. 8) )

Haha, fair enough my friend. I will say to anyone already not in the know who cares about spoilers for Fangthane's Folly and the Anvil's Fall that there will be major spoilers beneath the readmore cut. You have been warned.

Right then, now that's been established;

The first thing that needs to be pointed out is the fact that, while the War of the Red Hammer and the knowledge of the following Purges has not been erased from history and is, in fact, acknowledged by Fangthane, what was covered up was the fact that a second set of Purges happened.

To clarify; The War of the Red Hammer happened around 3,500 years ago when the union between the royal families of Fangthane and the hold now known as Wyrmholme was broken due to most of the dwarves of Wyrmholme turning to worship of Ladeurger (an evil dwarven deity of slavery and torture) over Moradin, when both deities first found Titan. The main clan that was involved in the war was the Redhammer clan, the royal house of Fangthane's sister hold. Any members of the Redhammer clan that were living in Fangthane that turned their worship to Ladeurger were summarily executed, while those that remained "loyal" to Fangthane were adopted out into various other clans.

What isn't nearly as well known about those Purges is that Fangthane's nobility also purged any families that didn't turn at least a token amount of worship to Moradin. This was covered up and the families were written off as Heretics, no better than the ones that turned their worship to Ladeurger despite the fact that they never did. One family, however, was spared this fate due to their close ties with the royal family, and the fact that they (at the time) had the pleasure of having a Shaper in their line, the original Stonespeaker clan. The Stonespeakers remained ardent Throffites and refused to acknowledge Moradin's place in the new dwarven pantheon. This was handily ignored for about 1,000 years, until the then newly crowned king Joldrunn Goldseeker decided to try convincing the remaining Redhammers and Stonespeakers to convert to Moradin over Throff, as he believed that Throff didn't hold enough power to have pride of place in dwarven society any longer. Most agreed and complied with the order, but one family in the Stonespeaker clan refused. They believed that, as before, they could convince the king to overlook the matter as they were still the only line that held Throff's Blessing. The Shaper of the time, Merewin, had only recently been betrothed to the kings' youngest son, Ragnar, so the Stonespeakers were confident that the matter would be easily resolved.

To cut an already very long story short, Joldrunn's decree created such a Schism within the church that it threatened to spill over into outright civil war. Merewin and her family continued to refuse to convert, which ended with Merewin's execution for Treason and Heresy after she was discovered down in the Contemplation Chamber without permission from the then Archlector. The majority of her family were executed not long after (along with several others who sided with them), while the others fled or adopted themselves into other clans and immediately converting. Several clans, who silently agreed with the Stonespeakers, but realised which way the wind was blowing, fled Fangthane and later founded the secretive hold of Kar Kherril. Ragnar didn't live very long after this and died of what was deemed to be a broken heart.

Now, why is all of this considered to be spoilers? Well, let's have a quick look at the offical, recorded family tree of the Ironforges for a moment

Garuld is recoded as having been executed about a week after his sister, but by that time, he'd already had three sons, the two eldest of whom were executed along with the rest of their family, while the youngest was adopted out to the Ironforge clan. This family tree is not publicly available, and is held in the secure vaults found in the depths of Fangthane's Library. It is considered to be the official lineage of the modern Ironforge clan. I've cut out the rest of Ovak's children and their marriages to make it easier to trace the line down to Meredith and her siblings. The reason this family tree is kept secure and not readily publicly available even to the modern Ironforge clan? To cover up the fact that the modern Ironforge clan has any connections whatsoever to the Fangthane Royal line and also to cover up the fact that this second set of Purges even occurred. Yup, one of the kings of Fangthane genocided a whole family line that was known to have been Blessed by the Creator Goddess, then had it covered up because it made him look bad.

Now, the problem here is, that Shaping is passed down the matrilineal line, not the patrilineal. So by all rights, the Blessing of Throff should have died out entirely when Merewin did as she was too young to have children of her own at the time of her death (she was 66 years old, the age of consent in Fangthane has been 65 since its founding). So how does the modern Ironforge line have a Shaper at the time of the Destiny's New Servants campaign?

A small biology lesson: Dwarves generally hit puberty at any time between 30 and 45 years old. This is long before Fangthane's age of consent. Dwarves, biologically speaking, aren't all that different from other humanoids on Titan, so puberty means hormones, and lots of them. It also means a whole tonne of stupid decisions. While dwarves are generally less fertile than other peoples, they're not infertile by any means. "Teen" pregnancies happen, and they happen all the time, they're just generally swept under the rug a bit more in the case of the dwarves and almost every family has sons and daughters that are converted to brothers and sisters for the sake of convenience.

To make things a bit clearer, here's what the Ironforge family tree looks like when extrapolated out from a record found buried in the God Vault that was discovered beneath Fangthane's Contemplation Chamber:

Now we know where Meredith inherited the ability from. Merewin and Ragnar were 45 and 50 at the time of Ovak's birth (as detailed in Merewin's diary, which Meredith picked up from the little side chamber she found under the Comtemplation Chamber), so the child was quickly adopted by Merewin's older brother to save both families the shame. As a note: this was discovered and uncovered during following Meredith's own trial for Treason and Heresy, and we can actually thank Snotgrut for getting the librarians off their arses to do some actual investigation once the trial was concluded.

As far as fiction that happens post campaign; there's a tonne of debate whether to update the records to reflect this extrapolated family tree and reinstate this line of the Ironforge clan to a noble status, or if they shouldn't bother because Meredith married into a noble lineage anyway, by way of her marriage to Yoruk (who is the current king's nephew on his father's side).

I know that was a lot, but I did a lot of figuring this out for the campaign, just in case any of the group wanted to do some further digging. They didn't in the end, but this has been sitting in my back pocket for about 4-5 years now.

#worldbuilding wednesday #storyteller saturday #writeblr asks #answered ask #aquadestinyswriting #fangthane's folly and the anvil's fall #meredith gruksdottir

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aquadestinyswriting · 1 year

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Storyteller Saturday

Hey guys, I hope you all had a good week. I've been on holiday and housesitting so I've not had much time for online social stuff. However, I'll try to keep on top of this event at the very least.

Who is your favourite recurring background character for your story/stories?

No pressure tags: @druidx, @asher-orion-writes, @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @mariahwritesstuff, @ashirisu, @thesorcerersapprentice, @blind-the-winds

My answer will be under a readmore since I have a bunch of wip series at the moment

The Wizard's Tale: My favourite recurring background character for this series is probably Adrian Darkmantle. He's not in the story very often and is more often mentioned by others than he actually appears. However, I just love this guy for being the put-upon Necromancy specialist who is maligned by pretty much everyone except from Selene and Dwena. He's a reformed Cabal member, which is why most of the staff are so wary, but he honestly doesn't do anything wrong, even if he's constantly accused of being a spy.

The Trouble with Meredith: This one was a bit tougher, since there are a lot of characters that are only semi-background. I think I'll go with Sister Helesgoht here. She's a dwarf hailing from a very different area, but is a very experienced hospitaler with a speciality in dealing with problems of the mind (an early psychologist basically) and was brought to Fangthane following the Demon War to help those ex-Slayers who survived and were accepted back into the mountain to readjust to a normal life. She also helps out any dwarf that needs some extra help dealing with mental health issues that are above the paygrade of the rest of the clergy.

Fangthane's Folly and the Anvil's Fall: For this one I'll need to go with the duo of Nigg and Nogg, Meredith's twin uncles on her mum's side. They only show up while Meredith is in Stonebridge, and also for a little bit for the evacuation of Fangthane, but they're a lot of fun to write because of the banter between them. They haven't shown up yet, but they should be appearing in the story I intend to re-write fairly soon.

The Ouroboros of Destiny: There is actually going to be a young female white dragon wyrmling character that shows up now and then in this series. She and her brothers were found and "rescued" by the adventuring party and brought to the Vynheim Adventurer's Guild to keep them out of trouble. Sazsha has been convinced to keep them around and is trying to teach them some better manners before releasing them back to the wild when they're a bit bigger and able to defend themselves. Unfortunately for the Aurbold, the female is trying to find reasons to keep hanging around.

#storyteller saturday #sts #titan fighting fantasy #the wizard's tale #the trouble with meredith #fangthane's folly and the anvil's fall #the ouroboros of destiny

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aquadestinyswriting · 1 year

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Fire-Hollowed Souls

Summary: Agnar checks in on the single prisoner currently occupying a cell beneath the Cathedral of Kherillim. What he learns is about to turn his entire world upside down.

Words: 1,827

Warnings: Disturbing imagery, suffocation, claustrophobia, pyrophobia, panic attack, undead. I think that covers it, but if I've missed anything let me know.

Tags: @druidx @homesteadchronicles @sparrow-orion-writes , @blind-the-winds, @odysseywritings, @writeblrsupport,@freedominique

Note: So we're carrying on with the whump/angst train here. Please note the warnings above and keep your arms and legs inside the train at all times.

It was a cold and damp night down in the dungeons beneath the cathedral. The guard on duty wrapped his thick, woollen cloak more tightly around his shoulders as he checked on the one prisoner currently held in custody, squinting through the bars of the cell. The young dwarf on the cot rolled over with a shudder and small whine, the thin blanket she’d been provided currently twisted around her legs and half-falling off. Agnar’s face pinched into a worried frown as he took in the sheen of sweat on the girl’s face, only barely visible through the hair that had come loose from its braids. His ears pricked as she began to mumble incoherently under her breath, an unsettling chill seeping into his bones at the sound.

~*~

Meredith hacked out a cough as she stumbled through the smoke-filled streets of the Trading District, trying her best to push through the panicked crowds of dwarves that were running for their lives away from the inferno that burned behind them. She didn’t know how the fire had started, only that it had quickly engulfed the entire mountain below her.

“Da! Da!” she called, trying to fight her way towards her father’s smithy, only to be pushed back by a whoosh of air filled with smoke, ash and embers as a part of the ceiling far above collapsed. Meredith stared at the charred and smouldering rock that now barred her way… wait. That wasn’t rock. It was metal. Charred and sooty, and still very much on fire, but it was unmistakable. Meredith backed up and craned her neck to get a better look at it. It looked almost like part of…

Meredith’s heart seized as she realised what she was looking at, her gaze slowly tracking upwards to the hole in the ceiling. Thick, green-tinged clouds roiled high above her, raining down more of what she now knew to be pieces of the Anvil of Souls. Moradin’s Anvil. Without thinking, Meredith reached for her Holy Symbol, only to remember she no longer had it on her person. Shaking her head, she bowed it and muttered a desperate prayer. Nothing. Terror gripped her as she tried again, desperate to feel the reassuring warmth of the presence of her god. An empty hollowness gnawed at her heart. Dead. Moradin was dead. Before the realisation could crush her utterly, Meredith felt herself being dragged away, back towards the front entrance of the mountain,

“Come on we need to get –” the voice was cut off by a thundering rumble emanating from the depths of the mountain below. The earth lurched unevenly, causing Meredith to stumble to her knees as more of the ceiling collapsed. Hacking out another fit of coughing as smoke filled the air once more, Meredith pulled herself up, only to find the way entirely barred by rubble. She turned back the way she’d come and ran as fast as she could to find another way out, only to find that this direction, too, had been cut off.

Meredith sank to the floor, shaking uncontrollably, trying not to allow the despair of the end overtake her. Slowly the ringing in her ears abated as she looked at the people around her who had already succumbed to the smoke or had been crushed. Well, it wouldn’t take long for her to join them at least, though where they would go now that Moradin was no more…

Booming laughter echoed through the rubble, only barely audible over the roar of the flames that were overtaking the area outside of this collapse. Meredith had only barely registered it when the dead around her suddenly erupted into discordant screams. She clapped her hands over her ears at the sound, somehow aware that every last dwarf in the mountain was screaming at the same time. Meredith scrambled back to her feet as ashy, cold hands grabbed at her. She tried to bat them away, but it was getting so hard to breathe. Her limbs were getting too heavy to move and the heat was suffocating. The cleric only barely registered the green-yellow embers floating past her eyes and the distant roar of the fire and booming laughter before the darkness finally swallowed her.

~*~

Agnar’s frown deepened as he watched the supposedly most dangerous dwarf in the mount toss and turn in her sleep, whimpering and mumbling as she did. While he had orders not to enter the cell under any circumstances, he knew he couldn’t leave things as they were. His training as a Cleric of Moradin bade him help those that were in need, and the girl clearly needed help. Agnar sighed as he gently touched the runes inlaid into the wall next to the cell’s door to deactivate the antimagic field before pulling out the key and unlocking the door. He quietly stepped inside and closed it behind him, hoping that Grimbeard wouldn’t notice the antimagic field had been turned off just yet. He crept over to the side of the cot and, as carefully as he could manage, lightly touched the girl’s shoulder.

Meredith awoke with a startled, strained gasp, fighting against the blanket that had now become thoroughly entangled around her. Agnar’s hand glowed with a soft golden light as he laid it more forcefully on her shoulder,

“It’s alright, hen, ye’re alright.” he soothed, noting with worry that his prisoner was utterly drenched in sweat and was now shivering violently. Was it just the apparent nightmare, or was she running a fever, he wondered. He was brought back to his senses as Meredith choked out a sob, her hands scrabbling desperately for a holy symbol that wasn’t there any more. Aganar’s frown deepened. Grimbeard had told him and the other Inquisitors that the girl was no longer a devotee of Moradin, and yet, here she was trying to find the Holy Symbol that had been taken from her as a source of comfort. Was it just out of habit? Had she finally come to her senses and realised the error of her ways? If she had, then she shouldn’t need a Holy Symbol to feel Moradin’s grace, He could reach His most faithful no matter the circumstances. Either way, the girl was clearly becoming more distraught, her breathing becoming ragged and wheezy. Cautiously, Aganar pulled his own Holy Symbol over his head and pressed it into the girl’s hands.

Meredith hiccoughed as she tried to find the one way she knew she could connect to Moradin. While she normally didn’t need to have her Holy Symbol to feel His presence; since Grimbeard had come to talk to her, Moradin had become ever more distant to the point that she wasn’t sure that He could even hear her. She was only barely aware of the figure who had come into her cell. At least until a familiar, metal shape was pressed into her hands. Warmth immediately flooded into her, the connection reestablished. Meredith immediately bowed her head to the Symbol and muttered out a prayer, the one every dwarflet was taught the minute they could speak, relieved almost beyond thought that Moradin yet endured.

Agnar’s mind reeled as his own Holy Symbol began to glow in the prisoner’s hands. It was rare enough for a Dwarf’s Holy Symbol to do so in their own hands unless it was being used to channel a spell like Turn Undead, it took an incredibly deep set faith in order for it to happen with just a prayer. For it to happen with a Symbol not your own? It was inconceivable. It just did not happen. And yet, here he was, watching a scared young woman making his Holy Symbol glow in her hands with just a prayer.

“What in all the hells are we doing?” he murmured, “Ye’re no heretic at all.” Agnar slumped back, eyes wide at the sight in front of him. What kind of Heresy had he been a participant in to have been deceived into believing that a dwarf so clearly Marked was the one in the wrong?

Meredith finally looked up at her visitor at his mumbling. She smiled hollowly at him,

“It’s what I’ve been tryin’ to tell ye.” she sighed, her voice hoarse, “I don’t know what our enemies have planned. All I know is that, currently, they’re winning.”

Agnar stared at Meredith,

“How d’ye even ken they are?” he asked. Meredith shook her head and handed the Inquisitor his Holy Symbol back,

“Because they’re driving Moradin from the mountain. Have ye even noticed how distant He is?” she asked. When she only received a befuddled stare in response, she snorted, “Of course not, that would require ye to pay attention to anything outside o’ what ye’ve been told.” she muttered. Agnar looked down at his currently inert Holy Symbol, then back up at Meredith,

“The statues in the Contemplation Chamber.” he murmured, "I'm guessing a glamour was cast over them just before we got down there…" he trailed off as Meredith shook her head,

"The glamour was keeping their appearance as statues of Moradin." She corrected, "They've been twisted into the shape of whatever Demon Prince is behind all this, though for how long I don't know." She admitted. The younger cleric tried to suppress her renewed shivering, the chill of the night finally seeping through her sodden clothing. Agnar grimaced, pulled off his cloak and wrapped it tightly around her,

"I'm not sure what I can do about the overarching situation for now." He said quietly, "But what I can do is get you a temporary secure transfer to the infirmary to get that fever taken care of."

Meredith was about to shake her head, when she felt a more feminine touch in her heart;

Those still faithful need to be warned.

The younger dwarf nodded,

"Aye, that would be appreciated." She murmured, yawning widely. "Ta, ye ken, for helping. You didn't have to considering my official status right now."

Agnar shook his head,

"I might be an Inquisitor, hen, but I was a cleric first. And Moradin's pretty damn strict about how we're meant to treat prisoners." He reminded her. He cast a critical eye over her, noting every visible ailment he could conceivably get away with describing, then pulling himself up, "Get what rest you can in the meantime." He added. Meredith nodded, curling up into the cloak in a vain effort to keep out the unnatural chill seeping into her soul. She was out even before Agnar closed the cell door behind him.

The older cleric huffed a stressed sigh as he walked back to the little office to contact someone about the situation. As much as he wished to inform the other Inquisitors of their mistake, he doubted he'd be believed. For now, all he could do was inform the infirmary, discreetly, about the condition of his prisoner and hope they'd pick up on the fact that the ailment wasn't necessarily physical.

#aquadestinyswriting #writeblrcafe #titan fighting fantasy #fangthane's folly and the anvil's fall #disturbing imagery tw #undeath tw #pyrophobia tw #claustrophia tw #panic attack cw #meredith gruksdottir

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