Myth: A New Age CYOA

[Baltika9]

He nods and smiles. He says that he knows her and has 'known' her for some time. He winks and you both roll your eyes.

She is powerful, she is patient, she can be cunning but he finds that she gets angry too easily. She is one of the more 'human' gods he has encountered and she is also one of the most active in mortal affairs.

He likes her most days but she can be a pain and it is terribly troublesome when she decides to try and kill him which happens far too often.

Does she bat for the other team?

 

[Fangshi]

Does she bat for the other team?

Like a lot of the more 'human' deities and demons she is a real switch-hitter.

 

[Kz3r0]

Well I would like to know what kind of means the Spider Goddess usually use to enter our world and if he knows of some other place except old MUIRTHEMNE where she was or is active.
Cite the fact that she hates us in case we didn't already mentioned it, if we didn't told him about our encounter with her we can tell him the story in exchange for useful informations or some little help against her.

 

[Fangshi]

Well I would like to know what kind of means the Spider Goddess usually use to enter our world and if he knows of some other place except old MUIRTHEMNE where she was or is active.

She requires some sort of gate to enter the world. If she wanted to come through herself it would have to be at least as tall as a person. If she was trying to send through minions then it could be smaller or larger depending on what exactly she is trying to send through. He is not sure how she builds her gates but they usually require a focus, a circle of mages or some sort of artefact/ingedients.

She can also contact her followers through a variety of means. Sometimes she does it directly through artefacts in their possession though that usually requires effort to create and move said artefacts. On occasion she will also visit Morpheus in the Dreaming and ask him to let her contact some of her followers. As he is a true gentleman (and would rather not get into a fist fight with her every time he sees her) he usually obliges by 'connecting her calls' for her. He has seen her meet with a number of robbed humans in the Eastern Empire and with several dwarves from the Kingdom though he will not betray her trust by discussing the details of those meetings. Her cult does not seem to have a presence in the western half of the continent from what Derryth can tell.

Cite the fact that she hates us in case we didn't already mentioned it, if we didn't told him about our encounter with her we can tell him the story in exchange for useful informations or some little help against her.

He listens intently to your story, laughs and shakes his head. He does not seem terribly concerned for you or for her, "A shame you did not hit it off with her but as I said she does have quite a temper and from what you have told me you have not simply annoyed her, you have challenged her and she is rather competitive by nature," he chuckles, "Tell you what, I will not provide you with any detailed information about her activities here or in the other planes but by the same token I will not supply her with any detailed information about your activities in the Dreaming or elsewhere. That is the best I can do I am afraid."

He does give you one other piece of advice though. Like most of her fellows she breaks the worlds down into three parts. Those that are weaker than her, those that are her equals and those that are her superiors. You would do well to demonstrate that you belong to the second or third group.

Oh? Does he care to tell us more? Who knows, we might be able to do a favor to the both of us if we know enough. We certainly aren't on good terms with his captors anymore.

As far as we know, the Oneiroi demon is dead, and the cultists with him. Who else is left for him to take his vengeance upon?

Not much you can help him with. The demon has 'family' and they will need to be dealt with before they start to wonder what happened to the Oneiroi demon. He has his agents on it, if things don't go as planned and he finds he needs outside help he will let you know.

 

[Nevill]

If the mice continue on their path then at some unknown point in the future they may well jump over the 'line' between the 'basic' animal species of Myth and the 'advanced' and 'sentient' species of the setting. If that happens then you would be better off treating them like you would a dwarf or maul rather than a pet.

That reminds me. How well does Martin handle the fact that we have two hyper-active kids with us and he is the cutest and fluffiest member of our team?

The were-rabbits are not the scariest things there are in the world.

 

[Fangshi]

That reminds me. How well does Martin handle the fact that we have two hyper-active kids with us and he is the cutest and fluffiest member of our team?

The were-rabbits are not the scariest things there are in the world.

It is a tricky thing, he must constantly be on guard from surprise 'cuddling', a terror and an embarrassment for a brave warrior such as him.

However the girls also give him 'treats' whenever they spot him so he does quite like them though he fears he is putting on a little weight.

Edit:

I still have not had time to do any proper work on the CYOA and I just lost my free time for the rest of the night so everything will have to be pushed further back.

It won't actually take too long to post the interlude when I do have a moment to finish the rewrite but it will all be a matter of when exactly I can get that time. The update will likely come in the next day or two as well, I just need to take care of a few things I have to do before I can focus more on Myth. The good news though is that I should have more free time a little later this week so I might be able to 'back load' the updates for this week and still get in a full three posts for the CYOA, we will have to see I suppose.

 

[Nevill]

How much control over our environment do we have in a lucid dream? How does it work in a shared dream?

If we want to reconstruct a memory, can we fully re-live it? Can we alter its outcome if the memory in question is a particularly bad one?

Say, can Thais finally face Shiver of her memories and win, conquering her fears?

"Dear, why did you not simply remove Shiver?" your mentor asks, "This is your mind after all."

Thaïs frowns, "I have tried that before... she... she is just too much for me. I can't beat her, not yet... the memory... it is too much."

You place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "Do you want help with her?"

She smiles but shakes her head, "No. No, I am fine. It is just something I will have to work through on my own... someday... but let's do what we came to do."

She said she can't do it alone (yet), but in the shared dream we can add the power of our minds to hers.

 

[Fangshi]

How much control over our environment do we have in a lucid dream? How does it work in a shared dream?

You have full control to create and shape things but you can not do any permanent harm to anyone or anything in the Dreaming. The same goes for everyone else that is aware that they are dreaming.

If we want to reconstruct a memory, can we fully re-live it? Can we alter its outcome if the memory in question is a particularly bad one?

You can reconstruct a memory if you want to, as long as you are aware of the memory in question.

As for fully re-living it you can view it as an external observer if you wish or you can assume the role you originally played in the memory. You can not alter it in a meaningful way, it will play out as it did originally, similar to a recording. The owner of the memory can speed it up, slow it down, stop it entirely and the like but it will always play out the same way.

You could construct a 'dream' that ends differently but it would be separate from the memory in question.

Say, can Thais finally face Shiver of her memories and win, conquering her fears?

Yes and no.

If you simply replay her memories of the event then they will play out exactly as it happened.

If you construct a dream about it you could win fairly easily.

However neither would defeat the 'Shiver' that haunts Thaïs.

It is not so much a dream or a figment of her past as it is a part of her mind (like Nine's creatures or Henry in your own mind) she needs to come to terms with 'Shiver' and 'defeat' her by dealing with the concepts and fears that gave birth to her. You could help her prepare in the Dreaming if she was willing to let you but ultimately it is something she has to work through herself (unless you are willing to enter her mind again and help her defeat the 'real' 'Shiver' that lurks there. It is sort of like the way that Henry's death constitutes a crippling memory for Derryth, that crypt is Derryth's 'Shiver' and it looms large in her mind.

She said she can't do it alone (yet), but in the shared dream we can add the power of our minds to hers.

It might work that way in her actual mind but the same protections that keep you from being actually hurt while in the Dreaming would also prevent you from hurting 'Shiver'.

 

[Nevill]

I am well aware that whatever fear there is, it comes from Thais' own mind, and she is the one who has to deal with it.

What we can offer her is another perspective. Faced with the same fear, the same memory, she is likely to have the same reaction - that of blind panic. One is unable to easily come to terms with a traumatic memory - else the memory would not be traumatic in the first place.

It is a similar approach I wanted to take with Brenna and Anleifr to help them. The issues that plague them are likely to be complex, but I am suspecting that a crippling fear before their captors is one of them. In their minds, they probably view their tormentors as an unstoppable, all-powerful force that could do with their lives as it pleases. What I thought we could do for them is help them face them again, inside their minds, and realise that those forces that they thought to be almighty are mere mortal men who just happened to have more power than them at the moment - disgusting, drunk with impunity, but men nonetheless. They, too, can feel fear and pain; they can be resisted; they can be fought. Once they have the strength to look their torturers in the eyes without turning away, they would be halfway through the recovery process. They would be the survivors, not the victims. There is a major difference in the mindset.

I think Thais as she is now would not be scared by Shiver, the Watcher, or even Balor himself. She has what it takes to overcome her fear. But she need someone else to point it out to her.

It's like geese. A gaggle of mean grown-up geese might scare away even an adult man, but they will still run away in panic at a sight of a 5-year old girl who used to terrorize them when they were geeselings. But should there be one goose who didn't share that memory and stood their ground, things might become different.

 

[Fangshi]

So if I understand you correctly you would like to construct versions of their memories (new dreams) in which the fears they imagine can be physically conquered in order to build the target's confidence and allow them to slay these 'demons' within their own minds?

That should be doable and if they believe in the lessons you teach them it might work.

If you wanted to help them directly though you would have to use infiltration to enter their minds yourself/yourselves with all the normal dangers that would bring.

 

[Nevill]

So if I understand you correctly you would like to construct versions of their memories (new dreams) in which the fears they imagine can be physically conquered in order to build the target's confidence and allow them to slay these 'demons' within their own minds?

Somewhat.

Fears are, more often than not, irrational. Once explained and properly understood, they might go away. The danger associated with them might remain, but the fear itself loses its will-draining qualities. It is like Derryth said:

Never again did fear touch you the same way, never again could it reach into your very soul and rob you of your sovereignty. You still felt it of course, it still pulled on you as it does on all those that live and still remain master of their own minds, but never again would it shape you.

It isn't necessary to physically conquer something in order to build confidence. How do you conquer a flood to escape a fear of drowning? How do you conquer gravity to escape a fear of heights? However, there is a need to show an affected person that those fears can be faced, that they can be resisted. Even if they can't be destroyed, they can be understood and dealt accordingly.

If you wanted to help them directly though you would have to use infiltration to enter their minds yourself/yourselves with all the normal dangers that would bring.

I am not sure, though, what is a 'direct' help and how it differs from an 'indirect' one?

 

[Fangshi]

I am not sure, though, what is a 'direct' help and how it differs from an 'indirect' one?

You find the representation of your target's fear 'in the wild' of their own mind and you blast it to smithereens. Problem solved, as you have literally killed the part of the person that had that fear. It is a little drastic and you can expect such potent fears to be quite powerful but it is certainly doable if one is willing to risk their mind/life to get directly involved. In contrast the indirect method does not kill the fear on its own but if it works it does rob the fear of its power over the target.

 

[Nevill]

I still don't quite get it. Doesn't the first method cause more harm than good? How do you kill a fear? What feeling comes instead? Doesn't it just numb any reaction you might have to the triggering event?

It is alright to be afraid of Shiver (or rather, Ravanna, though in truth the abomination was neither of them). She was a mighty sorceress and she caused untold death and destruction wherever she went. Her cruelty was legendary - she even clawed out the eyes of a soldier who couldn't hide being disgusted by her visage. Even Lyssa, who had seen her share of misery in service of the Soulblighter, have fled the moment she looked in her eyes.

But you can't let that fear control you. Ravanna can't hurt Thais now. She is no longer helpless, she is no longer alone. More than that, now she knows that Ravanna was not a mythic thousand years old wizard, but actually a construct of two archmages' memories hastily thrown together, a glorified mix between a shade and the Drowned Dead that we are killing in droves lately. The sorceress was a scary adversary, but Thais would not flee in mindless panic before someone like her today. Yet the fear remains.

Fighting Ravanna in Thais' mind is suicidally dangerous. Regardless of whether we could or couldn't win in a real battle, in Thais' mind she is invincible as long as our friend is afraid of her. She remembers her that way, an unspeakable horror that no one, save for the most powerful of mages, could oppose and live. Fear is the power that feeds Ravanna's strenght in our friend's mind.

Still, if entering one's mind is the only way to be done with the issue once and for all, why can't we combine the two approaches? Rid Thais of her irrational fear before the archmage, and then face her together inside our heads when she is no longer shielded by the very concept of invulnerability, when Thais' mind knows that she could have been defeated and humbled like any being made of flesh and bones can.

Shouldn't this work better?

What is Derryth's issue with the crypt where Henry died? Does she blame herself for his death? What is it in that memory that makes it unbearable for her? Except for a gruesome death of a person closest to her at the time, I mean.

 

[Fangshi]

Doesn't the first method cause more harm than good? How do you kill a fear? What feeling comes instead? Doesn't it just numb any reaction you might have to the triggering event?

Yes, some people would argue that the first method is not worth the risk, that it harms the target but it is the surest way to remove that sort of crippling fear.

You kill a fear by murdering it in the mind. It is similar to what would have happened if you had picked a side between Ravanna and Culwyeh in Nine's mind. If you had killed one or both of them then that aspect of Nine's mind would cease to be. The only real difference here is that Shiver is not a separate personality from Thaïs.

No feeling replaces it, you create a hole when you destroy a part of a person's mind. If Shiver dies then whatever she represents also dies, for example if Shiver were the manifestation of a fear of fire (she isn't) then when she dies Thaïs would cease to fear fire but nothing new would immediately replace it.

Exactly, it would completely remove any emotional reaction to that particular stimuli.

Still, if entering one's mind is the only way to be done with the issue once and for all, why can't we combine the two approaches? Rid Thais of her irrational fear before the archmage, and then face her together inside our heads when she is no longer shielded by the very concept of invulnerability, when Thais' mind knows that she could have been defeated and humbled like any being made of flesh and bones can.

Shouldn't this work better?

You can certainly attempt that, provided she is willing to try. No way to know for sure how well it would work though.

What is Derryth's issue with the crypt where Henry died? Does she blame herself for his death? What is it in that memory that makes it unbearable for her? Except for a gruesome death of a person closest to her at the time, I mean.

It represents failure for her, if she had been better maybe he would be alive.

Yes, she probably does hold herself at least partially responsible for his death. She is not really the sort of person to dwell on such things and sit around wringing her hands but given how strongly she feels about never leaving her people behind I would say it is fairly safe to assume that she is carrying a little baggage with her from Henry's death.

It is unbearable because she had to watch as her friend, 'father' and mentor died before her. As a result that tomb has come to represent her failures, the death of her parents, the death of Henry, the death of Tyrvard, it is the part of her mental landscape where the dead rest uneasily and their accusations carry on the wind. Now with the willpower that woman has she probably could confront it if necessary without turning into a quivering mess but it is a part of her mind that she is uncomfortable around and afraid of.

 

[Nevill]

So... say, if that tomb, that representation of guilt is destroyed, what would happen to Derryth's determination never to leave anyone behind, no matter the cost? That is a cornerstone of our character.

The reason why I do not accept destroying part of the mind as a solution is that our experiences and previous decisions, good or bad, correct or wrong, shape us and make us into a better people provided we are willing to take the right lesson from them. When you erase a failure, you also destroy a chance to learn.

You don't have to let it control your life, but you should not forget. Neither should you forget how and why you felt about it.

I guess it's 'indirect' dream therapy for me.

As a result that tomb has come to represent her failures, the death of her parents, the death of Henry, the death of Tyrvard, it is the part of her mental landscape where the dead rest uneasily and their accusations carry on the wind.

By the way, what happened to our parents?

 

[Azira]

I'm more interested in knowing what happened to the promised interlude.

 

[Fangshi]

So... say, if that tomb, that representation of guilt is destroyed, what would happen to Derryth's determination never to leave anyone behind, no matter the cost? That is a cornerstone of our character.

No way to know unless you do it. Derryth would certainly lose any emotions attached to those events though.

By the way, what happened to our parents?

They got into an argument with 'Imperial Soldiers', I am sure your imagination can fill in the rest...

I'm more interested in knowing what happened to the promised interlude.

Cold booze and warm women. That update never stood a chance.


They are both still coming though, I would say today but I can not promise that for sure, as soon as I have a moment to finish them up though I will post them.

 

[Azira]

Thursday, right?

 

[Nevill]

They got into an argument with 'Imperial Soldiers', I am sure your imagination can fill in the rest...

No, not exactly. What happened there?

What do we know about our characters' backgrounds? Is there an approximate timeline of how they spent their lives up until now?


Also, since we are in a place where we can literally show our memories to other people, can we ask Morpheus about Mayer's wife, her condition and a potential cure?

Can Lyssa discreetly ask at the Magic Academy what is it that the Mayer's wife is suffering from? She does not have to mention names - just describe the symptoms and try to find the information.

She could try but I would not expect much. She would be trying to describe a condition which has been only described to her without revealing anything that could link her inquiry to Mayer or his wife. I am not sure how one would go about that to be honest.

This had been bothering me for a while.

 

[Grimgravy]

Nevill quit trying to save everyone and their second cousin so we can get back to treasure hunting!

 

[Nevill]

I think we switched that for the Watcher hunting already. Besides, if you want treasure to get rich, you should be able to see how helping Mayer and getting him on our side complements that goal nicely.

There is a lot of things I want to do, actually:
1) Obtain the Power of Metal! (TM) and start a band
2) Complete the Halcyon stone and master its use, thus fulthilling Henry's dream
3) Continue the rise though the Watcher's worst enemies list, ultimately topping Alric by killing the fucker
4) Recruit our own rat Luftwaffe
5) Give Nine a nice new body
6) Investigate the murder of our family
7) Investigate the circumstances behind the death of Thais' father
8) Seduce Lyssa. And Caoilainn. And learn that other meditation from Morpheus
9) Broker a peace between the Dwarven Kingdom and Ghol States
10) Obtain immortality and a Dream of our own, and finally become an archmage
11) Found our own Empire that those who are neither of the Light nor of the Dark would be able to call home
12) ???
13) PROFIT!

Treasure hunting is not the only fun thing in the world.

 

[Grimgravy]

Treasure hunting is the path to your #2 and # 10. Which are the only things on your list that I care about.

 

[Fangshi]

No, not exactly. What happened there?

What do we know about our characters' backgrounds? Is there an approximate timeline of how they spent their lives up until now?

Alright, if you want this is the woven together backstory of Derryth and Thaïs as originally conceived. Just the broad strokes so to speak though I reserve to right to alter any minor detail necessary if it has not already appeared in an update (it is possible that I have already made slight changes to the backstory when inserting it into the updates so if there are any discrepancies then the info in the update takes precedence.):

A Tale of Two Mages:

Well both ladies are roughly twenty eight, Derryth was born outside Madrigal in the north of the Province while Thaïs was born far to the south in around Strand. Derryth's parents were free farmers working a plot of land a couple days north of the city, she grew up in simple surrounding, played in the woods and the streams, helped her mother around the house, and just generally got up to all sorts of good-natured mischief. Thaïs by contrast was born into a merchant family on the rise, her childhood was spent on the family estate, she learnt to read, to write, she learnt music and poetry and how to ride, all the things a 'proper young lady' should. She also learnt how to manipulate people, how to lie and how best to get what she wanted.

When Derryth was ten or so she lost everything, a group of twenty men claiming to be soldiers sought a place to stay for the night and though her parents did not really want them around they could hardly say no. The 'soldiers' were put up in the barn for the night. About half way through the night Derryth hears her mother scream and her father yell, their house is filled with the sounds of fighting and she does the only thing she can do, she pulls up a lose floorboard and she hides under the house. The next morning when she hazards a peak her parents are dead, all their livestock are dead and the farm itself has been ruined. Most children would be completely at a loss as to what to do but even then Derryth was rather spirited. She intended to go to Madrigal for help, to find someone in the military that could help her avenge her parents, she gathered up all the money she could find (a small bag of coppers) and she fled to the city.

No one there would listen to one small and dirty peasant child though so she had to make do on her own. She gave up on finding her parents' killers and became a criminal, a pickpocket and a thief. She learnt to read and to write so that she would be better able to commit her crimes. She also developed a rather hard edge to her that has only started to soften recently. She also met Henry in Madrigal and for a long time he was her only friend, he would hire her to help him with his 'jobs' in the city and he always payed fairly and on time, he even brought her a sweetroll on the winter solstice once, she never forgot that.

Thaïs's late childhood and early teen years were completely different, her education continued though she neglected most of her studies in favour of flirting with the other little boys and girls that she knew. When she was twelve her mother past away (I am not sure if I switched this in the later drafts, it might be her grandmother if I did) and her behaviour began to change, she became more wild and less dutiful. Her father gave her everything she could ever desire which in turn spoilt her a great deal. When she was fourteen she was caught with the gardener's thirteen year old son, it was the only time her father ever hit her. Though what hurt her most was the shame on his face and the tears in his eyes.

During their teenage years the two ladies essentially traded places. Derryth's life began to improve as Henry realized she had a talent for magic and took her under his wing. The two of them traveled the Empire and some of the land beyond, he taught her the basics of magic (though he often held out on her) and he also gave her a classical education, history, poetry, the works, though she often had trouble paying attention. Those were some of the happiest days of her life and she thinks of them fondly. She traveled with many of Henry's old friends as well, she met Madb and Ian, two of Henry's dearest friends and she found a sort of family, ever if she did keep everyone but Henry at arm's length.

Thaïs' teenage years were much harder. He father took on a number of risky contracts that failed to return his investments. Gradually he slipped into debt as he tried to provide his girl with the lifestyle she was accustomed to. With his creditors circling, demanding payment, and no way out of his obligations he put everything he had into one final throw of the dice, a caravan of the Dwarven Kingdom loaded down in exotic goods. The caravan was lost, as was his future. He decided then that he would not drag his daughter down with him, as a man of honour he would take the only path open to him, he ended his own life when she was sixteen.

She had known none of this and when she read over his books and his journals she realized that she had played a part in destroying the only family she had left. Her father owed a lot of money but much of it was forgiven when word of his suicide got out. Still, more than enough was owed to ruin the family, Thaïs sold off everything she had and fled to Scales, in her late teens she wandered those streets without a friend in the world. It was there that she became a courtesan, she was taken in by Petra who taught her everything she knew about the profession and how to extract as much as one could from a customer while doing the bare minimum required. Thaïs was a natural and made a small fortune for herself, she began to grow comfortable again and as he client list grew she began to pick up a variety of skills and even a little magic.

Jump forward through a number of years, both happy and sad, and you come to the last war, Soulblighter's War. Once more Thaïs lost almost everything as Scales fell to Shiver's advancing army, no one she knew survived as far as she can tell. She fled with the rest of the refugees to the north but one by one the cities of men fell. She lived out a bleak existence in the refugee camps and hideouts of the west during the war.

Derryth and Henry sat out the war, Henry's contacts gave them fair warning of what was to come so the two of them relocated to the east and avoided the horrors that plagued so many others. It was at this time that Henry began his search for the Halcyon Stone, a search that would ultimately cost him his life.

With the end of the war both women, now utterly alone in the world, headed to Muirthemne, Alric's new capital, they had very different reasons for going and neither could predict what they would find there. Thaïs set up shop in an abandoned building with easy access to both the Merchant Quarter and the tent city and she began to do a good trade though it was still unfulfilling and far dirtier than in Scales. Derryth began to plan her approach, a mad raid of the most dangerous 'dungeon' in the entire world. One fateful day a dissatisfied client came to pay Thaïs a visit at her tent with a few of his friends, things quickly turned heated. At the same time Derryth was enjoying a walk through the tent city and heard a commotion, out of curiosity she went to investigate and the rest you well know.

Whether or not any of this will be terribly relevant in the future is hard to say. If you do things that involve their pasts it might be but if you don't a lot of this is not likely to directly appear in the story.

Also, since we are in a place where we can literally show our memories to other people, can we ask Morpheus about Mayer's wife, her condition and a potential cure?

He is well aware of the condition that afflicts Mrs Mayer but her husband has asked him not to speak of it with anyone. The two of them have an arrangement, you see, and he is not prepared to violate that contract. He suggests you talk to Mayer himself if you want to know more, he also wishes you luck in that endeavour as getting personal information from Mayer is akin to drawing blood from a stone.




Also the Interlude is finally 'done', took a few re-writes and it has expanded quite a bit but it should be ready now I think. It will be up within the hour which means the vote is closed.

The actual update will be out within twenty four hours as I should have more than enough time between today and tomorrow.

Edit: I have a bit more work to do than I originally thought, not enough to actually push the update back a day or anything but I will probably be done it this evening instead of this afternoon, so an additional four to six hours or so.

 

[Fangshi]

Interlude 5: The Worrier King

It is back, that creeping pain behind the eyes, the knife driven through his skull, no doubt the result of the stress Serpent has been under, or perhaps the lack of sleep he has had to endure, maybe, just maybe, it is down to the tensions within his growing young state, but no, it is likely the result of getting punched in the head every five minutes for the last couple of weeks.

Speaking of which, he better pay attention.

With a deep breath he closes his eyes and is greeted by the silence of the morning, no birds, no beasts, just him and his foe in the low, slow, rolling mists.

He raises his blade, assumes a wide stance and slows his breathing, stretching out each moment, centering himself.

Then the attack comes.

A high blow, aimed at his head, the blade whistles through the air as he sidesteps the blow.

"One," his opponent calls out with a chuckle.

His training has been severe but it is necessary. It was not difficult to break the remnants of the Prophet's forces but in searching their supply train he came across a horrible discovery. The Prophet was only the first on a number of threats directed at the region and his fledgling kingdom. There were other forces marshalling even now, preparing to strike. One word stood out against the rest, a word that filled all of his inner circle with dread.

Myrkridia.

The old horrors let loose in the world since the last war, they have grown in numbers, bred in the dark corners of the world and if the Prophet's journal is too be believed they are headed north in numbers not seen for an age. If his newly minted kingdom is too survive then it must be ready, he must be ready.

The Berserk before him turns in his course and twists his blade back toward him. He manages to bring his blade down in time, deflecting the blow away from his body.

Two weeks ago, that strike would have killed him.

"Two," the Berserk growls.

The massive Northman swings again, a thunderous blow that could cleave a man damn near in half. There is no stopping such a blow so he leaps backward.

"Three," the large opponent calls out with a nod to him.

The next attack takes the form of a quick thrust to the body but he has seen this many time before by now and easily turns the blow.

"Four," Serpent shouts while a smile plays upon his lips. He is doing well, much better than before.

The Berserk laughs, "You won't make it to five brother!"

He waits for the next attack, eyeing his opponent cautiously, if he wants to win this then he needs to land a blow, he needs to go on the offensive.

His blade extended before him, he thrusts. With one hand his opponent catches the tip of his blade with his own, the Berserk rolls the blade away and swings with his free hand.

That great fist, it once more collides with his face and knocks him flat. Instinctively he raises his blade to ward of the finishing blow but it will do little good. If this were a real battle he would be dead.

"Hahaha!" the Berserk bellows in his deep baritone, "Well done brother!"

The Northman extends one great arm as he groans, "I lost Angtyr. I lost again."

"Brother you are too hard on yourself," the Berserk answers with a sympathetic smile.

"I have to be hard on myself, if I am going to lead the clans then I have to be better," he answers as he sucks wind, he does his best to ignore the throbbing in his head, now stronger than ever before, "We need to start again."

"No time Serpent," Angtyr answers with a shrug, "We must depart for the Duns today if we are to arrive in time for the gathering of the clans."

He doubts he is ready for this but it is his idea. No way he can back out now.

"I wish Christine were coming," he sheathes his blade as the pair turn back to the fort.

"She is busy brother," his comrade lays a single great hand upon his brother's shoulder, "She has a way with the Steel-fur spiders and she is our best chance at recruiting the druids to our cause, provided she can find them."

He knows that is true, it does not make their separation any easier though. He will just have to hope that she succeeds in her task while he focuses on his.

Hopefully all the training he has undergone will be enough, he sighs, "Alright, let's get going then."

He hopes he will be up to the challenges before him, not for his sake but for the sake of his people.

-----------------------------------

"Your Majesty, please slow down," the captain calls from behind her.

"Like hell I will Leo!" Christine calls back, leaning over the side of her mount to the horsemen below her, "We need to find more of these beasts! They could well be the difference between victory and defeat."

She whistles to the creature, it increases its pace, stomping along on eight broad legs, clicking as it runs. She, in turn, tightens he grip on its harness. Below it and around it scurry a swarm of smaller beasts, chattering away and eyeing Leo's horses hungrily. Only her presence holds them back, this is power, this is control, an army under her command, one that will secure her throne, her place in the world.

It is just a shame that Serpent is not here with them, if she hurries though she should be back in the capital well before he is due to return.

One of Leo's riders comes charging up the path with three hound sized beasts in close pursuit, "Help! Another pack! Twelve strong!"

She whistles again, a single low note followed by two sharp, shrill notes. Her mount, the largest spider she has ever seen, rolls forward on its massive legs.

The rider whips his mount faster and faster as his pursuers close on him.

"Just a little closer Goliath," she mutters and the beast responds, pushing itself to its utmost.

As soon as she enters range she begins to weave he spells, normally it would take days to bind a spider and weeks to months to train it but her mother was clever. The Silvers knew a way to instantly bind the creatures but not without a cost. She opens her silver spider box and withdraws a single silver pill, she has already expended over half her stockpile to get this far into the dark woods, she hopes this will be worth it. She crushes the pill in her hand and smoke begins to pour forth, weaving into silken strands before her. She plucks at the strands with her mind, weaving them together into cords that drift toward the minds of the creatures. She provokes them and they shift targets moments before they catch Leo's horseman.

They burst past the exhausted cavalryman and charge toward her, "That's right just a little closer," she begins to whistle, each note a string that sticks to their minds, she whistles high and they begin to slow, she whistles low and they begin to sway, in but moments they are hers to do with as she sees fit.

A flick of her wrist and a rolling tone give them all the information they need, eyes glazed over, they fall into formation behind her advancing column. She will need to spend a moment later to fix their loyalties in place but for now this will be enough.

"You there! Scout!" she raises a hand from Goliath's back to flag down the rider.

He pulls his steed to a quick halt before the great 'roc-eater' spider, "Yes ma'am!"

"Report," she commands while Leo draws his mount up beside her.

His report comes quickly in the clipped cool manner of a veteran mercenary, "A nest up ahead ma'am. At least twelve of the little beasties and maybe one or two of the bigger ones as well. They are congregating around an old fellow."

"Good," the Queen answers with a grin, "That would be our druid. Shall we go and meet him then?"

"Your majesty," the mercenary captain begins, "Allow me an my men to ride ahead and ensure this is not a trap-"

"No time Leo! We must press on immediately!" she winks at the exhausted captain and again she whistles, crashing forward, her column of slaved spiders rushing on behind her.

"Sir? Orders?" the scout enquires.

Leo sighs, "We follow her, to the end of the world, we follow."

--------------------------------------------

"So this is Kirriemuir, 'jewel' of the Duns?" Serpent mutters to himself.

It is hardly a paradise, it is barely a city, it is, in fact, merely a collection of old stone longhouses in a loose circle on the highest hill of the Duns.

He is told that eleven months of the year this site is empty, a ghost town home to nothing but wind and the moaning of the barely remembered. But for one month every year the clans gather to sort out their business, feuds are settled, trials are held, treaties are negotiated and all respect the peace of this place. For one month there is no war amongst the clans and all gather in brotherhood.

He has heard stories about Kirriemuir, anyone that has traveled the empire has, though Angtyr was quick to put to rest the worst of the rumours.

He insisted that the gathering of the clans is far less interesting than outsiders think, 'A bunch of old men sitting around gossiping,' he insisted.

Now that he is here though, Serpent is not so sure. There are no wild parties or rivers of alcohol but there are an awful lot of armed warriors and the tension hangs thick in the air.

There is an unspoken promise of violence here but if Serpent is to be recognized as King by the Dunnish tribes then it will have to be here and it will have to be now.

"Well, let's get this over with," he takes the first step toward the town flanked by his brother and his cousin and backed by forty Berserk warriors. At the very least he can take comfort in the fact that his is the largest single faction at this meeting, if things go poorly they will not be outnumbered that badly...

-----------------------------------------------

She lets out three shrill tones before dropping into a low hiss. Goliath dutifully slows and come to rest at the center of the clearing.

Before her an old man sits, bent backed, skin like leather, he eyes her cautiously as he takes a long, slow, draw from a large skein on his lap. On his head sits a worn hat, bizarre in its construction, it is wide brimmed and flat topped though folded on the sides. His great side burns and long moustache form an intricate pattern on his face but the most striking feature he possesses is a pair of moles on his left cheek. He seems at home here, amongst these beasts and a tiny spider with a the head of a great cat and the tusks of a mammoth rests on his shoulder while he casually drinks.

Around him a horde of wolf sized spiders scurry, their legs make a strange sort of music as they dance.

The two mages consider one another in silence.

"Your Majesty!" Leo calls out as he bursts into sight and comes up short at the edge of the clearing.

His horsemen follow his lead, hesitant to close with such a large number of these creatures. That is fine, they are safer back there anyway and she will not need them for this, "Captain! You and your men are to advance no further! You will wait for my signal!"

"Yer Majesty eh?" the old man takes another deep swig from his skin.

"Yes," she replies coolly, "I am Christine, Queen of the Northlands."

He shakes his head, "Not yet y'ain't."

"Excuse me?" she answers, he annoyance reflected in the hissing of her beasts.

The old man laughs, his spiders chatter with glee, "Yer not Queen yet. The Northmen follow ya, what is left of them, but the Dunnish do not recognize ya and so yer not Queen."

She brushes off his objection, "The Dunnish will recognize me, my husband is seeing to that even now," the mention of Serpent sets off a pang of concern within the newly minted queen, she hopes he will manage, she hopes he will succeed, most of all she hopes he will return to her safely.

The old man shrugs, "Perhaps, though I would not bet on it. Still, even if they do, what good will it do? We Berserks have no need of kings and queens, leave that for the weaklings in the south."

She grins, "That is where you are wrong, you Berserks for all your pride lack unity. Without unity you will fall. You would have fallen to the Prophet if not for us and you will fall to the next threat if we fail."

"Is that why yer here?" the old man asks as he draws himself slowly to his feet.

"Yes," she answers as she dismounts, "I want your help, I want the aid of the druids in the creation of a lasting Kingdom of the North."

"We do not give out loyalty to just anyone," he tucks his skein into his belt and folds his arms across his barrel chest.

"I know," she holds his gaze, "I will do whatever is necessary to retain my crown."

"Hmmm," he rubs his strong chin, lost in thought, "Alright girl, follow me."

He turns and strides towards the entrance of the cave, she hesitates but thinks of Serpent and her crown, she follows.

-------------------------------------------

"Let him speak!" Bran slams his fist on the table before him.

"Ha! If your foreign puppet wants to speak, you Konthasos goat-fucker, then let him shout us down like a man," the Bachad representative shouts to boisterous cheers from his fellows.

Angtyr rises, a hand on his blade, "If you speak against the King again I will-"

"You will do nothing, young one," the calm and steady tone of the Culbrea elder throws the raucous room into silence.

None will raise a voice or a hand against this man. Even Serpent, a foreigner, knows his name. He is Truan of the Hundred Battles, he is the lone Berserk chosen by Alric himself during the Great War to pierce the lines of the Dark at Muirthemne and recover the wonder weapon that helped win the war. He is a hero, not just to the Berserks of the Duns but to all who fight for the Light. He is the man Serpent hopes to impress.

"Let this young king speak," old Truan continues, "Let him make his case and we will judge the wisdom of his words, we are free men but we need not be savages."

His words are met with nods of agreement and murmurs of assent.

Serpent stands, he hates being the center of attention like this but it is his role and he must play it, "Thank you Elder Truan," he bows slightly to the old man, a mark of respect for one of the last living heroes of the war, "And my thanks to the assembled chiefs here as well," a handful nod but many more scoff and fold their arms in contempt, "Today I wish to speak of unity, I wish to speak of the future of all Berserks both in the North and in the Duns. We must-"

"There is no we!" the Bachad representative calls out with a howl.

"Ai, let the Northmen have their puppet king! We need no unity! We are free men all and strong in our freedom!" the Taralang elder adds with enthusiasm.

Once more the noise in the stone longhouse drowns out the young king, they call to him, "Leave this assembly!" they shout at him, "Ye do not belong here!" they ridicule him, "Pretender! Fraud! No true Berserk are ye!"

"Enough!" he shouts as he draws Tyrvard's blade, his blade, and drives it through the table before him, "You will listen! I broke the Prophet's armies! I drove back his magic! I slew his champions! And in the spoils of war I took from their camp, I discovered a threat to all of us, all who call themselves Berserks!"

"Ah, he will say anything!" the Taralang elder laughs derisively.

"I say we throw these Northmen and their puppet into the sea! Let them swim back to their homeland!" the Bachad representative bellows before the crowd.

"Silence!" old Truan once more speaks, "We will not break the truce, we will not commit violence during the meeting!"

The assembly mutters in disappointment.

Not to be denied a little bloodshed the Tatalang elder quickly presents an alternative, "Then let's test the boy instead! Have him fight a champion, if he wins then we follow, if he loses then we dismiss these wretches and let them get back to their herds and their island!"

It is an idea that immediately gains traction among the assembly, "Test him! Test him! Test him!" they shout.

Truan sighs, "Who will challenge him then?"

"I will grandfather!" the call comes from the back of the assembly, it is light, melodic, but haughty and with an edge to it as sharp as steel.

The assembly breaks into cheers as Serpent turns to pinpoint the voice.

She is both beautiful and intimidating, almost two metres tall, her flaxen hair hangs loosely down her back, she strides into the center of the chamber with the same lean, predatory grace all veteran Berserks seem to possess.

Behind him Serpent can hear his brother and cousin muttering.

"Well that's not so bad," Angtyr whispers with a sly grin, "Brother might even be able to beat a girl at this point."

Bran's face is ashen, "Not if that is Truan's granddaughter, Kára. It is said that as a child she swore she would wed no man save the one that could hold her life in his hands. Since then she has practiced with the blade every day and every night of her life. She has never been beaten."

"Ah hell," Serpent's brother grunts, "We should just leave now then. Let these Dunnish morons suffer alone for all I care, let the myrkridia feast on their empty heads."

"We can't do that, we will need the numbers in the days ahead" the King whispers to his men, "I have to fight, I have to try."

"But Serpent-" Angtyr tries to caution his brother.

"No 'buts'," the physician answers, "I have to try."

He steps into the center of the chamber, "Very well, I accept."

The room erupts in a chorus of cheers as Bran sighs, "I will go get you medical kit and some alcohol."

-------------------------------------

She fires off a pair of silver arrows as her spiders surge forward.

'A test' they call it. They have agreed to help her and her husband but first they want to know if she is worthy of help.

Humph, 'worthy' of help. She has half a mind to feed them to her spiders.

Still, she has been to their village now, she has seen their power, she has heard their bizarre magic and she knows that it will make a difference in the battles to come.

She will pass their test, she will succeed for herself and for Serpent.

A rock flies past her head, mere millimetres from her skull. Right, she better start paying attention.

Her enemies are curious creatures, blue men, three metres tall, each with six arms and three heads. Their primary means of attack seems to be merely hurling rocks and boulders and so it was not too difficult to devise a proper plan to best them.

She will charge them on Goliath's back along with most of the larger woolly spiders she has bent to her will.

All a distraction to let their smaller cousins slip through the side tunnels, then... Yes!

Dozens of little horrors pour out of cover and leap at the blue giants.

They bite and claw as the enemy line begins to disintegrate. She takes aim for the largest of them and gives Goliath the order to charge.

-------------------------------------

He tries to calm himself, find his center and prepare for her assault.

He is not given the time.

The first three strikes, aimed at his throat, stomach and groin, come in rapid succession without even the slightest pause.

It is all he can do to parry the first two and leap out of the way of the third.

She is faster than he is, she is stronger than he is, and she is trying to kill him.

He tries to come up with a plan, some sort of defence, he hesitates for a moment as he thinks and he receives a fist in his face for his trouble.

The pain arcs through him, ah, his nose is definitely broken and it is getting difficult to focus.

He lashes out at her in desperation, a sweeping slash followed by a thrust.

It costs him his blade as she pins it and wretches it from his grasp.

She laughs and the assembly laughs with her. Angtyr and Bran cough uncomfortably and stare at their feet. This must be embarrassing for them.

He jumps away from her strike and scurries to the far side of the ring.

She sighs, shaking her head, "Here, have your sword back," she tosses Tyrvard's blade into the dirt before him.

He snatches it up, bringing it up quickly to guard his body.

He has been fighting for four minutes now and it is clear to everyone that he can not win this fight. He has trained with a blade for a few months, she has trained her entire life, there is simply too great of a difference between them to overcome.

So, he is going to have to be creative, he is going to have to use his magic.

She charges in on the attack and this time he is ready, he sidesteps her swing and blasts her with a gout of webbing.

She spins as the spell closes in on her, raising her blade to ward of the spell.

It is over, the webbing will hit her and fix her in place, she will-

Her blade bursts into flame and splits the spell in two.

He can sense a hint of magic about her, did she cast? No. But that sword must be enchanted.

She comes at him far quicker now, her steps light and purposefully misleading, she bends and sways as she advances. Driving him slowly to the edge of the ring.

It is then that it happens, she feints to his left, he falls for her trap and her right fist connects full on with the side of his face.

He wobbles backward, rocking on his heels, standing but unable to move, unable to focus.

A flying knee catches him under the jaw and pitches him out of the ring. He crashes to the ground, spread out, barely conscious as she lands on top of him.

His ribs crack under her, he groans in pain, before he blacks out, the last thought that crosses his mind is that he failed his people.

Now he will never be recognized as king.

----------------------------------

"I have past your damn test!" she pitches the large, triangular head at their feet, "Now serve!"

The druids have quietly gathered round the young queen, their spider followers hissing and chattering in the distance.

The old man that led her here steps forward to speak, he tips up his hat to get a better look at her, "Aye, suppose you did," he takes in her horde of loyal spiders, scratching his cheek just below his pair of prominent moles, "An' I suppose we shall. Just let me get my axe."

The rest of the druids nod to one another.

She has done it, she has won them the allies they will need to survive what is to come.

She grins is pride but part of her worries about Serpent and the task set before him.

----------------------------------

When he comes to he is back in their shelter.

"Your awake, we were afraid that maybe she had killed you of put you in a coma," Angtyr hands him jug of something strong and sweet.

"Thank you," the broken king replies, he has trouble looking his brother in the eye, he has failed them all though he is sure they will try to downplay the significance of this defeat. Drawing his thoughts together he manages to choke out a few more words, "Now what?"

"Now we go home," Bran answers from the doorway, "The Dunnish have the excuse they so desperately needed to ignore our warnings. They will not follow us now and so we look to our own."

"When do we leave?" Serpent barely whispers, defeated, distraught.

"As soon as you are ready cousin," the hairy warrior replies.

He tries to drag himself out of bed and as he does so pain shoots through his body.

He grunts and drops back into the bed, "In a few days I guess."

Angtyr and Bran simply nod, "Take as much time as you need Serpent, we will wait till you are ready."

Serpent sighs and gestures for the jug, he is not a drinking man but by Wyrd right now he needs it.

-----------------------------------

He is not ready for four more days.

Though there are no known enemies between here and the island traveling in the north is always a hazardous proposition and he can see no sense in setting out before he is ready, even if he and his men must endure the contempt and snickering insults of the Dunnish.

Bandaged and still sore he begins to pack his things, his medicine, Tyrvard's sword, the woollen robes of his 'office', as he does so he plays back everything that has brought him to this point. His journey to Muirthemne, meeting Derryth- he wonders how she is and what she would think of the mess he is making, no doubt she would be able to think of a way out of this. He shakes his head, this is his problem, well his and Christine's, and they will just have to manage. With any luck she succeeded at her-

A scream fills the room from outside, then another and a third, a whole choir of howls and moans. For a second he just puts it down to some obscure Berserk custom he is unfamiliar with but as the sounds build in intensity and frequency it becomes clear that, that is not the case.

It begins to sound distinctly like a battle out there.

The first instinct of any Berserk warrior would be to rush toward it, blade in hand and deliver furious death to the aggressor, whoever they may be, but he is not a Berserk warrior.

The first instinct of any king would be to rally his guard to him and march out into battle, to drive back the threat through cunning and superior skill, but as much as everyone insists on his kingship he has never felt like a king.

He is a physician, first, foremost and always, and he knows that a battle means wounded. Lives cast onto the very precipice between life and death. He knows that he will be needed and so he grabs his kit and he runs out into the dim morning light for that is what he is and this is what he must do.

-----------------------------------------

The entire village is ablaze, tents and thatched roofs burn as howling figures race through the night. This is a myrkridia attack and they are devastating everything.

Further down the way he spots Angtyr, Bran and his remaining guards, they call to him and quickly form a ring around him.

"Brother! We must leave!" Angtyr yells over the flames and death cries of the Dunnish.

He shakes his head, the answer for him is clear and that gives him courage, "We can't, these people need help!"

"These people do not give a fuck about us cousin!" Bran grabs him by the shoulder and he winces, "Why should we give a fuck about them?"

"Then leave if you want!" the physician shouts back, "But I will not!"

Bran snorts, then laughs, "You have the blood of a Berserk King in your veins, no doubt about it cousin!" he turns to his men, "We are staying boys! Going to crush a few of these pups!"

The Berserks cheer, the prospect of a good scrap does wonders for their mood.

"We need to get to the assembly!" it is clear to Serpent, at least, what the enemy is trying to do, kill enough of the Berserk chieftains and you break the back of any possible resistance.

His followers nod their agreement and the group sets off.

------------------------------------

The scene before the great stone longhouse is somewhat disheartening. Here a large knot of myrkridia throw themselves at a quickly shrinking ring of Berserk defenders. Kára leads the defenders though she does precious little to coordinate their efforts, her idea of leadership, like that of most of her people is to wade in at the front of her men and kill as many enemies as possible. Such a method has its time and place but it is doing little good here. The humans put up a good fight but it will matter little in the end, they are outnumbered at least two to one and a myrkridia is easily a match for all but the best of warriors.

Still, maybe there is something he can do, "Angtyr, do we have any ranged weapons with us?"

"No brother," the great Berserk shakes his head, "No warrior would think of carrying such a weapon into battle."

Naturally, well that is something else he will have to change in the future.

"Is there anyone that would?" he asks Bran.

The Berserk answers readily enough, "Aye cousin, there should be a store of boar spears used for hunting somewhere around here."

"Good," the physician king nods, "We arm ourselves with those and we hit their rear with a few good volleys."

"Why brother?" the big Berserk asks in confusion, "We should attack them now! Drive them away from the assembly!"

Serpent shakes his head, "No, they are ferocious fighters and we can not risk losing anyone as there may be more out there, but we can use their very fury against them. I once heard in a surgeon's account of the last war that myrkridia, when they are wounded, fall into a bloody rage and will savage all around them, friend and foe alike, we will turn the very horde on itself and win victory with the bare minimum of casualties."

The Berserks look at one another and grin, Angtyr speaks, "Hah, you will be a great king for our people!" he turns to his men, "Quickly lads, lets get those spears!"

Within minutes they are ready and they begin their assault.

His plan works to perfection, by the third volley half of the myrkridia have turned on each other in their rage. They howl, they scream and they claw at one another. Rapidly they take their toll on their brothers trapped between the wall of screaming steel that is the defenders and the blind rage of their own.

Serpent waits, holding his men back, as the enemy disintegrates to the cheers of the surviving Dunnish Berserks. A few of them even salute him and Kára spares him a single nod as she rests on her blade.

His men cheer and slap him on the back but he does not make a move, if this was an attempt to snuff out the leadership of the Dunnish Berserks then his enemy would not leave its success to chance. This is not over yet, he is sure of it, and it takes only a moment for his worst fear to be realized. Out of the morning mist a trio of massive myrkridia lumber, each is as tall as a Trow and carries a large sack at its side, these are Myrkridian Giants and these will pose a true challenge to the remaining defenders.

He readies his men for the fight of his life, hopefully it won't be his last.

-----------------------------------------

"Keep slicing at it men! It is bound to fall eventually!" admittedly not the best strategy one could come up with but they are out of spears and he can only channel so much magic at a time, he wants to save it for a truly dire situation.

As he stands there contemplating their strategy Angtyr flies past him and slams into the stone wall of the longhouse, he twitches, still alive, but that must have hurt.

He directs his attention back to the battle before him, Kára circles one of the giants by herself, so far her speed has saved her from a painful end but all that monster will need is a lucky shot. She is tiring from the constant battle and he doubts she will last for long.

The rest of the Dunnish are doing their best to mob the second giant, it kicks at them and snatches to odd Berserk up, pitching them across the square like a child in a tantrum hurling a favourite toy. One of the poor fellows hits the dirt path head first and folds in on his neck, nothing Serpent can do about that, that man was dead as soon as he hit the dirt.

Bran and his remaining honour guard fight the last giant and that is where Serpent intends to make a difference. The beast is outnumbered but only four to one, it produced some sort of great explosive projectile, it looked for all the world like a skull, and when it hit, along with the skulls from its companions, he lost fully two thirds of his men. A horrible surprise but a useful lesson to learn now rather than later.

He fires off a pair of silver arrows that strike the beast in its chest and neck, that catches its attention as they burrow into its flesh. It bellows and kicks Bran out of the way, the Berserk skids across the ground and comes to rest next to an overturned cart. The beast points at Serpent and begins to march toward him. If it reaches him, that will probably be it, he can not fight this thing but he does still have a card or two to play.

He opens with a flash of light, something Christine came up with, a simple little spark to blind the enemy. Then he hits it with an energy bolt and a single silver arrow. It roars in pain but does not fall, that is fine, it is doing precisely what he needs it to do. This next bit will be difficult but if he can manage it will win him the fight.

It opens its mouth wide, bellowing at him in unrestrained fury, and he lobs a glob of thick webbing down its throat.

He grins as its eyes go wide, it scratches at its throat, unable to breathe, it is suffocating, a slow, agonizing death. It drops to its knees, then onto its hands, it looks Serpent in the eyes, gasping its last.

He takes a score of steps backward as it tries to reach for him, it shakes, slams its clawed fist into the dirt and collapses.

His men cheer, Angtyr staggers to his feet and wobbles weakly, Bran, now standing again, runs toward the beast, jumps onto its back and drives his blade in at the base of its skull, a quick kill and a sure one.

Two to go.

------------------------------------------

Kára bobs and weaves around the enormous claws of the giant, if it catches her even once then she is done for.

She feints to her left and slips between its legs again, cutting a deep groove across its thigh. It does not matter much though, this is the eighth such blow she has delivered and yet the beast fights on. It is fast, it is strong and nothing seems to harm it for long. She is over matched on her own, for the first time she has met an opponent she can not beat alone, no, she refuses to accept that, she will find a way to win, she-

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of cheers from he Dunnish fighters, did they manage to fell one of the beasts?

She spares a glance in the direction of the noise and she sees something she never would have expected.

That little pretender, that 'king', that outsider has felled not just one of these giants but two of them. It coughs and wheezes before him, lying prostrate at his feet. How? How in the name of the Old Ones did he achieve such a feat. He is no warrior, she has measured him and found him wanting, he is no master of the blade, hell, he is not even carrying a weapon, so how did he-

Too slow, she should have been paying attention, the beast hits her, raking her with its claws, as sharp as any blade, like a handful of spear points they pierce her armour and rip into her flesh. It laughs deeply and hurls her at her fellows, the blood draining from what must be a fatal wound.

To die like this, with no great deeds to her name, it sickens her.

Sometime before she hits the ground, she blacks out.

---------------------------------

He does not have any more spells left, he has no weapon but what he does have in abundance is intellect and knowledge.

The Berserks do their part, they hack and slash at the creature, they leap and bound. Bran leads them laughing while Angtyr watches on with jealousy, "Pay attention brother!" Serpent shouts, "I need your help for this."

The Berserk nods, holding a large water skein as Serpent mixes together a dozen rare extracts and local poisons he has collected, "Now this is important, we need to get this sack down its throat, the potion will do the rest of the work for us, do you think you can do it?"

Angtyr nods and grins, "Brother have you ever seen me toss the caber?"

"Brother," the physician smiles, "I do not even know what a caber is."

The Berserk nods solemnly, "Then I will add it to your training regime when we return home."

The young king grunts, "Great."

The wounded Berserk lines up his target, he waits for his opening, Bran drives his blade into the creatures hip, just above the groin, and it howls in agony. Angtyr unstops the flash and hurls it across the square.

The two brothers watch on, neither speaks, neither breathes, as the flask sails through the air and...

It hits!

It sails right into the maw of the beast and down its throat.

Serpent watches what happens next with great interest.

The creature laughs and bellows something in its dark tongue, at first nothing seems to happen but then it begins to bleed, from its eyes, its ears, its mouth, its nose, the dark blood of the myrkridian giant pours forth. It twitches, it convulses, it mutters to itself as it sweats, it pitches backward and curls into a ball shivering.

It dies minutes later.

---------------------------------------

Kára awakes in bed.

Her whole body aches.

Where is she?

How did she survive?

Was the monster beaten?

She hears noises, muffled voices and shuffling feet.

She is not alone.

Somewhere beyond her vision something moves.

They grow closer, she readied herself, eyes open but a crack.

A hand reaches for her blanket, she grabs it by the wrist.

"Good, you are awake," the being answers calmly and with satisfaction, "You had your grandfather quite worried."

The voice is masculine but she can not place it, it belongs to none of her household.

"Who, who are you?" she asks without releasing his wrist.

He steps around to give her a better view.

It is that foreigner, that pretender!

Her head spins, "How? Why? What are you doing?"

"Checking your wounds," he replies calmly, "You came very close to death but you should be fine by tomorrow."

Death? She almost died? And he says he saved her?

"Where is my grandfather?" it is the first thought that springs to her mind.

"Right outside, I will send for him," the man offers.

"Yes, ah, thank you," she replies quietly.

The door opens and she is met by her grandfather's misty eyes and his strong arms.

They have much to talk about.

--------------------------

"Well, I suppose we should be going," Serpent and his remaining men have gathered at the edge of the village.

Their actions yesterday have won them the respect of the Dunnish, if not their loyalty. A handful of lesser clans have pledged their service to his cause but it is less than he had hoped for.

Still, something is better than nothing, at least he will not return home empty-handed.

"Whenever you are ready brother," Angtyr replies as he lays a large hand on his sovereign's shoulder.

He takes the first step along their path, the long road back to the island and his queen. Wyrd, he misses her.

"Young man! Stop!" the call comes from behind them, "Young man! Please stop!"

A large knot of Dunnish Berserks advance on their weakened group. At their head march Truan and his granddaughter, fully recovered, he smiles at his own handiwork, there are only maybe seven men in the entire north that could have saved that woman and he knows he is the best of them even if it is a bit prideful to say so.

The Dunnish group draws to a halt ten metres from his group.

Serpent steps forward and speaks, "Is there something more I can do for you, wise Truan?"

"Yes," the old man grins, "You can remember to take your wife with you!"

The Dunnish cheer and Angtyr chuckles.

"I am afraid I do not understand," the perplexed physician replies.

Kára blushes and mutters something less than flattering about him.

Truan laughs, "Every Berserk in the Duns wants my granddaughter for his wife but not one of them had the strength to do it. Yet you casually achieve what they could not and you are not even aware of the prize you have won! The Old Ones truly have a magnificent sense of humour."

"But I-" the physician stammers, "I still don't understand."

Truan gives the young king a sympathetic nod, "My granddaughter swore a great oath as a girl that she would marry no man save the one that could hold her life in his hands. For years we all thought that such a situation would only come about through direct combat but..."

The light of understanding flares to life in the physician king's eyes, "When I saved her life with my medicine I- oh, oh no this is not going to work! I am terribly sorry but I must decline!" the Dunnish warriors begin to mutter and scowl, some even reach for their blades as Serpent tries to make them see, "You see I already have a wife and-"

Angtyr slaps a large hand over his king' mouth and whispers in his ear, "If you marry Kára then Truan becomes your grandfather as well, the entire Culbrea tribe will become your family and with them you will gain the loyalty of all the Duns. You will be King in the North."

"Which will do us no good if Christine murders me!" the physician whispers back, "Besides, does this Kára even want to marry me?"

"It does not matter," Bran advises his cousin, "If you do not accept you will shame the entire Culbrea tribe and all the Dunnish by extension. It will mean war."

"That is ridiculous!" Serpent retorts.

"That is the Dunnish," Angtyr replies with a wink.

The physician sighs, "Great Truan may I speak to your granddaughter for a moment?"

The Berserk hero nods, "She is your wife, you may do with her as you wish, I-"

"Thank you," he gestures for the warrior maiden to follow him off to the side, she looks to her grandfather and he gives her a little push to get her started.

When the two of them are far enough away from the rest of the Berserks he speaks, "Answer me plainly Kára, is it your wish to marry me?"

"No," her reply comes quickly and firmly, "You are not a warrior and you do not have a warrior's heart, I do not wish to marry you."

Well, that is all he needs to know. It is true, he is not a warrior, he is a physician and a mage, he nods once in understanding, "Then I will not marry you," he turns to walk away.

She grabs his arm, he stops, she is far too strong for him and he would not be able to break free even if he struggled. He turns as she speaks, "That would mean war, you do understand that right? My grandfather would have no choice."

"We always have a choice," the physician answers, "A very good friend taught me that and I will not disrespect her by pretending that we don't. I choose not to live a lie. If that means war then so be it, we will go to war and I will win."

He speaks those words with a confidence he was not sure he possessed. It impresses him a little, seems it impresses her a lot too as she grabs him by the back of the neck and forces her tongue down his throat.

She leaves him gasping for air. She grins, "Perhaps you do not have the heart of a warrior but you do have the heart of a king. I will marry you if you will have me."

Well hell, now how is he going to get out of this?

In the distance he can hear his Northmen and her Dunnish warriors cheering. As they walk back to the group, Bran beams at him while Angtyr and Truan negotiate the bride price.

------------------------------------

Now this is magic!

She has been practicing non-stop since they returned to the new capital.

This magic, this 'axe' they built for her, it is perfect!

And it is loud.

"Majesty!" Leo and half a dozen Berserk officers come crashing into her chamber.

They are blown back and slammed against the wall by the collective magic of the druids, it is all Christine can do to prevent the spells she is working from killing them as the head druid's raspy vocals wind down;

"Don't sweat it, get it back to you,

Don't sweat it, get it back to you,

Overkill, Overkill, Overkill."

Technically the spell should last for a few more minutes yet but out of mercy for her commanders she motions for the group to wind down their 'performance'.

Leo finally staggers to his feet, "Your Majesty, we have word from the coast-" he wobbles on his legs as she rushes across the room to steady him.

"My husband?" the queen asks with trepidation, he has been gone a week longer than expected and it worries her, night and day. On reflection that is probably why she has thrown herself into this new magic, it strengthens her and pushes back her fear, even if only for a time.

The mercenary captain nods, still not able to consistently form words, "He- he is on his way with a large body of warriors- he..."

She squeezes him, "He did it, I knew he would! He won and brought us the allies we need, I wonder," she spins on her heels, tapping her cheek with one finger and dropping the poor captain, "I wonder what sorts of gifts they brought me?"

Well, there will be time for that later. Now she needs to see everything prepared.

-----------------------------------

The soldiers at the ready, her spiders safely out of sight, she even managed to convince the druids to wash themselves in something other than whiskey today.

It is all ready, it is all perfect, as she stands there on the steps of the fort awaiting her husband.

She sees him, riding on a black stallion at the head of his men. Pride wells up inside her, they are now King and Queen in the North, unequalled among the Berserks. They can do anything, beat anyone, they will drive off the myrkridian threat and any other that should rise before them and they will do it together.

He dismounts and races up the steps, she meets him half way and embraces him, "I knew you would make it, what happened? Why did it take so long? Tell me everything?"

Her Serpent grins at her, "Alright dear, I will tell you everything tonight but first," he frowns, "First there is something important I must tell you-"

"So this is yer husband?" the head druid enquires, "Ah, must be more to the man than there seems."

Serpent glances at the old druid, "And who are you sir?"

"Why I'm-" the druid barely has time to begin before Christine cuts him off.

"He is a druid dear! I found them, far to the north, on the very shores of the North Sea, they have agreed to fight for us!" she beams in triumph.

His eyes jump back to her, he matches her grin, "That is magnificent my love. We will need all the help we can get. We ran into a myrkridian raiding party on the mainland, I do not think we have much time left."

"Well then, it is a good thing you managed to rally the Dunnish clans then," she glances over his shoulder at the chiefs riding up in the second column, an old man and a blonde woman at their head, "Serpent?" she releases her husband, "Who are they?"

Her husband answers, pointing to each in turn, "Truan, hero of the Duns, and his granddaughter Kára. Their support was instrumental in rallying the clans."

"Oh... good..." Christine answers without looking at her husband, the queen stares a hole in the Berserk woman as she rides through the gate.

"Listen Christine," he takes her hand, "There is something very important I have to-"

"Husband! What is going on!" Kára calls as she dismounts.

"Husband?" Christine practically hisses.

"Ah, well, see, that-" Serpent struggles to find words. This, this is not going to end well, he just knows it.

"Who is this husband? A servant perhaps?" Kára continues, "Where is your wife? I should like to meet her? Can you send this servant off to fetch her?"

"Servant!" the queen's fists clench, her teeth grate.

Serpent tries to intervene, "My dear- ah, Kára this is-"

The Berserk shakes her head, "I will meet the staff later my dear, right now I wish to meet the enchanting beauty you spoke to me about the entire way here. The great sorceress that is to be my competition."

"Competition?" the two ask together, he is surprise, she in anger.

"Ah yes," the Berserk nods, "I must have forgotten to mention that in Berserk households the place of first wife, or husband, goes to the first one to conceive."

"I- ah- well," the physician stammers, taken aback.

"Serpent," calmly Christine turns to him, she is as a storm about to break loose, she laughs, "I am certain that there is a perfectly good reason why this savage thinks you are her husband but I would like you to please let her down gently, we would not want the great oaf to break something after all."

"Savage? Oaf?" the Berserk tenses, "Serpent, dear, it is improper to let your serving girls talk about your wives in such a way! I demand that you discipline her or I will!"

"Serpent say something!" both women shout in his ears.

It is back, that creeping pain behind the eyes, the knife driven through his skull, and now he knows the exact cause of it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he laughs madly and he longs for the days when all he had to worry about was a punch in the face.

 

[archaen]

SOMEBODY GIVE ME THE ABILITY TO BROFIST NAO!