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Sea Interests/The Virridescent One
CHRONICLE > Dunstrand Rising is a Living World campaign set in Grand Duchy of Dunstrand in the Steel Realms of the [Fantasy] Steel Realms Setting (planet of Helca).
The The Viridescent One/Sea Interests follows the interests of powers along the coast of Crestwold and the Pranin Moorswood.
Part 1 – Danger to the Lizardfolk
Uccuthru goes to Feather. He tells feather that although he feels some connection with the group merely watching this home, this massive Stone edifice, that feels so unnatural is grinding away at his sanity. His sanity. He tells her that he must spend time with his kinfolk, he must return to nature for a while. This is just not the way of his people. He does appreciate the pipe that was Doug between the castle and the lake, for he can get out through that pipe that runs parallel to the sewer. It gets him time in the reeds along the shore of the lake. Although a few times he’s been nearly spotted. And now that the refugees have moved and they are Fisher folk, he has no refuge left. If he gets an opportunity to return to the Delta or the hoolip Coast with a traveling companion, he will.Feather understands. She never meant to make him feel isolated, but she understands how being so strange amongst the land walkers could make him feel. That way. She takes off a pin that was given to her by the orrish of dwindor. She asks him to wear a band of leather and pin this to it. Should he ever venture into dwindor, swamp or scar flow for his people, it will identify him as a friend of the orrish. She does not try to take his hand for that is not the way of the folk. She simply stares into his eyes and nods. And he does the same back. He muses that she has learned a lot under tutelage of the druids. But she is not like neither the humans here nor the folk of his people. There is a madness in her, he can smell it, and it smells like Doom.
The opportunity does arrive when Athena needs an escort to The druids. He feels like he is around an angry serpent when he is around her. Although normally she was raised to strike fear in the enemies of Ssissllenn, she is not of the serpent kind. Not like him. He agrees to escort her to the briarwood, but then he will be free to rejoin his people for a while. On their journey she is fascinated with the way he moves and uses his balance over what and slick ground, and flooded passages and roads. They speak little and Athena seems okay with that. She seems to expect that from his kind. He is happy. He does not feel like he must feel the empty air. They avoid other human contact and eventually reach the briarwood. It is moved. That is good to know. Athena and him stand arms locked. Looking into each other’s eyes and then both nod silently.. he makes his sign to The druids of the briarwood. He tells them in few words that he has been treated well and that the agreement still stands but that it is too much land, and not enough water, and too much feeling of being an alien an outsider. He will re-center himself. He will guard the clutch of eggs. He will teach a young folk how to swim. He will hear the last dreams of an elder as he whispers his story in passing. These things are good and necessary. And then he will return to his adopted tribe.
Once returned to his tribe, he feels as if something is watching him. It itches in the back of his mind, but he clings to his family and tribe and the simple life he returned to. Although he fervently meant it that he considers the possibility of simply returning to his people, he shakes it off. It passes.
He misses the watcher that is observing his settlement. It is the witch watching.
The return of the Ur-Dragon holy symbol is met with ceremony. It was placed upon a standard and they went into battle against the troglodytes with it. It was lost months ago. And the priest was killed. It is re-consecrated and mounted above the Great Lodge. He is re-consecrated before he can truly return to the fold of the tribe. The tribe mother says that he has been gone too long and he must endure the long hatch if he wishes to return. He is to be cocooned in a mud Shell, like an eggshell and it is painted (mixed with the blood of his family, carrying hsi ancestors spirits) a bright white to reflect the light. He goes into a form of torpor.
The great spirit of the ur lizard is called in a ceremony, the clutch-mother Semunya settles into him. He sees the walls of the egg form around him as him family ritually encloses him in a mud “egg”. And overnight, with the rising Sun dries it. An entire day in meditation in the dark egg he spends – his monastic skills serving him well. The next day, the egg is cracked from within by him. The first thing that strikes his face is the rising sun, he is reborn. He breaks his way free from the egg and is gathered back into the tribe. His color changes. He is not happy. It is a bad omen for his tribe and the elders are called. It is a message from the Ur-Dragon, speaking through the carrier that returned it to the folk.
Instead of being embraced by his brethren, he flees in tear into the waters off the coast before anyone can question him. The tribe is confused, for there was no rejection, only a message to be read. Every once of madness that he has collected rises to the surface. Though part of him knows it is being exorcised to never return again, it fills his thoughts and blood in the immediate time. The memories of some of his brethren pour into him from the eggshell he broke through.
He swims till he is exhausted. He swims into a storm. In the storm he sees a boat. He has seen many like it, he sees an Umbakian war sloop fleeing the area. The storm plays with it for an hour, he is exhausted. The storm wrecks the craft. He can hear the men scream. He tries to save one or two in desperation. They are not his blood, but they did not deserve their fate. The storm queen sent the storm. His folk can smell the difference between a natural storm and one of her storms of vengeance she sends as part of the war. He has exhausted himself and cannot swim any longer. How ironic he thinks, that death would come as a drowning. He stops moving, hoping to enjoy one last moment of blissful deep water silence before he lets go of his last breath. Deprived of air his brain frays at the edges. He opens his eyes, a feeling compelling him.
In the darkness he sees the ghosts of a thousand drowned sailors like him. Each one clutching their last moment of life in terror. Though not you. It is not the way. In the darkness, another ghost rises, the ghost of something massive. The sailors turn towards it, as it rushes up under them. A massive battle barge such as the world has not seen in ages fills your vision. The ship sweeps up the ghosts of the drowned sailors. Your mind is filled with visions of ancient conquest, of land walkers speaking a strange tongue. Of a ship so massive it should not be able to float. The ship sweeps towards him, but he does not flinch. The cold blood of dragons flows in his veins. There is nothing like the fear the wyrms radiate. Then the giant ship rises up into him. Thats when the current batters him. There is a form in the water. It swirls, thrashing and making bubbles. The bubbles carry him up, and he gasps and gets a mouth of water, but a gulp of air as well. He cannot see but whatever is saving him is large and can swim like a fish, and swiftly. He arrive on the surface as the storm is abating, and croaks out a groan, inhaling a massive breath. Three fins surface and drive towards him. He awaits his fate, some god or elemental of the depths has spared him for an unknown reason.
Its almost humorous to hear a fish speak he thinks. A bubbly voice speaks to him, half in and half out of the water. “You saw. You saw the land walkers descend into the depths. It was not the ancient one of Dwindor. It was not lady Gaia or Lord Darupet. It was the Bitch Queen, the storm queen, the queen of chaos. Let me see all you have seen and heard.” The eye rises up out of the water, staring into yours, penetrating it as you replay all your memories, allowing it to feel, see and hear them through the first person perspective. It plays it all, including discussions with Feather and returning home. Then it keeps playing, as if your mind is filling in blanks, and a vision of the water sprout that took down the sloop gaining in volume and going ever higher. Until it scours the swamp, the Black Shore, and all of Dunstrand Vale. The ghost ship sweeps through the waters, driving the water spout before it. “This cannot come to pass. The sea may be her domain, but it is also the domain of nature. And nature does not take sides. This will be enforced. We will not let it.” With that, the great eye blinks, and you float in peace for an unknown amount of time. You wake, exhausted, but with a clear mind and sanity intact… it might have even been given a bulwark to make it stronger. No thoughts of madness assail you any longer. You orient yourself and begin the long swim home.
Now that you have time to reflect, that was no fish… and you always knew it. You know the aura of what would be fear for the land walkers. That was the Viridescent One. A great wyrm. The wyrm your people have silently welcomed the return of. It is a harbinger of better times for the tribe. That you have been chosen is a sign of your possible ascent – a newtlings dream of dreams.
Part 2 – The Viridescent One’s Ire
AFTER THE EVENTS OF Search for Biyatch … CY 2-14-9169
On the Wonald Delta: The Viridescent One is startled by the clap of the teleportation. Dalcia stands, barely able to stand. “Are you unwell?” She asks. “No, it was just a bit… ‘off’. this place is not known well by my order. By now you must have some idea of why I am here?” I do. “Then you know time is short.” I do. “Then you know we must collaborate?” I don’t. Dalcia stands there, getting frustrated. “But you know what must be done!?” I know what I must do. Then there is what I may desire to do. Get to the point small one. “Without your help, you know what likely happens. The temples both rise again. This time, under no ones control.” Yes, and I will survive. Do you think calamities like this have not happened before? Other than my own whim and safety, what care have I? I have already witnessed the start. The Storm Bitch drowns her enemies and casts her net to bring back a time that was. She sends storms and plagues of creatures, she vexes your rulers and teases a peace you know she never means to keep. I have already spoken to my newtlings. They have been warned to take shelter. I will protect them and them alone. “But we need your help!” You know my price. It is a great peril and sacrifice I would needs make. For that, access to The Panopticon. There is no ‘haggling’ here. It is my price. If you were not enjoined to seal the pact, you would not be here. Chose. “I am, and I do. I so swear that until your death, you shall have unfettered access to The Panopticon of House Malor… in so long as you do nothing to drain, deplete, or funnel its power away from House Malor.” That was not the deal… but I admit, my fascination compels me to take this slightly modified one in exchange. I so swear to abide by these conditions.
The orb suits you. Dalcia cringes. “Yes, i can see it, but i cannot touch it. My kind cannot do anything, though I can at least see it – which is more than the gods or like entities can do. Its been a great while since I have seen one of the eyes of Ioun. Perhaps when this is over, we may exchange knowledge – you barely know what the full power of it may be. Cast its orbit upon me, and you will learn much, as will I. Regardlesss, go now and prepare your warriors. I will meet you in the Eye of the Serpent in The Moorswood.
Dalcia makes a sign and casts a spell. Nothing happens. The Viridescent One corrects her – “It is an elden sign from the days when chaos threatened to overwhelm The All. Your kind is not well suited. Watch me.” She does, and practices it. She casts her spell again, and the orb is rendered invisible. The Viridescent One makes a sign. Gulping loudly, she wrests the orbs orbit from herself with a minor charm and send it orbiting the head of the Viridescent One in silence. Dalcia stares into her eyes waiting… and steps forward, falling into it. She falteringly steps out into the rookerie in Mev Na-Innis.
After she leaves, the Viridescent One allows anger to consume her. Outside the walls of the ancient Umbakian ruins are a struggling team of archeologists. She knows its petty. She knows it should be beneath her. But these land walkers have vexed her more than she should allow. She slips over the ruins of the walls and prowls them in the water. She destroys them, and feasts gloriously. A few make it stumbling, fleeing into the delta. Perhaps they will live. She tells her people to avoid them. Let the fear spread, let them know their days of dominion are only allowed at her pleasure – it reminds her of the ‘old days’. After her meal, she flies to Pranin Moorswood. The beautiful scaled spirit of Ssissllenn awaits her. She is sure he knows what is happening and the favored land walkers are preparing for her now. She wishes she could tolerate them like the serpent lord does… but each must fulfill their destiny in their own way. How fortunate that his most sacred place was where she should awaken after eons of hidden sleep. Cosmic balance? Sure. Or maybe just the luck of the green. The orb will record it and the earth bound skin bags will know eventually that all their fears are well founded.
She muses aloud to her assembled familiars and guardians and audience of small creatures. “It is time to call upon allies and interests. She sends her alligator servant to fetch Kynar Reavenoc. His Binding of Dwindor may serve some purpose if Amerou is to enter the foray. She finds him silly like a child. A ridiculous fount of mirth, full of innocent idiocy and plans beyond his ability to carry them out. She still cannot fathom what Feather sees in him, but he makes a good guardian for her twins. Feather may think she doesnt know, but deep down she must. Very little happens near Dwindor without Na’grindl knowing. Kynar’s needs are simple. He is easy to manipulate.” The animals surrounding her chitter in a mockery of laughter. Except the crane. It just stares at her. She catches herself and stares back.
An hour of fucking and she can convince him to do anything. At least that part is satisfying. After losing the beastie boar-brother, she could not find the physicality her desires wanted for. At least he is good for the release she desperately needs some times. Sometimes she wonders if shes not underestimating him though. He has lived for a great long time, and survived the great cosmic game as only a pawn. Some entities are just good at what they do, and the cosmos seems hell-bent on supporting them for some reason. World after world, story after story, fight after fight. He amuses her for now, but all things must come to an end. Except her. She will live to see these times end, and perhaps someday take flight, and sail on cosmic winds to a new home. At least shes not bored right now. Are you? (she looks at the crane).
Speaking of which, where the fuck is Feather? I can use another cat’s paw… she has proved erratic and reluctant at best so best if she is left out of this event.
Part 3 – The Convergence
Na’grindl: She takes low flight over the delta. She makes sure her shadow is cast over her folk on the delta and Sabin Bay and they relish in its cool comfort. She goes to the druids. The druidhold at Cold Eye is familiar to her now. The druids there show appropriate deference. They seem to be expecting her, and she lands upon the edge of their holy lake. Fresh meat is hung for her. She addesses them as she eats, “Whatever the creature in Dwindor is now, the Once-King is powerful enough to shield his puppet from us and House Malor. I ask that you call upon the Eye of Ssissllenn. I will make the sacrifice. You must be ready to send the agents through the portal of the eye. My power will keep it upon him for long enough, and then it is in the hands of the cosmos. Where the eye of the serpent gazes, so shall they be. It is the only way to pierce the veil that is hiding Mendollin and Toad-Faced Dog. I hereby pledge this. so be it. (This is a Sworn World Oath.) In return I expect some other vision for the loss of mine.
Druids: The creature has no name, though the name of ‘toad-faced dog’ is the label affixed to it now. It has been seen several times in the past by swamp guides, hunters, soldiers, and even some of our predecessors in the last few hundred years. It is ancient, thousands of sunrises have been seen. It is alone, lost in this world, though it once had a master. Now, it travels with a strange companion. Only recently has it been active in claiming life and souls for its long buried master – it seems its must believe it has found a way to release him. There is a strand of The Pattern here which goes back a way in time, and connects to the Gallantine order: Mendollin. This one is particularly violent and selfish – a perfect catspaw for the Once-King. We too have felt the rise of the fallen king. Alliances must be called in. Distrust must wait until after. We agree, and we shall open the eye of the great one for you. We hereby pledge it. So be it. (This is a Sworn World Oath.)
The air around them vibrates. From the reeds around the lake, many birds take flight. Except for a crane.
Na’grindl: The Ibis is watching. Expect him soon. Perhaps others as well. I have summoned the land-walkers you know as the Gallants in their little monument your elemental creatures made for them. I will wait and meditate here.
Druids: Feather came here over a fortnight ago, but we have not see her. She went to search the ancient archives in the Companion Library. We wonder indeed, and fear she may have gotten herself into trouble in that place.
Na’grindl just stares at them, unblinking. “So be it. She is useful, but not necessary.”
The Moordaeth turns to her, “I sense his presence nearby. He awaaits you on the island. The glamour is upon it, none shall interrupt. When you are ready, he will call us.”
Na’grindl finishes her meal and takes flight to the island, the pupil of the Cold Eye of the druidhold.
Part 4 – On the Eye of the Serpent
NEXT: The Ibis Eye