[Scalvoris Mountains] Life Forged, Death Forged

From Tried's Mouth to the mysterious Tower, the waters around Scalvoris and the island itself hold a vast array of secrets, just ripe for discovery. Here are landmarks, jungles, mountains, forests and islands of note.

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Oram Mednix
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Re: [Scalvoris Mountains] Life Forged, Death Forged

You put your left soul in, you put your left soul out

Oram gave his verdict on the Girl, then went to take his place at the restored altar as Fireforged. He hoped that others could see his point, regardless of whether they agreed. He felt sure he’d made the right choice, yet it pained him to think that others would think him some sort of heartless bastard because of it. He was sure Bao would be horrified; would they still be friends afterward?

One by one, the others said their peace. As he listened to them, the hunter grew increasingly restless. It wasn’t that they were disagreeing with him; it was that he had no idea whether they were. Cassion had asked them to choose between life and death, and everybody was talking about other stuff, other workarounds that somehow didn’t involve killing the Girl.

Frowning, he listened, hoping that the others’ answers made more sense to the Immortals than they did to him. They were talking about all sorts of tricks involving spirits and souls and magic that he didn’t begin to understand. A common refrain seemed to be: if nothing else works, death, but let’s try all this other stuff first. It was all very fussy.

Oram supposed he should be glad that others could be so inventive in finding ways to be merciful, but as he watched the vile little being, the traveler just couldn’t believe it was a worthwhile exercise. Yes, the Girl was a victim of a greater power, and that was unfortunate and not her fault. A beloved pet bitten by a rabid fox or bat was also a victim; at some point, however, as the creature grew ever sicker and more dangerous, you stopped looking and hoping for alternatives to killing it.

The evil thing that was now the Girl was real; the tender innocent that may once have been was imaginary, or a thing of the past, or…there was another word. A fancy word that learned people like Professor Seams or Perdita Westcott or that Doran guy would know to use. What was it?

“Hypothetical”. Yes, that was it. The evil thing that the Girl was now was real; the tender innocent she may once have been was hypothetical. And a lot of the others seemed to want to risk and undertake a great deal to save that hypothetical girl. Oram did not, albeit, in a way, he was glad that *they* did. People like Bao and Zoro needed to exist, minds that worked like theirs and voices like theirs needed to exist, even if the hunter did not agree with them.

It was all so complicated. At this point, he could only sigh and let things unfold.

And then Cassion began to weave his tale. Oram had never experienced a story like it. All his life, he thought that reality and truth were givens, they were what they were regardless of what anybody tried to say about them. Stories could be more or less true, but it was reality and truth that determined whether they were; the story itself didn’t have a say in that. Many people had assured him that stories *did* have a say; that stories “had their own truth” and whatnot, but Oram always suspected that that was rubbish.

Yet this story was different; Cassion insisted that stories had power, and as the tale unfolded, Oram saw more and more that this meant something far more literal and impressive than just that they affected people emotionally.

Things happened in the story, and out of the story; images of events appeared in that cavern as Cassion spoke, and then those events happened. Or maybe they didn’t. Or maybe they would happen. Oram could only watch and listen and try to keep up. The Taleweaver recounted events the hunter knew to have happened; then he went on to portray Xander and Praetorum vying mightily to hold off Qylios, which then seemed to happen. Mildred returned, alive once more and transfigured, to sever the evil spirit from the Girl’s soul.

Too late to do anything, Oram realized that Bao and Zoro were serious about sacrificing themselves, and that Nir’wei really intended to try to control the evil spirit through sheer force of will. He cried out in disbelief and dismay as Cassion recounted those events, and they unfolded before them.

And yet, all was supposedly well. Immortals appeared. A lot of them. Saoire and Vhalar were there, Qylios and several others Oram did not recognize. And they all thanked the mortals present for what they had done. And then one stepped forward and foretold how reality would map onto the story Cassion had just told, a season hence. Oram did not understand it.

He looked anxiously over at Bao. The cadouri was going to die? Or not? Or die and come back? That would happen at a feast? They were having a feast so they could celebrate watching Bao die and then come back to life? Would he want to attend such a feast, even were the foretold events to happen without a hitch? What if they didn’t?

None of that sat well with the hunter, so he was preoccupied and not as focused as he should have been during the ensuing ritual. That made the “tad uncomfortable” balancing ritual even more so for Oram. He was relieved when, at length, it ended. He was almost as relieved simply that it was over as he was that it had apparently succeeded.

This trial had been too much. He was spent, physically, mentally, emotionally, altogether. If Audrae were to suddenly appear to get one last kick in, he wasn’t sure he had anything left for fighting her.

He wanted to go home -his tent here in Scalvoris, the Ranger headquarters in Egilrun, the rock at the head of Ol’ Tuck’s Run, wherever. Any place familiar enough that he could lay his head there and go to sleep.

It barely registered when Bao came over to hug him. Somewhat numbly, though not indifferently, he hugged the cadouri back. ”You’d better come back,” he grumbled down at the furry head as he patted it. ”I hope you know what you’re doing.”
word count: 1054
Villains are powerless against story beats.
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Doran
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Re: [Scalvoris Mountains] Life Forged, Death Forged

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One by one the people that had stood by Doran’s side and helped save Scalvoris, and the world, that trial made their choice. Most of them tried to find a way to save The Girl, the innocent soul that she had been once upon a time and that had never asked for any of this, just like he had, only for Cassion to tell him that their solution wouldn’t work. Bao and Nir’wei were even willing to die if that was what it took, he noticed, which impressed him, although it did not really surprise him. The Cadouri had already shown great bravery before. Perhaps, he idly wondered, the small panda was the bravest of them all.

Cassion had explained why their solutions wouldn’t work and yet, he was not inactive, but sent messages which made the son of Ziell wonder if there was something going on, and if there was some sort of hope, after all, even though Daia had said that the child within was so negligible as to not be there, and even though The Girl had just spat in Woe’s face when he had given his vote to her. For that reason, he decided not to be sorrowful, at least not until it was over for good, she had died, and her soul had been taken away.

He was simply thoughtful for a moment when Daia told him that Audrae never backed down for good. He had been worried that that would be the case – Audrae didn’t seem like someone that would just give up after a single defeat, but come back with a new plan, and then another one. She did not seem like someone that would rely on a single strategy.

For now at least there was peace though.

When Cassion began to weave his tale, Doran listened, utterly attentively, for he had never heard a tale of such magnitude before and doubted that he ever would again. He had already known that stories were not just stories, that they had power and that they had the potential to affect the world at a fundamental level – Enri’s stories proved that, among other things – and that you could change a story, but what he witnessed now was far beyond his horizon of experience. He stood there, entranced, just like the Induks. He was captivated by Cassion’s divine voice that had the power to reshape reality.

He stood there, surrounded by his companions, entranced, but at the same time, he was part of the story. There was nothing confusing about this duality; it all made perfect sense. He heard how the peace ended, and he felt it at the same time, and he saw how Cassion threw the Drainglass that he had given to him to The Girl who reflexively caught it. That was his part of the story, he realized – over the course of his research, he had found out what Drainglass could do. He listened to Cassion’s Tale, and he watched, as a participant of that Tale, as the Drainglass drained the creature, and the creature hurt The Girl.

He listened, and he watched, as the altar that Oram and Bao had rebuilt began to glow, as Praetorum and Xander protected The Girl as well as them all from Qylios’ fury, as Woe found the terrified girl trapped in the monster and woke her, as Arlo strengthened her and as Elisabeth’s and Darius’ song soothed her, and his heart went out to the Warden’s daughter who was so utterly terrified. He listened and he watched as the fairy that Zoro’s actions had saved cut the final tie between The Creature and The Child, and the girl subsequently crumbled to dust.

For a moment, there was only silence, and he held his breath.

What happened next, did not feel like much of a victory, even though The Creature had been contained, and the Induks were whole once more – The Child was dead, along with Nir’wei, and Kura and Ralgar had damaged themselves by bringing Order to the Chaos.

For a moment, there was only silence, and then Cassion spoke of Hart’s Wish once more, and of Famula’s servant. His heart momentarily skipped a beat as Bao sacrificed himself. He felt relieved when Qylios consented for her granddaughter, and The Girl was given a new life – and changed by the energies of the place they had all found themselves in. They had done it – together, they had done what a single one of them would not have been able to do. As companions, they had saved the world – and The Girl.

And yet, he could not help but feel somber – while Nir’wei had been brought back, Bao was still dead – at least until Cassion spoke of the feast. There was, he realized once more, always hope. They still had to carry out an important task though, the story was not told yet, at least not completely, and thus he did not allow himself to ponder that new kind of future and hope any longer. He stood once again and helped the Induks balance. Cassion had not been wrong when he had said that it would be a “tad uncomfortable”, he decided as it began.

Whatever he had experienced before was magnified now. With the discomfort, and with the ache, came another thing though, a feeling that he was offered a choice, by the Induks as well as the Immortals, a choice that he had not expected, at least not at such a point in time. In spite of that, he immediately agreed when an opportunity for his soul to be cleansed of the arcane taint was presented.

Over the course of the events in the Glass Temple, he had found himself agreeing with Chuckles’ and the Famulite way of thinking more and more – he did not wish to harbor a parasite of unknown origin that changed him in ways that he could neither predict nor really control any longer.

As he felt the spark leave him, and as the mutations began to fade, he felt deeply grateful, for his soul was unbroken and his alone once more. From that trial on, there would be no more of that arcane madness.

Whatever he had experienced before was magnified now, but like most things, it eventually ended. When Bao came over to hug him, when it was finally over, Doran, now Forged, put his arms around the small Cadouri, as if to comfort him and reassure him, before he told him, “Thank you for everything that you have done, Bao. You were very brave. I look forward to seeing you again at the feast”, he added. He meant what he said. He was truly looking forward to seeing him again, alive and well, him and The Girl – and be reunited with all the other people that had helped save Scalvoris and the world.

Without any of them, this here would not have been possible.
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Elisabeth Black
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Re: [Scalvoris Mountains] Life Forged, Death Forged

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Elisabeth listened as the others had their say. The events of the trial were making her a bit tired, but a compulsion overtook her, feeling the need to pay attention.

She listened.

The mage used copious amounts of words to convey her thoughts often, but even more so did she stand in the background, observing and listening. In that moment, she knew she was witnessing something that needed to be remembered. Wishing for Balthazar’s Vri-granted memory for the hundredth time, Elisabeth sought to preserve what each person replied, endeavoring to dedicate it all to memory as best she could.

Each word. The tone used. Who the words were said to. The expression upon the faces of each.

It all deserved to be remembered.

Thoughts of Vri came to her in that moment. Remembrance. Each person present had been tasked with great responsibility and yet, in her view, all those before her had exceeded the expectations laid out for them. Tenacity. Fortitude. Love. Grace. Strength. Loyalty. Empathy. Intelligence. Insight. Creativity – all represented in spades. Cerulean eyes scanned the room, one by one, and she felt how humbled and honored she was to bare witness to their acts. How or why each of them had been called to the task made no difference for it was what they had done with the opportunity given.

Elisabeth observed and listened.

As each spoke, it became apparent that whatever alternate ideas or plans were devised, would not be enough. Either Cassion or Daia explained patiently why not, and Elisabeth absorbed the information. As both Immortals spoke to her regarding magic and Famula, she simply smiled, inclined her head and replied gently. “Thank you, to you both, for your knowledge and help guiding us.”

The decision before them wasn’t supposed to be easy. It shouldn’t have been, and as such, ideas and ingenuity reigned. They struggled, wrestling with choices unimaginable. They may have individually spoken their decision and choice, but it was evident within each person’s words that they were of a singular mind and heart.

Each person brought forth the best of themselves – the sum of their creativity, intelligence, compassion and soul, and she bore witness to every moment, learning from each one of them.

It wasn’t to be enough. The creature was too powerful for their ideas.

Or was it?

The Storyteller did something that Elisabeth would have never believed if it hadn't played out before her. The power of a story – the power of their story – began, narrated, woven and empowered by the Immortal himself. Like visions, she saw things that were not happening, but knew them to be the truth.

Stories had power.

And every once in a great while, stories existed in the middle of a perfect storm.


***

A wish started the story, and as it went on, Elisabeth watched it take on a power and life of its own, recognizing pieces of ideas and threads, woven expertly together in a tapestry of power and light. Cassion explained how each person contributed to the story, and how each had importance and value. It was dazzling piece of theater, yet….it wasn’t theater. It was right there before her.

It was in the moment between one breath and another that she began to understand the sheer magnitude of what was happening. Elisabeth watched as she and Darius sung, joining Woe and Arlo in doing all they could to help the child.

The creature and child were separated.

She watched Nir’wei’s death. The child’s too. The young woman had been powerless to stop those deaths, and she felt the weight of each.

Bao. Tears fell as she watched the story unfold, having witnessed his sacrifice in the Glass Temple. He once again was called upon, and in that moment, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was the bravest of all of them.

Famula. The Immortal of Souls was part of the story, and Elisabeth smiled, watching as another servant of Famula’s stepped in and turned Bao into a wisp, and returned Nir’wei from the dead. She wondered why it was not Jacien, but in that moment was unaware that, in part, the answer to the question led to heartbreak for her.

Cassion spoke the words that finally confirmed to her what she hadn’t asked Jacien – Elisabeth had died. Jacien had resurrected her…and something in her heart broke. The realization that she would have to tell Balthazar that she had died…she couldn’t even put into words. Pain….and gratitude for the new chance she had been given. Why Jacien had stepped in to save her, Elisabeth didn’t know.

Holding herself together the best she could, she watched the rest of the story, refusing to allow the knowledge of her death to break her focus. Stories had power, and her death and resurrection were part of the story.

The story continued, Vega’s diri and Qylios parts explained. Energies, story, power. All balanced to tell the story of a lifetime.

Or perhaps several lifetimes.

***


Cassion and Daia explained how the story had been the answer sought, and the group was joined by another group of Immortals. A lot of Immortals. Elisabeth recognized many from her experience – Saoire, Chamadarst, Xiur, Ziell, U’frek, Moeske, Qylios….actually, all of them, with one exception. His identity, however, was undeniable as he explained what would happen to them in the coming trials.

As The Timeless Sage concluded, Elisabeth's eyes scanned the assembled Immortals. Each had a hand in her journey and gratefulness consumed her. She had felt each along her path, learned from all and would, should they have need of her, answer the call of any of them. She had made the same pledge to the Induks and could do no less for the ones that had guided her, and the entire group.

It was time to finish what they had started - all of them - Woe included, accepting a Forging this time. For that, Elisabeth smiled.

Holding Ishallr and Faldrass’ hands, Elisabeth felt the power of the collective Induks but had to smile as she stood between those two. Ishallr, whom she would shortly be a Forged to, and Faldrass, whom she felt close to for reasons including where she called home. Hopefully, in time, she would find connections with the others as well.

The final balancing and Forging pushed Elisabeth to her limits, and well beyond, forcing her to dig deep inside herself for the power to do what she was honored to do. Holding on tight to Faldrass and Ishallr, the Death Forged writhed as the power surged through her, somehow feeling the combination of the Induk and Immortal powers thundering as each being fought for the balance that was so desperately needed.

As the Forging concluded, Elisabeth felt her energy fading. Things, it seemed, were coming to and end. Glancing down at her silver ring, her thoughts were taken to Balthazar and Haven. She would soon be home, and for that, she was glad.

Bao approached and she gracefully lowered down onto the alter. Greeting him with a smile, he was folded into her arms as a few tears fell. “Thank you, my friend, for the gift that is you.”

There was a final question she needed the answer to, choosing The Storyteller himself to ask, inclining her head gently as she approached. ”If I may ask, is it known what happened to the Emean and Emeyans that were in me?” Unsure how to ask the question, not being knowledgeable about the subject, she hoped Cassion would understand what she was referring to. She had heard Praetorum refer to them as such, but things had been...confusing.

In the end, it was done. One story was complete, and it was an amazing story. Perhaps another was just beginning….

word count: 1316
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Arlo Creede
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Re: [Scalvoris Mountains] Life Forged, Death Forged

Cassion had offered them all, two very straightforward choices. Except neither of them was as simple as stated; no matter how quickly some of those present had chosen. At a much deeper level, one where the conscience stepped in, it was like being asked to choose between two impossibilities. Arlo wasn't surprised then by how many alternatives were presented, one after another. So many that he'd stopped counting at some point and had started to wonder if there'd been more alternatives offered than there were people to suggest them.

Several of them even offered themselves, their very lives in exchange. Nir'wei, Arlo knew already. The little Caldori however was new to him. Small, fuzzy, a gaze not unlike that of a puppy...But uncommonly brave. In the end though, Cassion and Daia made plain their stance that none of these alternatives would work. At least, not one of them just on their own. Hart however had given his vote to the girl, and sadly not without somewhat predictable results. Whatever it was that had taken over every bit of her from inside out, had left very little of her behind. Thus in essence, it spoke for her.

His own suggestion, one that had for the most part simply aligned with Doran's, met a similar fate. Truth was, the mortalborn hadn't been entirely comfortable with the idea of bringing his own wife into any of this directly. Even under normal circumstances, but with her expecting their child, he'd worried for her safety. And yet in spite of maintaining that it wouldn't work, Cassion urged him to send the message regardless. The Immortal didn't say why, exactly, but since Arlo couldn't imagine he'd have asked if there wasn't good reason behind it, he didn't ask, but simply instructed Lyova to reach out to Vega, fill her in as best she could, and then ask her to send her diri rather than coming herself.

Then of course all the many reasons became apparent, in the most awe inspiring and interesting of ways. The greatest storyteller of them all began to spin a tale, and as he spoke, reality itself began to change. Arlo knew the power of story, of legend and even myth. They had the power to change the course of events in ways both small and immeasurably monumental. Cassion was the very embodiment of that reality. No matter how skilled Arlo became, he knew, his own ability to do this would pale in comparison.

He watched events play out, both in and outside of them at once. He watched himself, experienced what his own mirror image experienced. It worked, in a way he never would have anticipated. Even though in the end several had fallen including the girl, and others were left scarred and broken. Even Vega's little diri had shown up and in spite of it all, he couldn't help but smile back when she waved to him. The tale went on however and where there was death, there was a promise of future redemption. A possible happier ending, a new life for the girl who'd crumbled to dust, for Nir'wei and Bao who'd offered themselves in trade.

It was difficult to know what to feel, after all. They'd gained an audience too, in that more of the Immortals had joined them and come to observe. But still it wasn't finished, and their work here had yet to be done completely. He took a place that for the most part, he'd never moved away from at all. And did his part as well so far as this last bit of unfinished business. If the experience had been uncomfortable before, the promise that it would be more so now didn't surprise or discourage him. They'd come too far and accomplished too much to leave off now.
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Darius Baer Bottom
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Re: [Scalvoris Mountains] Life Forged, Death Forged

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Darius despaired.

As each person present fought for ways to keep the girl alive while also dealing with the monster within her; as suggestions were made to save Scalvoris without losing their humanity; as each alternative idea was rejected for reasons that seemed beyond everyone's control, Darius despaired.

Had their efforts not been enough? Had they fallen short at the last?

Darius found some solace in Cassion agreeing that saving the girl was what they should pursue, but it was negligible in the face of so many reasons as to why this wasn't possible.

But then, just when it seemed that all hope was lost, the Taleweaver did what he knew best: he told a story.

Darius had heard tales before. His father Josef had a penchant for telling them, and thinking of them often brought a smile to Darius' face. Whether it was hearing for the umpteenth time about the time the elder Baer had made one of the Pirate Lords laugh, or seeing the way he had encouraged Yeva to find her own voice through the weaving of tales, there was a history in the Baer clan of telling stories.

But none of them were like this.

For the next several bits, the Scalvorian stood, one hand clinging to Faldrass and the other resting upon Ledas' back, and listened. He was entranced by the tale, and he watched as each scene began to play out in front of them all.

As each scene played before him, he found himself looking to the person depicted to see how they were reacting, marveling at the way in which he could see them both in the story and in the flesh.

The only moment that the spell of awe broke away was when Elisabeth's death was revealed. A pang of guilt shot through him. It was Darius who had rushed into the cave and urged the others to follow. But when they failed to join him, he never went back to look for them. Instead, he had allowed Ledas to guide him through the maze of tunnels. Had he known she was dying outside...

Darius felt a knot in his stomach as he looked across at the Videnese, unable to express his relief that she was alive.

All of the other moments of significance came and went: the drainglass; the destruction of the girl's body; the host of Immortals watching over them. But it was Elisabeth succumbing to her mortality that had really hit him the hardest of all.

And then, just when he thought the story had been all that he could take, Cassion brought it to its conclusion, and the Scalvorian's throat went dry. He turned slowly to look at Bao as the revelation of what was going to happen to the cadouri began to sink in.

The small creature was shedding tears, and as Darius watched him begin to hug some of the others, he felt his own eyes beginning to water. When Bao eventually approached him, the bearded blond knelt down and held the creature in a tight embrace.

"I will get you there safely, I swear it," he spoke into Bao's ear, his voice firm and adamant. "I will be with you every step of the way. You will make Saoire and the rest of us proud."

As Darius broke the embrace, he reflected on how much of a blessing the cadouri was. He had come from Saoire and, true to form, he was a gift. Darius hoped that his fellow Scalvorians would come to appreciate just how fortunate they were to have him.
Last edited by Darius Baer Bottom on Fri Oct 08, 2021 11:15 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 604
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Kura Wolfsdotter
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Re: [Scalvoris Mountains] Life Forged, Death Forged

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When Ralgar called out to her, she looked at the tribesman, then nodded at his words. "The honor is mine as well, Ralgar." she said, smiling slightly at the Tribesman. If she had given him that hope, for the future between her people and his, then she had accomplished more than she had hoped. Then she turned back to the matter at hand, to the Girl and the Immortals and the people who had saved the island. One by one, they all offered their alternatives, and one by one, Cassion explained the fault in them. When it came to hers, she nodded. "I understand." she said, her tone showing that while she understood, she didn't particularly like it. She did, however, shake her head when Woe gave the Girl a choice and she threw it back in his face. "Such poor manners. I suppose that's the monster talkin', but even so, there's no call to insult someone who was tryin' to help her." she said, getting an amused look from Cally.

Then Cassion spoke of stories, and he and Dia both spoke of what gave an Immortals Domains its power, and Kura wondered where they were going with this. Then Cassion Spoke and Kura's own power rang within her at the sound. It was something she had seen only rarely, even growing up in the Imperial Palace and having served Raskalarn in her courts, even having been raised by Karem. It was the full wonder and majesty of an Immortal, a Power that utterly dwarfed that of the all the Mortalborn in the room combined. Cassion Spoke, and he told them the story that their choices had made, and with his Power, he did what only a full fledged Immortal could possibly do.

He made the impossible into reality.

Cassion told their story, and as he did, it played out before them. A version of this day that had never happened, until he spoke its events into reality. As it played out, Kura felt the echoes of that day, a fragment of what would become memory when the world settled down. It was, in its way, much akin to the day that had been. A heroic tale that would, Kura was certain, be spread across every tavern and campfire in Idalos within a few short arcs, if that long, undoubtedly filled with needless exaggerations as bards and storytellers added embellishments to suit their audience or agenda. A day of heroism and tragedy alike, of fairies revived, Immortals held at bay, of innocence saved from evil, and of the brave sacrifice of gentle souls.

When her part came, Kura stifled a growl as the phantom echo of giving power to Nir'wei tore through her. Kura rarely used her powers, and even more rarely used them to this extent. She preferred precision in her usage of power, any power, but she had used Mortalborn of Owls twice in a short time span, and had fed her powers into external sources twice now, or perhaps once and a half depending on how one counted, and there was still more to come. She was not going to feel good the next day.

Then the tail was over, and they hadn't been able to save all of them. Bao, it seemed, would die to save the girl. Kura bit back a growl, then looked around in shock as almost every Immortal appeared in the room with them. It was, Kura was certain, a happening that was almost unique in the history of things, and even she was caught off guard by it. However, she recovered herself and sought out two of them. Eventually, she found them, and she nodded at Karem and Raskalarn, who were both part of the group. Then Ralaith and Daia spoke and Kura nodded. It appeared that Bao wouldn't be a ghost for long.

Then they balanced the Induks, and while Kura had recovered from the phantom pain of giving power to Nir'wei, she had not recovered from the previous uses of her power and the addition of the two Immortals to the chaotic song that comprised the balancing made the experience even more draining than the last one had been. When it was done, she dropped back to the ground again. She was conscious, but that was about it at this point. There were no enemies there, and without the need to present a show of strength to the opposition, she did not have the drive to get all the way back to her feet this time.

When Bao came to her, however, she pulled the small Cadouri into a hug. "You're a brave man, Bao, and even more importantly, a kind one. I would have spared you that, though, if I could have." she said, her eyes sad for all that they were currently locked into the gold that usually signified that she was mad about something. "But I don't think I'd have been able to save her, not as well as you did." she said, before smiling slightly. "Saoire taught her people well, and I think the rest of have a lot to learn from you yet." she said.

When Bao went to the next of his friends, Kura accepted Cally's help to stand back up. She had to lean on the Wisp to stand, but that was fine. It was done, finally. They could rest until their memories returned and then they could look to the new future they had all Forged this day.
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Xander Andaris
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Re: [Scalvoris Mountains] Life Forged, Death Forged

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What Xander saw brought a tear to his eye, his question from before answered, and through this he realised it was not a question of what any one person could do against such unadulterated powers but what they could do together. No single one of them could have saved the girl alone but together, together they could act and find a solution where no solution should rightfully be possible. United they were stronger than any one force in this world and together they saved the girl.

The things Xander saw he could not completely fathom or understand, people did things that were foreign and otherworldy to him but as he saw himself standing shoulder to shoulder with Praetorum forming an impenetrable barrier against the fury of Qylios he felt it all, the burning in his legs and the weight of the power against him. This was more than a story it was their fate, it was them. Everything he saw had happened, was happening and would happen, it was the past present and future and it was them doing what they had believed impossible. He remembered it then briefly as it had happened, the pain he had felt as his legs struggled to hold him up against the power of his immortal parent. The sheer amount of will which it had taken to keep everyone protected while they did what was needed to rescue the girl but non gave up more than Nir'wei and Bao Bao, their sacrifices were the sort that would become legend, the stories that their great grandchildren would hear to inspire bravery and goodness in them.

Xander smiled widely as he saw the solution come together before him, he was happy that the girl did not need to be destroyed and that in the end she could be saved. The story came to a close and while Xander could see and feel that good had been done he would never pretend to understand completely how it had come to pass, nonetheless the future suddenly looked much brighter and the weight on his shoulders felt much lighter. In the end death had been part of the solution but not in the way they had expected or anticipated and the future would tell whether what they did was truly the right thing but at this time, Xander could not see how it was not.

It then came time for the forging to be completed, Xander took his place by Sweetwine and finally balance was restored. The chainstones were aligned and restored and everything was how it was meant to be. Xander sighed in relief after it was done and prepared himself for whatever came next, whatever that was he was ready to return to his girls, he missed them and he was ready to rest and be with them again.
word count: 473
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Hart
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Re: [Scalvoris Mountains] Life Forged, Death Forged

30th Ashan, 721

Hart had thought they would save the girl. They had thought of so many options; one of the options, one of them, would save the girl. For Hart, one of them had to.

But option by option, the immortals spoke. Despite the many options, despite the group's determination to save the girl within the Girl, it seemed now that they would not save her.

By the time Cassion spoke to Hart, a good number of options to save the girl had been thought of by the mortals, and discounted by the immortals. Hart's option was discounted like the others, and he wanted to be angry. He wanted to be, and he wanted to scream at Cassion; Cassion, who had saved Hart's daughter, who'd told him his daughter was safe, but who would now not save the girl.

Why?

Cassion said that Hart had made a poor decision. But with their options discounted one by one, there was no decision that Hart would make between Life and Death that would not be poor.

He would not decide for the girl to die.

The others made the decision, and the decision was Death. But just when it seemed it was time for the girl to die, Cassion spoke and said that stories had power. Daia spoke as well, and Hart looked to his favored immortal when she said that when she was dead, people still danced. People danced, she said, and so Daia had power; stories were told, and people dreamed and were desperate and were determined, and they made decisions both good and poor, and they made stories, and so Cassion had power.

The Story had power, and Cassion spoke it, and the Story Cassion spoke, Was.

It Was the Story of how they saved the girl, and Hart had thought they would save her and then he'd thought they would not. In the Story Cassion told, they saved her, and others were saved; it Was death and it Was life. Witnessing the power of the Story was, to Hart, like witnessing the power he'd witnessed before, the power that Was within Scalvoris. It was the turning of a wheel. Life and death; the Story's power, and the stories'. In the Story, the girl died and she lived; Nir'wei died and lived; Bao died and lived.

And the Story truly was the turning of a wheel. Because of it, the girl's and Nir'wei's and Bao's stories would go on. The girl would live her life, and Nir'wei and Bao would live their lives; and the Story would go on, and the wheel would turn, because of their stories. The Story was theirs; it Was all of theirs. It was the Story of all of them, and it was the Story because of them.

The Story was Hart's as well, and it began with a Wish.



The forging was as overwhelming as it had been the first time; it was as overwhelming as the Story. But though it was overwhelming, it more than that, as well. The discomfort within the forging, for Hart, wasn't something he experienced with him, but in him; it was an existential discomfort, like the discomfort of ego death, of Hart's death. But though it was like that experience, it was more than discomfort; for Hart, the forging was a letting go of discomfort.

That itself was painful, discomforting. But it was comforting as well.

The forging was, Hart thought with the experience of the Story there in his mind, it was like the story Arlo had told of the faerie tree. It was destruction, and discomfort. But it was the faerie tree who had spoken to Arlo, as well; the forging was the promise of growth.

When the forging was over, Hart hugged Bao, and thanked him for saving Ruari's, and the girl's, lives.
word count: 658
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Zoro Astrian
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Re: [Scalvoris Mountains] Life Forged, Death Forged

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From the first moment he had put a footstep into the Glass Temple, Zoro had felt more than a little out of his depth. That feeling had continued and grown and grown some more. In the final moments of this Great Adventure Zoro could only have explained it by saying that he felt as though he stood on the floor of the ocean, weighted down by his inexperience, as he tried to swim to shore.

One by one, they spoke.

One by one, they put forward decisions, ideas, arguments and frustrations.

And, for each one, the Immortals heard, considered, and dismissed.

Zoro’s heart was heavy as he heard time and again why each idea would not work. He believed, wholeheartedly, that Cassion and Daia agreed with the desire to save the child, but as Uncle Zeb used to say – even when the spirit is willing, sometimes the flesh is weak.

As the final words of why they could not save the child came from Cassion, Zoro hung his head. But then, the Immortal began to speak anew. He began to tell a tale and as much as Zoro had been in awe of the Immortal up to this moment, when Cassion started to weave reality in front of him, Zoro felt his knees buckle. The power of the Immortal was immense and he was in the presence of two of them.

Cassion told a story and Zoro watched. He told the tale of how they did save the child and when Mildred burst forward, Zoro let out a cheer of delight. The story held him spellbound and to see Mildred again made his heart leap with joy. Zoro watched and he realised that he had played his part in this.

The creature was separated from the girl by Mildred and her magic fairy sword – the larger twin of which was at Zoro’s waist. He realised, in that moment, that he was living his best life. The life he had dreamed of living. He could never again feel inexperienced for he, Zoro Astrian, had stood here this day and had played a role in the events which saved Scalvoris.

When Nir’wei died, Zoro’s eyes widened and a single, enormous bubble popped embarrassingly loudly behind him. But then Cassion spoke of Bao’s willingness to sacrifice himself and the ghost of the child took Bao’s body. A small creature threw water over it, and it changed, looking more like a half-human half-cadouri.
Zoro was tasked with being a Soul Bearer, once more. But this time, this time it would be for the soul of Bao.

When it was over, people moved and spoke. Zoro stood, briefly unable to move at the knowledge of Bao’s sacrifice. So willingly given, so bravely accepted and he felt an overwhelming sense of needing to not patronise or belittle the man. For all his stature, Bao had acted more bravely than any man Zoro had ever known. So, when the cadouri approached him, Zoro knelt to be at eye level with him, and he hugged him back. “I will not tell you that you are brave, Bao,” Zoro said. “It is as obvious as telling you that you are a panda. I will, therefore, tell you only that you are the best man to stand here in this place on this day and I count myself lucky that you are my friend.”

When it was time, Zoro stood once again in the Forging. He was proud to be Songforged of Sweetwine and he puffed out his chest, jutted out his chin and hoped – once more – that no one noticed the bubbles.



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Nir'wei
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Re: [Scalvoris Mountains] Life Forged, Death Forged

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Cassion's answer was to be expected, in all honesty. A creature that could overwhelm all four of the Induks of Scalvoris at once, and thwart all the Immortals of Idalos was no small feat to overcome. Should he attempt to take it into himself and unite his soul with its essence, he would be surely lost forever in a heartbeat. But if he did nothing, then what good was their struggles? If the young girl's life was to be sacrificed for the good of Scalvoris, judged and executed by them all, should they not be just as ready to lay down their lives? He thought so. He apparently was not the only one.

When they'd all said their piece, however, Cassion's plan unfolded before them. Rather, his Story did; a great, winding tale of power that wove each and every one of them into its ways, taking their bodies and moving them like the pieces of a chessboard. It was the only way to extract every inch of their necessary power to culminate in a victory; it was, he presumed, the only way to ensure the total destruction of the Girl, while still freeing the mortal soul trapped within. He watched as the Girl was siphoned of her power, pulled apart from the mortal body and exposed... and taken into himself. Even from beyond the Story, he could feel the deep, cold dread of such a formidable creature sharing the same mind and body as him. His fleeting individuality lost under its mere presence of being. In that moment, nobody else could see or feel the battle screaming in his mind as he fought with a creature ancient and powerful. So very, very powerful.

In the end, he died. It had been the only way to distract and delay the creature for long enough for the Induks to finish absorbing it into themselves, to prevent it fighting back and tearing them apart. He was thankful at least for that small part he could play... but watching his lifeless body fall in the Story, Nir'wei gently placed a hand atop Greyhide's head. At least until Carter Frask returned him to the land of the living with a touch and the intonement of Famula's name. Of course. He should have known Faith wouldn't allow him to depart that easily.

The final Forging was completed after that. They took their respective moments to absorb the Story and lament on everything that had happened in it. Nir'wei, for his part, took the knowledge of his own death silently. Being the third time he had felt such a thing, and the second time he'd actually faced it to completion, did not make the pain any less significant. However, this had been expected of him. It was only right that he should be ready to do such a thing. Bao, on the other hand... he shuffled in behind Darius, Kura, Hart and Zoro. "Would that I could help you with what comes next," he said to Cadouri, "but the journey is not one to take so lightly. Remember what you travel for. Remember what it is to live. Fleeting though it is... it's worth fighting for, to the bitter end." He didn't know what Bao would be facing during his return, but he did not imagine it would be gentle.
word count: 566
We return to where we started, and pass onwards into history.
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