Episode 1

Btw, everyone who got a spear gun got javelins, so we should have plenty to go around.

Second Line Weapons/Ammo update:

Laoise now has 13 arrows.

Boann: Melee: hand axe and club, Ranged: 2 javelins

Doirind: Melee: Spear, shortsword, Ranged: 3 javelins

Rhone is at the north ritual site where Rutcranna is working. Thorn is there as well, Rhone is talking with him to show and discuss more of the details of the chalk line drawings. Kray has just come over to check status.

So now the four are in a small group at the north end: Thorn, Rhone, Kray, Rutcranna. The other group is tightening up the formation and getting ready at the south position, out of earshot.

Rutcranna eyes everyone, thinking. She is crouched down on the floor, and sifts through her ritual bag. She pulls out a metal item, some sort of hand-sized tool?

"Come here, Rhone," she says. Rhone complies and approaches.

"Tenache teset," Rutcranna says to the girl. Rhone halts rigid, except for a small shift back with her head, a motion of surprise and question. She has a puzzled look on her face.

"Barik na. Huus mitha tun saiya. Tenache." Rutcranna continues, her words quick and direct, the last with a bit of bite. Rhone looks back at Thorn and Kray. The corners of her mouth are pursed and turning down. Her eyes have a look of sadness. Her young face - worried. Vulnerable. Shamed?

Rhone reaches down slowly and takes the bottom edges of her ragged brown wool shirt in her small hands.
"Up, girl. Up to your arm. Let them see it."
Rhone looks away and pulls her shirt up to expose her back and left side.

On Sorcha Rhone's back, just at the bottom of her left shoulder blade, is a terrible scar. The skin is rugged and raised, a different color. It is an old wound, a burn, a purposefully designed one - a brand. The mark is clear, with defined lines and curves. A strange logo or arms sign. A symbol.



Kray recognizes it immediately: the symbol carved in the bow and flying as the Marke (flag) of the Blackfin, the longship of Nemes Zaituc. Also used on a brooch Nemes wears. Also marked on the scroll and map case that Kray has seen Nemes carry. The symbol, Kray has always thought of as either a House Arms Marke from Voldruv or some sort of symbol used by raiders and pirates. No mistake though, it is a match to the brand on Sorcha's back and side.

Rutcranna looks away from the symbol and towards Kray and Thorn. She says nothing for a time, and holds her gaze on them when she asks her daughter. "Who gave this to you?" (in Dannein)

"What?", Rhone asks softly in a small voice, her head tilts towards her mom. Thorn can see tears welling up in the girl's eyes.

"Who did this? Who branded you, marked you like livestock, girl?" Rutcranna asks, firmly, and still watching Thorn and Kray.

Rhone gulps and looks away. "Te cambion," the little girl says very quietly. (word or language unrecognizable)

Rutcranna cuts her eyes back to Rhone. "Youric. Speak up" she says. (in Youric pronunciation)

"The Tiefling." Rhone says, her lips quivering, but she says clearly, steeling herself. She raises her head up, obviously struggling to keep her composure.

"In Voldruv, what do they call him," Rutcranna asks, turning back to Kray.

A tear slides down Rhone's cheek. Now Thorn can see that the little girl is shaking.

"Ru Lanskkeld," she says.

"Meaning?" asks Rutcranna, in Yuoric.

"Demon of the Hills," Rhone says. And then she pulls away and pulls her shirt back down to cover herself. She walks away a distance, pacing slowly to gather herself. She is wiping her eyes, looking away from her mother and the two men.

Rutcranna holds up the metal tool. It is small, with a short handle. It is entirely 1 piece of iron. It is heavy and rugged, but expertly crafted. It is no more than 6 or 7 inches in length.

At the head of the handle, the prongs and loops of iron form the symbol of Zaituc, the same size as the mark on Rhone's back. This is a brand, but a very very odd one because of it's small size, it's lack of extension between a usable handle and the form of the brand mark itself. Rutcranna hands it outward for Kray to take and inspect thoroughly.

"I have carried this wretched tool with me through this entire trip, just so that I might show you in this time and tell you the story of how I came to possess it. It belongs to your friend and employer, the rapist, Rhone's father. He sent it with his inhuman servant to brand his own child - to mark his own flesh and blood for slavery, rape, torture, and then slaughter."

Send the following checks for Kray and Thorn:

Intelligence
History

Also, for Kray only:
Investigation
Insight

Rutcranna speaks to Kray and Thorn:

"A little more than a year ago, on the dark night of Winter Solstice, a demon-man invaded our home. His power and dark magic was so great, his talents so potent that he bypassed all of my hexes. He took hold of Rhone in her bed, tore away her gown, and burned her with this tool, branding her with the mark of his master, Nemes Zaituc, the one who holds sway over him by dark ritual."

As this devil was born with the essence of Hel, and his body is not like that of men. He can call the heat and flame of a raging forge into his hand. He heated this iron with fire from his own hate and foul blood. No man could use such a tool. None could even hold it if it was heated to temperature. But it was built not for use by a man, but instead it was built for a demon. The tool burned its pain into flesh, leaving its cruel mark that would last forever.

"I was able to strike out and repel this vile spawn, but only with great effort did I drive him away. He left this tool behind on purpose, dropping it to the floor of our home. It was a reminder that he would come back. He would come back another day, not just to mark Rhone, but to take her. Back to his master. Back to her father. And then she would be his to use to weave his dark magic that gives him his long life and the power that he has always wanted."

"Rhone was marked, according to the darkest of ceremony, on her 10th Winter of Life. On her 12th Winter, this coming, she was to be taken away and dragged to the ancient castles of Voldruv as an offering to hungry demonic gods, the gods of her father's people. On her 13th Winter, she would be slaughtered, after months of unspeakable shame and torment."

"But you see, that ceremony was interrupted. Glaaki emerged from An Tulecheo, called forth by his Scaath. Old magics were invoked once again. New abjurations were cast out across the forest and the rivers. Nahrooma burst open and its Old Words echoed out from the deepest chambers. Dreadful signs and wonders spread upon this land. In short time, it was true that not even Ru Lanskkeld, the Demon-Man could stalk back through Goatswood and into the Borgh Riac to capture his prey. And Nemes knows better than to march himself to his own doom. He will never approach me again face to face."

"And that is why he sent you."

"You, my saviors, my ruin... I have seen visions of you in precognition, images of your hands over my fate and that of my daughter. I still know not what will become of me or her, but it is you and Maeriks who it seems will decide. I see that now. For that, my frustration is great, but I worry of it no longer. I have other stuggles to contend with."

Know this though: no matter what happens this hour, I will do all that is in my own power, both righteous and dreadful, to protect my daughter.

I strive for the doom of Nemes Zaituc and all of his minions, whether they are men, beast, or devil. I fight for the life and freedom of Sorcha Rhone. And this will be true whether I live or die, whether I triumph or fall at the Throne, no matter what happens to my body and mind, my yearning will never cease, my voice will never be silent, not until she is safe.

I hope that you are friends and allies, protectors of my daughter, and not my enemy and not her captors. But whichever is true, I will speak no more of it, I will only deal with the truth as it is revealed and as our Fates are shown to us in this time of struggle and death.

Fight and lay these villains low. Send them out of this world; they do not belong here. I will find a way to open this coffin. Some of us will escape today, but some of us will not."

A huge crack sounds out in the room, the sound of splitting wood. The great Seal Door heaves. Now in the middle, just above the long beam bolt that holds in heavy steel brackets to reinforce the structure, a line of wood pushes out.
Then another.
Then a line of wood splinters out, a horizontal crack.
Next the corner of an axe is barely seen between the wood.
The assault on the door is nearly complete. The enemy is about to break through.

Rutcranna sees the door cracking and says to Rhone, "We have to start now."

Rhone nods and moves to her position in the south, behind the line of warriors in front of the door. She takes a seat on the ground in the middle of her ritual diagram, just below the edge of the outer-most floor circle.

Rutcranna calls out first to Thorn and Kray, but then raises her voice for all to hear. "Set your minds. No matter what you see and hear. Remember where you are. Fight on with a resolve made of iron. We have only two paths ahead: victory or death."

Just after that, Kray and Thorn see it, blood streaks down Rutcranna's face, running from her nose and quickly past her lips.

She stumbles backwards and crashes to the stone floor.

Boann looks over at Maeriks. "Another fight together, you and I," she says. She tries to give a smile of cheer and bravado, but her voice betrays her. There is nervousness in the sound of it. Her face is strained. She grips onto her axe and looks at the cracking door.

Doirind, standing beside Ivor, stares at the door as if it is a thousand yards away. Her face grimaces and her jaw flexes. She shifts her spear again from her right to her left. With a rugged show, she holds her hand out in front of her and spits on it. Spits blood. She looks up at Ivor and smiles. He sees the blood in her mouth. He knows she has bitten her own tongue.

She holds her forearm out to him, offering it and nodding to him.

Ivor recognizes the offer right away. It is a very old Dannein ritual before the greatest of battles. Warriors who stand in a line, facing terrible odds against a great enemy do this. They offer themselves fully to injury in the last phase of a final battle. They cough up their own blood, many of them injured already, and then they offer a limb to the man next to them - asking them to cut it and let their blood flow from a friendly knife before it pours out from an enemy blade. It wakes them up to the reality of their coming doom if they are already exhausted and woozy. It lets them know that they stand with their team. It tells the rest of the line that they are ready to either break the enemy line, or die holding the line of the clan.

She looks up at Ivor. She asks him to cut the top of her arm, speaking in the old way, saying that she is fighting to the death - whether it is hers or her adversary.

Rhone, already sitting down cross-legged on the ground when Rutcranna falls, looks back and sees what just happened.

The wood of the door cracks again. Now everyone can see the axe splitting in.

Rhone looks forward. She makes eye contact with Maeriks and nods.

"Get up, Rutcranna," Rhone's voice echos through the chamber. The volume of it is shocking. Those who look back see that she is sitting still, facing forward. Is she speaking aloud, or was her voice even real?

"Will you lie down and die when Glaaki says so for you? Are you so very tired and spent? Is this your end then?," Rhone's voice again.

The door cracks. A large splinter of wood breaks out and falls to the ground. There is a sizable slot of opening there in the door now, about 2 inches wide, about 2 feet tall.

"Get up, Rutcranna! Your stand begins. Will you reach your precious Throne or not? Has the slug slain you already?" The voice. It is so heavy. It is Rhone's voice, or is it?

The room suddenly darkens. The four fires of the four cauldrons around the circle, the strange fire that seems to burn and dance too slowly to be real - the fires ebb down to darkness. Then one rises back up briefly, then back down. Now another. The light and darkness bounces back and forth. The shadows and the orange cast of light coming and going on the entire scene is eerie.

The door continues to break. When the light revives, an arm reaches through the widening wound in the door.

"Get up, Rutcranna!" The voice echoes out again. Is it real sound or only in the mind?

Those who look back see Rutcranna rising, stumbling to the northern station. She has wiped the blood from her nose across, and now it is smeared across the lower part of her face in a horrible manner. Her hair is as wild and unkept as her eyes as she stumbles back to sit down at the ritual site.

Rutcranna the witch sits, crosses her legs, raises her hands out wide, and begins to chant.

Pitch darkness covers the room. A blanket of total perception deficit. No sound. No feeling. No light.

There is a sensation of falling. Of weightlessness.

And then the screams of the madmen. A strobe of light, on and off. Then silence again.

Only the image. One of the masked men is pulling himself through the narrow crack in the door.