Tales of Perth

[Obsidianserpent]

​

After suffering years of defeat at the hands of the Genmar Empire, the once mighty Boudicca tribe has been pushed further and further into the mountains of Perth. All that remains of this proud people is a small encampment of thatched canopy houses, guarded by rickety walls. Though their blood line has grown thin, the Boudicca have managed to keep their most recent encampment well hidden. Relying upon spiritual traditions passed down for generations, the pride of this ancient people endures. For the first time in nearly a century, the Boudicca have enjoyed a decade of peace.


But something evil stirs in the mountain dale. Many of the beasts within the surrounding wilderness have become rabid and monstrous aberrations with unnatural strength. Having developed an unusual lust for human flesh, one such creature, an enormous bear deity known as the Mathghamhain, brutally injured several scouts. Profoundly disturbed by the mad behavior of this once wise and honorable spirit, the village Elder has summoned the Skin Walker Neas to her chambers, to discuss the situation...


Meanwhile, within the Genmarian capital of Genma, a large bounty has been placed upon the head of Leris Ruthermont, Guild Master of the illegal slaver organization known as the Crimson Hand. After the guild's large-scale coup against King Jaran was exposed and dismantled, Leris fled to the northern mountains to seek refuge in the icy dale. The prize for capturing this sadistic traitor is the Serpent's Eye, an emerald the size of a human fist. Since the reward was announced, several skilled bounty hunters have dared to travel north in search of the Guild Master...

​

 

[Obsidianserpent]

Neas: The frigid wind howled wildly as Neas approached the Shaman's hut. He pulled back the door made from reeds and animals skins, and entered the abode. The Wise Woman and two of her attendants were sitting around a fire burning within a bone basin in the center of the room. "Sit down my child..." the old woman croaked. Neas walked further into the room before sitting down upon the floor, legs crossed. "Something malevolent afflicts the realm of the spirits. When I gazed into the eyes of the Mathghamhain, I saw no forest god, but a demon of rage and hate...darkness looms on the horizon my children. We must root it out before everything we have worked to build is destroyed." She proceeded to stretch forth her bony hands over the fiery basin, whirling them around in intricate patterns. The fire began to roar furiously as the Wise Woman's eyes turned pale white, as though she were skin walking. After several seconds she came out of her trance, gasping for air. Her attendants rushed to her aid, offering her water within a small wooden bowl. "Mathghamhain lies to the west, near the cliffs of Aidan...Neas of Suhibne, Skin Walker and guardian of the Boudicca Tribe, will you seek out this creature, and release it from its suffering?" the Wise Woman implored, her voice trembling. Neas paused for a moment. He did not know why he hesitated. Perhaps it was fear, or sadness at the thought of leaving his fellow tribesmen behind. Regardless, Neas knew what must be done. The Boudicca had striven for decades to find peace, and he was not about to relinquish that peace without a fight. "I shall Wise Woman." Neas answered stoically.


A grin crept across the Wise Woman's face. "Then make haste. You have grown powerful and wise, young Skin Walker. We place our faith in you now." Neas smiled before bowing slightly, his heart swelling with pride, sadness, and host of other emotions. As he exited the hut, he gazed into the grey skies above. A blizzard was on the horizon; he would need to leave as soon as possible. After returning to his quarters to gather his bow, dagger, and bearskin cloak, he collected some fresh water within a tan gourd and packed some dried meat and roots within a leather satchel which he hoisted across his back. He reached into a small basket and pulled out his serpent Drest, wrapping the nathair around his body. It was too cold for him to Skin Walk into the serpent directly; the cold-blooded creature would die within minutes if removed from the warm of Neas's body. Instead, he pulled a small gourd filled with yellow-green liquid from his side and dipped each of his arrows into it, covering the sharpened ends with the nathair's deadly venom.

After saying a somber farewell to his fellow tribesmen, Neas departed from the village, making his way down the mountain pass. The terrain was rocky, snow covered, and treacherous. The blizzard was moving closer and closer; he would need to find shelter before nightfall or perish in the storm. After making his way across several peaks over several hours, he realized the storm was gaining on him more quickly than he had expected. He surveyed the terrain, looking for the slightest bit of shelter. If he could find some way to escape the wind, his thick, bearskin cloak would provide him with sufficient warmth to survive the storm. Just as he was clearing snow beneath a jagged outcropping of rock, her heard a tremendous roar in the near distance. Neas also heard the cries of a man, and the sound of combat. The light sprinkle of snow had turned into a furious blizzard, and he struggled to see. As he moved closer, he observed a man with brown hair, wielding Genmarian weapons, doing battle with the Mathghamhain. The creature was over twelve feet tall, with glowing white eyes, and smoke bellowing from its fur.

Mathghamhain



​

He pulled one of the venom covered arrows from his quiver and nocked his bow. He took a deep breath before aiming at the creature's neck. With the release of his bowstring the arrow soared through the air before burrowing itself into the creature's flesh. The nathair's venom quickly began to take effect, causing the flesh surrounding the penetration site to hemorrhage and seethe. Mathghamhain roared in agony as his attention turned toward his new opponent. Neas rapidly reloaded his bow, firing another envenomed arrow into the creature's eye socket. Enraged, and covered in its own blood, the Mathghamhain began to charge toward Neas. Neas sprinted backwards and jumped behind a jagged rock for protection. Though the stone had absorbed some of the impact from the charging bear, Neas was violently knocked off his feet onto the frigid ground below...


[media]



[/media]

 

[ParadoxalPaladin]

Girand's feet crunched in a steady rhythm through the snow. Each step brought even more of the bitingly cold snow sliding through the cracks of his pants and shoes, and seeing the far off, but steadily coming, storm, he cursed his decision to come here. Why had he thought this was a good idea, especially during the winter? But even as that thought crossed his mind, the promised reward seemed to be almost tangible in his mind, a beacon driving him forwards, to take back what his family had had, he he deserved to have. The anger of over twenty years of seething betrayal rose up in Girand, a fire within him, pushing him to be better, the be the best.


Even as he mused, a sudden grinding roar, a roar of pure hatred, echoed out across the land, its grating tones drilling into Girand's mind. Looking around, he quickly saw a monster from children's stories crashing through the forest. A behemoth of a creature, rippling muscles thinly veiled under an armored coat of matted fur, its eyes burning a harsh white with evil. Even as his body begged him to run, Girand knew his best chance was here, in a small clearing against a jutting rock face where at least it would have to face him head on. He brought his sword from his belt in one hand, the other grabbing the shield from his back as he got into a braced stance, one foot back, his shield up and ready for impact. It struck before he even saw it move, terrifyingly fast for its size. The massive claws tore rents into the metal of Girand's shield, the grinding screech of metal filling the air. The weight of the hit crashed into him, sending him sliding backwards, stumbling to keep his feet as his helmet tumbled into the snow.


Seeing his chance as the beast overextended itself in attack, Girand struck quickly with his sword, even from his uneven stance, at the exposed chest of the creature. For just one moment hope filled him as he saw it might hit something vital, but the blade barely sliced, the thick skin taking most of the damage, and only a small bit of blood sliding from the minor wound. Even as his cut glanced off, the bear's other paw came swinging downwards, kicking the sword from Girand's hand as he tried to parry it. True terror filled him as he saw that he, truly, was but a gnat to this mighty creature. Scrabbling at his belt, he managed to get his ax drawn, but he had barely gotten it into his hand when the claws came again. His shield, taking another blow, knocked the massive foreleg back, and he let out a slight sigh of relief, seeing that he had at least a second of respite. He was wrong. Having grown tired of swinging at him, the abomination's head snapped forwards, and even as he tried to avoid it its massive teeth gouged deeply into his shoulder. A scream of desperation and anguish came from him then, as he saw the wound spit blood across the snow, a disgusting contrast with the pure white. Deep within his shoulder, the pain only got worse an odd fire alighting itself within him, raging and burning him, drawing more screeches of pain from him.


As Girand attempted to clear his mind, think of something, anything, to do, the icy flames from the cut swept his body, each inch it spread to causing more pain than the last, until it eventually consumed his every though, driving him to his knees as he contorted with pain, weak gasps being all that he could get out as his lungs shuddered and twitched. Twisting his neck and looking up, he could see the beast staring back at him, and even as he was convinced he would die, crushed under its paw, it roared with pain, its body twisting as it chased it new target, whatever it was.


He tried to let it all go, to just let the pain bring him to whatever afterlife there was out there, but the flames didn't let him. His thoughts clouded, and a single-minded hatred for what dared attack him drove him to his feet. Some distant part of his conscience told him how he sprang to his feet and grabbed his sword from the snow couldn't actually be happening. But even as that part of him spoke up, it was crushed as he grasped the long steel blade in both hands and turned to the beast, a guttural, wordless battlecry flying from his lips as he charged. Whatever the thing was, he would kill it and tear it to shreds. Absently he saw the man, wearing skins with odd patterns covering his skin as moved, but he was unimportant, his mind crackling with thoughts of destruction. Jumping further than he knew he could, suddenly Girand's arms, muscles straining, stabbed forwards, the blade catching the animal under the foreleg, and ramming through to the hilt, piercing deeply.


Through his haze, he saw the wound was a great one, and a low cry of victory spilled from his mouth. Even as his screech met the air, the behemoth's paw lashed out, kicking him across the clearing into the rocks, cuts littering his skin, and Girand's head cracked against the ground. There, his breaths wheezing as an before unknown rage fell back from his mind, revealing what he had done, a darkness overtook him.

 

[Obsidianserpent]

Neas: Darkness over took Neas for several minutes after his skull collided with the frozen ground. As his eyes creaked open, he struggled to make sense of what of his surroundings and his recent battle with the Mathghamhain. He gazed upon the massive bear's corpse which littered the mountainside, alongside the Genmarian stranger who appeared to have defeated the creature. Fighting the delirium and massive headache which wracked his mind, Neas pushed through the blizzard toward the unconscious man. He removed his mittens, and placed his fingers along the stranger's neck, checking for a pulse. Neas could feel the warm, subtle beat of the man's heart upon his fingertips. He moved his hand's up the strangers face toward his nostrils. He was breathing, but only faintly. Neas knew they would both perish in this icy dale if they didn't reach shelter from the blizzard soon.


He dragged the stranger's body through the snow toward the jagged rock shelter he'd been constructing. Shivering, he pulled the stranger underneath the rock, and examined his wounds. The crawl space was barely large enough to fit two people, and Neas struggled to reach his satchel. From a side pocket he pulled out a pouch of herbal powder and began to sprinkle it upon the stranger's wounds. Bloodroot was a powerful curative agent that helped to clot bleeding and prevent infection. Serving as both a guardian and a healer of his tribe, he had dressed many wounds throughout this life. Yet this man's wounds were puzzling. A black, tangled network of veins had spread out from the stranger's wounds over the course of a few minutes, enveloping his entire shoulder. He touched the corrupted flesh briefly, and as his did so, a wave of dread and nausea washed over him forcing him to jump back. Being a Skin Walker, Neas was sensitive to all forms of spiritual activity, and this wound was undoubtedly cursed. He proceeded to unfurl his bearskin cloak and throw it over the both of them, hoping it would provide sufficient warmth to keep them alive during the storm. His head still throbbing with pain, Neas curled up against the side of the rock, closed his eyes, and fell into a deep sleep.


As the brilliant sun crept over the mountains the following dawn, Neas awoke to the find the small shelter he'd dug out completely covered in snow. He checked the stranger's pulse once more; the man was alive. He began to dig through the layer of snow which enveloped the shelter, making a tunnel through which he could crawl. As he emerged, he noticed the storm had passed. The reflection of the bright yellow sun upon white snow was nearly blinding. He began to nibble on some of the dried roots and meat he'd packed for his journey, gazing into the breath taking scenery as he waited for Genmarian stranger to awaken.

 

[ParadoxalPaladin]

Girand's eyes cracked open, and he was immediately aware of a pounding ache in his head. Even the minor light in his... snow cave? Girand sat up with a start, scraping his head against the snowy ceiling. Cursing in pain, he lay back down, and let his memories float back to him bit by bit. He had fought the bear, and... his shoulder! Looking over to his right, he saw that something had treated the wound, as it had clotted and a large scab had already covered the area. Much more disturbing however was a twisting network of... vines, or something, that seemed to have inlaid itself into his skin. Instinctively his other arm went to it, scratching frantically, scraping against the skin, tearing at whatever it was. Each second the passed revealed the truth to Girand more: they were there to stay. The fear didn't leave him thought, it only sat and festered as he wonder what had happened to him.


Testing his infected arm, he swung it experimentally, but something seemed to be wrong. His arm felt only as weighty as the air around it, and it didn't have the slightest pain to it. "What the..." he muttered to himself staring at it. How had- the painkillers! It didn't seem like it made much sense, but any answer was better than no answer for him, and so for the moment he chose to believe whatever he had been given had removed feeling in the arm, and made the vines appear.


That thought lead to a sudden realization: who had done it? Looking around, the cave was big enough for two people, and the blanket upon him was most definitely not his. That... man? His recollection after the bite was hazy at best, but he was sure there had been someone there, fighting the beast. Rolling to his knees, he scrabbled his way towards what little light shown into the little hole.


A man sat there, wearing some odd animal robes, and even they were far less strange than his skin. His face was covered by intricate whorls of green and blue, and the sight stirred something in Girand's mind, an old memory of childhood long since passed. In a snap it came to him: skin walker. The moment he remembered, he found himself at the end of the tunnel, and quickly scrambled away from the man. He had heard of these, from the rumors of the marketplace. Flesh eating shamans of the northern tribes, who attacked indiscriminately and looked only to destroy. "Stay back!" He called, far more weakly than he had intended, silently trembling inside. He knew that, whoever this was, he could probably kill him just by looking at him.

 

[Obsidianserpent]

Neas: Neas looked at the stranger suspiciously. Stay back? Did this Genmarian stranger not understand that he had dressed his wounds, and saved him from the furious storm? "I mean you no harm stranger, my name is Neas...thank you for slaying the Mathghamhain; you have done the denizens of this mountain a great service. I have dressed your wounds...but I fear the bite on your shoulder is...tainted..." Neas explained. He made his way toward the Mathghamhain's body and pulled the stone dagger from his side. He thrust it deep into the creatures chest, struggling to cut through the its massive rib cage. He proceeded to insert both hands into the wound and pull out the creature's heart. "We must take the heart of Mathghamhain to the Shrine of Sabaat in the Bone Steppes. On the night of the eclipse, I shall perform an ancient ceremony, and commune with the bear's spirit. If all bodes well, I shall discover the source of the creature's corruption...and what afflicts your shoulder." Neas proceeded to wrap the creature's heart in cloth before hoisting it upon his back. "We should set out soon. It's a two day journey by foot. What say you Genmarian?"

 

[ParadoxalPaladin]

Girand stayed back, watching warily. As the man said he had dressed his wounds, he had to agree that it seemed something a savage wouldn't do, but then it got a lot worse. The man -Neas- pulled a stone dagger out from somewhere and tore apart the creature's chest, pulling out finally a massive heart. "Holy..." Girand trailed off, staring in a mix of terror and surprise at what the man had done. And all this speak of ceremony and spirits... it was heresy!


At the man's askance to travel with him, an internal fight raged within Girand. He wanted no part of this man, whatever he was, but if this was his only chance to fix the taint, as the man had called it upon his shoulder, maybe then he had to. But even then, perhaps he did it to you! Another voice raged in his head. However, if he had, why not just kill him? And if this corruption was widespread, then whose to say it would stop here, and not come into the Genmarian homelands?


"Fine." He grunted, not happy but willing to make a deal. "I'm Girand. Let's get this over with." He harbored no kindness for this individual, but it would pragmatic at least to work with him for now.