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Thorjak the Green
Council Grove at the Sacred Oak, outskirts of Veikanger
Tag: Malena, Gretta, Brennor and a whole crowd of people
The Grand Druid Thorjak the Green sat in the Council Grove, in front of the Sacred Oak - the oldest tree of its kind in all of Hogunmark. It was a font of powerful magic, whose leylines stretched from the east, to the old land of the Sorcerer, whose rule now fell to the dreaded White Witch.
Overlooking the Council Grove, within sight of the borders of Veikanger, the capital city, stood the Tower of Winter. A gift for an elven bride from the King Aethelbald, praise be to his name - which was now the holding belonging to Malena Aethelbaldsdottir, the half-elven and only scion daughter of the king.
Due to her specific elven heritage, Malena was a natural born sorceress - a rarity in nature, and an almost impossibility for full blooded humans. Sorcery was feared greatly by all Northerners... and especially so in Hogunmark, for the White Witch was a practitioner of magic and had made war on the men of the west. But before her had been a terrible elf known simply as The Sorcerer, whose malice and hatred of humanity had caused terrible sorrow until he was overthrown by the woman who would become the White Witch with the help of the previous king... King Gunnar.
That Sorcerer had been Malena's grandfather. King Gunnar was her other grandfather. It was an awkward point of contention therefore, that the half-blood princess should be an heir to the throne of Hogunmark... Evil blood ran in her veins. Inhuman blood. Witches' blood.
Sorcery was not well-liked in the North.
---
The Grand Druid cleared his throat. Before him were the many ranks of younger druids, and three rows of human children, dressed in the leaf cloaks and laurels of thistle that marked them as druidic acolytes. This was a rare treat for the locals, to hear the Grand Druid, who had come all the way from his personal grove in Fjoltyr to speak on this day that proceeded the Spring Festival.
Normally the King would attend, but he had fallen ill recently and could not leave the city. And so Princess Malena represented the royalty and looked on from her raised dias in the back. Gretta, her childhood friend and loyal houscarl stood by her side. Most people accepted that Malena was the officially invested protector of the Council Grove and the Tower of Winter, but her elf heritage made people afraid to meet her in the eyes. After all... it was said that witches had power over those who met their eyes...
"Our world is Aebrynis." The Grand Druid began.
"And it was crafted for us, lovingly, by the gods. I do not speak of our current gods of course. Not Erik, god of nature, nor the others of our current pantheon. No.
"I speak of the old gods. Of noble Anduiras, clever Brenna, wise Vorynn, far-seeing Masela, the radiant Basaia, and of course, the most sacred to our people, Reynir, the god of the woods and streams, whose blood flows through our great King... and within our noble princess."
There was a solemn nod from about half of the crowd. For those who did not bow, some seemed nervous. Others seemed rigid and stoic, and perhaps angry.
"These gods gave up their very existence to vanquish the last Old God. The Face of Evil, known as Azrai."
"Him and his bloody elves!" Shouted an anonymous voice in the back of the crowd from the peasantry.
There was an awkward silence, but the Grand Druid rose his staff and slammed it down with an echoing boom that could not have happened naturally.
"If not for the wisdom of the elves, who in the moment of truth realized that they must put aside their hatred of human invaders to their ancestral lands... all would be darkness." Thorjak intoned. The were murmurs from the crowd and heads shifted between the Grand Druid and the princess. So it seemed the Grand Druid had declared for Malena...this was news. But was his hand being forced by her mere presence?
"When the old gods sacrificed themselves to destroy Azrai, the land was shaken, and their divine blood was invested into their mortal followers who stood with them upon the field of battle. On that day, every footsoldier who survived was given divinity... the birthright of a king. A power to change the land for the better, and to guide people into peace and prosperity - and the greatest of the surviving champions became the new gods themselves, who now guide us directly, through grove and temple. Our god of nature, Erik, was once a man, once a druid of flesh and blood, like myself or yourselves... and this is a good thing. The new gods know of our mortality and the struggles we go through. They have given our royal bloodline the power to protect ourselves and forge our own destinies. Never forget the power and the presence of the gods. Erik is now in every tree in every stream, in every rock and gust of wind. He is with us, and he blesses us as he blesses our King... and his daughter."
---
"THAT could have gone better," Brennor grunted from his horseback. He was the closest thing Hogunmark had to knights, wearing a houscarl's mail and light helm as he rode onward. His cavalry battle axe looped in his belt, his rounded shield slung over his shoulder and his great spear in his hand, resting in the saddle sheath and bearing the Princess' banner.
"How do you mean, Brennor?" Asked Gretta, from her own saddle on the opposite side of the Princess Malena, who was riding her snowy white courser in between the two of them.
"Well we all heard it, the shouting and the lack of support. If this is the sort of backing we can expect in our own province of Gundviir... then imagine how the other 12 provinces will react to the idea of Malena's succession?"
"If she wasn't right in front of us now, I'd smack you across the lip, Brennor." Gretta said flatly.
"What for?"
"For that defeatist attitude, or for bothering Malena with what she's already had to deal with for every year of her life. And also for completely ignoring the fact that Thorjak the bloody Green, the high-tootin' Grand Druid of the Oaken Grove just publicly legitimized her.!"
Brennor clammed up at that for a bit, but couldn't help himself from adding "Yeah, it's good, but... the Oaken Grove sect is only popular in the cities. Most provinces listen to the druids of the Emerald Spiral... and they don't see it the same way that Thorjak does."
"I changed my mind..." Gretta said, holding up her horse and getting it to come around the other side of Melena. "I AM going to smack you! Now hold still and--"
*CLIP CLOP! CLIP CLOP! CLIP CLOP! CLIP CLOP!*
An outrider with leather armor and a lightly armored horse was galloping up the road.
"FIRE AND FOES! A raid from the Bloody Skull Barony! They bypassed our rangers and are headed in the direction of Wjulfsdatter!"
"How long ago was this? And how many? What's their make up?" Brennor asked.
"I've ridden flat out from the outposts four hours ago. It's mostly goblins and hobgoblins. They've got trained wolves and wargs, twice as many as they have riders."
"Blast, it's a slaving raid then. There's not much time either, not enough to rally the city forces before they strike the town. We need to go now!" Gretta said, then turned to Malena.
"My lady, protocol dictates that you seek safety in the Tower of Winter... but... if there's one way to get the province's support, it would be to use your magic in defense of the realm," Gretta said with a gleam in her eyes.
Her oldest friend had seen Malena's spells in action before, and unlike most Hoguns, was not terrified by the power of the spells, merely respectful of it.
Council Grove at the Sacred Oak, outskirts of Veikanger
Tag: Malena, Gretta, Brennor and a whole crowd of people
The Grand Druid Thorjak the Green sat in the Council Grove, in front of the Sacred Oak - the oldest tree of its kind in all of Hogunmark. It was a font of powerful magic, whose leylines stretched from the east, to the old land of the Sorcerer, whose rule now fell to the dreaded White Witch.
Overlooking the Council Grove, within sight of the borders of Veikanger, the capital city, stood the Tower of Winter. A gift for an elven bride from the King Aethelbald, praise be to his name - which was now the holding belonging to Malena Aethelbaldsdottir, the half-elven and only scion daughter of the king.
Due to her specific elven heritage, Malena was a natural born sorceress - a rarity in nature, and an almost impossibility for full blooded humans. Sorcery was feared greatly by all Northerners... and especially so in Hogunmark, for the White Witch was a practitioner of magic and had made war on the men of the west. But before her had been a terrible elf known simply as The Sorcerer, whose malice and hatred of humanity had caused terrible sorrow until he was overthrown by the woman who would become the White Witch with the help of the previous king... King Gunnar.
That Sorcerer had been Malena's grandfather. King Gunnar was her other grandfather. It was an awkward point of contention therefore, that the half-blood princess should be an heir to the throne of Hogunmark... Evil blood ran in her veins. Inhuman blood. Witches' blood.
Sorcery was not well-liked in the North.
---
The Grand Druid cleared his throat. Before him were the many ranks of younger druids, and three rows of human children, dressed in the leaf cloaks and laurels of thistle that marked them as druidic acolytes. This was a rare treat for the locals, to hear the Grand Druid, who had come all the way from his personal grove in Fjoltyr to speak on this day that proceeded the Spring Festival.
Normally the King would attend, but he had fallen ill recently and could not leave the city. And so Princess Malena represented the royalty and looked on from her raised dias in the back. Gretta, her childhood friend and loyal houscarl stood by her side. Most people accepted that Malena was the officially invested protector of the Council Grove and the Tower of Winter, but her elf heritage made people afraid to meet her in the eyes. After all... it was said that witches had power over those who met their eyes...
"Our world is Aebrynis." The Grand Druid began.
"And it was crafted for us, lovingly, by the gods. I do not speak of our current gods of course. Not Erik, god of nature, nor the others of our current pantheon. No.
"I speak of the old gods. Of noble Anduiras, clever Brenna, wise Vorynn, far-seeing Masela, the radiant Basaia, and of course, the most sacred to our people, Reynir, the god of the woods and streams, whose blood flows through our great King... and within our noble princess."
There was a solemn nod from about half of the crowd. For those who did not bow, some seemed nervous. Others seemed rigid and stoic, and perhaps angry.
"These gods gave up their very existence to vanquish the last Old God. The Face of Evil, known as Azrai."
"Him and his bloody elves!" Shouted an anonymous voice in the back of the crowd from the peasantry.
There was an awkward silence, but the Grand Druid rose his staff and slammed it down with an echoing boom that could not have happened naturally.
"If not for the wisdom of the elves, who in the moment of truth realized that they must put aside their hatred of human invaders to their ancestral lands... all would be darkness." Thorjak intoned. The were murmurs from the crowd and heads shifted between the Grand Druid and the princess. So it seemed the Grand Druid had declared for Malena...this was news. But was his hand being forced by her mere presence?
"When the old gods sacrificed themselves to destroy Azrai, the land was shaken, and their divine blood was invested into their mortal followers who stood with them upon the field of battle. On that day, every footsoldier who survived was given divinity... the birthright of a king. A power to change the land for the better, and to guide people into peace and prosperity - and the greatest of the surviving champions became the new gods themselves, who now guide us directly, through grove and temple. Our god of nature, Erik, was once a man, once a druid of flesh and blood, like myself or yourselves... and this is a good thing. The new gods know of our mortality and the struggles we go through. They have given our royal bloodline the power to protect ourselves and forge our own destinies. Never forget the power and the presence of the gods. Erik is now in every tree in every stream, in every rock and gust of wind. He is with us, and he blesses us as he blesses our King... and his daughter."
---
"THAT could have gone better," Brennor grunted from his horseback. He was the closest thing Hogunmark had to knights, wearing a houscarl's mail and light helm as he rode onward. His cavalry battle axe looped in his belt, his rounded shield slung over his shoulder and his great spear in his hand, resting in the saddle sheath and bearing the Princess' banner.
"How do you mean, Brennor?" Asked Gretta, from her own saddle on the opposite side of the Princess Malena, who was riding her snowy white courser in between the two of them.
"Well we all heard it, the shouting and the lack of support. If this is the sort of backing we can expect in our own province of Gundviir... then imagine how the other 12 provinces will react to the idea of Malena's succession?"
"If she wasn't right in front of us now, I'd smack you across the lip, Brennor." Gretta said flatly.
"What for?"
"For that defeatist attitude, or for bothering Malena with what she's already had to deal with for every year of her life. And also for completely ignoring the fact that Thorjak the bloody Green, the high-tootin' Grand Druid of the Oaken Grove just publicly legitimized her.!"
Brennor clammed up at that for a bit, but couldn't help himself from adding "Yeah, it's good, but... the Oaken Grove sect is only popular in the cities. Most provinces listen to the druids of the Emerald Spiral... and they don't see it the same way that Thorjak does."
"I changed my mind..." Gretta said, holding up her horse and getting it to come around the other side of Melena. "I AM going to smack you! Now hold still and--"
*CLIP CLOP! CLIP CLOP! CLIP CLOP! CLIP CLOP!*
An outrider with leather armor and a lightly armored horse was galloping up the road.
"FIRE AND FOES! A raid from the Bloody Skull Barony! They bypassed our rangers and are headed in the direction of Wjulfsdatter!"
"How long ago was this? And how many? What's their make up?" Brennor asked.
"I've ridden flat out from the outposts four hours ago. It's mostly goblins and hobgoblins. They've got trained wolves and wargs, twice as many as they have riders."
"Blast, it's a slaving raid then. There's not much time either, not enough to rally the city forces before they strike the town. We need to go now!" Gretta said, then turned to Malena.
"My lady, protocol dictates that you seek safety in the Tower of Winter... but... if there's one way to get the province's support, it would be to use your magic in defense of the realm," Gretta said with a gleam in her eyes.
Her oldest friend had seen Malena's spells in action before, and unlike most Hoguns, was not terrified by the power of the spells, merely respectful of it.
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