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The mouse was skipping forward, jumping from green patch to green patch. Serafin lost track from time to time, but his wings stretched out in his silent dive. Soon, the mouse would be his- it had yet to look up or hear him, and in moments it would be too late...
Serafin knew it was a dream, of course- one of the many uncountable benefits of being attached to a living creature, even via a transient arcane bond- but every moment of existence, even this, was so much better than before.
Suddenly it was very hot
He felt his body jolting awake, and soon had full control of himself again. The fire-pain was fading already, his small body shielded partially by his arcane bond with his master, the last of his bloodline. He was waking up as well, and shouts filled the house. Glancing around, he saw no immediate danger beyond a few burning papers. Some books on the bookshelf were smoldering slightly, but where had this attack come from?
Lucien was awake too, and opening the door already. Almost instinctually, Serafin hopped from his perch, seizing lightly on Lucien's shoulder.
The two were soon joined by the remainder of Lucien's team- friends even, perhaps, though that emotion set was barely remembered, and somewhat missed- and shouts of surprise were soon replaced by the frankly inhuman nonverbal state allowed when the pseudodragon was awake and helping.
As the team hustled towards the outside of the man-sized portion of the dwelling of the rogue treant, in a city made essentially entirely out of wood, Sarafin took quick note and was pleased to see that, besides a few ash piles and negligible fires, no one or thing in the immediate vicinity seemed damaged by the heat- but what had caused it, whas was the extent?
If Thrork is still conscious, we have to get him out of this city immediately, Lucien's thoughts were crisp and clear, barely modified by
According to Rina's request, anything not prefixed with 'all' will not be transmitted to Thrork!, the pseudodragon's own thoughts were always much faster than anyone else's.
All: Everyone ok? That sure was a lot of fire!, Ogtog's thoughts didn't sound very much like his voice, Serafin mused.
I'm fine. Does anyone else need help?, Thrork's message sent a chill through Lucien that Serafin could feel.
We're ok for now, what did the axe do?, Terl's thoughts were as smooth as his voice, and in exactly the same timbre.
Upon exiting the building, the snap of the cold was visceral. Serafin clutched his talons a little bit tighter into the course fabric on Lucien's shoulder.
There, not twenty feet away, was the paladin. No longer lava, but naked and in good health, taking in his surroundings.
"What hap..." his eyes fell on Maraharta.
What happened?, Ichabod asked.
I was able to use the fire source to bring you back here, with us, from before you were turned into lava., Thrork answered, as if all of that was perfectly reasonable.
What followed was a variety of statements, most of them sent to all participants, including Thrork, but the situation, including Thrork's likely impending loss of self control, and the massive blast of fire that had accompanied Ichabod's rebirth, was mostly not directed at Thrork.
Serafin thought over the situation. His bird instinct recommended going somewhere warmer, but not on fire. The familiar bond told him that Lucien was where where he should be. The spirit that fueled him was both excited and worried- final revenge seemed closer when an ally was a fire demigod, casually speaking of rending time, which anything with an arcane connection knew was an act divinely forbidden- but what of the devastation that would inevitably be wrought? Would vengance be better if it ultimately accomplished the goals of the enemy? The facets smoothed over, leaving Serafin shivering slightly. It sounded like the group had a plan- get Thrork away from the city of men and wood, and destroy the Axe of Virin before it destroyed vast swaths of the world.
"Can you bring back Net Elk?"
Shaevaren had followed the group out later, and her voice quaked with fear. Ichabod immediately explained, through Maraharta, why such a powerful trick could not be performed, and the risk it posed for Thrork's mind. Lucien added concerns about Net Elk having been dead for longer being a possible concern, but Thrork seemed to think he needed a little bit of time before he could perform the same act a second time.
The group quickly packed up and left, admitting to no fault, and the guards did not in any way suspect them in any amount. Thrork had determined tha a "leyline" lay to the south. They marched quickly throughout the frigid night, the footing reasonably dangerous. For a time, it was easier, as Thrork simply melted the pieces of snow and ice on the path, until Ichabod softly implied that he should stop doing that. Lucien, Ogtog, Maximilian, Ichabod, and Rina seemed unusually quiet- likely a result of them discussing things over the pseudragon's link.
Eventually, they were far enough away that most mundane pursuit would be unlikely to find them, and they stopped to rest. Maraharta seemed tired beyond reason, confirming Serafin's suspicion. Ogtog and Thrork were ready to go, on the other hand- Ogtog likely because marching through the snow hours before dawn is simply another Daggersday for him, and Thrork because he apparently no longer needed to eat, sleep, drink, or breathe. Maximilian, Terl, Rina, and Ichabod seemed scared for the possibilities present, and Shae seemed completely taken by emotion and shock.
"Perhaps she's afraid of fire now?" Serafin wondered, in bird-speak.
"Likely, after what happened to her, Net, and Ichabod, it is likely she has seen enough for this lifetime.", Lucien replied.
The plan went into action instantly. One moment the group was acting, normally... Ichabod cleaned himself and was in the process of apparently walking to his armor when Rina Lucien and Terl immediately turned from their previous activities and spoke words of power, which a surprised Throrc shrugged off. Confusion and annoyance played across his face, and then Ichabod took out the wooden coin with the glyph on it, the one possibly created for just this purpose, the one discussed so endlessly over the previous hours. The axe, for a moment, hung as a strange assortment of metal, some connected, some not, its magical components entirely expunged from existence, while its physical and energetic ones stayed there, for a brief moment, stationary. In moments, Throrc was on the ground, unconscious, and the threadwinder, the Axe of Virin, forever destroyed.
Over the next few days, Thrork lost his vision and required constant healing. He eventually figured out how to stop whatever divine burning he was afflicted with. Serafin listened to the discussions- was this affliction permanent? Once Thrork's vision was restored, however, he seemed to be in as good a shape as ever- though minus all his magical tools and weapons that had previously aided him.
Shae left in a rage, angry that Thrork had not been given the chance to resurrect Net Elk. Lucien felt bad for her, as did Ogtog and Rina, but the others were simply too worried about the possibilty of what could have happened to doubt their decision. Serafin, for his part, agreed with Lucien- but he also wished that the fire axe could have possibly been used more, possibly used to solve some of the outstanding problems. All were left saddened by her departure- and what would she do now?
The next several days were calmer, the winter landscape absorbing the sounds of travel. The party headed west, vigilant as always. As had happened several times before, the same vampires that had stalked Lucien- for months, as far as this group knew, but really, as some part of Serafin knew, for years, since before his birth- attacked. Perhaps not these exact creatures, but those like them, and perhaps more openly now, but ultimately, the same essence. This time the compelled creatures were the now familiar shadowcats, an undead giant, some skeletal archers, and, of course, the vampires themselves. As before, the now well-practiced team cried out and attacked, the vampires again overpowered by spells, might, and holy magics from a long dead god.
Serafin knew, from the dimly lit area, the shouts, the shambling of the undead, why this team was so small. He knew that if they succeeded, they would seize power that would raise them above their peers. He knew that they did not care about their bodies, soon to be regenerated, or tipping their hand, for how would mortals even hunt them? They existed in another place, safe from the ramifications of their own actions- unless they were to succeed. The arrogance bothered him, the rage disquited him. Every time an arrow bit into Ogtog he fired back several more. Every archer or shadowcat that fell, there would be more in the future. Lucien remained safe through it all. The first few attacks had been much scarier, with invisible assailants attacking with steel and spell, but now the various trinkets they had collected had nullified much. Serafin knew that the next attack would likely be even harsher, would involve more actual threats and less mindless minions. But everyone knew that, so Serafin said nothing, not even to Lucien.
Later, Serafin would see something actually new. He would see a manifest god, larger than the entire world, stabbing at its surface, very far in the distance. He would see this massive destruction, and he would grow excited- for this represented a genuine change. If any doubted the existence of Henaro- or, presumably, any of the gods- they would no longer be given the option of ignorance or disbelief. Serafin listened intently.
"How much was destroyed? Can we estimate the distance? Were those cities?
"Is Caligo in danger? The strikes did not appear deep, but at this scale, who can tell?"
"Why would Henaro be given licence? Are the other gods asleep, or did they tolerate this?"
Eventually, the conversation settled on an uncomfortable truth: this very team had let loose a small being, a very young Seryantic. An ancient demon to some, yet another sentient being capable of magic to others, simply from very far away and very long ago. Quite demonized in any history books, the destructive philsophy of these creatures had necessitated the very building of the world. And this very team had let one out- a harmless one, possibly, though obviously Henaro had not thought so- and shot at it with arrows to shoo it on its way. Had Henaro become aware of it? That seemed the most likely situation. If one was hidden in stasis, perhapas it had let some others loose. Maximilian, Ichabod, Terl, and Lucien- all shared what they knew of Henaro, from several religious and arcane histories. Henaro's race had, long before the creation of Caligo, been destroyed by the Seryantics, who could not dominate them for their uses, and he had waged a tireless war against them once their hold over Caligo had finally been shattered- again, the events of thousands of years prior. Prior to Serafin, prior to the raising of the bloodlines, prior to the oldest elf, prior to likely anyone alive, even of the races not touched by immortality. Caligo had been whole since the tail of the Age of Hope- and the Seryantics, the stories told differently, had long been broken.
As the group made their way to civilization, they found a world changed dramatically, as people moved in large masses away from the vicinity of the diefic attack. Lucien documented the new groups forming, mostly religious in nature, and his thoughts on them.
Sons of the Scythe - Claimed to have been in supplication for a hundred years asking Henaro to break the world. Membership is punishable by death. Likely not a real group
Faithful of Henaro - Devoted prayers for all to be spared, sacrifices of somewhat large amounts of winter crops in the hopes that Henaro would not manifest as a giant world-sized monster and stab huge gashes into the surface of Caligo again. Frequently accused of being members of the first, probably nonexistent group, and slain
Fellowship of the True Gods - Pantheistic faith devoted to the gods said to be in possession of a thread of creation, as only they have the future of Caligo in their best interest. Reasonably hostile to worshipers of gods who do not meet this category. Worth watching, could be used to incite serious violence against worshipers of Kulah, Fedahar, Kysum, Zem, etc.
Various Druid Groups. Even claiming to be a druid seems to get peasants donating. Most claim to be performing rituals to please all the nature gods, to distinguish themselves from the organized "Faithful of Henaro". I doubt there are this many druids really, even this close to Valerian.
Congregation of Light. Recognizes all good gods, worships them individually according to their tradition. Blames vampires for causing this attack. Maybe good for Caligo, but probably not great for me
An airship took them all to Cadmo. There, the Glory Reclaimers were reunited, finally. They agreed to first meet with the Order, who had congratulated them on destroying another threadwinder, and wished to meet. Serafin listened as they made their plans- most of the group west, to investigate the are devastated by Henaro, some to the south, to help merfolk who had sent a representative.
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