[Empress of Neon]

Sammy: Uhhh, Ms. Laura?

Laura: *She tucked her cloak on a nearby hanger as she prepared to rest on her cot; Fira keeping his gaze on the children in an unnerving stare from beneath.* What is it? Do you need more water?

Isabelle: Actually, we were hoping... maybe... since we did all our chores really quick today...

Laura: Mh?

Sammy: Could we uhhh... maybe have a story before bed?

Laura: You jest, yes?

Isabelle: Well, our dad used to do it for us all the time...*The little girl frowned deeply; on the verge of tears as she looked down.*

Laura: ... ugh. Alright, alright... but you keep these tales between us, yes? Don't want your peers looking at you oddly.

Sammy and Isabelle: Yes ma'm.

Laura: *Laura plopped down on the cot as the two aligned their bedrolls into a makeshift mattress to lay on; looking up with hopeful eyes. The poor little things starved for entertainment.* What uh... what kind of stories do ears seek to hear?

Sammy: Uhhh... a hero story, maybe?

Isabelle: Oooh, how about a story about monsters? Rwargh!

Sammy: I don't like monsters...

Laura: Sweet gods...*She rubbed her eyes, taking a swig from a nearby cup of wine.* Alright, bite tongue and listen. I'll tell you the tale of Kaif ar Tosin.

Isabelle: What does 'ar' mean?

Laura: It means 'of the clan'. Or... 'of the family'.

Sammy: Is that something savages say?

Laura: Do you want a story or not?

Isabelle: ... okay.

Sammy: Yup.

Laura: Good. No more interruptions. This is the story of Kaif ar Tosin. Daughter of Logri ar Tosin. Kaif was a meek girl of fifteen winters. She stood the only survivor of childhood, for her mother and brothers had all been claimed by one calamity after another. An orcish raid; her mother. A hungry troll; the firstborn. Fever; her infant brother. The northmen, her older sibling.

Sammy: Northmen?

Laura: ... I said no interruptions. Ugh... yes. The northmen. Better known as the Ruathem.

Isabelle: I'm confused. Is this in the High Ice?

Laura: No. This takes place in lands far west; where the Great Ocean meets the land.

Sammy: Wait... then what's Kaif?

Laura: Gurri.

Isabelle: What's a Gurri?

Laura: Are you going to ask questions all night or should I just end the story right now?

Sammy: Sorry...

Laura: All's forgiven. Now... Kaif was a meek lass, but she stood precious to her father. She was his last child; his blood and legacy. But despite her absence of strength, Kaif was determined to be a warrior like her siblings before her. Heart flustered with fear, in her father's chest. Even more so when the clan announced upcoming trials to comb new warriors into its warband.

Sammy: Who was on trial?

Laura: No, not trial. Trial's'. It was like a contest of strength between many, yes?

Isabelle: Sounds fun!

Laura: Normally yes, but it was a pitiful and desperate affair to replenish warriors lost to the raiding Ruathem. Because of this, Kaif's father believed his daughter would not only be folded in out of need over merit, but that she would meet a cruel fate at the hands of the raiders. His fears were deepened when he stood witness to what meager challenges awaited any who would give blade to cause. In desperation of his own, Togri sought to trick the taisech-

Sammy: Taisech?

Laura: Chieftain. Togri sought to trick the chieftain by proudfully boasting of his daughter's strength. Her speed. As well as her resolve; in order to set her up for failure.

"My Kaif has the strength of a giant. She can hurl boulders the length of twenty men across the fields."

"Surely you jest..." Replied the taisech...

"It's true. And her speed on the plains stands peerless. I've seen her outrun statllions!"

"Hogwash." He retorted...

"Hogs remain drenched in filth, I tell you! Just as my Kaif can remain drenched in the river for hours-on-end!"

Desperate to prove him him the braggart, the taisech fell to Togri's bait and trap. Kaif's trials would be the greatest in all her clan.

Isabelle: I don't get it. Wouldn't he still just take her to fight the savage guys?

Laura: Any self-respecting taisech knows, that to acknowledge one that clearly can't hold a blade as a warrior, is to brand oneself as a liar, weak, or desperate.

Sammy: Huh?

Laura: The trials were eased before so that he would not stand liar by taking whelps in as warriors.

Isabelle: I still don't get it.

Laura: ... ugh. Would you shut up and let me finish?

Sammy and Isabelle: Sorry!

Laura: Despite the absurdity of the trials, Kaif gave her all. Where others hurled stones, she failed to break boulder from the grass. Where others ran great distance across the field in contrast to eachother, Kaif was left to dust by a stallion. Where others had to hold breath for a few minutes, Kaif had to burst from the river in a pant.

She had failed her trials and was left absent a place in the warband.

When word of her father's boasts reached ears, Kaif had realized it was all Togri's ploy, she left her homestead for a time. Heart heavy with grief at nearest betrayal.

Isabelle: Aw...

Laura: When she returned however, her homestead was in ruin by blaze. Togri's body flayed and stretched betwixt two poles in cruelest torture. The people of her village left in rot; heads impaled as streaks of freshest blood painted the earth and walls.

Isabelle and Sammy: *A disturbed look donned their features.*

Laura: Her heart filled with grief and rage, Kaif followed the northmens' trail back to their holding. Finding the remains of the ill-fated warband at river's crossing. Arming herself with shield, sword and bow, she crept near the northmens' holding in the dark of night. The screams of what victims remained haunting every step. Filling the meek girl with murderous fervor. A prayer to the lords of Blood and Battle on her lips to bear witness. An oath of vengeance on Selune, should she betray her visage. A promise of more feast still to the Devourer.

Isabelle and Sammy: *Still disturbed, the children began to hold eachother; now looking outright terrified.*

Laura: A terrible blood debt stirring her every fiber, Kaif descended on the northmen not in blind fury, but careful and quiet butchery. An arrow to many a throat. A blade between the eyes of more still. It was not until the screams of their own victims ceased that they knew something was wrong. The scurry in their holding futile, as Kaif lead the survivors of her people to the darkened woods.

Yet she would not follow; despite their pleas.

"Go to the Fifern. For their hold stands near. I will see bloody vengeance tonight; or visit it again eternally at Warrior's Rest!"

Drunk, angry, bitter and confused, the northmen gave chase to the meek girl when arrow found mark once again. The grass fields drenched in their blood. Cunning and shadow her greatest weapons.

Sammy: ... wow.

Laura: Inevitably, however, the northmen rallied. A wall of shield to comb the fields. Ankles were sliced. Confusion reigned upon the ends. Spears and axes were thrown in blind frenzy. Kaif, struck in her chest by a stray throw. Her life, fading... ebbing...

Isabelle: No... I wanted her to win...

Laura: Her life ended with her blade in the throat of her killer. Axes to her bones... swords and spears to her flesh. Her vengeance incomplete; the northmen battered, but ultimately victorious. Her story ended with her clan; the final traces of the Tosin melting into the Fifern. A cautious tale to any who would lend ear.

Sammy: That's a bad ending!

Isabelle: Yeah! Why'd the bad guys have to win?

Laura: Because that is the way of the world, children. The strong dominate and take what they can just as the weak must perish or endure what they must.

Sammy: That's not fair!

Laura: Life isn't fair. You're missing the point of the story.

Isabelle: Is it that the Togri was a big stupid idiot?

Laura: Who's to say Kaif would not have simply died with the Tosin warband? Who's to say her father did not indirectly save dearest child's life, only to have it squandered?

Sammy: Uh... uh?

Laura: That is not the point of the story though.*She made a gesture for them to get tucked in their bedrolls as she began to lay down.*

Isabelle: What is it then?

Laura: The caution of the tale is seen in Kaif's actions; not her father's or taisech's. Kaif was but one girl. Incredibly talented and skilled against a foe superior in strength. But still, only one girl.

Rather than leave with those she had saved from the northmen's holding, ensure their safety, perhaps even live to see merits blossom to even greater heights against her enemy another day, she gave in to her bloodlust and chose to see that night her last in an effort to kill as many of her people's murderers as possible.

She could have lived. Her tale could have continued. She could have become a heroine like no other; but rather than accept the burden of the weak, she strove to prove strength over a foe she could not best. Least of all alone.

Sammy: So... don't be stupid... and fight mobs by yourself?

Laura: No, the meaning's deeper. Ugh... how do I convey this in your tongue...?

Isabelle: Huh?

Laura: Kaif could not accept the idea of her father and clan's killers escaping bloody vengeance. She was young. Honor demanded it. To yield was to concede that Togri was right; she was weak. She simply couldn't let them go.

She inflicted great harm and saved a scant few others. But she still died that day; along with her people. A loss for all Gurri; given what the gods witnessed that night.

Isabelle: Are you saying... just be careful...?

Laura: Be careful if you pursue vengeance. But also be ready. Life is ripe with pain; if you can not endure it when it comes, it will destroy you with madness or grief.

The world is a cruel place, little ones.*She reached over, to give their heads a pat after they were all self-tucked into their bedrolls.*

Only when you accept that will you be able to truly live it.*She turned on the cot; groaning out as she closed her eyes.*

~Sadly the children did anything but sleep well that night. The world was a cruel and scary place. And for the first time, someone gave it to them straight.~

[Empress of Neon]

Laura: ... another one? I thought this was a one time thing.

Sammy: ... please?

Laura: Ugh... fine. Suppose you did find my missing boots.

Isabelle: I wonder why that guy had them?

Laura: ... best if you don't know. Now, bite tongue and listen. For this is the tale of Arghul ar Dankcleef.

Sammy: Can I have some water?

Laura: I thought you already drank?

Sammy: I'm still thirsty.

Laura: *She mumbled before filling a clay cup, handing it down to the lad as he attentively laid on the makeshift matress next to his sibling.* Now. Bite. Tongue. Because this is a tale you should always remember if you ever cross the Anauroch River. This is a tale of a man who's strength was so great, that even a giant could not best him in wrestle.

Isabelle: Hogwash!

Laura: The hog stands filthy, I tell you. The man himself was said to be the divine offspring of mighty the Battle Lord himself-

Sammy: Who?

Laura: Targas.

Sammy: Ooh!

Laura: ... Targas and the greatest warrioress ever to walk the lands. Elizia ar Norrin. Though hers is a tale in itself... it is said she left her son to mortal hands so that she may rejoin the endless battles of Warrior's Rest.

Sammy: What about Targas?

Laura: Targas didn't care. He has many offspring. Now, although he was left to the care of land-tillers, Arghul's blood gave him inhuman strength and endurance that made him peerless before he even grew his first few whiskers. The boy stood taller than most men by his nineth winter. It is said he stood as a giant by the time prime was reached.

Like his mother and father, Arghul had an insatiable love for battle. Its spoils. The glory it brought. Soon his clan stood dominant; but this troubled his taisech... who feared that Arghul may soon turn his voracious appetites upon himself. Fear more than just, as Arghul had great aspirations to be a ri.

Isabelle: Ri?

Laura: It means king.

Isabelle: Oh. So was he a wizard to?

Laura: No.

Sammy: Then how could he be a king?

Laura: Are you going to let me finish the story or not?

Isabelle: Sorry!

Laura: In an attempt to kill him, the taisech sent his greatest warrior on a quest he was certain would be his death.

"Complete these tasks, Arghul, and you will know greatest of treasures as my son." He offered; his most beautiful daughter now ripe of age.

"Journey west and slay the hill giant, Bolmar, and his kin. Journey north and defeat the Brightwood Witch. Finally, journey east, and rescue my brother from the dragon, Kyrax."

Arghul obeyed his taisech's wishes, before making journey to the Rolling Hills west of his holding.

Isabelle: They were rolling?

Laura: No. Its name stands testament to the fact that giants were always rolling boulders, or themselves into unwary travelers. Something Arghul was keenly aware of, as he made way into their domain.

Brave as he was, Arghul approached the ancient hills in the light of day. Bellowing a challenge to Bolmar and his kin.

"BOLMAR!" *She boomed in a disturbingly gutteral voice.*

"I have come to lay claim to your head; your riches; your very domain as my own! Rise from slumber and find death by my bare hands!"

Isabelle: He fought with his bare hands?!

Laura: He did. And you better believe that they answered his challenge. Bolmar was the first to rise; tallest of his kin. He hurled a great boulder that Arghul caught with his own mass, before hurling it back at the great giant. Shocked and confused, Arghul ran up a hill, leapt with terrible purpose, then landed his fist in a crushing blow against one of the giants' skull. Only when it did not rise, did its kinsmen realize the wound stood fatal.

Sammy: Woah!

Laura: They tried desperately to grab, smash, or suffocate with mere weight. But Arghul blew off every blow with one of his own. By the time Bolmar's kinsmen were dead, the once-proud and mighty creature was stumbling back in fear as the warrior drew ever closer. Drenched in blood... the ever-delighted smile inspired by blood and battle plastered on his features once again...

Sammy: *He twitched as he pictured the warrior in his head:*

Isabelle: Are you alright Sammy...?

Sammy: Y-yeah...

Laura: ... you're right to fear such a man, Sammy. For when Arghul slayed the giant, it was neither quick nor pleasant. The man beat the thing down with unimaginable blows, before gripping the back of its jawlines. With sheer force, he tore the giant's screaming head clean from its shoulders. His first trial, complete.

Isabelle: *She began to twitch in kind.*

Laura: After leaving his trophy in crimson glory ontop the highest hill; for all to see; Arghul trekked north into the Brightwood forest.

Sammy: That... sounds kind of nice.

Laura: Sadly, winter had arrived by the time he arrived. Making his journey all the more perilous.

Sammy: ... aw.

Laura: Food was scarce. Even the predators had mostly retreated to their caves. Thankfully, a pack of winter wolves attempted to make a meal out of the mighty Arghul. After breaking neck and joint, he cladded himself in their furs and made off with enough wolf flanks to sustain a village. His pursuit of the fabled Brightwood Witch leading him to a lonely cabin.

Sammy: Was her home made of candy?

Laura: What? No. What kind of nonsense is that? Who makes a home out of -candy-?

Sammy: I just thought-

Laura: Be silent. I don't know what kind of potrayals your father saw fit to caress your ears with, but this was a true and sincere witch. A woman frothing with power nursed from darkest rituals. As fate would have it, she was also enchantingly beautiful.

"What brings so great a man to my door?" She questioned; the barest of robes clenching her figure.

Sammy: Uh... what?

Laura: ... know what? I'm going to skip a bit. Arghul was ultimately enchanted by the beautiful witch. For the rest of the season, they knew only the warmth and delights of deepest intimacies. But something had happened that the Witch had not expected; during the long days of drinking, eating and fucking...

Isabelle: *She gasped at the language.*

Sammy: What's fucking?

Laura: ... I'll tell you when you're older. Moving on...

The Witch saw in Arghul something great. Something that averted her original intent to sacrifice him, come next spring. Ambition. More than that, the power to see it through. As the days and nights trailed, more and more she began to wonder...

"Do I really wish to kill this man? Do I really mean it when I tell self, I have not grown fond? Is there perhaps a future for me... where he goes?"

Sammy: Why'd she want to sacrifice him? Is she a savage to?

Laura: ... put simply, she wanted to offer him to a darker spirit in exchange for greater power. Magic for blood. Does that answer your question?

Sammy: Was it a demon?

Laura: No.

Sammy: What was it?

Laura: Are you going to let me finish this story or not?

Sammy: Sorry!

Laura: Soon she began to whisper warmest of fantasies. His kingdom; herself, his wife. A lifetime of blood, glory and conquest. But despite what the witch had thought, Arghul made a demand that betrayed his enchantment for her was not of any magic she had used; but rather born of the man himself. Something that had warmed the witch's heart as words poured as honey to ears.

"I would spend this life and the next with you; here; happy and content. I would even forego the glories of battle, if only it meant I could stay with you. If you truly wish to go, love, then I will... to wherever road takes us. But I have only one request if you do... out of care. Abandon these practices. These arts. They do nothing but tarnish you; endanger you. I know you stand fearful; absent strength to protect yourself otherwise from the dangers of this world. But hear me; as I swear by the Mountain Lord himself... I will always protect you. Come beast or army. They will die by my hands."

Just like that, Arghul had defeated the witch of the Brightwood Forest. And in that defeat, took with him someone he'd treasure till the day he died; his first wife.

Sammy: She sounded pretty bad to me...

Laura: People are not so simple, little one. The witch craved power. But did you ever ask to stop to what end? The truth lurks behind Arghul's words... even if they stand somewhat lost to the story. She was afraid of something... perhaps the world itself. If you were absent blade, bow, or were simply too meek to wield either... what would you do to see self protected?

Isabelle: Move to the city...?

Laura: There are no cities in this land.

Isabelle: Oh...

Laura: The world is a savage and terrible place beyond the empire, little ones. Remember that... people do what they must to survive.

Now, back to the story. His last trial was to slay a great dragon named Kyrax. His love, Mora, in tow... he made his way east. To a great pond known to stand as a source of drink to the beast. Yet what he found there was no dragon; but the fey.

Isabelle: Yay! Fairies!

Laura: Child, I don't know what stirs passion towards such a creature... but I promise you, the fey are not creatures you wish to come across.

Thankfully, Arghul's reputation proceeded him. More than that, he was expected and welcomed. Path was laid bare to the pond, where the taisech's brother remained in a ceaseless daze. His gaze on a creature so beautiful that it nearly killed Mora and her beloved upon glance. I speak of course... of a nymph.

Sammy: Heard dad say mom was a real nympho once. Does that mean we're half-fairy?

Laura: ... no. Now be quiet. For the words that passed the creature's lips were telling... and aligning to the height of the story.

"I know why you've come. To retrieve this charming, kind man. Did you know that your taisech hoped you'd meet your end in me?"

"You could not defeat me, little creature. I am Arghul! Slayer of Bolmar! Son of the Battle Lord himself!" He replied...

"Your lineage does not escape me. Nor should mine you. But put aside pride... wrathful thing. For I happily return this warm heart willingly. He has known warmth. Kindness. Just as I would have you warned of your future."

"Break tongue, then...." Laura mused in a gutteral tone. "And you will be left in peace."

"Your taisech fears you. Your love inspires you. Your ambitions drive you. But the end is far more than any of you realize. You will stand ri, Arghul; the first of your people in centuries. But heed me; for in this fate rests a great and terrible price. Strength alone can never bind. What you are will reflect in the many sons and daughters your wife, and others, will bare."

Isabelle: Teehee...

Laura: What's so funny?

Isabelle: Bet she was -angry- to hear that.

Sammy: Heeheehee...!

Laura: ... would you be quiet? Now... aherm...

"What you build in fire will pass as such when you die. Your reign will be glorious. But what comes after will be a fate so horrendous, your people will never recover; least of all whole. The end begins with you. It is only in you that you can stop it before any of it begins."

"What madness do you speak of?!" He shouted out. "Would you have me leave my land?! Accept knife to back?! Drown myself in your pond?!"

Upon that final notion, she nodded... with a 'Yes'. "If you stand true hero to the people they think you to be."

In rage, Arghul reached to strangle the nymph. But her body melded and enlarged; transforming before his very eyes into a great tree. Despite Arghul's great strength, he could not fell it.

"Take blade upon path chosen and go." He heard in his head. A sword... an offering of peace, extended from the pond's water before the tree. "But never return to us. For we will reach to your people no more."

From that day, all men were as unwelcomed guests in the realms of the fey.

Arghul returned to his clan; a mighty, truly-splenderous blade in hand. After brother was passed to the taisech; his deeds complete; he impaled both in a sudden thrust of his blade. His warriors and guards dead or cowering in mere moments.

"I stand taisech now." He declared; his enchanting Mora taking proper place along his lap. "And I swear to you now, Dankleefs, by year's end, The People will rise high once more. When I stand Ri among all!"

Sammy: They just... let him be in charge? After he killed their leader?

Laura: The strong dominate the weak, little one. That's the way it always was; that's the way it always will be. Arghul's strength was beyond question; just as his claim to his second wife... the dead-taisech's daughter.

Isabelle: How could he have two wives?

Laura: His first, Mora, conceded to his heart's desires. Believe me, there was plenty room on that lap for two.

Sammy: ... she just... married her dad's killer?

Laura: Not out of love, I promise you that.

Sammy: So what happened next?

Laura: All that the nymph warned of came to pass. On blood and conquest; through sheer strength; Arghul lead an ever-expanding domain to conquer the next. A great many clans soon bending knee to one; his holding, soon kingdom. His aspirations fulfilled.

For one last time, the Gurri knew what it meant to be one under a king. Arghul's people knew prosperity; firm but fair rule. Their enemies terror and defeat. He sired a great many sons and daughters; so many, in fact, that it is said his blood indirectly mingled into all The People's descendants from those years hence. Truly, a better king could not have been asked for...

Isabelle: Yay! Happy ending!

Laura: No, Isabelle, not a happy ending. For the nymph's warning, you recall, echoed far beyond his life.

Sammy: Uh oh.

Laura: Inevitably, Arghul's great heart gave out. His love of his children setting near-equal footing for any who wished to make claim for his seat. His greatest failure reflected in his inability to choose a successor proper before his meeting with death. War broke out. Brother and sister turning on sibling in a terrible bloodbath. Their want and ambition every bit as great as their father's. Chaos reigned. Rivers of blood flowed as holdings were burned. So terrible was the slaughter of kinsmen that the gods themselves intervened. The Earthmother withdrew her bounty; refusing to sustain the carnage in beast or berries. The Sun Lord burning brighter and longer in desperate bid to prolong the nightly raids. Kozah himself splitting the earth. Crashing storm and ruin into the land for fourty days and fourty nights. Only the Battle Lord smiled; his descendants. His blood! As an ocean that washed over the land!

Sammy and Isabelle: *The two stared wide-eyed; holding eachother.*

Laura: All of it fell apart. As in creation, its end; a flame! So many clans lost. So many dead left... the only tribute; a feast for the Devourer.*There was a long pause.*

The survivors... treaded south, when smoke at last cleared. Others... simply vanishing into the mists of history.

"Let none ever return to these lands." Decreed a guiding Woodkeeper. "For they are sour; stained with the blood of kin. Deep and near."

Sammy: Woodkeeper?

Laura: Druid.

Isabelle: Oh...

Laura: ... they would never recover from the death of Arghul ar Dankcleef. Their mightiest hero; their greatest destroyer.

Sammy: Wow...

Laura: Remember this story well, children. It's one that I keep to heart; even now. Strength in itself has no value. Arghul was a mighty man. But he stood more obsessed with what he could take with his strength, not what he could give. Wives, land, victories, glory, children, wealth. All of this was his. Even the love of those beneath him. Yet he failed; his achievements stood hallowed by lack of foresight and vision that made everything he had as his own... a fleeting thing; as fleeting as his life.

Isabelle: So... he was stupid? I mean, I would've listened to that fey lady.

Laura: That's easy to say now, but for all he knew, it could've been a fey trick. Besides that, Arghul was also drunk on power. His sense of worth and value as a man truly soaring. He stood god-blooded, triumphant over all his enemies, loved and victorious in his dreams. Can you really say you wouldn't have admired the person in the mirror?

Isabelle: I uh... I guess...

Sammy: So that's it? They all just... died and left?

Laura: Survival isn't glorious. It's why a leader must be strong -and- wise. Arghul was the former; not the latter. There is another merit to this tale, however, that I would ask you two to heed.

Isabelle: What's that?

Laura: How you use power is, perhaps, more important than simply having it. Arghul was not wise; but what about his taisech? How far could he have taken him as his greatest warrior? Could a kingdom still have been, perhaps he himself more trusted and celebrated even by the man that stood to fear him? Could he have still used his great strength to create something greater... more lasting than himself?

Sammy: Huh...

Isabelle: What'd ever happened to Mora? His other wives?

Laura: Those who didn't die? A scant few fled. As for Mora...

*She leaned in, making a small gesture with a resigned look.* ... no one knows.

Isabelle: *She blinked.*

Laura: ... no one knows. Now, go to sleep.

~And so the children slumbered. Thoughts of chaos, carnage and terrifying behemoths of men staining their nightmares. Savages sure had it rough; good thing they were on the safe side of the river, in the lands of the empire!~

[Empress of Neon]

Sammy: Wow Ms. Meslon. You got a new dress?

Laura: Coat.

Isabelle: It's pretty! It's like the one the clerk man wears. Does that mean you're rich now?

Laura: Not yet. Just promoted.*She exhaled, laying on her side.*

Sammy: Can we hear another story before bed?

Laura: Not tonight.

Isabelle: ... a-

Laura: NOT TONIGHT!*She snapped, wide-eyed as she flipped over.*

*The children looked on her with genuine fear; they'd never seen such an expressive, even psychotic look from their caretaker. Slowly they sank back to their bedrolls. Isabelle even going so far as to hide herself under the blanket. As Laura turned back onto her side, staring at nothing in particular as she struggled to fall asleep, Sammy to couldn't help but notice something off... out of place. Wasn't there usually something sleeping under the bed?

Why couldn't he remember?*

[Empress of Neon]

Sammy: Uhhh... Ms. Meslon?

Laura: *Laura continued to tuck the little ones into their brand-new bed, even as she responded.* Yes?

Sammy: ... are you better? You seem a little happier...

Laura: A little... yes...

Isabelle: Are you still angry at us?

Laura: *She sighed.* No... little one, that wasn't you. I'm... sorry if I snapped at you.

Isabelle: Really?

Laura: Yes.*She gave her forehead a small rub.* Life outside the estate... it is demanding for me. Sometimes more than expected.

Sammy: Does this mean you'll tell us stories again?

Laura: I got you two a bed big enough for four and you still need tale to find slumber?

Sammy: ... maybe.

Laura: Augh... alright...*She sat on the side, drumming her fingers along her knee in thought.* A shorter one though, as I've plans for tonight.

Isabelle: Sure!

Laura: This is the tale of Angus ar Klent. He was a brave warrior; one who's endurance was said to rival that of a bear. Be it spear, fang, or maul, no wound inflicted by beast or man could fell him. Some thought him descended from the Mountain Lord, but this itself remains mystery...

Sammy: Who's that?

Laura: The Oathkeeper.

Sammy: Huh?

Laura: A god.

Sammy: Ah.

Laura: Anywho... one day, Angus met the love of his life. A woman who'm he'd devote winters-on-end to; one who mothered him three children. All of who he cared for deeply. But, fate can be cruel; and upon one season of his absence, warring with another clan, he returned to find his wife dead. His children absent.

Isabelle: No!

Laura: His children had been taken as slaves in a raid. His beloved, not merely killed, but-

Sammy: But what?

Laura: *She paused, brows and lips pressed as she realized the topic was perhaps a bit too much for their age. Maybe.* ... tortured before death.

Isabelle: That's terrible!

Laura: Angus's wrath was even more so. After tracking the attackers, he found only one of his children... the other two, lost without trail. Perhaps even dead. He was heartbroken... and from that day hence, more than protective of his only remaining child.

Yet, there's some things a warrior can not protect his family from. Come next winter, just as life was beginning to settle once more, his daughter died of fever and left the heartbroken man shattered in woe.

Sammy: Poor Angus...

Laura: Poor Angus indeed. So great was his despair and woe, that Angus no longer had the fire or passion for battle. Indeed, he would often throw himself upon enemies, in hopes of being impaled. Present himself before a line of archers. And yet, what was once strength finally proved to be cursed.

Isabelle: Did he get better?

Laura: He did not. The pain proved too great for Angus. Knowing what was lost; the life he'd have to endure without his loved ones. Forsaking Warrior's Rest, he walked into a river one day and gave way to drowning. Moving onto the next, uncertain life.

Sammy: To be with his family?

Laura: No. The fate that awaits the coward's death is not a pleasant one.

Isabelle: No!

Laura: And that is the tragedy of Angus's tale. He was strong in body, but lacked the fortitude for grief's burdens. Suffering awaited him; whether he drew breath or not.

Sammy: That's not fair! He lost his family...

Laura: Life isn't fair, little one. Angus had a choice; one we all will ask from time to time... whether to continue, or end our journey in this life. But... that's not the point of the story.

Isabelle: What was it then?

Laura: Strength comes in many forms. So to does weakness. The mightiest warrior can be weak of heart. Just as the most powerful of arcanists can be weak of body. Wherever you go in life... know your limits. Your strength. Your weakness. You will be better prepared for trials ahead; in victory or defeat.

Sammy: So... what happened to Angus?

Laura: As I said... an ill fate awaits those who take their own lives; absent meaning.

Isabelle: But what is it?

Laura: Do you really want to know?

Sammy: ... yeah?

Laura: It is said the Deadkeeper will devour those unworthy of the lives they lead. False tongue and rejection of the gods... suicide and greater offenses... all of these warrant absolute and utter oblivion for whatever you were. You may as well have never existed at all.

Sammy: ... poor Angus...*He frowned.*

Laura: Indeed.*She patted them both after tucking them in.* Sleep well, little ones.

Isabelle: Uh... Ms. Meslon?

Laura: Mh?

Isabelle: Thank you... the floors were really hard to sleep on.

Laura: I promised to take care of you... I take oath seriously.*She ran her hand once through Isabelle's hair.* ... keep doing your chores, little ones. One day, you will live in a home of your own again. Hopefully sooner than later.

Sammy: It's kinda nice in here...

Laura: Mh.*She offered a small smile before making her way out.*

~Sadly, the children would have anything but sweet dreams now that Angus ar Klent's tale was told.~

[Empress of Neon]

*As Hoi'tem stared down at the PATHETIC and HIDEOUS children from his shelf-pillow, Laura once more tucked the little ones into bed; every day the transition seeming to get a little easier as life began to normalize.*

Sammy: Ms. Meslon?

Laura: Yes?

Sammy: Does uh... does Hoi'tem have to sleep here to?

Laura: Yes. Trust me, it's as much for you as it is it.

Isabelle: He's creepy...

Hoi'tem: HM?! How DARE you insult Hoi'tem with your flawed eyes!

Laura: Hoi'tem... what'd we discuss?

Hoi'tem: ... AHHH!!!*It flailed its stalks at them, before slamming its mouth shut, chin raised with a look of contempt.*

Laura: ... you'll get used to him in time. He is better than before, no?

Sammy: ... kinda.

Laura: Just try to play nice, yes?

Sammy: Can we have a story?

Laura: Suppose it's been awhile...

Isabelle: You're gone a lot now...

Laura: I know little one... I've been very busy. It's all to greater purpose...

Isabelle: Is it because of that nice elf lady?

Laura: On some nights... but it's mostly related to greater tasks. Worry not, yes? Now, let me think...

Sammy: Can we hear a happy story?

Laura: You mean incomplete stories? Don't be silly. Now, bite tongue and hear tale of Harris Stormreaver.

Sammy: That's a neat name!

Laura: ... I'll let you little ones in on a secret...

Isabelle: What?

Laura: *She inhaled a moment, but then paused, shaking her head.* ... another day.

Sammy: Awww! Why?

Laura: I have my reasons. Now, to begin...

A long time ago, when man used naught but rock, wood and hands to fell his enemies, a great and terrible dragon named Yolt'sammax terrorized the coastlands. Although he was not the largest of his kind, he was the cruelest. Iron scales. Teeth sharp as spears. Claws like blades... and with a tribe of goblins following in service to its wake. One day, the dragon razed the homestead of a farmer named Harris...

Hoi'tem: Pathetic! Weak! Worthless!

Laura: Hoi'tem!

Hoi'tem: Hmph!

Laura: *She mumbled.* Anywho, Harris lost more than home. His wife had been killed and his daughter had been stolen.

Isabelle: Why didn't the dragon kill her?

Laura: ... I'll tell you when you're older. Needless to say, Harris was as furious as he was desperate. None of his kinsmen would brave the journey to the creature's lair. Not even the Woodkeepers or Shamans. There also stood between him and the beast a host of goblins...

Sammy: What'd he do?

Laura: In desperation, he sought help from beyond mortal hands... and ventured deep into the realm of the fey. Do you remember the pond from Arghul's tale?

Isabelle: I do!

Laura: Then you know where he went. At first, the fey played tricks on the poor man. His paths twisting... trees uprooting and nestling elsewhere. Until finally the man cried out... "I am nearly lost to thirst! My belly is empty! But my heart burns with fire! If you can hear me, please! Make presence known! There are none else for me to turn to! None else brave enough to fight Yolt'sammax!"

At that, the path was laid open... and soon, Harris found himself at the pond... where, like Arghul, he met a nymph...

Isabelle: I remember them!

Laura: Mh. This one was far less receiving, however. "Foots stray to unwelcome realm..." She warned. "Break tongue and see answer given. Or see blood feed the oaks' roots."

After telling his tale, the nymph disappeared for an hour, sinking beneath its pond's waters. Although tempted to flee, Harris was not yet given answer. With his daughter on the line, he waited. And waited. Even as a massive bear took place near the pond. Until finally, she returned...

"You have shown iron in your heart; so it is iron you shall have. Behold..." She told him, as she presented a blade...

Sammy: Was it magical?

Laura: You better believe it. Aherm...

"The answer to your question. We will not venture beyond our home, but I will see you armed if only to see the dreaded Yolt'sammax ended. For he stands enemy to even us and has earned our ire." Then... came warning. "Be warned, however, for if you do not return blade to the Fair Folk with due haste, its glint will haunt you and your kin until the day you die."

Isabelle: What does she mean?

Laura: We'll get there, little one... just know that Harris took blade in agreement before making journey to slay the dragon.

Though goblins in the dozens stood in way, Harris cut them down with such ease that even their shields and bone were as air. When at last he found the dragon itself, it was a brutal and bloody encounter that took even the dragon off guard. Although he nearly died from his wounds, Harris split the creature's skull in half after it attempted to devour him. Even its mighty scales unable to withstand the sheer edge of the sword.

Sammy: Yay!

Laura: Although scarred, Harris had won his daughter back. Eager to see her comforted and returned to his clan, he took the girl back to her kinsmen... who stood fascinated by his blade. So fascinated, in fact, that the stoneworkers begged for a chance to examine it more closely. Harris obliged.

After four days of examining the weapon of iron, Harris finally told his kinsmen he had to whisk it back to the fey; from who he was lent the blade. Understanding the perils of betraying such creatures, they to obliged. The seasons that followed? The first weapons of iron were forged. By the hot molten streams of the mountain's peaks; through the quenching waters brought by the tub.

Isabelle: Wow!

Laura: Unfortunately...

Sammy: ... uh oh...

Laura: Harris's gift to his clan was not his to give. When he went to search for the fey, he could no longer find the pond. For a full season he searched in desperation, but the fair folk would not show...

Sammy: But why?!

Laura: Because he did honor word. The fey had feared that sharing the secret of iron would result in its discovery by other mortal hands. Thanks to Harris, it did.

Isabelle: So... what happened?

Laura: Nothing... at first. But word soon spread of Harris's weapon. A blade that could split a dragon's skull. Just as the fey had promised, men, monsters and more came far and wide to claim the prize. So often, in fact, that it put his clan and daughter in peril. Knowing what kind of havoc his blade could cause in the wrong hands, Harris took the gift... and left his people behind forever to fates unknown.

Isabelle: Awwww... poor Harris!

Laura: Do not weep too much, yes? Harris's clan stood supreme in their land for a time, thanks to his sacrifice. Stone tools are no much for the blood of the earth given shape.

Sammy: Sooo the blacksmiths learned how to make stuff from Harris?

Laura: No. This was a very long time ago. It could've reached gods-know-how-many by now.

Isabelle: It's not fair! Harris still brought the blade!

Laura: There are two lessons to this story. Honor word, when given sincerely. Harris became distracted from this... and it cost him the rest of his life.

Sammy: What's the second?

Laura: Upliftment is never without sacrifice. A day's labor for a home... theft of your enemy... even lives must sometimes be lost for a better tomorrow.

Isabelle: Like... Harris?

Laura: Yes, Isabelle... like Harris.*She ran a hand down her forehead.* Who to this day, is still praised not as a fool or an oathbreaker... but the man who brought us iron.

Sammy: What about his daughter...?

Laura: ... take heart, and know she lived a full life, yes?

Sammy: Yay...!

Laura: Now, get some sleep.

Isabelle: Yes ma'm.

~And so another night of storytelling came to a close. The children left with mixed feelings on the tale; Hoi'tem snoring with only two eyes open as it dreamt of Hadrian's populace RIGHTLY worshipping it upon a golden throne.~

[Empress of Neon]

Isabelle: Ms. Meslon?

Laura: Mh?*She grunted out, as she once again tucked the little ones into bed.*

Isabelle: Where's Hoi'lem?

Laura: Hoi'-tem- is in Hadrian right now. He won't be coming up tonight.

Sammy: Does this mean you're going to sleep with us tonight?

Laura: Not tonight. I'll be locking the door.

Sammy: Oh... well, can we hear another story?

Laura: I suppose. Let me think...

Isabelle: Can you tell us, I dunno... about you?

Laura: What do you mean?

Isabelle: Well, I've always kinda wondered where you're from? You have all these weird stories... so... I don't think it's Netheril?

Laura: *She smiled a bit.* You're growing insightful... yes, little one, I am not native. But...*Laura began to look down.*

Sammy: ... Ms. Meslon?

*In an instant, Laura slammed the bottom of a balled fist against one of the support beams of the bed; leaving the children both startled and wide-eyed at the sudden act. The woman slowly looked up; a single eye peeking through the mane of hair that had drenched over her face.*

Isabelle: M-Ms. Meslon...?

Laura: No more stories. Go to sleep.

Sammy: Wh-

Laura: NOW!*As she barked, the children hid under the blankets. The once-kind, even motherly caretaker slowly standing up from the bed as she made her way over to the wall. Panting heavily as her eyes closed, arm propped against stone. Eventually, she looked back.* I'm sorry little ones... I did not mean to frighten you...

~They remained hidden; a single sniffle escaping one of the two, before Laura sighed out. She left them to a night of uncertainty, confusion and fright. Even the unusually plentiful breakfest the next morning did little to alleviate their fears...~