September 2017 Prologue

PrologueRumors and News


She opened her eyes and was woefully reminded that it was not a nightmare.

Through the blur and the ache, she could see that her ice coffin was one of hundreds standing upright over the muddy slush of Witch-King’s domain and beneath a grey vault of roiling storm clouds. Each coffin was a prison for those who were captured by Anubisath, Witch-King of the North. From time to time, the Glacier, the Birdkin or another of the Witch-King’s minions would take an ice coffin and drag it to the ziggurat that beshadowed them all. And just like that, another fellow inmate was gone – no screams, no struggle, beyond the helpless despair in their eyes.

The cold of the coffin seeped through skin and muscle into the core of her being. Voices spoke to her, quieting her will and her thoughts. From her expertise, she knew them to be the whispers of Muses: wind spirits known to inspire emotions and artists. They instead summoned images and words within her mind, reinforcing memories within the deepest recesses of her spirit. They made her recall the battle at the Aethyric Tear, the desperate pursuit and the ambush that led to her capture. She remembered the Glacier that Walks encaging her into its gluttonous frame and the darkness thereafter. They sharpened most of all her memories of those who had failed her, those who left her behind to endure this torment… and to break beneath its weight.

She would shake her head if she could, but there was no moving nor breathing within the coffin that both imprisoned her and sustained her mortal flesh. There was only her encaged thoughts, nightmare-filled sleep and the poisonous words of the Anubisath’s Muses.

Of course, she resisted. She did everything, negotiating with the spirits, praying to the gods and even filling her head with thoughts of kittens. There was no breathing in her prison, but her freezing blue lips formed the incantations and the prayers nonetheless, hoping for something… anything.

But the Muses’ words were turning true – there was none that came to reclaim her and the only news she ever heard was the Muses singing of Anubisath’s triumph over the Storm Lords in the Aether. Only a handful of the Elemental Lords and Monarchs did not bend the knee to Anubisath or know the chains of his conquest. Whatever plan the Witch-King had was coming to fruition and it appeared contingent upon the Winter season. As the weeks had passed, fewer and fewer ice coffins remained, despite the recent additions that were brought to the frozen field by the Glacier that Walks, Horusath the Birdkin or the strange Jotunbrud man with furs and runes.

When her time finally came, her mind and her will was as foggy as the thick clouds gathering above the ziggurat. Somehow, she knew that similar clouds were gathering across Midworld toward some deadly purpose.

Yet, she still had hope.

Even after weeks of frozen, silent torment…

Even after magics of the Muses were woven around her spirit…

And even when Gjallanir, Eater of Runes and Jotun Giant, picked up her prison and brought her to the Witch-King of the North for her final moments of willful, tattered consciousness…

This hope was a candle-flame and a whisper amidst the howling winds of her despair – but it was there.

Out of Game Clarify: This vision, in jarring bits and pieces, is granted via one or several horrible nightmares to those who have ever been Favored of Violet Rayne (via the Favored of the Spirits skill) within the last five years. It is apparent that it is her but there appears to be no communication or response possible, even by another Witch. 



Rumors (anyone may read this)

Callas Selvarion or Rumormonger skill only:

Firbolg or Rumormonger skill only:

Gotterdammerung or Rumormonger skill only:

Ixia or Rumormonger skill only:

Jotunbrud or Rumormonger skill only:

Kali-Ishtar or Rumormonger skill only:

Labyrinthium or Rumormonger skill only:

Malak Travak or Rumormonger skill only:

Pendrakken or Rumormonger skill only:

Riverfolk or Rumormonger skill only: