[HQ Ignorance] Re : Scene 69: The Wild Temple

[Loran]

All along their journey, Azhur had felt lost and astound. The desolation of the fabled land of Dragon Pass was pitiful: dead crops in the fields burned by a chilling coldness, beings endowed with reason reduced to the last repulsive survival reflexes… These despairing visions woke an old wound in Azhur’s heart, seeing the hand of death on the land made him feel it again in his Essence. Since that time, in a depressed and melancholic mood, the western nobleman rode closer to his followers, especially SwordSinger with whom he seemed to commune speechlessly to some universal and evident but not fully comprehensible law of the Invisible God. Some evenings, his friends could see him, the old Banner of the Red Valor in his hands, praying apart, either with his copy of Good King Siglat’s truths or with the original version of the Abiding Book until the stars showed up, then he generally stood up in the night, observing in his hands a small and brilliant
 tin jewel with a careful attention.

When the fellowship saved the duck-man, he enquired in few words about his name. With charity he offered his unloaded war charger as mount, this until the duck-man died or could decide himself his own fate, then Azhur went back to his silent state.

At the Wild Temple, the debate between the Beastmen and the orlanthi hero left him uncertain, his sense of duty fighting against his feelings. He knew that he had to stay neutral for the sake of the Quest but the call for action of the bearded devotee was appealing. Saint Worlath as savior of the world during the great darkness was a revered saint in Ralios and Azhur wasn’t so sure about the weird wisdom of the Red Moon now that Aalmon has left and that the Abiding Book has revealed the secret face of the ambivalent Arrolian.

He looked for Karala and Eurynome, hoping that a female and restrained point of view would be more useful than his male reflexes. Not all problems could be solved with swords and battles, especially when life was so weak and death all around. 

----- Message d'origine ----
De : Lev Lafayette <lev at mimesisrpg.com>
À : HeroQuest Glorantha <ignorance at mimesisrpg.com>
Envoyé le : Mercredi, 30 Juillet 2008, 15h20mn 43s
Objet : [HQ Ignorance] Scene 69: The Wild Temple

Scene 69: The Wild Temple

Nauticles was very pleased that the increasingly legendary Fellowship
has decided - or so it seems to him - to aid the Satarites in the
revival of their dead god, Orlanth. "You must quest to the Wild Temple
in Beast Valley", he informed those gathered. "There you will meet the
famous Lhankor Mhy sage Minaryth Purple of the Iron Ring who is seeking
to bring the beastmen into the fold of rebellion against the Lunar
oppressors."

As the Fellowship prepares to depart, Nauticles hands Eurynome a golden
braclet with cruel teeth along its edges. "Take this to Minaryth. I
borrowed it from him many years ago, and by returning it he will know
that I have sent you and your new friends." Eurynome found the braclet
unpleasant to touch and the teeth almost seemed to bite into her skin
when she handled it. It bore the runes of chaos and hunger, symbols of
Krasht, the devouring goddess. Yet the golden metal is sacred to the sky
pantheon of Yelm, the Sun God and it also bore runes of Storm and of
Fire. The meaning of this strange object was beyond Eurynome and
Nauticles avoided all questions of its significance.

As the Fellowship prepared to head northwards, Kalen acted as a
go-between for the Fellowship and the Dwarven engineer who operated the
King's vessel and sought askance from the royal leader where he wanted
to rendez-vous with their boat. "The elementals may be worn out if the
wind does not blow again. Whilst the boat can make do with sail if this
doldrum extends eastwards only as far as it did westwards, the engineer
believes he can continue - albeit at a slower pace."

Once preparations were made, the party set out on their journey,
travelling northwards along the Lysos River, passing through the many
populated villages that make up Esrolia. It would be a journey of of
some seventy-five leagues, hugging the west and south ridges of Shadow
Plateau, the home of the terrible Vampire Delecti, before reaching the
fabled Beastlands.

The air was crisp, cool and still and even breathing was strangely
difficult. Rain fell from the sky in a constant drizzle  which became a
dreary and cold downpour of sleet as the party turned north-east along
the river. "And this is supposed to be spring!", remarked Icthya, and
the journey became an march through near-frozen mud. Then the frozen mud
turned to snow. 

Still heading northwards through the snow-storm, the party encountered a
most grisly find - a mound of corpses half-eaten by wolves or worse.
Closer investigation revealed that the bodies were not, however human,
but rather of that most peculiar race of Orlanthi, the sapient and
humanoid duck. Among the many bodies there was one survivor, delerious,
frost-bitten and perhaps somewhat insane if the tangental conversations
were to be of any account. "The temple... we sought refuge at the
temple.. The old god is dead, the cold.. The cold has taken all my
fellows... and the beastmen.. the wolfmen.. They set upon us. We could
not resist and we fell... Food for the carnivore.."

Taking pity on the poor creature the Fellowship wrapped him in a blanket
and recovered a jug of brandy which he grasped greedily for. After
consuming far more than what his small size could possibly indicate, the
drulz fell into a deep sleep, and required being propped on Blackmane,
Azhur's faithful steed.

Eventually the party made their way into Beastland proper. Here there
were villages and hamlets of the various human-beast crossbreeds, which
Icthya and Karala felt comfortable with, reminding them of both their
homes and even more so the Castle Coast region of Seshnela. A community
of centaurs, of satyrs, some Telmori and others even more strange
treated the party cautiously when announcements were made and did not
hinder their progress.

Finally, weeks after setting out, the Fellowship made it to the great
standing stones of the Wild Temple which were emblazoned with the runes
of Beast, Man and Spirit among many others. In the middle of the circle,
illuminated by many campfires, stood a man with a dark goatee and wild
coat. He carried a two feathered staff, and the runes of Truth and Law
were emblazoned upon his face. He was appealing to the assembled
beastman of many varieties, clearly leaders of their kind. He called for
them to join a rebellion against the Lunar Empire, to end the bitter
winter so that Orlanth may breath freely again. 

But his message was not being well received. "Our magic works, and yours
does not", claimed a centaur. "Why should we put faith in a dead God?".
"Your people hunted us because of the mark of chaos that we have no
control over", howled a Telmori. "The Lunar's have treated us with
sympathy and offered us a peace that your kind never did." "The cold may
be great, but we still have food and warmth from fire", said a Morocanth
trader as his fur was groomed by a gern. "We survive and humans must
come to us for trade. Tell us why this is a bad thing."

It was in this wild babble that the Fellowship arrived.


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