Chapter 439: A New Dawn
The words of the Mother Moon haunted Stryg’s mind as he left Silver Hall Keep. Responsibility as Evenfall’s War Master and what that might entail; leading thousands of goblins into battle… or to their deaths.
As if the monumental burden of such a responsibility wasn’t enough to keep him awake, Lunae had told him the reason why his mother hadn’t told him who she truly was, the moon goddess had claimed him as her own; which led to countless more questions. Why did Lunae care so much about someone like him, a bad omen?
But if Lunae’s words were to be believed then perhaps his birth wasn’t necessarily a bad omen, if seen from a different perspective, or something. He didn’t quite understand what she had meant. Honestly, no matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t find anything good about his birth. It had only caused problems for everyone involved.
Stryg kept to the shadows of the streets and made his way back to the base of the Celestial Shrine’s stairs in the late hours of the night. He took his time walking up the cold marble steps, mulling over the goddess’ revelations; but no matter how much he wracked his mind over her words, he could find no solution for his personal problems or those of the Sylvan. Lunae had asked him to not hold Aurelia’s actions against her, but whenever Stryg thought of his mother his heart clenched in pain and anger burned in the pit of his stomach.
By the time he reached the top of the mountain’s steps, he felt more lost. He stared at the temple’s gates and thought of his mother and the others waiting inside. He turned around and walked back down. He repeated the process over and over, unable to make his way back to the temple. Before he realized it the first rays of dawn had peeked over the mountain range.
The hours had passed by in a blur and despite all his brooding Stryg felt none the wiser. His stomach growled in agreement. Stryg hung his head in defeat and made his way back down the mountain steps and into the city below.
Evenfall was a beautiful city. Many of the old buildings in Hollow Shade had been built by goblin hands, but here, every street, every wall, every home, had been carved out from the face of the mountain, each corner and block chiseled by master craftsmen.
Stryg could not help but smile in admiration. His people had lost much in the fall of Lunis, but the legendary craftsmanship of his people had not been forgotten.
He hadn’t gotten a chance to sightsee or visit much of the city. Ever since he had arrived he’d been whisked to the Celestial Shrine and the Silver Keep, only to be tasked with a quest to Grimstone Mountain and the frost giants.
To his mild surprise, he realized today was the first time he had really gotten a chance to see the city he had always dreamed of as a child. He only knew the direction of the castle and the temple’s mountain steps due to their sheer size and how they loomed over the rest of the city. He wondered if there was a centralized trade district like Hollow Shade. The concept seemed doubtful. He had never heard of such districts before he had arrived in the City of Shades, but then again he had never visited Evenfall until now.
Despite the early hour, several goblins were already coming out of their homes. Each and every single one seemed to be walking with purposeful steps. Whispers of Lunae’s appearance had spread like wildfire through the tribes and her words had ignited a valiant fervor in the hearts of the Sylvan.
As more goblins filled the streets Stryg threw Blossom’s hood over his face to hide his appearance; the last thing he wanted to deal with right now was some goblin thinking he was a drow who had slipped into the city and taken it upon themselves to get rid of the ‘intruder.’
Stryg relied on his nose to lead him to what he hoped was a tavern or food stall. The clamor and hammering of metal echoed in his pointed-floppy ears as he took a turn. Open smithies lined the street on both sides, tens of apprentices covered in soot rushing back and forth, carrying buckets of water, raw ore, and logs of wood for the roaring fires.
These people hadn’t just woken up. They had been working all through the night. He had accidentally wandered into one of the city’s metallurgy sites. Stryg looked around with curious eyes as he walked. Master blacksmiths hammered away at their anvils, shaping red-hot metal into swords and spearheads. Sparks floated in the air, orange motes lazily swimming through the dark street.
The scent of iron and ash filled his nostrils but the faint scent of meat was in the air as well. As he walked, Stryg noticed something odd. The apprentices had stopped running about, buckets and ore in hand. Several of their masters raised their heads and shouted in anger, then stopped halfway through their rant. Stryg hadn’t thought much of it until he noticed they were all staring at the same person, him. The clamoring of hammers and iron slowed to a halt and only the crackling of the fires reverberated through the street.
Shit.
Had he given something away? Something that would denote himself as an outsider. He glanced down at himself and cursed silently.
Of course.
He was wrapped in a cloak of white flowers. There were plenty of goblins that wore cloaks of foliage for camouflage. Those cloaks were all made of grass, scarlet leaves of ashen trees, or dark leaves of the bushes. None wore a cloak made of flowers.
His cloak coupled with his unusual height for a goblin marked him as an obvious outsider. Stryg hunched over and hurried down the street. He passed by one particularly smithy and stumbled to a halt. The whiff of meat surged in his nostrils and sure enough, a large haunch of venison was roasting on one of the fires.
The master smith noticed him and looked up in surprise. Their eyes made contact and Stryg hurriedly looked away.
“Hey, you, don’t go!” the stout woman called out.
Stryg stopped in his tracks and slowly looked back.
She put down her hammer, hastily wiped off her soot-covered cheeks, and walked up to him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound like a command,” she said abashedly.
“Oh, you’re uh… fine,” Stryg said cautiously. He glanced around and as he expected, everyone was staring at them. Beneath Blossom his hand drifted towards Nameless, hanging at his hip. He regretted leaving Krikolm in his room back at the temple.
The blacksmith bent her head and peeked up his hood, “Is there something I could help you with, Chosen?”
“Chosen…?”
“You are the one who stood by the Mother Moon’s side at the dawn light. The Moon’s Chosen, Champion of Evenfall, the Azure Sylvan, it is you, yes?”
Stryg blinked. “What now?”
She furrowed her brow, “Are you not Stryg, the Bloodless One?”
“Um,” he glanced around confusedly, “My name is Stryg…”
She smiled brightly and bowed deeply, “It is my great honor to greet you, Chosen!”
The other blacksmiths bowed repeatedly in acknowledgement. Several of the apprentices mustered their courage and drew closer. Stryg glanced about, the hair on his arms prickling in apprehension. If he didn’t act fast they would surround him.
“How can I be of service, Bloodless One?” the stout blacksmith asked eagerly.
Stryg’s eyes instinctively glanced at the sizzling meat over the fire and forced himself to look away. The blacksmith caught sight of his gaze and her yellow eyes lit in understanding.
“One of my tribe’s hunters caught it just last night.” She rushed over to the haunch of venison, picked off the fire, and with both hands carried it over to Stryg, “Please, help yourself.”
“Oh, uh, how much for a piece?” he asked uncertainly.
She shook her head vehemently, “I could never! Please, take all of it!”
“But, what about you—?”
“It would be my honor! My tribe will tell stories of this day for years to come. The day our hunters provided food for the Sylvan’s Chosen.”
She spoke the words with such reverence that even Stryg paused in thought. Had he been gone from his people for too long? Food was so abundant in the trade metropolis of Hollow Shade that he had almost forgotten how difficult it could be to procure food in the forest. The offering of a meal was sacred to his people. The woman wasn’t simply giving him a slice of venison, she was offering him her tribe’s trust.
Stryg gulped at its significance. He gingerly reached out and grabbed the roasted haunch. “Thank you,” he whispered.
She nodded and stepped back respectfully, “It is my honor, Bloodless One.”
Stryg took a deep breath and lost himself in the scent of the steaming venison for a moment, then he looked up in surprise. Dozens of more apprentices and blacksmiths were approaching him, each with bright eyes.
Stryg stepped back nervously and suddenly turned and ran away. Blossom bellowed in the wind behind him, his hood fell back, and the breeze kissed his face. He ran down several streets and turned to a cliffside overlooking the scarlet forest far below. He glanced behind him to make sure no one was following and sighed in relief.
Finding an even slab of rock at the edge, he sat down and began munching down on the venison. The roasted flesh was lightly seasoned but it somehow tasted better than any meal he could recall in recent memory. Granted, he had been traveling in the wilderness for several days, but it didn’t matter. The savory meat practically melted in his mouth. He groaned in delight and scarfed down the food like an animal.
“See, I told you, Emma, that’s him!”
“No, it’s not.”
Stryg’s ears pricked up at the hushed voices. Without changing his posture, he subtly glanced at the source of the noise. Two goblin children were doing a poor job of hiding at the edge of the alleyway; their bright green faces peeking out from the corner.
“He’s blue and he’s got purple eyes, that’s gotta be him!” the little boy whispered eagerly.
The older sister shook her head, “No way, Leo. He’s way too small! And his eyes are too pink.”
“Too small? He’s twice as big as you!”
“Pfft. Didn’t you hear what the Second Mother said? The Moon’s Chosen is ten paces tall, with arms as wide as your torso. He could tear you apart with his hands as easily as plucking a piece of grass.”
“And he could vaporize you with a snap of his blood magic!” the boy added excitedly.
“Exactly,” the sister nodded in smug satisfaction. “So that can’t be the Azure Sylvan. He’s just a drow. I heard the Bloodless One is traveling with a bunch of different folks. Maybe he’s one of his companions.”
The little boy frowned in confusion, “But he’s wearing the Cloak of Flowers…”
Stryg listened to their little discussion while he ate, careful to not give anything away. After he finished eating, he licked his greasy fingers clean, and stared out at the forest-filled horizon. He sighed in quiet satisfaction, then glanced at the children with a raised brow. The small children stepped back in a hurry, but hesitated, their curiosity winning them over.
Stryg smiled faintly and cupped his hands together. He opened his palms and a bright orange flame peeked out. The children’s eyes widened and they drew closer, stepping out from their hiding spot. Stryg waited until they were only a few paces away then clapped his hands together loudly.
Leo yelped in shock and his sister pulled him away instinctively. Stryg pulled his hands close to his chest and slowly opened them. Like a dam bursting, colorful lights exploded from between his fingers and filled the alley with motes of fluorescent colors. The little boy and girl gasped in awe and stared at the light show in delight.
Stryg laughed softly and smiled at the pure joy in the children’s eyes. All it took was a little bit of flame and illusion magic and suddenly the world didn’t seem so dark. His pensive thoughts faded away and he found himself lost in a moment of magic.
Magic was supposed to be a weapon, a practical tool used to destroy. The teachers at the academy had taught him as such. Captain Holo and the Singing Willow Troupe had shown him otherwise. Magic could be a tool of wonder and silliness. He had once thought such a use foolish and wasteful. Now it didn’t seem so bad.
“War Master,” a sudden stiff voice broke through the reverie.
Stryg looked up and spotted an unfamiliar goblin clad in a gold-trimmed cloak.
The stranger bowed carefully, “Forgive me for the intrusion, War Master. I serve as a herald to the Lunar Elect, specifically the Shaman Elect. She has requested your presence at the Silver Keep.”
And just like that, the moment of wonder was gone. The pensive thoughts returned with a dark gloom that wrapped around Stryg’s shoulders and yet, he felt as if he could bear it. A new dawn had risen in Evenfall and he found the darkness of yesterday smaller. Strength flowed through him and he stood with newfound purpose. He winked playfully at the awestruck children and turned to the herald with a calm steady expression. “Bring me to her.”
Frostbird https://discord.gg/uYqw7R6SKz
If you liked the chapter please leave a like, if there is something else you are interested in knowing about the lore, or if you have any questions, remarks, or just want to say hi drop a comment below!
Check out the glossary for more info on characters, lore, magic, and more!
Chapter 439: A New Dawn
The words of the Mother Moon haunted Stryg’s mind as he left Silver Hall Keep. Responsibility as Evenfall’s War Master and what that might entail; leading thousands of goblins into battle… or to their deaths.
As if the monumental burden of such a responsibility wasn’t enough to keep him awake, Lunae had told him the reason why his mother hadn’t told him who she truly was, the moon goddess had claimed him as her own; which led to countless more questions. Why did Lunae care so much about someone like him, a bad omen?
But if Lunae’s words were to be believed then perhaps his birth wasn’t necessarily a bad omen, if seen from a different perspective, or something. He didn’t quite understand what she had meant. Honestly, no matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t find anything good about his birth. It had only caused problems for everyone involved.
Stryg kept to the shadows of the streets and made his way back to the base of the Celestial Shrine’s stairs in the late hours of the night. He took his time walking up the cold marble steps, mulling over the goddess’ revelations; but no matter how much he wracked his mind over her words, he could find no solution for his personal problems or those of the Sylvan. Lunae had asked him to not hold Aurelia’s actions against her, but whenever Stryg thought of his mother his heart clenched in pain and anger burned in the pit of his stomach.
By the time he reached the top of the mountain’s steps, he felt more lost. He stared at the temple’s gates and thought of his mother and the others waiting inside. He turned around and walked back down. He repeated the process over and over, unable to make his way back to the temple. Before he realized it the first rays of dawn had peeked over the mountain range.
The hours had passed by in a blur and despite all his brooding Stryg felt none the wiser. His stomach growled in agreement. Stryg hung his head in defeat and made his way back down the mountain steps and into the city below.
Evenfall was a beautiful city. Many of the old buildings in Hollow Shade had been built by goblin hands, but here, every street, every wall, every home, had been carved out from the face of the mountain, each corner and block chiseled by master craftsmen.
Stryg could not help but smile in admiration. His people had lost much in the fall of Lunis, but the legendary craftsmanship of his people had not been forgotten.
He hadn’t gotten a chance to sightsee or visit much of the city. Ever since he had arrived he’d been whisked to the Celestial Shrine and the Silver Keep, only to be tasked with a quest to Grimstone Mountain and the frost giants.
To his mild surprise, he realized today was the first time he had really gotten a chance to see the city he had always dreamed of as a child. He only knew the direction of the castle and the temple’s mountain steps due to their sheer size and how they loomed over the rest of the city. He wondered if there was a centralized trade district like Hollow Shade. The concept seemed doubtful. He had never heard of such districts before he had arrived in the City of Shades, but then again he had never visited Evenfall until now.
Despite the early hour, several goblins were already coming out of their homes. Each and every single one seemed to be walking with purposeful steps. Whispers of Lunae’s appearance had spread like wildfire through the tribes and her words had ignited a valiant fervor in the hearts of the Sylvan.
As more goblins filled the streets Stryg threw Blossom’s hood over his face to hide his appearance; the last thing he wanted to deal with right now was some goblin thinking he was a drow who had slipped into the city and taken it upon themselves to get rid of the ‘intruder.’
Stryg relied on his nose to lead him to what he hoped was a tavern or food stall. The clamor and hammering of metal echoed in his pointed-floppy ears as he took a turn. Open smithies lined the street on both sides, tens of apprentices covered in soot rushing back and forth, carrying buckets of water, raw ore, and logs of wood for the roaring fires.
These people hadn’t just woken up. They had been working all through the night. He had accidentally wandered into one of the city’s metallurgy sites. Stryg looked around with curious eyes as he walked. Master blacksmiths hammered away at their anvils, shaping red-hot metal into swords and spearheads. Sparks floated in the air, orange motes lazily swimming through the dark street.
The scent of iron and ash filled his nostrils but the faint scent of meat was in the air as well. As he walked, Stryg noticed something odd. The apprentices had stopped running about, buckets and ore in hand. Several of their masters raised their heads and shouted in anger, then stopped halfway through their rant. Stryg hadn’t thought much of it until he noticed they were all staring at the same person, him. The clamoring of hammers and iron slowed to a halt and only the crackling of the fires reverberated through the street.
Shit.
Had he given something away? Something that would denote himself as an outsider. He glanced down at himself and cursed silently.
Of course.
He was wrapped in a cloak of white flowers. There were plenty of goblins that wore cloaks of foliage for camouflage. Those cloaks were all made of grass, scarlet leaves of ashen trees, or dark leaves of the bushes. None wore a cloak made of flowers.
His cloak coupled with his unusual height for a goblin marked him as an obvious outsider. Stryg hunched over and hurried down the street. He passed by one particularly smithy and stumbled to a halt. The whiff of meat surged in his nostrils and sure enough, a large haunch of venison was roasting on one of the fires.
The master smith noticed him and looked up in surprise. Their eyes made contact and Stryg hurriedly looked away.
“Hey, you, don’t go!” the stout woman called out.
Stryg stopped in his tracks and slowly looked back.
She put down her hammer, hastily wiped off her soot-covered cheeks, and walked up to him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound like a command,” she said abashedly.
“Oh, you’re uh… fine,” Stryg said cautiously. He glanced around and as he expected, everyone was staring at them. Beneath Blossom his hand drifted towards Nameless, hanging at his hip. He regretted leaving Krikolm in his room back at the temple.
The blacksmith bent her head and peeked up his hood, “Is there something I could help you with, Chosen?”
“Chosen…?”
“You are the one who stood by the Mother Moon’s side at the dawn light. The Moon’s Chosen, Champion of Evenfall, the Azure Sylvan, it is you, yes?”
Stryg blinked. “What now?”
She furrowed her brow, “Are you not Stryg, the Bloodless One?”
“Um,” he glanced around confusedly, “My name is Stryg…”
She smiled brightly and bowed deeply, “It is my great honor to greet you, Chosen!”
The other blacksmiths bowed repeatedly in acknowledgement. Several of the apprentices mustered their courage and drew closer. Stryg glanced about, the hair on his arms prickling in apprehension. If he didn’t act fast they would surround him.
“How can I be of service, Bloodless One?” the stout blacksmith asked eagerly.
Stryg’s eyes instinctively glanced at the sizzling meat over the fire and forced himself to look away. The blacksmith caught sight of his gaze and her yellow eyes lit in understanding.
“One of my tribe’s hunters caught it just last night.” She rushed over to the haunch of venison, picked off the fire, and with both hands carried it over to Stryg, “Please, help yourself.”
“Oh, uh, how much for a piece?” he asked uncertainly.
She shook her head vehemently, “I could never! Please, take all of it!”
“But, what about you—?”
“It would be my honor! My tribe will tell stories of this day for years to come. The day our hunters provided food for the Sylvan’s Chosen.”
She spoke the words with such reverence that even Stryg paused in thought. Had he been gone from his people for too long? Food was so abundant in the trade metropolis of Hollow Shade that he had almost forgotten how difficult it could be to procure food in the forest. The offering of a meal was sacred to his people. The woman wasn’t simply giving him a slice of venison, she was offering him her tribe’s trust.
Stryg gulped at its significance. He gingerly reached out and grabbed the roasted haunch. “Thank you,” he whispered.
She nodded and stepped back respectfully, “It is my honor, Bloodless One.”
Stryg took a deep breath and lost himself in the scent of the steaming venison for a moment, then he looked up in surprise. Dozens of more apprentices and blacksmiths were approaching him, each with bright eyes.
Stryg stepped back nervously and suddenly turned and ran away. Blossom bellowed in the wind behind him, his hood fell back, and the breeze kissed his face. He ran down several streets and turned to a cliffside overlooking the scarlet forest far below. He glanced behind him to make sure no one was following and sighed in relief.
Finding an even slab of rock at the edge, he sat down and began munching down on the venison. The roasted flesh was lightly seasoned but it somehow tasted better than any meal he could recall in recent memory. Granted, he had been traveling in the wilderness for several days, but it didn’t matter. The savory meat practically melted in his mouth. He groaned in delight and scarfed down the food like an animal.
“See, I told you, Emma, that’s him!”
“No, it’s not.”
Stryg’s ears pricked up at the hushed voices. Without changing his posture, he subtly glanced at the source of the noise. Two goblin children were doing a poor job of hiding at the edge of the alleyway; their bright green faces peeking out from the corner.
“He’s blue and he’s got purple eyes, that’s gotta be him!” the little boy whispered eagerly.
The older sister shook her head, “No way, Leo. He’s way too small! And his eyes are too pink.”
“Too small? He’s twice as big as you!”
“Pfft. Didn’t you hear what the Second Mother said? The Moon’s Chosen is ten paces tall, with arms as wide as your torso. He could tear you apart with his hands as easily as plucking a piece of grass.”
“And he could vaporize you with a snap of his blood magic!” the boy added excitedly.
“Exactly,” the sister nodded in smug satisfaction. “So that can’t be the Azure Sylvan. He’s just a drow. I heard the Bloodless One is traveling with a bunch of different folks. Maybe he’s one of his companions.”
The little boy frowned in confusion, “But he’s wearing the Cloak of Flowers…”
Stryg listened to their little discussion while he ate, careful to not give anything away. After he finished eating, he licked his greasy fingers clean, and stared out at the forest-filled horizon. He sighed in quiet satisfaction, then glanced at the children with a raised brow. The small children stepped back in a hurry, but hesitated, their curiosity winning them over.
Stryg smiled faintly and cupped his hands together. He opened his palms and a bright orange flame peeked out. The children’s eyes widened and they drew closer, stepping out from their hiding spot. Stryg waited until they were only a few paces away then clapped his hands together loudly.
Leo yelped in shock and his sister pulled him away instinctively. Stryg pulled his hands close to his chest and slowly opened them. Like a dam bursting, colorful lights exploded from between his fingers and filled the alley with motes of fluorescent colors. The little boy and girl gasped in awe and stared at the light show in delight.
Stryg laughed softly and smiled at the pure joy in the children’s eyes. All it took was a little bit of flame and illusion magic and suddenly the world didn’t seem so dark. His pensive thoughts faded away and he found himself lost in a moment of magic.
Magic was supposed to be a weapon, a practical tool used to destroy. The teachers at the academy had taught him as such. Captain Holo and the Singing Willow Troupe had shown him otherwise. Magic could be a tool of wonder and silliness. He had once thought such a use foolish and wasteful. Now it didn’t seem so bad.
“War Master,” a sudden stiff voice broke through the reverie.
Stryg looked up and spotted an unfamiliar goblin clad in a gold-trimmed cloak.
The stranger bowed carefully, “Forgive me for the intrusion, War Master. I serve as a herald to the Lunar Elect, specifically the Shaman Elect. She has requested your presence at the Silver Keep.”
And just like that, the moment of wonder was gone. The pensive thoughts returned with a dark gloom that wrapped around Stryg’s shoulders and yet, he felt as if he could bear it. A new dawn had risen in Evenfall and he found the darkness of yesterday smaller. Strength flowed through him and he stood with newfound purpose. He winked playfully at the awestruck children and turned to the herald with a calm steady expression. “Bring me to her.”
Frostbird https://discord.gg/uYqw7R6SKz
If you liked the chapter please leave a like, if there is something else you are interested in knowing about the lore, or if you have any questions, remarks, or just want to say hi drop a comment below!
Check out the glossary for more info on characters, lore, magic, and more!
