Orxia had been placed on the Temple's front door in the dead of night nearly sixteen years before; the Temple guards swear that one moment the porch was bare and the second the basket was there. It was not unusual for babies to be left on the porch, but this time it was. The Temple of Ahlat, its swept horns out, the temple of the Cattle God and the God of War for the South was guarded exclusively and inhabited exclusively by Ahlat's amazon warriors; there were no men permitted to live in the House of Ahlat, save Ahlat himself. There he grew up, thought to be the son of a former Bride of Ahlat who died in childbirth, thought to possibly be the God's own son, and allowed to stay where no man has ever been permitted to stay.
Orxia did not pursue a martial training growing up, he did not interact at all with the amazon populous of the Temple as he lived and breathed the often neglected corner having to do with books and learning. He particularly obsessed about the section on crafting and that of wood crafting (it was not a great selection, but the books were dense and were written in the language of the Old Realm). He read a few other things, very dry things like the proper ratio for mixing Jade to steel to make the most durable, the most hard and the most flexible Jadesteel. He read up on how Orichalcum was smelted, and he read up the building of fortifications, but it was woodcraft that was his passion.
He was out scouting for the best woods to make his next experiment when he encountered something so profound and mystical that the very fabric of creation came apart in his head and he understood everything. That was when he Exalted, but the expression for all to see occurred later. To this day he does not know how he got back into the temple or found his way to his workshop, but he did and once there he closeted himself within and took neither food nor drink for nearly a week. When he was finished the visions that he was seeing and the words that were said to him when he was in his fugue, we're finally recognized. The Unconquered Sun had spoken to him, "Build up my armies and destroy my enemies!"
The visions of Factory Cathedrals and Sun-forges cleared and were replaced by another extraordinary vision, Ahlat was bowing before him as a servant before his master. He was thanking the Unconquered Sun for the honour of witnessing the Solar Exaltation. He got to his feet and bowed his bull like head towards Orxia, "Greetings Prince of the Earth and at once Orxia. The world is different now from the last time I witnessed the exaltation of Solars. It is no longer safe for you to walk under the sky unless it is with fear. Please accept Sanctuary in my home for a time and I hope to be able to arrange some protection for you." With that he left and allowed Orxia to fall asleep. When he awoke he saw the thing that he had crafted in his daze of exaltation. It was a great black bow made of the darkest Ebony shaped like the horns of the mighty Ahlat. The wood was pressed together with thin sheets of Orichalcum that provided the bow with the strength and flexibility. The sheets twisted around the horn tips to create a golden cap and the individual sheets of Orichalcum were twisted into a fine wire that formed the bow string. The string loop back to the other arm of the bow and untwisted into the very same sheets of the bow. Inspecting them carefully it was clear that if he could take the bow apart there would be one hundred sheets of Orichalcum, each a continuous loop that formed the lamination in the bow and the string, but moreover, each sheet of Orichalcum also formed an image or prayer significant to Ahlat as it passed through the bow itself. The Bow was a prayer to Ahlat and the Unconquered Sun both together. The bow was perfection.
A few days later, or was it a week as he was not sure how long he had slept, Ahlat came to him telling him that all had been arranged and he was to rendezvous in the North of the Country next to the Shadowland, the Bayou of Regret, that another Solar Exalt would arrive to pick him up.
When he got to the spot, a strange moving Cyclone approached and dissipated revealing a non descript man carrying a golden bow and wearing golden armour. This could only be his savior. The Nameless Wolf spoke with him briefly to discover his name and his story and then to say that his journey was long and required a lot of concentration. He was told in the morning they were headed to the Varang States to pick up a Dawn Caste headed there from the West and he would appreciate it if he would take first watch while he slept.
In the morning, the Nameless got up and started speaking words of the Old Realm that described how Creation was going to provide Wind and Air to support him and his charges and bring him where ever he decided and he was surprised when the Wind and the Air obeyed him. He and the Nameless began a journey that took them south, but deep into the countryside and away from the lands he knew best, but past where he exalted in a couple hours, a journey which took him days. When the Sun set, they were well south of Harbourhead, the Nation of Ahlat.
***
The coastal lands of the Varang States receive plenty of rain, the warm temperatures persist most of the year and the conditions are great for crops of all kinds. South of the hills the rains drop of, but the land is still fertile and rich. The land is still claimed by the Varang city states and as such by the Realm as a satrapy. They grow orchards of citrus fruits and almonds. They grow wheat in great fields and often see three harvests in a year when things are good. The Guild travels to these towns hoping to get the bounty of these harvests and bring the people stuff that they have difficulty getting there. The Inland sea is not for to the north but still it is hundreds of kilometers away and salt is precious here, first it is needed during the hot summer months as a seasoning and it is useful warding the shadowlands near by. After Calibration, the weather cools slightly and the winds pick up from the north bringing rain. When the monsoons are strong, the rain washes away the wards that protect the towns and then the years are bad.
In the cities there are two ways to make your way in life, the first is to grow produce something and to purchase what you need from what you produce. The second way is to take from others and use what you take to do what you will. Such people are called many things, hated equally by all, government or criminal. In the country, things are little different, except the government is far away and the criminal element often has no check. In the deep south, where the dessert scrub meets the dry plains, bands of outlaws and bands of highwaymen lie in wait for unsuspecting travelers, but sometimes the banditry get organized and leaders take the bands into civilized lands and the wealth therein.
A lone traveller enters the village through the open gates and is noticed by the populace. The mayor, such a that he is, not a hereditary leader but one who is first among equals greets the stranger and asks politely his business, but does not wait for an answer but instead asks that he join him for mid morning tea and there once the dust of the road has had a chance to settle, to then get to business. The traveler is just that and he has heard that ere is a Guild Caravan coming here and wants to know when it will arrive, as he and his camp of roving miners are low on supplies. The first among equals is taken in by the story and is quite honest and open about his attentions. A Varang horoscope maker visited a while ago and said that the town would be visited upon by an event of great significance in the next week, when e Guild caravan is due to be there and he is eager to share the auspicious news, won't he spend the night and then he can be well rested for his journey back to his fellows? Taking no no, he introduces the stranger to his beautiful wife and children, a young woman and a young man. They sup on fresh goat with cheese and olives from the orchard and for dessert they eat spiced and roasted almonds. The traveler sees the wealth of the town and asks why they do not have more in the way of luxuries and the trappings of wealth? At which the host laughs and says, but what could want else but a strong and beautiful family and the ability to entertain guest like himself? When pressed further a shadow crosses his face and he says that such answers he has to give are better off for day than dark. Then he gives the traveler the use of his own bed for the night and leaves him to sleep. No wonder that this town and the area are known for their hospitality.
The traveller slips out and up the wall, the gates, one in the North and one in the South, are closed at night and five of the town's militia patrol the walls. He travels quickly to report to his leader. The people there are brimming with the means of great wealth, but for all of it are poor. The Guild is due to arrive within the next week and the leader thinks about it and then asks his scout to go back to the village and find out when the guild I'd going to be in the town and the exact layout of the town's defenses and where help would come from and how long it would take to get there. The band of cutthroats has been steadily expanding the territories that they extort protection moneys from and this measured push into the lands north of the desert is a calculated thrust in hopes of greater wealth.
The traveller/bandit scout enters the village with a few hours of darkness left and settles to sleep in the first bed he has slept in in over thirty years. He sleeps late. When he rises his host has been up for hours, and breakfast has been made and eaten, but still there is a fresh one waiting him complete with freshly baked bread, a large recently harvested citrus fruit and a black bitter beverage heavily sweetened. The best food he has eaten in months. When he leaves the house he is greeted again by his host who informs him that the guild will be early and will arrive in the next few days and that he had better leave soon if he is going to be back before the Guild arrives. The traveller, reassured him that his people were camped not far away and would be able to catch the Traders as soon as they arrive. Forestalled, his host began to introduce the traveller to the leaders of the town and he quickly found that the mayor was not only gracious host in the town. After another hearty luncheon, so quick on the heels of his late breakfast, he moved on to the question of the previous evening. "Alas, all is not fine in this town. The weather is nearly perfect, the soil is fertile and the crops are fine quality, but there is a darker nature to the land as well. Nearly two hundred years ago, the lands to the south and west of here were the site of a huge battle between the forces of the Realm and the last of the Independent Varang troops, the war was long and hard fought but the final battle was a slaughter and the Varang troops were hemmed in from three sides and slaughtered as an example to all other resistance against the Realm and the bodies were left untended as a further lesson. This created a Shadowland that we have been warding ever since. In the Summer months the plentiful sun and limited rainfall means the wards of salt last with little maintenance, but the rainy months of winter see the wards sorely tested. This Guild caravan is bringing the bulk of the salt that we will use for the town for the year, it costs us dearly, the bulk of our produce."
On hearing this tale he understood and the wealth that he saw of the town was a fraction of what it could be. He saw the people as happy but living with the uncertainty too. He saw the dangers that would occur if the town and Guild were to be endangered. He began to get the information that his leader asked him to get. There was a Realm outpost not half a day to the North, and they would be able to react and come down heavy on any threat. He found that there were three towns within a days travel in three directions that had all e wealth that this one did, but no drain. They had more wealth.
The next day the Guild Caravan came early, days early. The guards were throwing small candies to the crowds of kids and bits of silver too. A traveling band of musicians were on the caravan and began to play as soon as they came close to the town. The youngsters and teenagers were dancing in the streets. A pot mender was offering his skills to repair pots for free and he was able to see the vast store of salt the town was purchasing. The caravan consisted of five Yedim pulling carts and laden with packs. Four of them carried just salt and the other carried the Guild's supplies and the other trading materials.
After a night of dancing and drinking, the traveler left the town, knowing the caravan would leave on the third day. He went back dutifully to his leader. The Towns defenders were only twenty-five, but the Guild doubled those. The Gates were closed at night and there was a Realm military outpost close by, too close by. There were other towns with more money and more riches a little further away. The leader was intractable. The scout could open the gates and the guild would be the main targets if the town was so poor. By the time the Realm found out what they did and got their orders, we will be far away from here. Was the Scout getting weak willed?
The traveller went back to the town sorry that he had betrayed them, but confident that they would not be extorted and only the Guild would suffer, and they had a lot of wealth, more than enough to spare one caravan. So, on the last night before the guild was to leave, the gates stood open when the desert bandits entered. True to his word the Guild was targeted, it's members killed quickly. The militia also was killed, but then the traveller hoped that would be it. The leader, had other plans. He knew about the Shadowland and he knew about the monsoon rains erasing the salt wards; he counted on it. He knew about the wealthy towns in the area and that they all had larger stronger militias. He knew that if he killed this weaker town and made a name for doing it the other wealthy towns would give in more easily. He knew that the Realm would seek orders from the larger garrison before attempting to engage and he knew that they would cease pursuit if the bandits made it to the dessert. He knew all this because he was the former commander of that Realm outpost.
After the major threats to the bandits were removed, the leader sent an order and the main force. The main force broke into teams of five that began breaking into houses twenty at a time, they killed and they burned as they went. The traveller horrified went to the leader forbidding his actions. "You have grown soft, I am sending a message to all that we mean business," he said and he turned his back.
A bonfire of light descended upon the village and the traveller was surrounded by a flock of flying crows burning with light. The Traveller attack the Leader and fought a duel and defeated the leader the bandits continued to kill and burn the town. "Child, find evil where it lurks, in darkness, and bring it into the light. You are the judge of what is wrong, judge now," the Unconquered Sun spoke directly to him and he knew what he had to do.
Not three hundred meters a small camp was awoken by the light show. Nameless Wolf saw the Anima display and swore under his breath. He woke Orxia. "Do you know how to use that bow, or is it just for show?" Nameless fired several volleys of bright dazzling arrows into the town and began killing bandits. Orxia looked on in disbelief, he knocked and arrow and fired pinning a bandit to a door through the head, four hundred meters away. He chose another target and did the same. Soon he was seeking out clusters of foes striking three at a time and killing them all. The Nameless had run out of arrows minutes before and was just plucking them out of the air, made of his own essence. When the last bandit had died the town was in flames, the people dead, the town dead.
The traveller used the salt to ward the Shadowland one last time before traveling on with the Nameless and Orxia. Perhaps, one day he would be able to repay this debt.
***
The Black beast of hell looked up as he felt the pull he was being summoned from his orgy of riot. The lesser demons that he squashed out of spite on his journey out into the dessert. He summoned his stead to his side, if he were to suffer he would not suffer alone, but walk he must, never ride. As his journey began he knew that his mood would be more foul at its end, but that he would then get into Creation and he would get to kill. Preferably his summoners first and then everything nearby. Until some group of Terrestrial Exalted strayed too close. How many would it be this time before he was sent back here? A dozen or a score that he killed. A challenge that would be nice, but it was an idle fancy. In three days hence, some mortal sorcerer was going to summon him, but he Octavian, Demon of the Second Circle had to begin the journey three days before to get there on time. Would his summoner be the first to die or the last?
***
The costal trader was making its first foray out of the Great River and out of the Riverlands on to the Inland Sea. The Great River at Lookshy was nearly impossible to see across from one shore to the next after the sun rose and the morning mists cleared but before the sun created a haze. But on the sea it was different, if there were mists it was a form of storm or an attack. The storm that seemed to follow them, the mists that moved against the wind seemed like and attack. The rowers rowed hard and the sail was furled as they were truly headed into the wind to escape the mist. The Imperial Mountain was on their starboard so everyone knew they were headed south. The mists curled around them the smudge of land on either side had been eaten by the mists and only the smudge to the south remained, well it had been there a few minutes ago, now there was mist too. The other ships they had seen steered clear of the area like deer seeing a fellow being pulled down and killed and thanking their luck that they were not the ones this time. The Earth fleet they had heard from a passing ships a few days ago had been called to run a blockade from the Realm south to The Lap and so the regular patrols were nonexistent. There was some Anathema from the West that was being corralled into a trap, the poor demon ridden bastard. Clearly luck was not on their side. The sun was setting and the would not be rising, so close to new; the sun silhouetting the Imperial peak, but as dark set in that landmark too had vanished.
The steady wind from the south cut off suddenly and they were becalmed, the sound of the sweeping oars eerily echoing of the mists. Three smaller boats appeared from the gloom and shouted their hails, their voices not the slightest bit muffled. Demands not hails. Surrender. The Captain looked to his friend the mercenary captain and asked, do we surrender? The veteran of dozens of Linnowan coordinated attacks looked upon the men who threatened the boat now; they were spindly men not warriors. They were merchants at best, but they stood uneasily on the deck with not a ripple on the sea, these were nor sailors either. He nodded and pointed this out. But the command the seas and the weather. In his marrow he felt that that is all they did and it was intimidation alone, if they stood united they would have to leave. They were demanding an unconditional surrender and had not even inquired about the cargo— they were either exceptionally well informed or were after something else, the men on the ship, but these were not slavers. The captain ordered the oarsmen to push harder and the mercenary captain ordered the men to arms. He took up his bow and sent an arrow over to the closest boat as answer clearer than the boat captain's. Cowed they seemed to retreat.
There was a swirling to the mist.
A single tentacle swept out and across the deck of their ship, unerringly plucking a sailor off and into the water and down. Perhaps they commanded more than the weather, but still his call was correct; they were not after the cargo, but were for the crew. The tentacle came up for more and the bow was dropped and out came his sword. He knew that all most battles took was first blood to win or lose and the Creature had that, only a show that it was not invincible nor intractable could save them now. His first blow bounced off its rubbery flesh, his second scored a deep cut and a black corruption spilled out of the wound. His soldiers rejoiced and attacked with a fever. The mercenary pulled back to assess the monster and to see any weakness. There seemed to be none, but how was it coordinating it's attacks so well without eyes. There! Out in the sea a dark globe just off in the water away from the attacks. Taking up his bow he sent a shaft towards the eye and the creature blinked and the tentacles all retreated they were saved. Complacency loses just as many battles as overconfidence. A lone tentacle snaked around his ankles and hoisted him up into the air, his temple struck the deck as he fell and far above the deck he was shaken to unconsciousness.
Death did not come.
He woke in a cage build for lobsters and a burning pain in his muscles. It was still dark or was it dark again. The mists were gone and they were on a quay to some village on the sea. At the base was of the dock was a large bonfire where many of the ships crew were strung out and their innards were being coiled at their feet in some bizarre sacrificial rite, from their moans it was clear that the cultist knew their stuff. He offered a quick prayer to the gods of the sea for a quick death for his men. The ships captain was receiving that quicker death. They were exsanguinating him his blood into a caldron in the fire burning as they chanted words. Creation altered in sharp relief, the darkness of the night seemed brightest sunlight compared to the hole that was ripped in it. The portal opened to a scene of a brightly lit dessert and a man black as night. He stepped through with a giant wasp all yellow and jewel strewn, but it was the man, nine feet tall covered with spines that dripped with oil. He hefted a black bronze maul and swung it with ease the cultists who succeeded summon this terrible beast enjoyed their adulation not a second before their heads were all crushed and a spay of oil splashed over the quay. Where it touched e old corrupted the land, burned the wood and rusted the metal. The cultists we're dead in seconds and the sacrifices next. "Who is strong enough to stand and fight," challenge issued. The beast began smashing crates and the occupants spaying oil everywhere. The mercenary pushed against the weakened boards of the trap and freed himself and grabbed what was near by and attempted to stand all cramped up. "I will stand against you!" His words gaining strength and confidence as his cramps disappeared and confidence reached his voice. "Destroy my enemies where ever they lie," resounded inside his head as images of legions headed out to fight great forces of whom Octavian was but a lesser lieutenant.
The measured stare of Octavian turned to a smile of great joy, a challenge at last! One of the Solar Exalted here, a new one to be sure. His fiery glow sent a quake of fear back into the corner of his soul. The great golden lion that the Solar's anima took shape was impressive akin to one of those thrice cursed Celestial Lions. He smiled though, this was a new Solar, unsure of its power and be-fret of allies, after this battle he would be happy to go back to Malfeas with this tail how the Solars were back and how easily they were to crush beneath his feet. He swung his maul down and it connected briefly on this one's sword before being deflected aside. It stepped back a measured pace before launching a single testing stroke. Its mortal blade struck deeply through his hide that was 'tough as hell' and bruised him something fierce. The bellow he yelled out was in glee that this challenge was going to be awesome. He stepped into the solar and unleashed a flurry of swings that would bring low any foe that he had faced in a thousand years the mortal sword pushed two aside and the next three bounced ineffectively from the wooden planks he used off handed. Anger coursed through him now, but it was the next action that gave him pause the essence poured off the solar as river water pours off a mountain and he attacked him relentlessly a whirlwind of blows that he had not seen since the first battles thousands of years ago. He was thankfully the blade was mortal as it only score a few shallow cuts, if it had been Orichalcum, he would likely be reporting back in Malfeas with nothing to show for it.
Pin pricks hit him from behind as some arrows penetrated his hide. This was a trap carefully orchestrated with Mortal sorcerers to fool him. Two more anima banners bloomed on the hill, a Wolf and a charging Bull like that of Ahlat the underling of the Unconquered Sun. Three Solars, what a tale to tell! The youngest one here was clearly out of essence and would be the easiest to crush. He sent his steed to distract the two others so the could end this one's life. He attacked and he attacked but each time his attempt was tossed aside and each time his foe summoned up enough to attack him once more. A death by a thousand cuts was still death and the arrows continued. Off to the south another anima bloomed to life that of a crow that signaled the end of his steed's time in Creation. To the north on the sea there was another bloom of light from a ship out to sea. More arrows pounded down like a hail of steel. The little one, the new one leapt up now and swung his mortal sword cutting deep into his flesh … he was back in Malfeas. What a tale he had to tell, the Solar Exalted were back, let the games begin again!
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