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Myth Mixer I
15 years ago
About fifteen years after the Penultimate War, wherein a lot of people died for no good reason other than to slay a moderately irritated Aspect of Immortality in the form of an enormous Blood Dragon, the world changed a good deal more than the Seers had foresaw. But as this is the normal state of things for Seers, mostly wrong, accidentally right, nobody lost much sleep over it, except the Seers of course. Life went on as usual. The selkies, harpies, and sphinxes continued their endless but relatively bloodless feuding. The dragourets, lagomorphs, and humans opened up new and highly lucrative trading opportunities. And the world’s magic became at best unstable, and at worse, impossible to control without iron wards at every door, and master summoners in every small town.
Nightmares came alive and stalked their prey, skin changers walked the earth seeking pretty much anything that had a skin to be skinned. And the professions of mercenary and bodyguard became highly valued, with premiums on ability, ruthlessness, and lack of morality. As expected, a lot of people decided to capitalize on the resulting confusion. Major cities fractured into factional infighting, and the capitals of the various provinces, once owing allegiance to a Phalanx of Mages became nothing more than their own little fiefdoms, complete with rulers who were replaced as fast as the night stalkers could eat their eyes. In short, slaying a god, had turned out to be an even worse idea than worshipping him by bathing in the blood of virgins.
Ladric and Jacobis had grown up in the same village, and their memories weren’t so awful that they couldn’t remember the time before the war, but because they had come of age roughly around the time the management of wild magic had become a lucrative business, it was their job of choice. And as extremely adaptive hunters/body guards/magic users they weren’t exactly starved for employment options. Both had their specialties, and weaknesses. One could say they complimented each other’s skills, but that might be pushing it. Ladric appeared to have no difficulty bending metal and rock to his whims, which wasn’t surprising considering his family all had the ability, and were in fact the most skilled blacksmiths in his fiefdom. Unsurprisingly, he wielded one long-blade, a variety of throwing knives, whose trajectory he didn’t have much trouble manipulating, and a relic from the first war. As far as weapony went, Jacobis preferred long-range longbows almost exclusively, and due to his own inheritance, was also a skilled shadow weaver. Some would say that it was a miracle his heart wasn’t warped by the magic he chose to employ. But others that really knew him could see that he was just too indifferent to the touch of it to actually be tainted. Of course those others were pretty much just Ladric, as their parents had stopped paying attention to their lives once it became clear they wouldn’t involve settling down with a nice girl.
I suppose you could say their lives took a turn for the exciting after they met Irell. But the lives they led up to that point were what one could call relatively straightforward. Take job from frightened yeoman, slay demon, nightstalker, or whichever ugly was creeping them out. Fleece yeoman for gold in payment for services rendered. Clean and polish weapons. Drink at next town’s tavern and decide if beer would be better cold or not. Search for next job and hope it doesn’t involve in-laws.
Finally they reached a smaller city-state that had recently been brought under a sort of iron control by a very, very motivated warlock. In exchange for all the women he wanted, to behead, the city was warded very carefully, and all he asked for in return were the daughters of the townsfolk. Of course by the time Ladric and Jabcobis had arrived the warlock had been ripped limb from limb by someone and the bounty posters were plastered across every wall and street corner. Apparently there was a faction of discontents within the city who thought that their daughter’s virginities were a small price to pay for peace in their lifetime. And the man who gave them the details on the bounty was almost less helpful than the poster that depicted someone with a shroud over their head. He stood leaning against the edge of the fence, his hands playing nervously with the halter line of his horse. Ladric gave him a sharp look, masked behind a haze of smoke from his cigarette.
“So do you have any other information on the mark besides the fact that the individual was under 6 feet and thin?”
“I uh…know that she was headed north, and her horse was black.” His fingers were now fraying the edges of the rope.
“How do you know it was a she?” Behind him, Jacobis shifted on his horse, impatient to finish up the pointless conversation. Ladric continued to glare at the man who had posted the bounty, whose mumbled response didn’t speak well of his honesty.
“Well, um, she could’ve…it could’ve been a shorter man…But nobody knows anything for sure. It might’ve just been a construct that looked like a girl, or a succubus or even maybe-…” With that fount of useless information, the two sampled the local beer, found it tasteless and weak, and then set a course for the next town that may or may not have been the hideaway of a very lucrative mark. The trip took longer than they’d planned. At least two days actually. Jacobis would’ve complained, but the look on Ladric’s face was talking loud enough for both of them, and was pretty validating, now that he thought about it. Part of their discomfort was the fact that they were pretty sure they’d left what was predominantly human territory and entered the borderlands between their species and the lagomorphs. While the trade between the two peoples had made many a merchant rich, the societal mores and customs were slightly less contemporary. Humans and Lagomorphs as a rule, kept to themselves. But as Ladric and Jacobis were about to find, rules were meant to be bent.
Nightmares came alive and stalked their prey, skin changers walked the earth seeking pretty much anything that had a skin to be skinned. And the professions of mercenary and bodyguard became highly valued, with premiums on ability, ruthlessness, and lack of morality. As expected, a lot of people decided to capitalize on the resulting confusion. Major cities fractured into factional infighting, and the capitals of the various provinces, once owing allegiance to a Phalanx of Mages became nothing more than their own little fiefdoms, complete with rulers who were replaced as fast as the night stalkers could eat their eyes. In short, slaying a god, had turned out to be an even worse idea than worshipping him by bathing in the blood of virgins.
Ladric and Jacobis had grown up in the same village, and their memories weren’t so awful that they couldn’t remember the time before the war, but because they had come of age roughly around the time the management of wild magic had become a lucrative business, it was their job of choice. And as extremely adaptive hunters/body guards/magic users they weren’t exactly starved for employment options. Both had their specialties, and weaknesses. One could say they complimented each other’s skills, but that might be pushing it. Ladric appeared to have no difficulty bending metal and rock to his whims, which wasn’t surprising considering his family all had the ability, and were in fact the most skilled blacksmiths in his fiefdom. Unsurprisingly, he wielded one long-blade, a variety of throwing knives, whose trajectory he didn’t have much trouble manipulating, and a relic from the first war. As far as weapony went, Jacobis preferred long-range longbows almost exclusively, and due to his own inheritance, was also a skilled shadow weaver. Some would say that it was a miracle his heart wasn’t warped by the magic he chose to employ. But others that really knew him could see that he was just too indifferent to the touch of it to actually be tainted. Of course those others were pretty much just Ladric, as their parents had stopped paying attention to their lives once it became clear they wouldn’t involve settling down with a nice girl.
I suppose you could say their lives took a turn for the exciting after they met Irell. But the lives they led up to that point were what one could call relatively straightforward. Take job from frightened yeoman, slay demon, nightstalker, or whichever ugly was creeping them out. Fleece yeoman for gold in payment for services rendered. Clean and polish weapons. Drink at next town’s tavern and decide if beer would be better cold or not. Search for next job and hope it doesn’t involve in-laws.
Finally they reached a smaller city-state that had recently been brought under a sort of iron control by a very, very motivated warlock. In exchange for all the women he wanted, to behead, the city was warded very carefully, and all he asked for in return were the daughters of the townsfolk. Of course by the time Ladric and Jabcobis had arrived the warlock had been ripped limb from limb by someone and the bounty posters were plastered across every wall and street corner. Apparently there was a faction of discontents within the city who thought that their daughter’s virginities were a small price to pay for peace in their lifetime. And the man who gave them the details on the bounty was almost less helpful than the poster that depicted someone with a shroud over their head. He stood leaning against the edge of the fence, his hands playing nervously with the halter line of his horse. Ladric gave him a sharp look, masked behind a haze of smoke from his cigarette.
“So do you have any other information on the mark besides the fact that the individual was under 6 feet and thin?”
“I uh…know that she was headed north, and her horse was black.” His fingers were now fraying the edges of the rope.
“How do you know it was a she?” Behind him, Jacobis shifted on his horse, impatient to finish up the pointless conversation. Ladric continued to glare at the man who had posted the bounty, whose mumbled response didn’t speak well of his honesty.
“Well, um, she could’ve…it could’ve been a shorter man…But nobody knows anything for sure. It might’ve just been a construct that looked like a girl, or a succubus or even maybe-…” With that fount of useless information, the two sampled the local beer, found it tasteless and weak, and then set a course for the next town that may or may not have been the hideaway of a very lucrative mark. The trip took longer than they’d planned. At least two days actually. Jacobis would’ve complained, but the look on Ladric’s face was talking loud enough for both of them, and was pretty validating, now that he thought about it. Part of their discomfort was the fact that they were pretty sure they’d left what was predominantly human territory and entered the borderlands between their species and the lagomorphs. While the trade between the two peoples had made many a merchant rich, the societal mores and customs were slightly less contemporary. Humans and Lagomorphs as a rule, kept to themselves. But as Ladric and Jacobis were about to find, rules were meant to be bent.
