The Age of Supremacy: Part 5

A Novel of Vengeance, Betrayal and the Wyrd

By Tacita Shee-Slaugh

 

Chapter 13

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When the Keeper of the Blackened Bones returned to the Glomdoring forest, the remaining commune members were all gathered at the Master Ravenwood tree, waiting for her return. She arrived covered in blood, her once-white tunic soiled beyond repair and her armour dragged along behind her by one battered arm. If the others made anything of her appearance, they did not comment on it - not even Llain, who rushed towards Miara as soon as she entered.

 

/I told them it was neither of us/, Llain told her in a rush of panic. /But they won't believe me. Is it possible that Beria is wrong?/

 

Miara made no reply to Llain save to turn her cerulean eyes on her wife, the azure pools empty of all emotion. She felt and looked drained, as if someone had sucked all of the moisture out of her body and left her nothing but a limp, ineffectual hollow. Hurling her armour to one side, Miara collapsed down at Brennan's feet and clasped her hands in front of her.

 

'Mighty Crow,' she whispered in a croaking voice, 'I come before You seeking Your forgiveness. I am caught in sin against that which You taught us.'

 

The others exchanged glances, all huddling together bar Llain. Stumbling a little on her words, Miara continued, certain that they were giving her the chance to continue. Though her plea for forgiveness had been true, what followed was a fabrication - the weakness that she only hoped would not be the ruin of them all.

 

'Yet I cannot endanger the Glomdoring further than I already have, than I already am,' she continued bleakly, opening her hands in supplication. 'These people, these loyal people, need guidance. They need Your truth, to be certain.'

 

'Miara,' murmured Dakuni, stepping closer to her with his wings folded at his sides. 'What are you saying?'

 

She raised her empty eyes to his and bit her lip. 'Investigate me. Beria. You need to know. Kill no one now, and look into my heart when the day comes. I will not stop you. I will do nothing. Only look to my heart, I beg of you, for the truth of my sin. You cannot risk killing the one of us that is loyal. I beg you, please. Look to my sin when the sun rises. Then we will know.'

 

Beria's eyes widened and she blinked several times, attempting to process the decision put before them. 'You want me to let both of you live,' she said slowly, 'incase we kill the loyal one.'

 

'If you kill the one of us who is loyal,' said Miara slowly, letting her eyes flutter closed, 'then the assassin will kill you in the day. You'll have no way to find anything out or defend yourselves. You will die. We will lose the war.' Pausing, she exhaled. 'So take a risk. If you think it's me? Do nothing. I'll do the same. If you think it's her...if you think it's her, kill her now. Give her to Brother Crow. But know that you risk losing someone who's loyal.'

 

Only then did Miara glance up at Llain, whose red eyes were wide and glistening with tears. 'Miara, love...' she breathed softly, kneeling down next to her wife.

 

'Shut up,' snapped Miara, pulling herself away and turning her back on Llain. On all fours as she scrabbled away, the Keeper looked up through tear-thick lashes at the others. 'That's your gamble,' she said softly. 'That's how the cards are falling.'

 

'Miara,' begged Beria, her face crumpling again. 'Why are you doing this?'

 

'Because I believe in her more than I believe in myself,' Miara replied simply, before falling silent.

 

The other three retreated to the Shadow Court to convene, leaving Miara alone with Llain. She could not bring herself to look at the faeling, could barely accept listening to the scraping of her feet as she shuffled about on the floor. But the silence was too overbearing, the tension too much. Miara turned her hands back onto her knees and gripped hard, fresh blood oozing from her exposed knuckles.

 

/I know what you did/, she told Llain in a broken voice. /I know who you are. I know what you are./

 

There was a rush of movement and Miara found her chin jilted painfully up, red eyes locking with hers. /Then why are you doing this?/

 

Miara made no reply in words at first - she could not muster them. It seemed as if there were no words to describe what she was doing for Llain, what she was willing to go through in order to protect her wife - traitor or otherwise. Eventually she reached up and grabbed fistfuls of the faeling's hair, bringing her down until their foreheads touched and noses bumped.

 

/Because I cannot kill you/, she told her wife bitterly. /Because I am just as much of a traitor as you, or I might as well be. Because I love you. Because none of these things work together, or make sense. Because I have to./

 

A low growl came out of Llain's throat, and she seized Miara by the waist, climbing into her lap and crushing her lips against hers. The warrior froze for only moments before responding, biting down hard enough on Llain's bottom lip to draw blood, which she lapped at like a man starved for water.

 

/Just tell me why you did it/, she urged, even as she ran her nails down the length of Llain's spine. /I have to know. You owe me this much. Tell me why./

 

/Because they're all like us/, replied Llain, arching up against Miara's larger frame like a flame licking at firewood. /Because they're all weak, and they didn't know it./

 

Snarling, Miara flipped Llain over onto her back and pinned her bodily to the ground, tearing the wounds on her hands open further. Tracing lines down her wife's neck to her chest, Miara left thin trails of her own blood on the faeling's near-transluscent skin. /That/, she told her angrily, /is a terrible reason./

 

/Maybe/, replied Llain, taking pleasure in running her bloody hands through Miara's perfectly arranged hair until it was mussed up considerably, /but isn't it a better reason than the one you have for what you're doing right now?/

 

/What I am doing right now/, growled Miara, /is claiming what is mine before other people take it./

 

/Your life/? asked Llain softly, /or me?/

 

Miara gave no answer, instead moving so roughly that Llain screamed, taking her without desire for anything but her own dominance. The two of them were drenched in Miara's blood when they were done, and lay panting in a tangle of thorns and dirt alike.

 

'I hate you,' whispered Miara, before rolling away and pulling her tunic back over her head. 'I will always, always hate you for this.'

 

Though Miara could not see it, Llain's lips twisted into a smile and she stretched languidly. 'That's not hate,' she said simply. 'Otherwise this would all be much easier. It wouldn't hurt if it didn't matter.'

 

The others returned not long after Llain had pulled her own clothes back to rights and Miara had slicked her hair down using the blood crusting on her hands. They made no comment on the Wyrmglows' appearances, instead looking at them with grave looks.

 

'Fine,' said Beria in a small, almost belligerent tone. 'I'll investigate you. But no one kills anyone. That's the deal.'

 

'Deal,' replied Miara, meeting Beria's gaze with the same steely indifference - all of the emotion from before having been locked back away. 'Then I'll see you tomorrow.'

 

Although she had intended merely to go to the Wyrdling and get some sleep, Miara found herself walking towards the southern part of the forest. Before she knew it she had arrived at Beria's nest, and stared blankly down at the ground - where her traps still lay set and undisturbed.

 

The question was, she thought to herself, how far was she willing to throw her trust in Llain not to do anything? If Llain acted, if she killed, then Miara would be forced to feed her wife to Brother Crow herself - the very thing she had gone so far to avoid. There was only one way she would accept this, if it came to it.

 

Proof.

 

Kneeling down, she tightened the strings on the traps and smoothed out the soil around Beria's totem. It was enough. It had to be enough.

 

Chapter 14

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Knowing that she would be awake all night, looking to see if Llain went out to kill again, Miara slept instead alongside the Wyrdling in his lair. A small part of her half expected not to wake the next night, instead having been killed in her sleep by Llain, but the soft touch of the damp soil on her face woke her to the harsh reality of her living state. Stretching out, she felt the cracking of her skin as the dried blood that coated it broke apart, and opened her eyes to the tunnel ceiling.

 

A soft buzzing noise at the edge of her vision alerted Miara to the presence of another person in the room, and she lifted her head drowsily to regard them. Lalvani An'Ryshe sat there, perched atop her widow familiar. Her face was painted with an eerily polite grin, her head tilted at an awkward angle as she considered Miara.

 

Yawning, Miara clambered slowly into a sitting position and rubbed at her eyes. She almost felt hungover. 'Evening,' she mumbled, struggling to get to her feet and make herself look a little more presentable. 'What's that face for?'

 

'There's something you need to see,' explained Lalvani simply, beckoning for Miara to follow her.

 

Unable to muster the mental capacity to do anything else, Miara plodded along after the Talons, hefting her sword belt higher up her waist where it was threatening to fall down. She had never put her armour back on, and though her rapiers were not weighty, her belt was nonetheless much too big for her form underneath. In the end she gave up and unbuckled it, swinging it over her shoulder instead. Her rapiers bumped against the rear of her thighs as she walked, wondering what it was that Lalvani could possibly have to show her.

 

Very quickly she began to wake up, however, and realised that they were heading towards the southern border of the forest - where Beria's totem was. A warning gripped at her throat and her skin began to tingle in nervous anticipation. When they were close she lunged forward and placed her hand on Lalvani's shoulder, pulling the faeling to a halt.

 

'Wait,' she rasped, dropping her rapiers to the ground. 'I have to see. I have to know.'

 

She knelt down on the floor and began to crawl forward carefully, her eyes searching for the glints of the metal on her carefully set traps. When none of them were immediately available, she panicked, pulling out a bolt of cloth and lighting strips of it in an attempt to spot them. Finally something caught her eye and she darted towards it. The thin piece of metal that had previously held up a string trap was bent at an angle and half embedded in the floor, clearly disturbed by a foot.

 

With an increasing tension in her belly, Miara crawled over to the area of the soil where she had raked it out to catch the culprit's footprints. She spotted the print at once, and as she recognised it her throat seemed to sink deep into her chest.

 

'Lalvani,' she whispered, 'Is Beria dead?'

 

At the edge of her peripheral vision, Miara saw Lalvani nod in a tiny movement. 'Yes. Smothered.'

 

Miara rocked back on her haunches and brushed her hands over her face. It was the last thing she had wanted - not only for Beria to die, but for Llain to be the culprit. It was not even the knowledge that it was all her fault that clutched quite so painfully at Miara's heart, but the realisation that even Beria was not pure of heart, if Mother Night's prophecy was coming true.

 

'Llain did it,' Miara breathed. 'These are her footprints. She killed Beria.'

 

Lalvani had moved over to stand at her side with silent footsteps, and Miara looked up at her then through empty eyes. 'You are a coward,' she said in a low voice. 'It was not only Llain who killed Beria.'

 

To that, Miara had no answer; it was the truth. Standing, she swung up into the trees and sat next to Beria's body. The druidess looked as innocent and peaceful in death as she had for most of her life - the mature confidence that had possessed her in her final few days, with the weight of the forest on her shoulders, was washed away and she was left with nothing but her true innocent self.

 

'Not all that is loyal is without betrayal,' murmured Miara softly, reaching over to close Beria's eyes with one battered hand. 'Do not forgive me, cousin. I own your death.'

 

Lalvani was waiting for her when she descended, and led her away from Beria's corpse towards the Master Ravenwood. They fell into an uncomfortable silence, and Miara wished - not for the first time - that she had not left her armour elsewhere. Without it she felt naked, even as she stood in a tunic and trousers, her swords slung back over her arm. She focused all her concentration on putting one foot in front of the other, following Lalvani with unheard footsteps.

 

Dakuni and Llain were already at the nexus when they arrived - Miara suspected that he had been sent to bring Llain there, whilst Lalvani had been sent for her. She had thought that it would be impossible to look at Llain, knowing what she had done - but instead she found that she could not look anywhere else. As if she had to look, to see every moment as some penance for her own part in Beria's death.

 

Llain did not have an ounce of remorse in her expression, and in some way that made it easier. A sudden change of heart would only have complicated things - though it would likely not have changed the outcome at all. Regardless of anything she said or did, Llain had to die. The knowledge held Miara around the throat like a vice, but she repeated it to herself nonetheless. She could not be a coward again; enough death had been caused at her hands.

 

'So,' said Dakuni simply, folding his arms over his chest. His wings were folded up behind him in an unusual display of restraint. 'Let's try this again, shall we? Without anyone putting us into difficult positions.'

 

A broken, hollow chuckle broke forth from Miara's lips and all heads turned to regard her. 'Don't look at me like that,' she said as she pointed out, 'you're the ones who went along with it. Thought I was an assassin, did you?'

 

'Yes. I did.' Dakuni's reply was short and clipped, and not quite what Miara had expected. The frankness of it made her stumble slightly in her protest, and she leant against a nearby tree, looking curiously at Dakuni. 'Was I wrong?'

 

'Yes,' murmured Miara, staring into Llain's guilty red eyes. 'I always knew I was innocent.'

 

'Why did you do it, Miara? Was she really worth Beria's life?'

 

The accusation cut deep into Miara's gut and she struggled for breath, still looking intently at Llain. 'I thought she was worth the risk,' she whispered emptily, 'I didn't realise what I was risking. I was stupid, and a coward.'

 

'I never thought you to be either of those things before now, cousin,' sighed Dakuni, flattening the plumage on his head with his palms. 'I'm almost more disappointed in you than I am sad that Beria is dead. I thought your heart was pure, like ours. Still, I suppose even those who are without sin can be wrong.' Turning to Llain, he asked, 'Did you have anything to say, before we send you to Brother Crow's embrace?'

 

Llain shook her head, her eyes still locked with Miara's. 'Nothing I say will change what you are about to do,' she said quietly. 'Nothing you do will invalidate the deaths we caused. They were weak.'

 

'Perhaps,' murmured Lalvani softly, shaking her head. 'Many have died, some of them weak. But is the true weakness not to be found in those who would cut off the head of failure, rather than elevate it to triumph?'

 

With that question hanging in the air, Lalvani raised her cudgel aloft, pointing it towards the treetops where Brother Crow let out a resounding caw. The Great Spirit leapt down and landed opposite Llain, His beady eye upon her. Dakuni raised his mandolin and pointed it towards Llain and Brother Crow, leaving only Miara to make her judgement. Her eyes never leaving Llain's, she raised one shaking hand and pointed towards the traitor with her bruised and battered fingers.

 

'Crow,' whispered Miara, her voice cracking. 'Glorious Crow.'

 

The Spirit extended His wings to their fullest as if about to take off, displaying His glistening plumage to the remains of the Glomdoring commune, who stood frozen with awe. His beak clicked once, twice, three times - before He darted forward and grabbed Llain by the ankle, dragging her back towards Him. In a single leap He took aloft to the air, circling the Master Ravenwood with the faeling in His beak dangling helplessly. Blood dripped down from her leg where the Great Spirit's grip had broken skin and flesh, and Miara stepped forward, holding out her palms to catch it. The coppery liquid was thick and warm against her palms and reminded her, painfully, of Beria.

 

With a triumphant caw, Crow tossed Llain high above the Glomdoring forest like a ragdoll, catching her in His beak as she descended. Though they were far above, Miara felt she could hear the crunching of her wife's bones as if they were right next to her ear. Somehow she found herself wishing that Llain had screamed or cried out, or done anything - other than stare at her, in the silence of one who has admitted guilt and knows they have but one fate.

 

The Great Spirit landed back onto His perch when all was done, tucking His head under his wing and beginning to clean Himself of the last remains of Llain Wyrmglow.

 

'It is done, then,' said Dakuni at length, turning to Lalvani and taking her hands in his. The gesture seemed oddly familiar, oddly tender - alarm bells began to ring in Miara's mind. 'We have won.'

 

'Yes,' Miara said shakily. 'In a sense.'

 

Both Lalvani and Dakuni turned to smile at her then, their expressions twinned with pity and triumph. 'No, Miara,' whispered Lalvani in her gentle voice. 'You have not won. We have.'

 

Chapter 15

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Something thudded in Miara's chest, and she realised it was the beating of her heart as it pounded ever faster. What did Lalvani mean, that they had won, and she had not? Perhaps they did not consider her one of them anymore, now that she had been responsible for Beria's death. Yet in her heart of hearts, Miara knew that this was not the truth at all; that, in fact, something more insidious was happening before her eyes - something that she had not predicted.

 

'Daindam wasn't a killer, was he,' she whispered into the night air, scarcely able to believe it.

 

Lalvani continued to smile, tilting her head at an angle. 'Perhaps you are not quite so far gone as we thought,' she mused aloud. 'No, Daindam was innocent - and I wish he had not died, for I did love him, in my fashion.'

 

'How many did you kill?' asked Miara softly.

 

By way of answer, Dakuni reached into his robes and produced a knife. It was an entirely uninteresting, normal knife at first glance - the sort that one might use in daily tasks like cooking, setting traps or skinning. As he held it closer still for Miara's inspection, however, she began to see the inky red stains upon the steel. Taking it from him, she held it against her palm, inspecting the length of the blade.

 

'All of them,' she realised aloud. 'You killed all of them. Why?'

 

Dakuni smiled. 'Sit, cousin. Let us explain. It will take some time, but I think - I hope - that perhaps, you could understand.'

 

'Understand?' shrieked Miara, stumbling away from him and dropping the murder weapon onto the floor, where it landed with point stuck into the ground. 'That you killed so many people? Innocent people?'

 

'It's such an odd word,' mused Lalvani, clearly unperturbed by Miara's outburst, 'Innocent. What does it really mean, when you come down to it? It cannot truly mean one who has not spilled blood. No, there are many ways to lose innocence. Perhaps it is in the purity of the soul, the strength of devotion, the gravity of faith. Perhaps the only way to truly be innocent, is to embrace the sin that you wish to transcend.'

 

'You're insane,' spat Miara, glancing down to the bush where she had cast her armour the night before - it was gone. Cursing, she turned away from them and kicked violently at the ground. 'Both of you.'

 

A thin, wiry sound began to come from behind her, and Miara realised that Dakuni was laughing. 'Am I, cousin? The insane are those who cannot function for their malady, their madness. Yet here I stand before you, triumphant - successful in my devotion to the Wyrd, in its cleansing. All weakness is gone from the forest, cousin. All weakness save for yours.'

 

Miara's legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor, her brain unable to compute what she was hearing. Dakuni moved to kneel before her, brushing the back of his hand across her cheek. She shivered, the brief touch as the deepest of violations to her.

 

'Don't worry, cousin,' he said gently, his voice full of care. 'We are not going to kill you. Until yesterday your soul was pure, you see. You were strong. It is not too late for you, like it was for the others.'

 

Lalvani came to join them on the ground, her wings buzzing a constant droning hum. 'We can help you, Miara. We can help you grow, and be strong, and serve the Wyrd. We will make a new Glomdoring, a pure Glomdoring. One where there is no betrayal. Where there is only strength, and the Wyrd, and its glory.'

 

'Words like these,' rasped Miara, still shivering under Dakuni's touch, 'have been spoken before. And we all remember how that went. Did you not learn?'

 

Reaching into her robes, Lalvani produced a small flower. It was unlike any flower Miara had seen before - the petals were the hue of the midnight sky, from black to indigo and purple. They curled around a mauve centre and extended from a black stem. It was beautiful, yet somehow evoked warnings of danger for Miara as she looked upon it.

 

'There are those of us,' whispered Lalvani gently, 'who did not forget the glory of the Wyrd. And now...' She paused, flashing Miara a terrible, brilliant smile. 'And now, you may bask in it with us.'

 

~ The End ~

 

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Appendix I: Dramatis Personae

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The author appreciates that many characters were depicted within this text, and that their numerousness may be somewhat confusing. She presents, therefore, a guide to the Age of Supremacy and its residents - and their various demises. They shall be listed herein by their family, and contiain a small guide to the person's ranks and similar, as well (perhaps most importantly) as their role within the game of vengeance.

 

The Oakvine Family

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Webwalker Sanshaj Oakvine - The head of the Order of the Lady of Thorns, Sanshaj Oakvine was perhaps best known for his position as the Song of the Wyrd in the Harbingers guild. During the Age of Supremacy he was naught but a nightbringer, and met his demise at the hands of the Zealots on the eighth day.

 

Wuttif Oakvine, Dark Druid - A member of the Blacktalon Guild, Wuttif was a largely quiet member of the Glomdoring. He was a nightbringer who met his demise at the hands of the Zealots on the seventh day.

 

Ferrue Oakvine, Mistress of Storms - The Eye of Crow, Ferrue Oakvine was one of the more respected members of the Shadow Court. Or at least she was, until it was discovered that she was an assassin who had killed at least one, probably two people. She was killed by the Zealots on the third day.

 

Dark Regent Laesh Oakvine - A highly respected Dark Regent of the Glomdoring Commune, Laesh Oakvine was nonetheless surrounded by some controversy. Known not only for his skill at politics but for his notorious affair with Lady Grayley Ysav'rai, wife of the Ebonguard Chieftain, Laesh nonetheless had strong support from his supporters, his sister Haloia, and his fellow Nekotai. He was a nightbringer in the Age of Supremacy who was killed on the third day by the Assassins.

 

The Shee-Slaugh Court, and the An'Ryshe Bloodline

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Druid Daindam An'Ryshe, of the Dark Nest - The Keeper of the Black Nest, Daindam was a well respected guild administrator. A member of the Shee-Slaugh family through the An'Ryshe bloodline, he was married to Lalvani An'Ryshe (formerly Lalvani Nightshade). In the Age of Supremacy, he was a nightbringer who was killed on day nine by the Assassins.

 

Windreaver Lalvani An'Ryshe - A member of the Blacktalon and the Talons of Crow, Lalvani An'Ryshe was born into the Nightshade family. She married Daindam An'Ryshe to join the Shee-Slaugh family, wishing to be linked to the family line of the divinity to Whom she was loyal. In the Age of Supremacy she was one of the two victorious zealots. She survived until the end, wherein she bought the Wyrden Glory to life once more through her endeavours.

 

Warden Eliaei Shee-Slaugh - A vernal ascendant of the Glomdoring via the Beauty Seal, Eliaei Shee-Slaugh was a member of the Ebonguard. He also served the Silent Lord as the Sage of Beauty and Silence, and was empowered as one of His avatars. In the Age of Supremacy he was an assassin, and met his demise at the hands of a commune lynching when Miara Wyrmglow caught him killing Rawoka Llaewell on the sixth day.

 

Prince Ultdir Shee-Slaugh - The Prince of Shadows, Ultdir Shee-Slaugh was the head of his family and a well respected member of the commune. He was a nightbringer who met his death at the hands of the Assassins on the fourth day.

 

The Wyrmglow Family

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Red-Eyed Llain Wyrmglow - Born into the Stormcrow family, Llain Wyrmglow married Miara, the Black Lady. A member of the Blacktalon, she served as a Wraith of the Wyrd in that guild. However, in the Age of Supremacy she was an assassin. She met her death at the hands of a commune lynching, when Miara Wyrmglow caught her killing her cousin, Beria Stormcrow.

 

Miara Wyrmglow, the Black Lady ¬- So called for her bond with Mother Night, Miara Wyrmglow was the Keeper of the Blackened Bones in the Ebonguard. She was a Blademaster who was also trained as a skilled Tracker. Married to Llain Wyrmglow (previously Llain Stormcrow), she was a highly respected member of the commune. In the Age of Supremacy she served as the Watcher, yet had little success over the course of the game. She survived to the end, the only loyal to Glomdoring remaining alongside the two victorious zealots.

 

Master of the Wyrden Song, Dakuni Wyrmglow - The Dirgesinger of the Harbingers Guilds, Dakuni Wyrmglow was a trill who served as Glomdoring's Ambassador. It was a job that he had a love-hate relationship with, but it earned him a good deal of standing within the commune. He was cousin to Miara and Rymiel Wyrmglow. His standing enabled him to, in the Age of Supremacy, elude detection as a zealot right until the end. Alongside Lalvani An'Ryshe he bought glory to the Wyrd through the mass culling of its commune members, cleansing the Glomdoring of all weakness.

 

Rymiel Wyrmglow, Sage of Shadows - Brother to Miara Wyrmglow, Rymiel was one of the three Sages of Lord Nocht's Order. He was a Shadowdancer who, in the Age of Supremacy, served as a nightbringer. He met his death at the hands of the Zealots on the fourth day.

 

The Ysav'rai Kinship

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Blooded Kwaray Ysav'rai, Skullsmasher - A tae'dae cavalier and the Mistress of the Bloodhunt in the Ebonguard, Kwaray was a high-ranking member of the Lord Predator's Order. She was known for being a little reckless, very ferocious, and for her not-so-well hidden crush on Dakuni Wyrmglow. She served as the Blocker in the Age of Supremacy, though she did not manage to waylay any of the assassins or zealots. She met her death at the hands of the Assassins on the fifth day.

 

Lady Grayley Ysav'rai - A Queen of the Night who, like all good queens, was surrounded by controversy. Known for her torried affair with the Dark Regent, Laesh Oakvine, Grayley was also looked badly upon when - upon her lover's death - she returned to the arms of her husband Vuuak, despite having cuckolded him for quite so long. In the Age of Supremacy she was a nightbringer who met her demise at the hands of the Vigilante.

 

Vuuak Ysav'rai, Spirit Warden - The Chieftain of the Ravenwood in the Ebonguard, Vuuak Ysav'rai would have been well respected in the Glomdoring were it not for his wife's quite so public affair. What high standing he had was transformed into pity as people became aware of his marital problems, and it is perhaps this that drove him - in the Age of Supremacy - to become an assassin. He was also mentor to Miara Wyrmglow. He met his death at the hands of a commune lynching on the seventh day, when Beria Stormcrow spotted him for what he was.

 

Dyss Ysav'rai, Night's Fury - The first victim in the Age of Supremacy, Dyss was a rambunctious young man who served in the Ebonguard as a Hound of the Blood. As protégé to the Keeper of the Blackened Bones he had some small respect, but this was mostly outweight by his sarcastic nd abrasive personality. He died on the first day to the Assassins.

 

The Nightshade Dynasty

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Ilatrea Nightshade, Scion of Silence - The final Sage in the Order of the Silent Lord, known as the Twillit Auspex. Ilatrea was a Harbinger who was surrounded by two small controversies - firstly that she had reportedly 'stolen' the position of Twilit Auspex from Rawoka Llaewell, and secondly that she was having an affair with her guildmaster, Sanshaj Oakvine. The latter was not considered quite so scandalous given that neither of them were married. In the Age of Supremacy she was a nightbringer who met her death at the hands of the Zealots on the second day, having been suspected of Dyss Ysav'rai's murder when she found his corpse the night previously.

 

Master Seregmor Nightshade - The Maestro of the Lament in the Harbingers Guild, Seregmor was a largely uneventful person who served in the Age of Supremacy as a nightbringer. He met his demise on the fifth day at the hands of the Zealots.

 

Lord Jemdir Nightshade - A member of the Blacktalon Guild who never really got along with all that carrion business, Jemdir Nightshade was an assassin in the Age of Supremacy. He survived for quite some time by dint of being quiet, but was eventually caught out by the detective Beria Stormcrow, and lynched on the eighth day.

 

Spinner Cannrin Nightshade - Another quieter member of the Dynasty, Cannrin Nightshade was a nightbringer who met his demise at the hands of the Vigilante on the sixth day.

 

The Stormcrow Family

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Druidess Beria Stormcrow - A quiet young girl, Beria Stormcrow was cousin to Llain Wyrmglow (previously Stormcrow) and the niece of Helegena Stormcrow. She was a member of the Blacktalon who was largely irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, until in the Age of Supremacy she was gifted with the powers of Brother Crow as His detective. Thanks to her protector, she survived almost to the end - when she was killed by the Assassins as a result of a deal made by Miara Wyrmglow in an attempt to save her wife, Llain.

 

Cultist Helegena Stormcrow - The Mother of Nightmares, Helegena Stormcrow was one of those matriarchs who seemed to have always been present in the Glomdoring, and always the same age. An ancient aslaran with a love for knitting, she largely kept to herself - which served her well in the Age of Supremacy, when she managed to survive for an exceptionally long time as the protector. Her service kept Beria Stormcrow alive for many days and saved the life of Miara Wyrmglow when she was attacked on the second day. Helegena ultimately met her demise at the hands of the Assassins on the seventh day.

 

Shaman Taerrick Stormcrow - A servant of the Blacktalon, Taerrick was caught out early on as an Assassin when his cousin Beria Stormcrow investigated him. He was the first to be lynched by the commune and handed to Brother Crow for his judgement, which took place on the third day.

 

The Llaewell Pack

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Haloia Llaewell, Fang of Tongues - Originally a member of the Oakvine family, Haloia Llaewell was sister to Laesh Oakvine, the Dark Regent of Glomdoring and married Tabmili Llaewell to join the Pack. She also served as a Fang of the Lord Predator and the Dark Messiah of the Nekotai. This powerful aslaran replaced her brother Laesh as Regent of the Glomdoring when he was killed on the third day. She declared herself to no longer be a part of the Llaewell Pack when it transpired that her wife was an assassin. She herself met her demise at the hands of the Assassins on the eighth day.

 

Rawoka Llaewell, Wyrden Alchemist - Known for his tendency to be nowhere but the Master Ravenwood or out picking herbs, Rawoka Llaewell was an argumentative young man who served in the Shadowdancers guild, though he held no position there. In the Age of Supremacy he was the Vigilante. He made only two kills, both on innocents - the first he confessed to and was given a suspended death sentence. The second was self-defence immediately prior to his death, which occurred at the hands of the Assassins on the sixth day.

 

Tabmili Llaewell, Pack Alpha - The Tenebrous Wrath of the Nekotai, Tabmili was the head of the Llaewell Pack and wife to Haloia Llaewell (formerly Oakvine). In the Age of Supremacy she was an assassin who was killed by the Zealots on the sixth day.

 

Appendix II: Timeline

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The author also appreciates that a great deal happened in the eleven days depicted within this story, and that it may at times be somewhat complex to work out who watched, blocked, investigated or killed who. Therefore this appendix is a timeline, depicting who acted and how on each day of the Age of Supremacy.

 

Day 1 - Assassins kill Dyss

 

Day 2 - Assassins attempt to kill Miara

Helegena protects Miara (thus preventing her death)

Zealots kill Ilatrea

Beria investigates Ilatrea

 

Day 3 - Miara watches Jemdir

Helegena protects Miara

Kwaray blocks Jemdir

Zealots kill Ferrue

Assassins kill Laesh

Beria investigates Taerrick

Taerrick is lynched

 

Day 4 - Miara watches Llain

Helegena protects Beria

Kwaray blocks Miara

Zealots kill Rymiel

Assassins kill Ultdir

Beria investigates Haloia

 

Day 5 - Zealots kill Seregmor

Assassins kill Kwaray

Vigilante kills Grayley

Miara watches Haloia

Kwaray blocks Wuttif

Beria investigates Rawoka

Helegena protects Beria

 

Day 6 - Assassins kill Rawoka

Zealots kill Tabmili

Vigilante kills Cannrin

Beria investigates Dakuni

Miara watches Rawoka

Eliaei is lynched

Helegena protects Beria

 

Day 7 - Beria investigates Vuuak

Zealots kill Wuttif

Assassins kill Helegena

Vuuak is lynched

Miara watches Sanshaj

Helegena protects Beria

 

Day 8 - Beria investigates Jemdir

Miara watches Beria

Assassins kill Haloia

Zealots kill Sanshaj

Jemdir is lynched

 

Day 9 - Assassins kill Daindam

Zealots kill no one

Miara watches Beria

Beria investigates Lalvani

 

Day 10 - Assassins kill Beria

Zealots kill no one

Miara watches Beria

 

Appendix III: Zealotry and the Wyrden Glory

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Eagle-eyed readers will have noted a considerable similarity between, and reference to, the faith that the Zealots employ and the teachings of Xynthin, the Wyrden Glory. Although the author did not originally intend this, the similarities are nonetheless there and were in the end played up to the author's own ends. However, the author would like to make some things about this clear - without leading you as to what you should think:

 

Firstly, that the Zealots' faith might have originated from Xynthin's teachings but that they deviated at a crucial point. Like him, they saw only the big picture and not the small things, which was their ultimate downfall as it was his. The deviation came wherein they took this to require the culling of all that which was not Wyrden.

 

There is no evidence that Xynthin supported the wanton culling of anyone who was considered to be weak, however the author has employed this as a potential evolution of the theories that he bought to the Glomdoring not too long ago.

 

To those of the Wyrd who read this, the author would like to make something clear. Whilst she does not wish to guide you - the text is here to elicit individual and proactive thought, not to dictate - she would mention one part of the teachings of Brother Crow such as she interprets them, and have it be remembered whilst examining this text.

 

To follow Crow is to be without weakness, to transcend it. Yet you cannot slay an unknown target; to move past your weaknesses you must first admit them. This is not acceptance, nor does it go against False Memory. False Memory comes when you have seen your weaknesses and destroyed them. They must be forgotten, for they are as dust in the wind - but the teachings that you have gained from them must not. Each tiny piece of your past is a part of you, and an indicator of your future. 

 

See where you are weak. Admit your weakness. Without this, you will be lost to madness, and to the hubris of your own megalomania.

 

Appendix IV: Credits

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As the author has mentioned at the beginning of this text, the story above was derived in part from many Vengeance games previously played in the Glomdoring game of the Age of Supremacy. Out of credit to those who participated, the author would like to mention the following character traits or themes that were derived from the minds of others.

 

Dyss Ysav'rai

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In the original list of names for the Glomdoring Vengeance game, Dyss was not present. He appeared not long after and is traditionally played as a descendent of the ascendant Sidd - now Synkarin - Ysav'rai. Over time it has become traditional that Dyss always dies first.

 

The author felt that it would be going too far against tradition not to acquiesce to this.

 

The Coin Toss

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Another tradition started by Synkarin Ysav'rai, the coin toss is utilised in Glomdoring Vengeance games as a method of choosing who to lynch during the nights. When the numbers are high, potential victims are selected seemingly at random - or sometimes as a cover for the detective to give information without revealing him or herself - and a coin is flipped. The selected victim is then lynched, usually incorrectly.

 

Helegena's Knitting

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In a character trait originally created by Xenthos An'Ryshe, Helegena Stormcrow is an aged crone who spends her time knitting scarves "for uncle Emar". This trait has since been adopted by other persons who play the game, and has become something of a tradition in Glomdoring vengeance.

 

In this game, Helegena never admits who she is knitting for - nor, indeed, can Miara ever tell precisely what it is that she is knitting.

 

Perhaps that is the true mystery here.

 

Appendix V: The Purposes of Playing Vengeance

---------------------------------------------

 

As a final note, the author would like to offer up an argument for Vengeance as more than just a game. Many may consider it to be a frivolous activity, a chance to dress up in someone else's face and get away with insulting those to whom you would usually have to defer. The author does not wish to argue that any of these are not true; it is after all a game, and an enjoyable one.

 

However the author believes there is a very strong argument to be made for the benefits of playing vengeance, or knowing the tactics and counter-tactics of playing vengeance, as a politician - not to mention the skills acquired in acting through playing another role. In politics, the greatest skill available to you can be playing your enemies against themselves, or even playing your allies against themselves to get them to achieve your own ends.

 

Vengeance is an excellent way to practice and hone those skills without the risk of political unrest. One might almost call it a training camp for those who wish to learn to read and manipulate others. As such, the author believes wholeheartedly that greater numbers of vengeance games should be encouraged, not only within single communes or cities but also in the wider world.

 

Appendix VI: Thanks

-------------------

 

With all the above said, the author is very grateful to those who have shown her support as she composed this epic. Whilst a long and arduous journey it has been nonetheless enjoyable, and she considers the two years that it took to compose were very much well spent.

 

She hopes that its inclusion within the Wyrden Archives will spur others to write - not only about vengeance, not only other works of similar ambition and length, but anything at all - for there is glory in the spread of the Wyrd, whether done in word or in deed.