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The shadow of Zon-Kuthon is long in Nidal, stretching all the way back to Earthfall when three Nidalese horselords bound themselves and their descendents to the Midnight Lord for all eternity.
As you journey northwards through Nidal towards the region commonly known as the Atteran Ranches, the unnatural gloom that covers the Nidalese heartlands lifts and you can see proper sunshine for the first time in days. Ranches dot the gray-grassed plains, and you can finally spot the famed nidarrmar horses prized throghout the Inner Sea.
Along the road you have met other travellers who were bound for the northern plains of Nidal and who have joined your journey. Now might be a good time for introductions.
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Adorned in a blackened cloak made of coarse fabric, its feel akin to sand paper, an older man unconsciously grits his teeth as he moves. The shifting weight of the cloak reveals small cuts and abrasions on his pale skin, consistent with the weft of this cloak. He clips the toe of his boot on a sharp rock. The step would seem to have been intentional.
True, Nidal offered held the largest and, perhaps, oldest congretations among his faith, but the faith holds no centralized church, no preminent temple or place of devotion.
That, Stribe conceded, was how it should be. After all, being a Kuthite relies little upon the study of doctrine or religious instruction. Instead, it is a faith in which true piety and devotion comes through experience.
Disaffected by the Umbral Court and its ilk, Stribe--a self-declared Minister of Pain--set out to form a congregation of his own. Based on what he knew of the Atteran Ranches, he thought the area ripe for the choosing of a situs for his new church.
Along the road, he spies a few other other travellers who would appear bound for the northern plains as well. He welcomes an opportunity to evangelize.
"Hail to Thee, Fellow Travelers!" he cries out to others. The man seems to attempt a smile, but instead winces as he again stubs a toe. "It is seldom safe to make a journey alone. We are neither too distant from Oprak to be safe from hobgoblin bandits nor too far from the Mindspin Mountains to remain untouched by its kobolds and drakes." He pauses for a moment, as he considers the likely, physical consequences of encountering such threats first individually, then all at once. Then, he remarks, "Perhaps, we should experience this journey together?"
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Hearing the cloaked figure searching for someone to accompany him, Siyokoy eagerly raises his hand to be noticed.
"Me, me! I hope you don't mind having a humble companion like me. I'm Siyokoy, hailing from Mwangi. I've been wandering alone and found myself here. Last time, I was trapped in a cave with others when it rained cats and dogs, and we managed to rescue a lorekeeper who was exploring the ruins beneath it. It was quite the adventure, encountering spiders and undead hands! Ugh, that was insane!" he exclaims, perhaps talking a bit too much.
As he gazes up at the sky, he notices the gloomy clouds overhead and sighs. "Looks like it's going to rain again. We should find shelter soon."
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"Ah, a cave? Sounds delightful. Nothing like a little time underground to get your peace and quiet." A bountifully-bearded gnome strolls up and comments. "You seem very familiar with the dangers around here, so perhaps we could travel together for a while."
"Buzzmark Hardstone, of Clan Hardstone. At your service, and your families'," The gnome bows deeply as he introduces himself, and his long beard ribbons drag on the ground.
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"The rain shall not hurt you"
A Shoanti woman of broad stature speaks with definition, her voice a coarse contralto like a roiling cloud sprawling over the horizon like a violet blue cloak. Upon her back she carries a simple spear and spiked shield - animal leather lashed around a horned lizard skull to strap a sharpened bone - her dress comfortable in any weather, with fine hide boots decorated with hand-made dyes.
"I do not know why the spirits have blown me here" she continues before smiling finally "But here is now where we walk. Come. Let us travel together. I am called Winter"
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"Oh, well, um, Buzzmark Hardstone, was it? Delightful to meet you. But not as delightful as a haunted cave, I'm afraid. Ha!" Siyokoy tries to hide his fear behind a nervous chuckle.
He then turns to another newcomer who is also joining their group and gives a polite bow. "Hopefully, the spirits have guided you to somewhere safe. This place is rather... ominous," he says, shuddering as he takes in the gloomy surroundings.
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"Somewhere safe? No, I would not say that we are safe." notes Vingarren. "But, safety should not be one's goal, but experience. Thus, I pray that we are each most fortunate and that there lies much for us to potentially experience on the journey as well as our destination."
"If you find this land 'ominous'--as you put it--what, then, is it that has brought you to Nidal?" The older man takes on a more ministerial tone. "What is it that you expected to find within this country?"
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Now noticing the cuts and abrasions on the hooded man's skin, Winter furls an eyebrow, perking up her neck, around which is visibly and prominently displayed the holy symbol of her god - a mythic tree surrounded by elements - and considers his words with sudden caution.
She turns to the azarketi "Safety is my aim as well, Siyokoy of Mwangi - providing such for your company is becoming of a Guardian" challenging the implied assertion that her efforts in adopting such a goal are misguided at best or trifling at worst, Winter cracks a knowing smile and looks upon what the others might believe about the matter...
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A blonde and blue eyed elf quickly follows the group. He is dressed in browns and greens, typical of a forester. Hide armor shows underneath his black-bear skin cloak. He is armed with multiple weapons including a shortsword, hatchet, dagger and shortbow. His quiver is filled with fluflu-fletched arrows, and his bow has a pair of squirrel-tail silencers.
"Well met. I am Navo Visyrion. There is indeed safety in numbers. I will do my part to keep everyone safe should we all agree to do the same for each other?"
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Now noticing the cuts and abrasions on the hooded man's skin, Winter furls an eyebrow, perking up her neck, around which is visibly and prominently displayed the holy symbol of her god - a mythic tree surrounded by elements - and considers his words with sudden caution.
She turns to the azarketi "Safety is my aim as well, Siyokoy of Mwangi - providing such for your company is becoming of a Guardian" challenging the implied assertion that her efforts in adopting such a goal are misguided at best or trifling at worst, Winter cracks a knowing smile and looks upon what the others might believe about the matter...
Vingarren in turns considers the woman's holy symbol.
"You consider yourself a 'Guardian', then?" He inquires of the woman, interrupting her discussion with the azarketi. "Just what are you 'guarding'? And, what is it--may I ask--that you seek to guard against?"
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Sensing a trap, Saturnine Winter sticks to the scriptures, without too much proselytizing.
"I seek to Guard the Wild Places. Doing so means alliances with people who see the world differently..." she smiles again here "Against those who would despoil it. Some aberrations and fiends are plain to the eye and ear - others deceive with illusions and sharp tongue" shifting her posture, there is a moment where a flare of temper almost breaks through our hero's otherwise stalwart composure, but she seems to overcome the urge or thought, and recovers "Traveling together, we come to temporary alliance, and so, I will Guard you as well, from any dangers - physical or spiritual - that may blow our direction"
She counters playfully "Was my response to your liking?"
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She counters playfully "Was my response to your liking?"
"I sought neither affection nor pleasure from my query, merely information. Vingarren replies. "And you have graciously delivered."
"'To Guard the Wild Places'?" Vingarren repeats, letting the words drift off his pierced tongue as he considers their meaning. "Then, you seek to preserve those places that are untamed, unbounded, and unrestrained? To keep them free of any change to their natural and violent state? You also oppose those who deceive with illusions? Those who would seek to suppress reality? Those who would deny that which is current and real? Those who would have others ignore that which their natural senses--their very nerves--would tell them?"
The kuthite almost seems to smile. "Be careful, She-who-Seeks-Alliances. For you and I may not see the world as differently as you may wish to believe."
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"Sir" Navo says coldly. "There are many ways to interpret what words you have just said. What is clear is that one of us needs to curb his tongue..." lest he lose it.
"This is the wilderness 'sir'. We are on the open road where alliances are made very quickly by those who find the paths and walk from horizon to horizon."
"If you are intolerant of her religion or of other's, then you and your kind best be on your way. Know that I do not tolerate intolerance."
The road brings you to one of many small villages dotted around the plains. A rough wooden sign on the outskirts tells you that this one is called Rannan’s Ranch.
As your group trudges into the village, you spy a short human man wearing worn riding leathers, hammering a piece of parchment onto a post in the village square. He lingers in the square chatting with the half dozen villagers there.
The parchment flutters in a dry gust of wind and you can easily discern that it is both a warning and a call for help.
All eyes turn to you as your group approaches the square. The man in riding leathers pushes himself up from the hitching post he was leaning against and saunters over towards you. "Welcome to the ranch, I'm Rannan Atteran. What can we do for you folk?"
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Winter smiles at the ranger’s prejudices - for not several moments before, she had shared them with hardly a thought, dismissing their subject with automaton reduction. Until, that is, she thought she recognized what appears to be another person, born a certain way, doing their best to be… kind?
Lingering a moment on the hooded one’s pierced tongue, she had felt the slow, steady burn of raised eyebrows scrutinize her own presented person before - sometimes barely disguised disdain! - knowing too that she, in their eyes, had been ascribed a lesser status.
”Animals and Beasts of the Wild come in all shapes and sizes, Navo” she moves to stand beside him, easily comfortable with men of his kind ”Tiger or kitten, Wolf of puppy, Bear or cub, all wear the same pelt, feel the same breeze against their fur” she moves as if to tuck her holy symbol into her tunic, then seems to abandon the idea, removing her hand, leaving it displayed prominently ”Let us see where our chance alliance will blow”
Assuming her Guardian stance (in the middle of the pack), Winter embraces the current, and walks with it…
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"If you are intolerant of her religion or of other's, then you and your kind best be on your way. Know that I do not tolerate intolerance."
"If you are threatening me with harm, My Sharp-Eared Friend, then I truly hope that you are prepared to follow through and make it manifest." Vingarren replies with sincerity.
"As for thinking me 'intolerant'," he continues. "I must confess that you have misread me to the point of causing offense. I am a devotee of Zon-Kuthon. If The Dark Prince demands anything of his followers, it is the willingness to endure whatever suffering, agony, or anguish that one may face--to model forbearance amidst even the greatest torments that the various forces of the world may thrust upon one, whether those forces be driven by physical, cultural, philosophical, doctrinal, or some other form of differences."
"Such a calling is the very definition of 'tolerance', is it not?" Vingarren pontificates. "You see, you are not alone in your views. The Prince of Pain, too, does not tolerate intolerance. Indeed, the god forbids it."
"I am pleased to learn that we share such common ground." The kuthite states smugly. Whether the aim of his words is to convert or to provoke, he appears equally eager to accept either result.
"Hail and well met, Rancher Atteran," Buzzmark greets. "We're wandering adventurers, and we see that there is a monster nearby. We'd be happy to help track it down, for a bit of coin."
"Or some jewels. Jewels are always good!"
Vingarren takes hold of the parchment, then turns his attention to the rancher addressed by Buzzmark. "You, then, are the 'Rannon' who authored this warning?" The kuthite inquires of the man in riding leathers. "If so, the dwarf from Clan Hardstone is correct. My allies and I should be able to assist you. Tell me, have you born witness to the violence wrought by this 'monster'? The suffering or injuries it may have caused? If so, please, withhold no detail."
"You folk interested in helping out eh? Great!" the rancher says in response to Buzzmark but then looks startled as Vingarrenn steps up.
His casual manner evaporates and he seems to be on guard now, perhaps even on edge "Oh minister, sorry I didn't see you there. Well, I ah haven't seen the violence myself. I'm just back from Blake's ranch up the way" and waves vaguely to the west.
"I'm just catching up on the news. A few folk have gone missing in the last couple of weeks. First there was Nema, a rancher from up yonder, " and he points off to the east, "then Lieraka and his wife Maredine were both abducted from their home one night, and I've just heard that Etendon, one of my farmers, was taken while working his pasture yesterday. The way I have heard it, they each disappeared but some have seen strange tracks left behind, and there has been a scarecrow figure seen moving from afar through the foothills. Mighty strange and I can tell you my people are scared."
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Stepping between the ego-smug priest and hot-headed ranger, Saturnine Winter places two arms up in attempt to peacefully "block" any incoming escalation - a familiar position for her, given her proclivity for working with men of at-times equal and opposite conviction despite shared purpose.
"Save your Currents for when they are needed, Wild Ones" a soft breeze tangibly exerts a minuscule force upon the chests of both men, not at all unpleasant, as if our Guardian hero were both physically and metaphorically "cooling" their hearts and tempers - indeed, fully cogniscient of the power her strong hands wield, such is her intent - refraining from smiling however until there is, at minimum, a non-verbal cue that both agree to stand down.
Only then does Winter smile once more!
Winter nods to Buzzmark, adding "To either of the abductions that happened in the last couple of weeks , from their one more recently , or yesterday ?"
She turns to Navo "Perhaps you could identify the strange tracks?" and to Vingarren "And speak to any witnesses as a practitioner?" then to Rannan "We will see what can be done" knowing that sometimes when two opposite winds blow together, they combine to form a new zephyr...
"Well, we wouldn't want to pry, but if folks need help..." Buzzmark assures the nervous rancher. "Were there any witnesses?"
Winter nods to Buzzmark, adding "To either of the abductions that happened in the last couple of weeks , from their one more recently , or yesterday ?"
Rannan grimaces and lets out a breath "Well, how I hear it no one directly saw any of the folk go missing, just noticed them gone. That even goes for Hektril, Nema's husband. He's right messed up I hear. But if you want to hear from those closest then Hektril is at their horse clinic to the east, and Etendon's parents are likely herding up in those hills there. Oh and Evan here mentioned that it sounds like Litrial and Ruiha are out looking for clues at Lieraka and Maredine's place up behind the village. Litrial is Lieraka's brother." and he points in the direction of each place.
Then turning to face Vingarren he continues, "But the other person you could talk to is our local priestess of Zon Kuthon, Teflar. She's been out searching around the plains for a bit since folk started going missing. You'll find her up at the Midnight Lord's shrine up on the hill." and he waves towards a low black building on a nearby hillside.
Then he frowns "Now I don't need to tell your minister here, but mind how you go around her though, Zon-Kuthon is the patron deity of Nidal, and your actions in the village could have consequences for everyone who lives here yeah."
Navo looks around the area described by Rannan and checks the 'strange tracks' mentioned.
Rannan coughs, looking startled at the question "Well, umm she arrived maybe six months ago. We'd been without a priest for a while before that. It might, ah, be best to ask her about the congregation. And she has been out searching for that scarecrow thing a bit from what I have heard."