Sanguinem Verborum Dierum

World of Darkness -- Pax Romana -SPQR- Warduz

Prelude: A Soldier's Mission

The soldier followed a game trail downhill until he found a rocky outcropping that provided comfortable seating with a birds-eye view over the valley as a whole. By the time of his arrival the sun was dipping towards the western horizon. The late afternoon lay in the early springtime, it was unseasonably warm, where there should have been chill breezes and drifts of snow in the blued shadows of the trees.

Instead the air across the valley lay still and warm leaving D'mamael feeling lazy and thoughtful. The long days walk to the valley had also left him hungry and he opened his pack bringing out a few morsels that he had collected at a farmstead a couple of leagues back: a wrinkled autumn apple, some hard goat cheese, a loaf of newly baked bread and a skin of honey wine. This repast he enjoyed as the sun slowly sank into the western hills and twilight spread across the valley.

Relaxed the soldier leaned back against the warm rock outcropping and reflected upon the beginnings of his mission.

He had been summoned to the throne-room. That was highly unusual as most directives from his superiors were carried to him by messengers. The throne-room was unlike anyplace else in the kingdom. The entirety of the room lay below the lowest branches of an enormous tree whose trunk formed the throne itself. Beneath the canopy golden light radiated horizontally from the throne with a brilliance similar to the rising sun. Above the throne-room leaves rustled with a crystalline tinkling that reminded D'mamael of wind chimes and the floor of the chamber lay unseen beneath a knee-deep mist which refracted countless rainbows in the golden light.

D'mamael had shielded his eyes as he strode towards the royal ministers who appeared agitated. They had been speaking in low hushed voices upon his arrival, but had turned as one to show him a unified face, but being so attuned to the fear of others he had detected their collective angst. The most prominent of their number, Mixa'el had handed him the ceremonial leaf of parchment upon which was written the name of his next target. Habitually he would have waited until he was in transit to study his next assignment and upon arriving at his destination preparing his plans in detail. Yet the artfully hidden anxiety of the four highest ministers to the throne made him question what was different this time. He had looked down and scanned the leaf, unconsciously processing what he had seen, and looked back up to see the pensive faces of his superiors.

In something akin to shock, he looked down again, the double-take had revealed two named upon the leaf where there should only have been one. For a moment he was speechless, then dumbfounded by shock he had breached long held etiquette by trying to ask a question. The visages of the royal ministers turned from carefully constructed calm to fury in an instant and he recoiled at their affront. From the beginning, it had been deemed that he did not need to know the reasons why a given name had been assigned to him, his only concern were questions of how his assignment was to be accomplished. Nothing more was required of him beyond obedience and submission to the authority of the throne. Until today he had always had unshakable faith and certainty that his duties were of the utmost necessity and he had found a solace in the perfection of his work.

Looking down again, he studied the names, they're intersection confused his mission and left him feeling uncertain of exactly what he was being asked to do. In the hope of gaining even an iota of understanding from those in power, he had looked once more upon the four highest, but during his distraction they had all turned away from him and were now absorbed in other matters. He took this to be a dismissal and departed.

It had taken him most of the day to reach the appointed location and as always he had arrived early.

In anticipation he studied his surroundings carefully, the lay of the land, and the noteworthy absence of local fauna. He had always been gifted, made for this specific kind of work and while he did not consider himself proud or vain, he did take a professional pride in the perfection of his work.

His senses had always been sharper than his compatriots, and so he did not find it difficult to spot the lone Germanic scout being trailed by four Celts on the far side of the valley near the tree line. He suspected without the aid of any of his special skills that one or both of his targets would be found among these two groups. But the two opposing factions of men were not his first concern as he scanned the valley and the skies around it. He had traveled deep into enemy territory to complete his mission and if he were caught by any of the opposing forces they would show him no mercy. It was possible, perhaps even likely, that they too could sense portentous events unfolding here in the valley even as he searched for their approach.

The possible intervention of one or more opponents made it necessary that he read the flow of upcoming events and prepare accordingly. He had already consulted the pattern once ensuring that he would be at the correct place and time to achieve his mission. Now he would have to delve further into the pattern of events to ensure success, but there was considerable risk in using such a powerful ability, for if it were detected by an enemy then they would know he was here and he would lose the advantage of surprise.

As the sun finished setting, the silence within the valley took on a life of its own and there was a sharp uptick of static in the air that raised the fine hairs on the soldier's arms and face. In preparation for the necessary trance he closed his eyes and assumed the lotus position. Beginning slowly he built up a resonant hum deep in his diaphragm as he breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. He established his hum in the keynote of B with an expression in the audible range and as he increased the intensity of his breathing and muscular contractions, he decreased the frequency of his utterances into the inaudible range.

Ever so slowly his awareness of self spread outwards to the stone upon which he sat, the trees nearby and the small burrowing animals that could not or would not flee the valley. This simple exercise was mere preparation for the next step which was to project his utterances outward over the entire valley and through time. Done correctly, the utterances he released would bounce back to him from a variable distance in space and time to reveal the shape of things to come.

Drawing upon deep reserves of strength he uttered a constant recitation and narrowed the cone of projection as he searched for some impression of use. At first there was little beyond the typical, the movement of air currents, vibrations in the stone and stream nearby, and the movements of the remaining animals in the valley including the tribesmen. As he concentrated he observed the coming conflict between the men on the far side of the valley and its obvious outcome. Yes, one of his targets was among these men, the Teuton who called himself Eisenwolf. His life would be cut short, along with two of his attackers, but because the Celts were not part of his mission he spared no attention for the specifics of their fates.

He found neither signs of his second target nor of any possible opposing agents.

Pressing himself harder, he narrowed the cone of projection further and pushed the utterance lower into the inaudible range. There against the background of the fundamental frequency he observed a rupture that would occur near the geographic center of the valley and in just under an hour. The rupture created a vortex that drew in all nearby matter: air, animals, dust, vegetation and water. It compacted these elements into a very small space in a short amount of time. As a consequence there would be a tremendous release of energy that would leave the valley in tatters, but it would also consolidate that matter into the body of a man, the soldier's second target.

This was useful information, but the soldier still needed to know whether or not the rift had drawn the attention of any enemy combatants.

Drawing on his deepest reserves he narrowed his cone of projection further and dropped his utterance as far as he could. The soldier watched as the sun rose and set twice as events played out before his inner eye. He would acquire both targets, but he would only select one and shepherd the other out of the valley. This was not a question of what might be, but what would be, he had apparently made the decision about which one would live and which one would die. The question that remained was why he had chosen one over the other as neither was a citizen of his kingdom and his targeting of either would be considered poaching by enemy forces.

As exhaustion set in he prepared to terminate his utterance through a series of cooling down exercises when he detected three presences. One was a potent malignancy beyond the rupture's event horizon and he felt watched with a naked if impotent hunger. The second arrived two days hence to inspect the valley and began to track the soldier and the surviving target south out of the valley. The third presence lay some distance to the south of the valley and it was fuzzy and indistinct, as if cloaked or shielded somehow.

Centum Laminas

{The following chronicle was inscribed in classical Latin onto one hundred plates of lead recovered from the Tschamberhöhle Cave by Arzt Gerhard Von Straub of the Deutsches Archäologisches Institut of Berlin in the June of 1890.}

The Sound of Thunder

Consciousness was slow in returning as a powerful numbness left me paralyzed in both body and mind. Smell was the first of my senses to return, it brought with it the raw odor of moist earth, overlaid by the acrid tang of burning greenery and the scent of ozone. Hearing came second for there was both a ringing in my ears and a steady if unfamiliar pounding in my head. As the numbness receded from my flesh it was followed by the sensation of pins and needles in all my extremities and the realization that I lay on my back. A familiar taste, blood, filled my mouth as I tried to open my eyes. At first everything was dark, my eyelids were crusted shut with sleep, but as I blinked it away I saw an unfettered firmament. The cold stars shown brilliantly in a midnight sky and around me there was a constant, but irregular flickering of light. Fire?

My first attempt to sit up was an abject failure for the weakness of my muscles, but I succeeded on my second attempt prompting me to review my surroundings. I lay in an irregular bowl shaped depression about forty feet in radius, patterns of earth and stone radiated out from my resting place, but I could make no sense of what I was seeing. Beyond my immediate surroundings, I perceived a ring of carbonized earth and still burning vegetation and beyond that, the dim impression of a disaster area. I tried to recall how I came to be here, wherever here was, but everything before this moment was a blank.

Despite a few questionable tries, I managed to get to my feet, and I stumbled forward and almost fell for my feet were still numb and the ground here was uneven and unstable. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I realized that it was night, although impossible to tell what time it might be for my watch was missing and so were my clothes. The air was cool and moist, but not frigid, but I would not want to remain outdoors in this weather for long. I hesitated to strike out in any particular direction without some sort of landmark, but the night darkened hills covered in thick forest offered no notion of which way I should go. In the end, I searched the heavens for the North Star, but failed to detect it, but as I searched I noticed a faint flickering of light upon a distant hill and began to make my way there.

I cannot say how long it took me to reach my destination, but as I moved away from the place of my waking, I observed massive devastation. The area in which I had awakened was a flat valley with a stream running off center through it. Once the valley floor must have been covered in long grasses with occasional copses of pine trees, now after whatever cataclysmic event had befallen it, the landscape was very different. The moist dark earth had been burned clean in the immediate area followed by a zone of dwindling fires, and then an area of pulverized debris that reached hundreds of feet to the lowest foothills.

Barefoot and cold, I stopped only to pick up a still burning tree limb saturated in resin to use as a torch. The fire light gave me a sense of safety and the light it provided probably saved me from a critical fall and a broken leg. The lowest level of hills revealed a similar pattern of devastation, with whole copses of trees blown down and all pointed away from the valley as if there had been a large detonation. I was afraid of encountering wild animals, but I need not have worried, for all I found were animal carcasses scattered in the foothills broken and cold.

As I climbed it grew colder, but physical exertion warmed me to a degree, but not enough and my teeth chattered as I walked. Between the cold and a growing exhaustion I began to have doubts of finding shelter and warmth, but then I came over a low rise where the trees still stood straight and beheld a bright flickering of firelight from between a screen of trees. I cautiously abandoned my own torch for fear of giving away my presence to anyone before I understood the nature of the individuals I was about to encounter. Naked and alone in a strange place, my self-confidence was ebbing due to the cold and exhaustion of this miserable trek.

I moved through the underbrush as stealthily as I could. I moved towards the camp from downwind and used the foliage along the riverbank of a nearby stream to mask my approach until I could see the camp clearly. By the light of a campfire built beneath the low-hanging branches of a tall furry pine, I could indistinctly see a man lying on furs and wearing them. He had a bow and sword, but held neither at the moment, instead he appeared to be asleep. In a moment, I made my decision and crept forward on my belly like an animal until I had crawled beneath the large pine's lowest branches which gave me immediate relief from the cold wind, but the bed of pine needles upon which I crawled warmed me not at all and itched fiercely.

As I came around the trunk of the tree I could see the man much more clearly, he was in his middle to late twenties but weather-beaten, an outdoors-man and from his pale complexion and the blood-soaked rags he had wrapped about himself, he was gravely injured. Rising to a crouch, I grabbed both the bow and the sword and moved them out of his reach, as I turned back around I noticed his eyes were open and he was awake. For several long minutes we just stared at each other and then he began to speak. The language he spoke was foreign, perhaps European, possibly German - but it just did not sound right. When speaking to me failed, he gestured towards the fire and an iron-pot, and then tossed me one of his furs. I grabbed up the fur which covered me like a blanket and huddled close to the fire for warmth. All the while I never took my eyes from the injured man as I looked into the pot which held a small amount of water. My hunger and thirst struck me from out of nowhere and I drank all the water in the pot. The man gestured from the pot towards the nearby stream, and picking up the sword which was heavier than I had imagined, I slipped out from beneath the tree and down the slope to the stream's edge.

After I had drunk my fill from the stream, I filled the pot and returned to the injured man, who had not moved as far as I could tell. By the firelight, as I came towards him, I could see he was sweating profusely and his bandages looked in need of changing. I barely touched him and his eyes fluttered open, he gestured for the pot and I helped him drink until he waved me away, in return he threw me a strip of dried meat. I took the pot and set it over the fire to warm and settled myself across the fire from him to eat, the meat was drier than dust and who knew what animal it had come from, but I realized I must be starving because I devoured it quickly. The injured man offered a half-hearted laugh and closed his eyes as he slept in pain.

Eisenwolf

Eisenwolf had been born in the autumn of the year of the Blue Comet to the warrior Adalwolf and his young bride Ishild of the Chatti. A Germanic tribe, the Chatti were loosely related to the Suebi Confederation, but in the last decade they had broken away after hastily severed ties and intermittent conflict with the larger more warlike confederation became a threat to all members of the tribe. The difficulties with the confederation began the year that Eisenwolf was born, and some said it was because the chieftain of the Chatti had refused to kneel before the chieftain of the Suebi, but the old shaman Witold said that blue dust had fallen from the sky in that year and had driven the Suebi mad. Neither Eisenwolf, nor his father before him believed such an inexplicable thing. But where the Otherworld was concerned, who could really know for sure?

Eisenwolf had been his parents first child and he had been both cunning and hardy, he had always assumed he had gotten his intelligence from his mother for his father had not been much of a thinker and a little short of temper with his wife and children. Eisenwolf had taken to the wilds early to avoid his father's temper and found that he had a gift for hunting and tracking.

After the initial troubles with the Suebi Confederation, the tribal elders had decided to search for new lands far from the Suebi and for most of Eisenwolf's childhood they had been nomadic. Only in the last few years had the tribe settled in a new location they called Mattium, but new challenges presented themselves almost immediately when nearby Celtic tribes began to plunder the smaller settlements which in turn triggered many vendettas. There were now no less than three blood-feuds with the Celts and in the last year forerunners of a large Suebi army had entered their territory. Which was why Eisenwolf had found himself scouting the southern mountains close to the Rhine.

Perhaps it was just bad luck that Eisenwolf had encountered a Celtic raiding party, never much of a believer in the gods, Eisenwolf loosed two arrows into the first two Celts and had barely drawn his sword when two more closed with him. The encounter had occurred at the tree-line, and Eisenwolf injured and badly wounded had already made peace with a warrior's death when there came a blinding flash of light in the valley below and a moment later a deafening roar of wind.

When Eisenwolf awoke, he lay upon the ground, half buried in a pile of broken wood and loose stones and there was no sign of his attackers, nor of their dead. From the pain and all the blood, he knew his wounds were mortal and that he would never see his family, friends or tribesmen again. Eisenwolf was not a young man, he had seen twenty-six winters, was married and had children of his own and understood the taking of life and its loss. What he found most difficult was that he should die alone, without even a chronicle of his deeds or the chance to say goodbye to his beautiful wife and the children they had made together.

Rather than dwell on the inevitable, Eisenwolf began to crawl towards his encampment up along the nearest ridge, like a broken animal he dragged himself to the shelter of his camp. And there beneath a great fir-tree he built a fire and tried to clean his wounds, there were herbs for the pain, but even with bandages he was losing too much blood.

Somewhere after nightfall, he slept for a time and when he woke there was a naked boy of ten or eleven winters watching him. Eisenwolf's sword and bow lay beyond his reach, but he knew that did not matter anymore for he would not see the dawn. He no longer felt fear or even regret, but he suffered a terrible thirst and so he asked the boy for water, but the child knew none of the languages he spoke and so he simply gestured. Naked, the boy clearly was not a member of any local tribe, be they Celt or Teuton or else something untoward had befallen those who should have cared for him. By way of decency, Eisenwolf threw the boy a pelt with which to warm himself.

Clearly intelligent, the lad took off in the direction of the nearby stream and had the prudence to take Eisenwolf's sword, but he would be a few years more growing into the strength necessary to wield it properly. Then the boy was back and help Eisenwolf drink his fill from the iron-pot. Afterwards the boy settled himself across the fire from Eisenwolf who threw the lad some dried elk and watched him eat with a relish so similar to his own sons.

Soon thereafter, Eisenwolf was plagued by fever and chills, which wracked him alternatingly. More herbs took away the pain and brought fitful sleep pierced by strange dreams. Sometime during the night, he woke needing to relieve himself and noticed the boy slumbered. Eisenwolf would have punished his own sons for sleeping in enemy territory, but the boy would need his sleep to confront tomorrow's challenges, and the lightening strike and terrible storm that followed it had driven all potential enemies away for now.

The Germanic warrior watched the boy sleep and wondered whether he might eventually carry word of Eisenwolf's fate to the Chatti or if his bones would rot beneath this fur tree forever. In the cold hour before dawn he slept again never to wake. But as Eisenwolf had acknowledged before, one could not guess at the wonders associated with the Otherworld and the enigmatic twisting of fate.

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