The Tome of Exalted Ponies

The live wire stylist whips the shit out of his soup with two whips at once, for great justice.

…

The court of the twin lords of the Gossamer Stockade became very quiet, as it bore witness to Speaker not only healing and restoring the hollow husk of a dream-eaten convict pony, only to see this criminal – a mare who had repeatedly stolen from a gem transport, as well as having violently assaulted and killed several transport guards – drop to the ground in the deepest of sleep the instant her mind returned to her.

Of course, that was only the first part of Speaker’s ‘trick’: For he then leapt into the dream of the pony, and remade the pony’s dream into a most fantastical and epic dream, one truly worthy of the first age, leaping out of the pony’s dreams again to great applause… and then stunning everyone by drawing the dream out and storing it effortlessly in a dreamcatcher. Dozens of changelings got to have a sniff at the dream, all of them thoroughly impressed and dazzled by the rarity and exotic qualities of this most exquisitely artisanal dream…

“None in this court have ever witnessed a pony so effortlessly perform a reaping… much less one that doesn’t seem to harm the pony” Plestara said, descending from her throne and approaching Speaker, her wooden form like that of a beautiful but living wooden sculpture, carved and polished as if living art.

Obsidian Wave in turn beheld Speaker from his throne, looking at the pony intently with more than eyes – with organs and senses that only changelings had, speaking quite quizzically: “…and yet we sense no graces from you, no feeding maws. This is not how ponies nor changelings work – it is impossible, doesn’t fit the narrative”

“We are solars – and in ancient times the solar host did the impossible on a daily basis. I practice a martial art that lets me master dreams, to grant or take them from others” Speaker stated proudly, feeling quite satisfied with his truthful boast.

Many other changelings in the court found this display endlessly interesting – and the circle thus found itself in the good graces of the court, as trade deals were arranged on behalf of both Chung Do and Sunhill, and special deals for Speaker to come and create dreams of supernatural potency in willing subjects that were about to pay their dream tax, in exchange for a fortune in subsequently spun gossamer.

During the long evening the circle also learned that the gossamer stockade was attacked at least half a dozen times a year, the greedy warlords of the hundred kingdoms often having a go at their outer wall to raid them for their wealth, or to conquer them outright. With that in mind, the circle in turn informed the changeling court of the development in Gem: The demon invasion, the effective loss of Gem’s gemstone mines – and that once that became common knowledge, then the gossamer stockade would become an even more prized target.

“That’s terrible – the attacks on our walls are a big enough drain on our resources. When exactly did this demonic invasion take place?” Plestara burst out, her mouth opening so quickly that flecks of bark and splinters came off her.

Shimmer put the invasion at a few months prior, noting that the circle hadn’t heard anything new about it since then: “…but considering the economic value of Gem, then I can only imagine that most of the south would rally and send their combined armies to reclaim the place”

“Oh sure – and then they can start fighting over it themselves. It’ll be a very long time until Gem stabilizes enough for production to resume – but it will likely also be at least a season or so until news of Gem has organically spread this far” Fire Orchid pointed out, knowing well enough through her military education how most of the major powers in the south truly did not like each other, so sharing information was slow in the region.

In the end the court of the twin lords thanked the circle for both the marvellous entertainment, the quite useful information, as well as the promise of future trade in dreams and other strange things, including a signed contract for a later downpayment for a light rail pillar – once the Sunhill network expanded that far north-east.

A few days later, once everything had been tallied and trade deals had been committed to paper and signed, the circle flew off from Green Keep.

Once well out of earshot of the changelings, the circle discussed their experience in the strange land. The very idea of changelings and mortals living peacefully side by side… it was strange – and while they had all seen things that could be improved upon, then it was difficult to dismiss what they had seen outright. Cash found the idea of lords that cared not of monetary taxes, who let their people prosper freely, quite nice. Sunrise similarly found that the changelings let their wards worship freely – indeed, they forbade the direct worship of changelings, for the twin lords used their dream tax to also keep their changeling minions in line, by ensuring that they controlled the only supply of gossamer and dreams in the land.

Of course, deep discussions on the philosophy of magical and novel governance could only last for so long, until the seemingly endless jungle of the deep eastern everfree forest appeared to sicken… to rot… and yet it stood tall and fruitful.

“That… that simply doesn’t look right” Cash said, heaving at Nah’s reigns to make the yeddim stop.

It was surprisingly easy to spot, the rough border where healthy jungle yielded to a rotting and mouldy canopy. In some places enormous tree-sized mushrooms grew, while in other places it was possible to see rotting fruits growing on rotting trees – it was a strange sight, to put it mildly, even more so as Shimmer and Sully pointed out that the shadowland beneath the rotting canopy sounded as if full of ‘life’.

Landing, it turned out that this ‘life’ was… anything but living – and yet it didn’t take long before Shimmer and Sully had spotted an undead wild dog and its recently ‘born’ undead puppies, already rotting with skin peeling off them, yet they were undeniably alive and aware of their surroundings…

This was beyond grotesque.

“How? This is… this is so wrong” Shimmer said, holding a disgusting undead puppy up for the rest of the circle to see.

Too nauseous to reply, Speaker couldn’t give Shimmer an answer, despite her inquiring eyes. Sunrise stepped in, her considerable sorcerous lore granting her the insight into the effects of strong elemental essence exposure: “Shimmer, consider where we are: We’re very close to the elemental pole of wood – there is so much life-giving wood essence here, that even in a shadowland, the dead live… sort of”

Shimmer grimaced at the undead puppy, before pitting it down on the ground and shooing it back towards its ‘mother’. Oh, this was going to haunt her so much, for sure.

Making camp, the circle sent out Sully to scout the area. Their plan was still to only scout the Noss Fens, not to make the same ‘mistake’ they had done at Thorns… sure, they had been able to defeat The Mask of Winters pretty quickly there, but they knew damn well that they couldn’t rely on being lucky again.

It also didn’t help that they knew full well that the Dowager of the Irreverent Vulgate in Unrent Veils had been at Thorns – so she knew of them – which no doubt meant that she was preparing for them.

Sully returned later that evening, finding Shimmer having set up a camp in the jungle treetops. Using her essence-webbing, she had created a sturdy foundation of interwoven branches, vines and thick jungle leaves. Speaker had equally built a lovely wooden lodge on top of that for the circle to stay in.

“So… found anything interesting?” Cash wondered, sensing that Sully had something to tell.

Unloading the wild fruits, nuts and exotic far-eastern vegetables he had foraged while out on his foray, Sully sat down and began to peel, slice, mash and otherwise process his haul into pots and pans he drew in from elsewhere: “I found several villages dotted around the shadowland – strange ones too… little to no signs of mutations, despite being so close to the pole of wood”

Perking up at the mention of locals he could talk to, Cash got up: “Oh, you think they know anything?”

“Probably – I only observed them from afar, and only briefly while I circled the shadowland”
Sully noted, having already finished dinner.

One scrumptious meal later, the circle agreed to seek out the nearest of these villages in the morning for more information. You couldn’t live on the edge of a jungle shadowland without knowing something about what happened in there – or at least what might come out from there.

During the night heavy rains partially inundated the area, the thick jungle dirt too dense with tangles of roots to let the water seep down further. The hut that the circle slept in held just fine, but it was a rather noisy bit of nighttime weather.

Indeed, the next morning the circle sallied out, led by Sully. Shimmer took careful note of the local wildlife, spotting signs of local predators and the few gore-trails they could find, which hinted of undead creatures wandering the area.

“This village… this… this is wrong” Cash said, as the circle entered the small clearing ringed with simple wooden huts thatched with wide jungle leaves. The locals kept their distance, looking quite fearful of the strangers suddenly in their midst.

Sunrise looked around curiously, not quite sure of what Cash meant – but trusting his judgement, and adding her own observation: “Probably, and I’m not seeing anything that looks like a shrine for local gods or spirits, and there’s nothing that looks like a graveyard or site for funeral pyres”

It made complete sense that the priestess had first looked for places of faith and burial rites – it was also a rather worrying observation that this place had neither, for it was well known that even jungle tribes would make deals with local spirits. The circle had already seen the ‘naturally spawned’ undead in the area, but Speaker quickly noted that there weren’t any undead villagers among the local population.

“True… and you know what I’m not seeing either? There are no old ponies here – not even young adults… and they all look sickly and miserable” Shimmer pointed out, having expected to see some elders running the place and coming out to check on the strangers that had arrived, but seeing none.

Cash stepped forth, using charms to call upon the attention of the villagers – denying them the chance to hide or run away. Forced to confront the strangers, a weary adolescent mare, with a young foal clinging to her side, approached. She spoke a tribal tongue unlike anything Shimmer anyone in the circle had ever heard, but Cash’s charms let him be understood by anyone.

The introductions that followed quickly turned awkward, as the villagers appeared to have absolutely no idea of the world around them. Cash quickly ended the conversation, turning to the circle: “They keep asking if we’re from ‘great mother’ and if we’re here for the harvest… and I really do not like how they say harvest”

Sully agreed, saying that his profiling charms were telling him that the villagers appeared to be eyeing up the circle and trying to gauge how easy they’ll be to kill: “….you know, for the harvest”

“So that’s how they stay alive – they give the Dowager a tithe of corpses to stay in her good graces” Sunrise said, letting out a resigned sigh at the thought of what malevolent cruelty and madness that was needed to engineer such a horrible society.

Everyone in the circle agreed, with Speaker noting that it looked as if they would have to completely redo the village if they wanted useful information out of them – mainly so they wouldn’t start trying to kill the circle.

“Redo the village? Shimmer wondered, not sure if she liked how that sounded.

Shrugging, Speaker looked around at the crude huts and the muddy paths that the villagers trod around in: “Undo the mental corruption, teach them how to live properly – this place is a mess, even with so much food and life in the jungles around them. We’ll basically have to start over with them”

Shimmer balked at the idea, for it sounded like some of the projects that Sage had taught her about back during her training as a lunar…. And Sage had said that such projects would usually take years. This simple reconnaissance mission was spiralling out of control already… it was just like Thorns!

Seeing Shimmer’s apprehension, Sunrise quickly intercepted the Lunar and pointed out a few things: “Look, it’s not like we have to start from scratch. These villages know how to cook food and clothe themselves – they can even fashion simple huts, that much is clear. We can build on that, to guide them in a better direction, and then they can spread that knowledge to the neighbouring villages. Speaker can teach some of them how to make better huts, Sully how to forage for better food, and Cash can organize it all – we’ll be done in a week or two, tops”

It was truly miraculous. By lunchtime the circle was in full swing giving the villagers a great boon of knowledge on how to fashion better huts that would keep local insects out, what kind of herbs and locally sourced remedies would work for medicines, and there was a delicious smell of many exotic fruit stews and roast pig wafting through the village. The villagers were all in good health, for the first time in the living memory of the place, and they were even smiling.

Shimmer had tried to help out where she could – but lacking the linguistic charms of Cash, she couldn’t really talk to the villagers, nor did she have any training charms that could teach useful skills, so she had been relegated to hunting for local jungle pigs and felling trees for firewood.

The Lunar’s frustration wasn’t lost on the circle, Sully at one point taking a break from teaching the villagers new cooking techniques to talk to Speaker, who was similarly on break from teaching the villager’s basic medicine: “Is she ok?”

“I think so – but once we’re done here, I suspect that she’ll want some alone time to learn some new skills and charms. She hasn’t really had time to develop her powers since I found her, and I would be lying if I can’t see her resentment…” Speaker mused.

Sully nodded, the large angular orichalcum mask he wore hiding his expression – yet perfectly conveying his agreement: “It’s funny how that’s switched around – I remember feeling the same towards her back before Deep Rot”

By that evening, the village… it looked almost the same – but there were subtle differences. Drainage ditches had been dug, making the paths within the village less muddy as rain-water finally had somewhere to go. Similarly, then many of the crude huts had been reinforced with new timbers and much better thatch, plus proper flooring had been added in most of them. It wasn’t much, but it was a good start, and the villagers had been taught how to take it even further, as spots for proper wells to be dug had even been selected.

With all of these gifts given, the circle in turn found itself much more freely given information in return: “When Great Mother comes for the harvest, she raises us within the fens. When we get too old, she sends us back to rebuild and await her return”

As Cash Translated, the rest of the circle didn’t quite know what to make of what they were being told. The village adults, if they could even be called that – the oldest among them were younger than Sunrise, only barely old enough to have had their first foals – were strangely reluctant to say what had happened to their elders, to their parents.

Of course, Cash’s charms of social deduction and intrigue-detection quickly had him sus out the dirty secret: Apparently the Dowager didn’t as much exact a tithe of corpses, as she simply came and collected all the children… and killed anyone she deemed too old.

“So that’s what they meant by the Dowager raising them in the fens… because she murders their parents and kidnaps them, then releases them back to repeat the cycle. That’s demented” Shimmer said as she despaired, having found the Mask of Winter’s operation in Thorns a lot easier to understand – an evil ghost warlord having conquered a place and slowly extracting souls, corpses and valuables from it, while the Dowager’s continuous harvest of children from these villages full of innocents made no sense what so ever, being so incredibly slow and inefficient.

The circle agreed with Shimmer, Sunrise hypothesizing that it might be to create some kind of perfect society or candidate that doesn’t value life: “They certainly seemed quite resigned to their early deaths”

With the village gathered for the feast, and all of them eating the finest meal in their life – if not the first actually good meal in their life – the villagers took little heed of the circle speaking softly about them in a strange language.

“Could be. They all spoke so well about their experiences under the Dowager’s care… it sounds so creepy” Cash remarked, not quite sure what to make of what the villagers were saying.

Sullen Hoof pointed out one aspect of the kidnappings the rest of the circle hadn’t considered: “Do remember the Shoat. That little filly was far too comfortable with killing… I think the Dowager keeps these villages around to keep a supply of candidates for her lone deathknight”

Shimmer reiterated her point that she found such a practice incredibly wasteful and frankly insane.

The next day, the circle woke up in the village with renewed vigour and drive to thwart the Dowager… for to visit such endless and needless suffering upon innocents was beyond reproach.

From atop their flying yeddim, the circle beheld the shadowland. Rotting jungle or not, the Noss Fens were completely covered in foliage – making it damn near impossible to get a read on the landscape… and the circle knew from the village they had spoken to, that the Dowager’s base of operations was underground.

“We… will need to clear all of this away. The jungle canopy is blocking my essence sight, so I can’t pinpoint where the geo-mantic centre of the shadowland is” Sunrise said, noting that cleaning up the shadowland was a big part of shutting down the Dowager’s operation.

Pulling at the reigns of Nah, Cash agreed: “True, but clearing this much jungle… this far east? That’s damn near impossible. The trees grow as fast as you can cut them down”

“Can’t we talk to the local gods of the jungle? I was taught back east that the fastest way to wrap up a kelp forest is to get the god overseeing it to cooperate” Shimmer suggested, recalling what she had been taught about divine hierarchies.

Speaker put a kind hoof on Shimmer’s shoulder: “That’s probably our best shot – but this far east such gods would be very powerful from all the local essence and not inclined to cooperate. Our only real hope is to get orders from on high to force these jungle gods to obey us”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen Speaker, asking a jungle god to erase part of its jungle domain would simply be unacceptable to it” Sunrise pointed out.

Stroking his long bear, Speaker nodded as he retrieved something from elsewhere: “Oh that is true – but I got a celestial writ from the very god of gardening a couple of year ago…”

Cash quickly snatched the celestial scroll and read its contents; his eyes going wide: “How in the six shaven nutsacks of Malfeas did you get this?”

“I shat myself quite furiously in his office – he appreciated my offering of fresh manure” Speaker said, quickly going from sounding clever to sounding somewhat uncomfortable at recalling the events that led up to him getting the writ.

Shimmer vaguely recalled what Speaker spoke of – but couldn’t quite remember it… but she none the less found herself nodding: “Lord Bright is right – but isn’t it just for a gardening tool?”

Closely reading the writ, Cash nodded: “True. Speaker, we’ll have to think for a bit to figure out what exactly we should ask for here”

“I was thinking we ask for a ‘tool’ that could clear a large swath of far-eastern jungle in one go, and replace it with a flat plain of grass that will keep itself mowed” Speaker said, having already thought about what to ask.

The circle was at first dubious on whether something that broad-reaching could be requested via the writ, but Cash said that the writ was specifically for a god-tier grade gardening tool: “…so I think it’ll do it”

Some quick but elegant calligraphy from Cash, following Speaker’s instructions for the wording, with Sunrise conjuring a messenger spell to deliver the writ, left the circle simply waiting until their heavenly gardening tool arrived.

Just as the circle was about to settle in on Nah to wait for the heavenly gardening tool, Shimmer perked up – her catlike senses having picked up… nothing – but that was just it: there should have been something: “It’s quiet down there”

Looking over the size of the howdah, Speaker wasn’t quite sure what Shimmer was talking about: “What is it?”

“Oh Lord Bright – it’s the birds down at the village we were at… they’ve all gone quiet” Shimmer said, noted, sounding unsure of whether it was even worth mentioning.

Cash instantly pulled the reigns of Nah, the great yeddim letting out a deep rumbling groan, as it began to accelerate towards the village: “Everyone, get ready for a fight!”

Sunrise, holding on to the howdah for dear life, cried out: “What’s gotten into you? What are we going down?”

“What Shimmer said: No birdsong down in the area – it didn’t make sense at first, but then I remember an odd detail the villagers had said: Their own childhood harvest was preceded by a great quiet” Cash shouted back, the onrushing wind making it difficult, but not impossible to hear him, plus he was using charms to make everyone got what was he was saying.

“Hold on – weren’t we here to scout out the Dowager, not engage her directly?” Speaker said, not sure if the others could hear him.

The lack of a reply probably either meant that the rest of the circle had not heard him, or that they were all down for coming to the aid of the villagers. Speaker was all for saving the villagers too – he was mainly just worried about engaging a deathlord without doing proper prep-work… oh well, time to put on the fearlessness charm – and probably also his shaping, disease and poison immunity charms.

Approaching the village like a comet of sunfire, the circle was not subtle as it burst through the jungle canopy, Sunrise having clambered up upon the head of Nah’s head, her anima flared to the fullest.

With Cash’s expert use of riding charms, he was able to make the giant yeddim fly in at a blazing speed – yet come to the gentles halt, just as the circle leapt off to find a gruesome standoff.

One of the young adolescent mothers in the village stood cornered by her hut, with her young foal trying to hide between her legs, as an enormous and deformed old crone was bearing down on them.

The knew full well that powerful old ghosts, be they deathlords or not, could manipulate the form they took when they appeared in Creation – they were only essence after all, not a physical body – so that the deathlord appeared as such didn’t phase them much.

Sunrise roared forth, her charms projecting a mental stranglehold on all who could see and hear her to focus their attention on her: “Dowager – cease your harvest! This village is under our protection!”

The crone, easily three times the normal size of a pony, and with limbs that seemed to alternate between bloated and skeleton-thin, seemed to briefly fight her own body as it tried to turn to face Sunrise – it was clear that her mind wasn’t interested in obeying, but such was the power of Sunrise’s essence.

“You dare corrupt my gardens and adulterate my crops?” the old crone said to the circle, turning – one fetid limb at a time, to face them all.

Fire Orchid, seeing absolutely no reason to prolong what looked to be the inevitable, did two things: She stepped up in front to address the crone, but also subtly communicated through a body-language charm to Shimmer that she should quickly run off and round up the villagers and toss them in her elsewhere den, otherwise they might get caught in the fighting.

Her address to the crone was as bold as it was honest: “Oh Dowager of the Irreverent Vulgate in unrent veils, this is no longer a place for you for harvest – remove yourself from this place and leave these ponies be, or know that our harsh words heralds a precipitation of blades and salt!”

Craning her neck, the crone laughed at the circle, as the jungles behind her became alive with zombies crawling out of the bushes and revealing themselves from the undergrowth: “I am the untamed Kethet of the swarm… who are you to dictate terms to me? Did you think I came here alone? I am but here to claim what is rightfully mine – your interference here is neither lawful nor sensical”

“Claim what’s yours? You said we was good! You said we could leave when we grew up! You said we was good! You said so! You said we was free!” the villager mother shouted at the Dowager in her very simple and rudimentary tribal tongue, clearly agitated at the Dowager’s attempt to kidnap her daughter who was barely able to stand up on her own.

The dowager laughed, her body snapping and cracking as her form realigned from that of an old crone to a great and mighty form, the sort one might imagine when thinking of a giant jungle queen, replete with jewelry of bone and body paint of red and ochre – a bit like Rakshi, only stinking of death: “I never said you were free… I told you to go back, rebuild and multiply – you have never been free…”

Just as the dowager was about to reach for the foal with a dread limb wrought of twisted snakes, a Fire Orchid clad in heavy armor wrought of pure golden essence tackled the deathlord and shouted: “Shimmer, now!”

With essence webbing the two mortals were quickly yanked into an elsewhere den portal, inside of which the two were safely caught in an essence web set up to catch anything thrown in there. The dowager quickly threw Fire Orchid off herself into a nearby hut, opening her mouth to shout… something. An order to her zombies maybe? A battlecry?

Nothing was heard. Nothing at all. For Sunrise had used musical martial arts to render the entire village cloaked in silence – preventing the Dowager from speaking the sorcerous word of ten thousand birds, which would have transformed her into a flock of birds to fly away and make her escape… of course, the Dowager still controlled her zombie minions, so she had them surge out of the jungle to just kill everyone.

The zombies burst into white holy flame, the white fire spreading like a wave into the jungle, as Sunrise’s silent prayer smote the ruin of the undead horde: “For the mighty deathlord who engineered the great contagion, we had expected more”

Sunrise’s voice was impossible to not hear – for it was the only sound audible. Not the burning zombies, not the brief shrieks of villagers as Shimmer zipped around in her warform, snatching ponies left and right and tossing them into her den, not the gnashing of teeth from the increasingly desperate and confused deathlord.

Speaker, having seen the chaos around him but remained quite calm thanks to his fearlessness, had readied his weapon and taken careful aim with both Gift and Homage. He had beheld the Dowager with essence sight, knowing full well that the illusory form she was wearing in no way reflected her true ghostly corpus, and while he couldn’t pierce the illusion then he figured that she would at least have to be as tough as the Mask of Winters, so there was no sense in holding back for an attack on her.

It was thus that Speaker’s anima flared bright and clear as he dumped as much essence into his two weapons as possible, every tiny gear and component of them lighting up with searing golden light from within. He threw them with the precision of a surgeon, his heart crying out of the untold generations of villagers that had been butchered by the Dowager’s mad schemes.

The Dowager clearly saw the attack coming – but seemed powerless to stop it, right until she made a magical gesture at the nearest bunch of zombies, their bodies falling apart and zipping over to her, reassembled in front of her as a great shield wrought of bone and sinew. Gift and Homage both tore and burned at these, but ultimately bounced off, both zipping off as the shield held and deflected them.

With a second gesture, the Dowager had another gaggle of zombies come apart at the seams and clump together as a crude wrecking ball which was instantly launched at Sunrise. The ball crashed into her, knocking her over and disrupting her silencing technique – finally bringing sound back to the village and surrounding jungle.

It was rather loud for that first instant – a thousand jungle trees with leaves all rustling in the wind, and an uncountable horde of zombies trying to encircle and overrun the village.

“That’s my cue” Cash said, stepping up to face the Dowager – but she wasted no time, speaking a single arcane word that saw her form explode into a swarm of small black birds that flew off in an instant. Cash looked somewhat disappointed…

Finally managing to get out of the collapsed hut she had been imbedded in, Fire Orchid stumbled out, looking equally annoyed that the fighting had all but stopped. Sure, there were a few straggler zombies, but they all seemed to be retreating back into the jungle towards the shadowland just as a howling shriek of rage could be heard from within the jungle in the same direction – clearly the Dowager venting her frustration.

“Fire Orchid, could you toss me up onto that tree?” Sunrise requested as she dusted herself off, trying to remove the zombie-goop she had been pelted with.

Not questioning her circlemate, Fire Orchid heaved and tossed Sunrise up into the nearby tree Sunrise had pointed out. Up in the tree, Sunrise looked intensely in towards the shadowland – but Fire Orchid still couldn’t quite make sense of her little scouting effort: “What are you looking for? Did she steal something of yours?”

“No, but the flight of separation spell has a limited range – I’m trying to spot where she… there we go” Sunrise said, inhaling deeply before she roared: “Dowager! You can run and hide, but the lords of Sunhill have come for you! We came for the Barbate Arbiter at Deep Rot, and we came for the Mask of Winters at Thorns – so seek refuge in madness, for you shall find no mercy from us!”

With that bold declaration out of the way, Sunrise jumped back down to the ground – somewhat clumsily, but her shield charms saved her from injury as she faceplanted into the ground.

Shimmer, seeing that the danger of an all-out battle had passed, had already begun letting villagers out of her elsewhere den, and Speaker was working on repairing and cleaning Gift and Homage: It seemed that the undead zombie-shield the Dowager had wrought had thoroughly fouled and gummed up with the two weapons with undead ichors and bone-splinters aplenty.

As the villagers cleaned up from the zombies, and celebrated that they got to live another day, a thankful mother and her foal approached the circle, Cash translating their simple tribal tongue: “I don’t know how to thank you… when she came for me, when I was little… she made me kill my own mother”

The mother began to cry, bawling her eyes out. No translation was needed to understand the trauma she was clearly reliving – though Speaker was quick to employ medical charms to soothe her painful memories and grant her peace of mind.