Duhlrandir Chapter 2

Artenen

Artenen

House of the Rising Sun
Staff member
Lifetime Member
Gold
22
Silver
195
XP
12,435
*** This is the continuation of the chapter one, the longest journey***

**Chapter 2: "Building the Dream"**

The sun's golden hue painted the horizon as Artenen, with the deed clutched firmly in hand, looked out over the vast expanse that was now his. Beside him, Rachel, along with her trusted beasts — Julian, Ari, the unnamed owl, and the vigilant Epona — shared his wonder at the beauty of their newfound homeland.

Their land was uniquely enchanting, boasting a breathtaking view, fertile grounds, and a mysterious cave concealed behind a waterfall. The cave held memories of their recent adventure, where they confronted the shadowy serpent and found the enigmatic fortune mirror. And now, this cave, filled with its mystic aura, was part of their domain.

Their immediate need, however, was shelter. Though they had grand plans, as discussed with Elara, the renowned architect of Dorian Cove, they knew that creating their dream haven would be a monumental task.

They decided to begin with a modest dwelling on a sea cliff overlooking the vast ocean, just a short distance from the cave's entrance. Artenen enlisted the help of local craftsmen from Dorian Cove, but skilled labor was scarce. As a result, the process was slow, and it took an entire month of rigorous work to erect a basic, yet sturdy home made of timber and thatch.

Each evening, after a day's toil on their land, they would return to the village of Dorian Cove for rest. The town offered them comfort and community, a place to rejuvenate before another day of hard work.

Finally, after weeks of perseverance, their cliffside home stood complete. It was simple, yet it was theirs, built with dedication and love. The view from its windows showcased the endless ocean and the mystical cave's entrance.
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One evening, the sun's last golden rays touching their nearly finished dwelling, Artenen and Rachel sat, cherishing the moment. They had the beginnings of their dream, each other's company, the loyalty of their animals, and a land brimming with potential. The horizon looked promising.
 
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Rachel feels as though she is at perfect union with existence. A peaceful sigh escapes her and she dreamily sips her tea. Her mind's eye wanders, reaching for the future that is truly theirs.

She lets it soar beyond herself, embracing the freedom that it's been aching for. She becomes the land, the water, the breezes. A smile plays across her face as she huddles next to Brother Aeolus.
 
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As the months rolled by, Artenen and Rachel devoted themselves to populating their vast estate with skilled builders and craftsmen from all around. The cave, which held memories both wondrous and terrifying, was fortified with a massive gate. This entrance was further secured by several doors, each equipped with distinct locks, each more intricate than the last.

To deter the curious and protect their secret, Artenen spun tales of restless spirits haunting the grounds. According to his stories, these spirits were deeply protective of their domain and did not take kindly to the intrusion of mortals. While these tales held a kernel of truth based on their personal experiences within the cave, neither Artenen nor Rachel truly comprehended the events of that fateful day.

Now, their ventures into the cave were solely to mine gold, but they always stopped well before reaching the depths where the unexplained, luminous light gleamed. The true nature of the cave and its secrets remained an enigma to them both.
 
Artenen stands atop a hill, looking out over the expanse of their newfound territory. The sea's gentle waves crash rhythmically on the nearby coast, and the calls of distant birds create a tranquil symphony. As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over everything, he turns to Rachel with a contemplative expression.

"These lands, so rich in beauty and promise, deserve a name befitting their majesty," he muses. "Rachel, you have an innate connection with this place. What does your heart suggest we call our home?"
 
Rachel ponders deeply, before whispering a name spoken only among the wise ones of her past:

"Duhlrandir"

"In Human tongue it is said to mean "Melody of the Spirit."
 
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"She then opens her own journal and sets about making a rough sketch of a sort of crest. Rachel's Ruby Scepter and Artenen's crystal -tipped Lance intersect in the skies above the settlement.*
 
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Each day, I labor tirelessly, gathering the essential resources needed to establish the quarry that will forge the walls of our burgeoning land, Duhlrandir. My muscles ache and my hands bear the marks of hard work, but the vision of our future stronghold, secure and magnificent, drives me forward. The quarry, with its rich stone, is the foundation upon which our dreams will be built, stone by stone.
 
As the days pass, Artenen, amidst his tireless endeavors, often finds himself in the clutches of sleepless nights. His thoughts are persistently drawn to the enigmatic depths of the cave on their land. The curiosity about what lies further within its shadowy recesses gnaws at him, an unsolved mystery that haunts his quieter moments. Despite the tangible progress on their land, the cave’s secrets remain a silent, yet ever-present call, beckoning for exploration and understanding.
 
*Rachel works side by side with Brother Aeolus as she toils in Duhlrandir's orchards and farmlands. Stalks of golden wheat and corn reach for the warn sun. Hearty fruits and vegetables drink deep of the cold fresh water that runs from the river.


Though her hands harden with calluses to the point of bleeding and her feet burn with soreness, her familiars are the only ones to hear her complaints.

However, after one particularly long day, when Epona carries her from the fields, Something more becomes apparent. Shades of early night blanket the land as the stars dot the higher reaches of the firmament and the moon looms over the horizon. Rachel takes note of a sudden piercing ache in her heart. Julian's ears twitch and the two owls scan the sea ahead.

"Epona, hurry!

The mare's gait switches immediately from a slow and careful clip-clop to a serious gallop as her mistress fights to stay in the saddle. Within minutes, they reach the cottage.

Rachel, her feet tender, chest aching and head swirling, hobbles in the door and collapses onto her bed.
 
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As dusk settled over Duhlrandir, Rachel observed an unusual phenomenon. From the sea's horizon, dark beams, like elongated shadows cast by an unseen source, stretched across the sky. These were not the gentle gradients of twilight but stark, almost tangible streams of darkness that seemed to taint the evening's calm with an ominous presence. The stars and moon above appeared to flicker and wane in their light as these beams momentarily brushed over them, hinting at a disturbance in the natural balance of day and night.

Months before, while perusing the local history, Artenen came across an ancient scroll detailing a cataclysmic event. It spoke of a time when a rock from the heavens fell here, a fiery harbinger that wrought devastation upon the land. With its descent, it carried an otherworldly darkness, a shadow that lingered long after the flames had died. The scroll marked the return of this darkness with a cyclical dread, appearing every sixth fortnight, emerging when the tides pulled back to their lowest ebb, as if the sea itself retreated from the darkness that encroached upon the land. This piece of history, once just a tale from the past, now resonated with a chilling familiarity as the dark beams Rachel observed hinted at the ancient legends being more than mere stories.
 
Artenen sensed the ominous beams as well, casting an unsettling glow as dusk settled over the land. He observed Rachel's hasty ride toward her cabin and, with a sense of urgency tinged by concern, he decided to follow. Leaving instructions for his crew to pack up the day's work, he made his way across the burgeoning fields of Duhlrandir, following the path that Rachel had taken. The weight of the day's toil fell from his shoulders, replaced by a mounting worry for his companion. As he approached her cabin, the last light of day gave way to the encroaching night, and he quickened his pace, eager to ensure that Rachel was safe.

Artenen arrived at Rachel's cabin, his concern deepening with the growing darkness around. He knocked on the door, a firm and rhythmic rap that cut through the silence of the night.

"Rachel, are you alright?"

he called out, his voice laced with a mix of worry and the need for reassurance that she was safe inside.
 
*Rachel tries to answer, but the pain in her chest and head render her mute. By the time she opens the door, she can barely hold herself up.


Tears pool on the edge of her wide, round eyes. Artenen reads the fear in them immediately.

Rachel swoons. Everything feels unbalanced. She collapses into the arms of her Brother and falls comatose as unseen burn marks bleed strange dark poison. *


Julian's eyes pierce Artenen's. *

"The Scar of Silence! She's been marked!"

*The dark poison begins swirling, forming letters that spell out and ominous message;

HER NAME WILL SOON BE CALLED, IN THE NAME OF THE NETHER REAM! SURRENDER!!!!!
 
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Artenen's arms instinctively catch Rachel as she collapses. The strange, dark residue on her skin does not escape his notice. He carefully wipes the substance into a cup for analysis and swiftly carries the unconscious Rachel to the newly appointed healer in Duhlrandir, hoping for answers and a remedy.
 
*healer Master Ealdwine story - Legend has it that he hails from the enigmatic Isle of Aethra, a place shrouded in fog and rich with ancient knowledge of healing and alchemy. Master Ealdwine was seeking the elusive nocturnal ember crabs, whose shells were said to possess potent curative properties, when fate led Artenen to him. As they conversed, Artenen's vision of Duhlrandir captivated Master Ealdwine, who saw a chance to contribute to a grand endeavor and apply his life's work. In gratitude for his commitment, a spacious healer's hut was erected, with ample room for his vials, tomes, and the rare ingredients he would need to tend to the well-being of their burgeoning community.*
 
Artenen carefully laid Rachel down on the sturdy wooden table that served as the healer's primary workspace. Master Ealdwine, with his practiced hands, took samples of the dark substance, examining its consistency and scent, and then proceeded to perform the tests known to the medieval healers of the time: observing the color and smell of her blood, the nature of her pulse, and the patterns made by the poison on her skin.

He worked silently, methodically grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle, consulting ancient, leather-bound tomes, and occasionally pausing to murmur an incantation or two. The lines on his face deepened as he worked, casting him in a grave light. The flickering candlelight only accentuated the seriousness that had settled over his features, hinting at the severity of Rachel's condition.
 
Master Ealdwine moved with urgency, retrieving a jar of leeches from his vast array of shelves. With deliberate care, he placed the writhing creatures onto the burn marks where the dark poison manifested on Rachel's skin. The leeches immediately began to work, attaching themselves with their tiny, toothed mouths, drawing out the tainted blood in an effort to cleanse the poison from her system.

The old healer watched closely, his brow furrowed in concentration, as the leeches swelled with the infected blood, their bodies expanding as they extracted the venom that coursed through Rachel's veins. It was a grim but necessary procedure, harking back to ancient healing practices that believed in balancing the humors of the body. Artenen could only stand by, hoping that this old wisdom would be enough to save his friend.
 
As the leeches fed on the poisoned blood, a strange and alarming transformation occurred. They began to darken as if the very darkness of the poison was manifesting on their bodies. Then, inexplicably, they swelled to an unnatural size, their bodies distended far beyond what was typical. And most astonishing of all, small, membranous wings sprouted from their backs, fluttering weakly at first but growing stronger with each passing moment.

Master Ealdwine, despite his vast experience, stepped back in disbelief, never before having witnessed such an occurrence. The room filled with a tense air, with only the sound of the leeches' new wings beating softly in the otherwise silent space. Artenen watched in both horror and fascination, wondering what sort of dark magic had taken hold of these simple creatures of healing.
 
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