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[Solanaceae]

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“Should take a few more days to finish the second floor walls. By then the windows we ordered from Heartwood should have reached the drop point.”

Gizam shouted over the sound of sawing that echoed throughout the house, reaching even into the cellar where she and Solanaceae stood.

Solanaceae nodded politely, even though it had taken great effort to catch the jyst of what was being explained over the noise. It had been nearly five days since the Herald had generously offered her the sanctuary in northern Malas, and she was beginning to regret making such large changes to the cosmetic and physical appearance of the manor house. The din of the work being done there was often deafening, and a dedicated worker, Lady Red Bear often worked long into the evening. Solanaceae was inpatient to move her things into the place.

“So, you planning to sell your place near Umbra?” Daji’s voice got louder mid-sentence as the sawing faded, signaling the crafter was working on another part of her project.

“No,” Solanaceae shook her head to accentuate her answer. “I still do the core of my research in the lab there, better protected location. With all the warring going on between the Order and…others.” She considered the remainder of her answer, choosing her words carefully. She liked the flame-haired magi woman well enough, but didn’t know how far she dare test the trust between them. “It’s just a better location for my more sensitive projects. Some…things I’ll move here I imagine. The magic is purer here, so my results will be cleaner.”

Daji raised two fingers in the air, and pivoted her wrist, as if she was testing the direction of wind. “Yes. The connection between lays is strong under the house. This seems to be a concentrated spot here. There are several places between the crystal fens and the far north. It’s the same reason Mari and I built our home in this area.”

Solanaceae glanced toward the ceiling where the sound of rhythmic pounding could now be heard. “You and Mari…you are…Together?”

Daji laughed. “She and I? No. Mari…well she likes different things than I do. For example she likes men, and I prefer to share my bed with a woman.”

“Ah.” Solanaceae smiled. “I could see how that would complicate things. I guess I shouldn’t have assumed. My apologies.”

“I’ll take assumptions about me playing house with beautiful women any day.” Daji shrugged. “Seriously though, considering some of the reactions I’ve had over my non-traditional deviations, I appreciate you not letting this affect your willingness to hire Mari and I to work for you.”

Solanaceae tilted her head to one side. “Why would it matter to me? Such things have no bearing on your skill as a potion maker and a painter, nor on Mari’s skill as an artisan.” She started to explain how such things were human invention of morality when the room spun and she felt strong arms wrapped around her in support.

The walls of the manor melted away and were replaced by a wide road cutting its way through a thick growth of pines. A woman with skin a few shades’ lighter than Daji’s held the reins from the drivers board, guiding the horses with the strips of leather and a gentle clicking of her tongue. The vision scape was foggy, but revealed within the ornate red and gold wagon were stacked the bodies of at least twenty men, Solanaceae guessed what was left of the rest of a larger caravan. Their chests and bellies lay open, ravaged, as if their hearts and intestines had been tore free by the teeth of a wild creature.

The images led her back to the woman driving the wagon and as the woman’s shirt moved aside Solanaceae could just see symbols burned into her lower back. Heraldry, she thought? It resembled a herdsman’s brand, but Solanaceae wasn’t used to seeing such things on a human. Her gaze feel to a book next to the woman’s on the seat, a journal of some sort, propped open with a heavy dagger. The two pages combined to create a map, across with several places had been marked in red ink. Two of the red marks were near Umbra, one in the Drow Quarter…

The second was Charnel Hill.

Solanaceae’s heart caught in her chest. Was this where the strange woman was headed. Was she coming as friend…or foe? Frantically she searched the vision, unable to go beyond the frame of the wagon itself, but able to focus in on the woman herself and her possessions. It wasn’t hard to tell the woman had very little as far as belongings, and the way her clothing hung on her frame, Solanaceae doubt she had eaten much over a period of months if not longer. Her armor and weapons were crude at best, but soothing in the woman’s posture told Solanaceae that the woman could handle herself even with the less than ideal quality weapons. It wasn’t until her vision revealed the blackened goddess figure the woman carried around her neck in a makeshift pouch that Solanaceae began to see why she was being show this people.

The lost daughters return to me, their faces changed, their bodies and spirits battered and bruised by those who are slowly killing your people. The familiar voice whispered to Solanaceae, Lilith’s motherly tone edged with hate and rage, but underneath now, as she listened closely, Solanaceae could hear the hissing and clicking of the Spider Queen herself.

“Why do you show me this. I am no Handmaiden. How can I help?”

Lead your sister home, little one. Use the sight to guide one to her that will carry my message. The lost daughter, she must be brought home to us. Call her. Call my handmaiden.”

“And once she is here?”

She must be cleansed, purified, bathed in the fierce love of her sisters so that her hate can be nurtured into fullness. Her enemy is our enemy. Her rage is our joy. Her hate feeds us, makes us stronger. Send my handmaiden to bring her to us. The rest us up to you. Until my priestesses return, you must act in their stead. You must act as midwife to my handmaidens.


Solanaceae opened her eyes to find Daji knelling beside her, holding her protectively. “What did you see?”

The question caught Solanaceae momentarily off guard before remembering that her title as Seer was slowly growing less secret as her public trances became more commonplace. “I can’t explain. I must tell the Herald.” Solanaceae tried to stand and her knees buckled, her head spinning.

“Oh, hold on. I got you.” Daji held Solanaceae firmly, concern etched over her face. “I’ll get you there. Been there once before when Mari went to consult with him about that house of his he broke. If you need to go that bad I’ll get you there.”

“Now?” Solanaceae pleaded.

Daji sighed. “Yes, now.”

[Dealthagar]

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Dealthagar paced the length of his scrying room. The seer had delivered her vision, and was now resting peacefully in the chambers deep below the abbey. Another handmaiden. With the drow matron taking her brood back below ground, he assumed Lloth would use her voice to speak in the chorus that was Lilyth.

Goddess, demigod, archfiend, extraplanar being, spiritual concept given sentience, Lilyth, the Dark Mother remained a mystery even to her most devout believers. The fact that she was revered as a being of Entropy, an ancient creature that channelled the power of Oblivion was probably the only reason Darrien tolerated the worship. As long as the Handmaidens recognized that she too was a servant of the same power they were, there would be no conflict.

It was expected that the Seers would see portent's of the Goddess' will, but to have actually be spoken to? Dealthagar did not know if it was true channeling, or simply a symptom of the madness. He held his temples and squeezed. Even the word brought him discomfort.

Madness.

MaDnEsS.

M a d N e s s.

As the word burned in his mind, the threads around him, the foci of the realm, the leylines and threads of the tapestry of fate pulsed with the possiblities and fate of the nothingness and everything that was reality. He fell to his knees and clawed at the stone floor as the walls screamed accusations of his faithlessness. The sky was a million shades of angry and the air tasted of blood and fear as the will of Oblivion tore at his insides, begging him for release.

No.

It could not be free.

Things were not in place.

The world was not ready to end. To loose it now would serve no purpose but to destroy him.

His blood hungered. His hate burned. He needed to feed. He needed to consume.

Composing himself, Dealthagar stood. His work was coming together, now was not the time to be consumed by the mAdNeSs...

He gnashed at the air, his jaws snapping with the strength to sever bone. A mouthful of fangs extended. If he was to find this lost daughter of Lilyth, he had to present himself as more than a monster. He needed composure. He stood, and wiped the black blood that wept from his empty eyesockets. Perhaps the mask would be needed tonight.

Holding his head, his vision throbbed, color, shadow and light swirling. Perhaps the Val'kir would be better suited for the task.
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The Three Truths of Singularity
Do something to the best of your abilty or don't do it at all
Feel to the fullest of your ability, cutting yourself off from your emotions leads to spiritual death
Control your being, your existance, your destiny.
www.adriandrake.com

[Shari Mchawipaka]

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The flames licked the inky black sky as the rose over the burning caravan wagon, smoke carrying the scent of burning flesh onto the spring winds. Shari stared into the fire, her mind retreating inward, images of her home burning stoking the hate than churned within her like a child poking a beehive with a stick. Even when she closed her eyes she could see them, children, mothers, old ones, screaming as the flesh cooked from their bones, the fire cleansing everything with dancers in red and golden gowns. The more she stared into the flames the clearer the picture became in her mind, until no longer an imagined thing, the burning of her homelands became a memory she couldn’t tear herself away from.

This is my gift to you. The gift of the last moments of your people so that you might use it to fuel your hate, to empower your rage.

“No.” Shari sobbed. “I don’t want to see.”

Don’t want to see. You are a daughter of the Dark Mother. Stop talking like a coward. You are the last of your clan. Who else to carry their last moments but you?

Shari opened her mouth to demand the voice identify themself when the flames began to take shape, until they formed into a woman with a abundantly curved body and a belly filled with entropic life. Shari was not magi, but even she could feel the power coming from the figure. Falling to her knees Shari bowed her head, and held her neck pouch tightly in her hand. “Why? They’d done nothing. They served the Creatrix faithfully.”

Yes. Your people were faithful servants of She Who Birthed the World. Many like them have fallen to the same greed that ravages the Mother’s body and drained her creature of their life, their magics. That is why I have called you. Why my Handmaidens have returned to punish the defilers, the heretics. There are those who walk through Sosaria professing virtue and light, but they are all liars. The filth of humanity must be washed clean of the land. All must fall to Oblivion to satisfy the sacred retribution.

“What must I do?”

I am sending someone to you. She will lead you to meet he whom you must serve.

“He?” Shari grit her teeth, doubt clouding her mind. “I serve no man.”

He is not mere man, but you shall learn that in time. The voice paused, and when it spoke again it was in a gentler, almost motherly tone. Men claim the power in this world because they desire it more than our sisters do, it drives them, controls their actions, saps their strength, even the mere promise of the power. That is what makes you and your sisters stronger, why you are my chosen warriors. You will have to serve this man and the lord of his Order, but through them you will have the might to wipe your enemy from Sosaria completely.

Shari held back the memories and fear, everything tied to the greed and desire of men, and found the courage to ask her next question. “What would I be expected to do…to serve these men?”

My priestesses will explain to core of what you need to know in time, but for now I will tell you this. You are my sword and my cleansing fire, you shall tear through the flesh of our enemies and devour their essence with the flames of your hate. You shall make them suffer as they have made you suffer, make them beg for mercy you never knew, you will punish them and fill yourself with their terror and pain. Your sisters are my beloved daughters, and you, you will be the inferno in the belly of the sisterhood. All you must do is let the power of your hate guide you.

It was well into morning when the flames died away, leaving the husk of the wagon to ebb and dim in a rhythmic heartbeat of light, the hot ash holding the promise of the fires rebirth within. Shari turned her gaze toward to road to Umbra and saw a figure crest the horizon.

It had begun.
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