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Introduction and Table of Contents

The Kingmaker

AlexanderPrimus
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“Suppose we have only dreamed and made up these things like sun, sky, stars, and moon... In that case, it seems to me that the made-up things are a good deal better than the real ones. And we… can make a dream world to lick your real one hollow.” - C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair

INTRODUCTION

The multiversal nature of Age of Wonders 4’s storyline really lends itself to creative storytelling. I’ve been excited to write a story set in this universe since I first heard about the game. This AAR is an attempt to form my in-game experiences into a coherent narrative.

Omentide takes place across different worlds as the Wizard Kings continue their incursions across the Astral Sea. The protagonists are a mix of original characters, lore characters from Age of Wonders, and some familiar faces from other media.

Each “book” represents one in-game “realm” with the faction leader as its protagonist. The format is primarily narrative, with some history book and gameplay elements. From time to time I will use narrative constructs to try to explain unusual in-game quirks. This AAR is therefore a combination of in-game events and my internal “head-canon.” Like all my AARs, it features motion picture stills and a soundtrack to liven it up.

Note: The spoiler tags for the lore codex and soundtrack sections below are in the interest of maintaining an orderly front page. They’re not actually spoilers.

***

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Book 1: The Fields of Rebirth

Morgana Pendragon, the Witch Queen

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Prologue: The Threshold
Chapter 1: Through the Looking Glass
Chapter 2: The Dark Tower
Chapter 3: Cat and Mouse
Chapter 4: Serious Reflections
Chapter 5: The Black Knight
Chapter 6: For Future Reference
Chapter 7: To Smell a Rat
Chapter 8: A Giant Problem

***

THE TOME OF WONDERS

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"A compendium of the most potent spells, true names, and
words of power by which this world was formed and governed.”

- Gabriel, High Councilor of Evermore


***

THE LUTE OF EVERMORE


“It is said this enchanted lute will continue to play the song
of redeeming love until the stars fall from the heavens.”

- Julia of House Inioch


***

ACCOLADES

WritAAR of the Week
- 11 June 2023
Character WritAAR of the Week - 1 December 2023
ACA Favorite Other Category AAR - Q2 2023, Q1 2024
YAYA Character of the Year (Morgana Pendragon) - 2023
YAYA AAR of the Year - Runner-up - 2023
YAYA Narrative AAR of the Year - Runner-up - 2023

"A good gateway for people like me who have not played the game. The narrative format with gameplay elements woven in is
easy to follow. Plus, starting off in a familiar setting... makes it easier to get into the story... [The Kingmaker's] effort to make...
Morgana Pendragon fit perfectly into the setting of Age of Wonders 4 was a rousing success."
- @Macavity116

"The Kingmaker trailblazes on Age of Wonders 4 AARs with... a tale framed in OTL with all the multiverse trapping
one can expect from AOW4. Not to mention the traces of Arthurian legend and true Old English."
- @Gawquon3

“I appreciate how there are several levels to this. A conventional story on the surface, with layers of references. The very overt
ones to well-known Arthurian myths, the subtler references to Norse and some other myths, and expert-level references to
whatever magic incantations in Egyptian those are.”
- @WPCSolver

"[The Kingmaker's] style and the curation of the story [he has] fashioned here make this an easy and beguiling AAR... There are
so many other cultural references alluded to here... that some of the interest is generated by finding the clever gems
[he's] sprinkled throughout the storyline."
- @Chac1

"Omentide by The Kingmaker really impressed me with the care it's crafted with (writing, languages, crossover lore, soundtrack, pictures etc.)." - @Fluksen

"I'm... interested in AARs with Arthurian elements in general, which might explain why I'm enjoying this
so much. I can recommend that you check it out."
- @HistoryDude

HistoryDude's Review of Omentide


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1.0 - Prologue: The Threshold
PROLOGUE: THE THRESHOLD

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“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” - Hamlet Act I, Scene V​

May 2, 2023
New York City, Earth


Morgan Penn-Drake gently swirled the Pinot Noir in her glass before taking another sip. It had just been that kind of day. A big investor had pulled out of her company’s most groundbreaking project that morning, and she had spent the balance of the afternoon in damage control mode.

“Ms. Penn-Drake,” her personal assistant called over the intercom, “Your five o’clock appointment is here.”

Morgan closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a deep sigh.

“Alright, Kara—” Morgan’s eyes popped open, “Wait… I thought I had canceled all of my afternoon appointments for today?”

“He really is quite insistent, ma’am,” answered Kara over the intercom, sounding a little concerned, “He says it’s urgent. Something to do with Project Threshold?”

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That did it. “Send him in,” said Morgan, rising to her feet. Salvaging Project Threshold was her number one priority as CEO of EmCorp, and if this unexpected visitor, whoever he was, had enough insider connections to know about the recent fiasco, then she needed to know just how far that information had spread.

A tall, genteel-looking man sauntered into her office as if he owned the place. He looked to be in his late fifties or sixties, with greying temples and a neatly-trimmed goatee beard.

“Ah, Lady Morgana!” he beamed, “What a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance!”

“Just plain Morgan will do, thanks. Or preferably Ms. Penn-Drake.” Morgan countered the stranger’s enthusiasm with a glare. “Forgive me, I don’t believe we’ve met, Mister…?”

“Names are such fickle little things,” smiled the man, “I myself have had a number of them over the years, although I doubt you’d recognize many of them. Suffice it to say that I have been a… Watcher of your progress for quite some time.”

“And what exactly has prompted your interest in EmCorp?” Morgan raised an incisive eyebrow.

“EmCorp? Hmpf…” sniffed the self-proclaimed Watcher, wrinkling his nose, “My interests are hardly so prosaic. No, my dear, it is you that interests me.”

“I see…” Morgan took a step back towards her desk, debating whether it was time to press the panic button and call security.

“Now don’t jump to conclusions, young lady,” the man frowned, “My interest is purely academic. Besides, you’re not my type.”

“Who are you?” Morgan demanded, “Why are you really here? You namedrop one of the most top secret scientific breakthroughs of this century, you waltz into my office before I can buzz you in, and you won’t even tell me your name. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t have this place crawling with security guards in the next thirty seconds.”

“It doesn’t work. But you already know this.”

“Excuse me?”

“Threshold. You’ve invested $7.5 billion, including over $1 billion of your own personal fortune, you’ve consulted with the world’s top astrophysicists, bought out your top three competitors… you even went to dinner with the most thoroughly repulsive multibillionaire of the age. How were the hors d’oeuvres? I hope they were worth it, because it still doesn’t work.

“You’ve done your homework,” frowned Morgan, “But you could have pieced all that together from any grocery store tabloid. Playtime’s over. Get out of my office.”

Au contraire, mademoiselle,” the man’s unsettling grin had returned. He pulled a small, blood red crystal from the pocket of his suit coat.

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“What’s this?” Morgan sneered, “Planning to balance my chakras?”

“My, my, such contempt! Especially given that this little specimen is the answer to all your problems. It's called Sanguis Draconis.

“My Latin’s a little rusty, but I’m pretty sure you just said dragon’s blood? Tell me you didn’t hire Charlie Sheen to name your product.”

“It’s not a cliché if it’s the genuine article.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Alright, fine. Suppose I’m not serious. I’ve arranged an exclusive appointment with the most sought-after young tech executive in this hemisphere to deliberately waste her time by presenting her with a useless MacGuffin with an uninspired, insipid name.”

“That sounds about right, yes,” she smirked.

“Then hear this. You need a power source capable of generating over 400 gigawatts of particle energy, so unless you’ve got a few dozen state-of-the-art particle accelerators stashed away in this chic little wet bar you call an office, what I’m offering is your only option. How’s that for serious?”

“Pardon me if I’m skeptical,” said Morgan, “But you’re certainly not the first pseudoscience-peddling hack that’s tried to get me to invest in their harebrained schemes.”

“Who said anything about investing? If anything, it is I who am investing in you.”

“How so?”

“Consider this a free sample, if you will.” The curious man held out the crystal to Morgan, who took it hesitantly.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” said the Watcher, “No strings attached.” He paused for a moment, his piercing eyes watching her, before heading for the door without another word.

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“Wait, you’re leaving?”

“To put it to use,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Aren’t you coming?”

Morgan followed after him, but the unnamed stranger was already several paces ahead of her. He moved surprisingly fast. The click-clack of Morgan’s custom Christian Louboutin heels echoed down the hall as she hurried to catch up.

“Don’t worry, I know the way,” he called over his shoulder before she could say anything. She had expected the top-of-the-line security doors to give him pause. Instead, they opened instantly, sliding closed behind him with a heavy thunk. Morgan herself had to put her eye up to the retina scanner before they would reopen.

Moments later, she joined the strange man in front of her magnum opus, the culmination of the past nine years of her life: a massive interdimensional portal that only worked on paper.

“Care to explain how you bypassed my security system so easily?” she scowled.

“All in due time, mon amie,” said the stranger, “For the moment, just contemplate the wonders that await you on the other side.”

“Believe me, I have,” said Morgan, “It will open up a whole new dimension of science and technology. Literally. And who knows? Maybe there’ll even be someone waiting on the other side.”

“Indeed,” said the man, his expression now startlingly pensive, as if contemplating whether to share a secret. “Merlin? Nimuë? Queen Mab?” he continued at last, “Do any of these names mean something to you?”

“Well, lucky for you, I minored in British literature for my undergrad,” said Morgan, “And I took advantage of those fantastic libraries across the pond when I was a Rhodes Scholar. What's your point?”

“Ah,” he mused, “All those rainy nights curled up in an armchair with Tennyson, T.H. White, even a little Tolkien from time to time.” Morgan couldn’t tell if he was being facetious. “I bet it never even crossed your mind that all those masterworks you were reading were more than mere fairy tales.”

“Just say what you mean,” said Morgan, “These riddles are getting tedious.”

“This world… this little microcosm of corporate twenty-first century bliss you call your life, is but a figment of your mind. A carefully constructed dream created by your subconscious to keep you sane.”

“Waxing metaphysical, are we?”

“Hardly,” the Watcher shook his head condescendingly. “You have been asleep for such a very long time, floating aimlessly in the void. Aren’t you ready to open your eyes and see reality for what it is?”

“Look,” said Morgan, “Threshold has taken years of my life. I have burned the candle at both ends far more often than not. I can’t even remember the last time I took a vacation. Now this setback may cost me everything I’ve worked so hard to build. This bantering has gotten tiresome. Are you going to help me or not?”

“Is that all you desire out of life? To be chief executive of your mewling little tech company? Always racing from one meeting to the next and never stopping to contemplate the mysteries of existence? It was Bali, by the way. The last time you took a vacation. 2019, before the pandemic.”

“Why am I not surprised that you somehow knew that?” Morgan threw up her hands, exasperated, “Be straight with me, whoever you are. There are only so many hours in the day. This prototype wasn’t going to build itself while I squandered my precious time navel-gazing.”

“You’re thinking so linearly,” he scoffed, “Space, time… these are meaningless restrictions.”

He deftly inserted the little red crystal into the device’s power cell. The contraption hummed to life immediately, giving off an unearthly, iridescent glow.

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Morgan realized her mouth was agape and pursed her lips self-consciously. “I—” she stammered, “This is phenomenal! I never dreamed—”

“Now,” said the man, “Are you ready to clear your calendar? Or do you have another pressing appointment…?”

“You mean… go through? Right now? I was planning on doing at least a dozen testing runs with drones before attempting a transplanar incursion with a live subject—I mean, it can’t be safe…”

“If you can't take a little bloody nose, maybe you ought to go back home and crawl under your bed,” he scoffed, “Of course it isn’t safe out there! It's wondrous, with treasures to satiate desires both subtle and gross. But it's not for the timid.”

Morgan cocked an eyebrow. “Timid” was not an adjective people often used to describe her. “What makes you so sure I’d be willing to take that kind of insane risk?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? Standing at the brink of the greatest scientific discovery ever contemplated by humanity. Yes, you desire power. You desire respect. But above all, you desire knowledge. That’s why you dreamed up such an inconceivable project to begin with. Now, are you ready? I'm afraid this is a one-time offer. What’s it going to be? The fulfillment of a lifelong ambition? Or a 10 a.m. Zoom call with the board of directors?”

Morgan clenched her jaw and inhaled deeply through her nose. She looked long and hard at the swirling energies of the portal, before glancing back at the Watcher, who was waiting expectantly with his hands clasped behind his back.

This was ludicrous. No reasonable person would ever contemplate such an utterly irrational proposition. She knew what she had to do. Without another word, Morgan Penn-Drake strode confidently up to the Threshold and stepped through, not looking back.

Nothing could have prepared her for what awaited her on the other side.

 
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That was amazing. Loving it! Oh, and The Watcher, eh? ;)
 
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Merlín and Lady Morgana? Oh dear.
 
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@Nikolai: Yes, indeed. Watchers are biblical, as I'm sure you well know. And your Watcher witnessed all kinds of shenanigans in your past AARs. :D

@Emissary of the Prophets: Glad you're enjoying it!

@Kurt_Steiner: Worried someone familiar may be up to no good?

@phargle: I'm glad you approve!

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting. I appreciate it very much!
 
@Nikolai: Yes, indeed. Watchers are biblical, as I'm sure you well know. And your Watcher witnessed all kinds of shenanigans in your past AARs. :D
One whole verse, in Daniel. :) Either angels, God himself or Jesus pre-incarnate. Theologians can't agree. :) But yes, my Watcher has seen it all. :D
 
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One whole verse, in Daniel. :) Either angels, God himself or Jesus pre-incarnate. Theologians can't agree. :) But yes, my Watcher has seen it all. :D
Hey now, they're mentioned in three whole verses in Daniel. ;) Of course, this Watcher's true identity also remains to be seen...
 
1.1 - Through the Looking Glass
BOOK ONE: THE FIELDS OF REBIRTH
CHAPTER ONE: THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS


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From the Journal of Morgan Penn-Drake:

Dimension - “Magehaven”
Transplanar Incursion, Day… ?


Interdimensional hub. Uncanny.
At least 26 38 42 portals to other dimensions.
Note: World Gates

Flashes of insight increasing in frequency and intensity. Suppressed memories?

So obvious. The real is unreal. Asleep for millennia — Once and Future Queen

Góðir (noun, plural) - definition: “the great ones”

Incantation: Bedyrne ús, astýre ús þanonweard
Actually works! Do not suppress intuition.

Who is the dolorous sage? Answer to be found on Athla. Portal #13.

Multæ veritates occultantur. Quaerendum Emrys.

My name is MORGANA. So much to remember.

***​

The Fourth Age, date unknown
The Fields of Rebirth, Athla


“Troll!”

Aneirin scarcely had time to leap back as more than a dozen peasants scrambled out of the way of the eight foot tall behemoth. Spittle flew from the creature’s cracked lips as it roared in apoplectic fury.

“Form up!” Aneirin called, trying to make himself heard over the din. A handful of townsfolk who weren’t already incoherent with fear formed a thin line in front of him. A few were armed with proper pikes and spears, but most held only pitchforks, mattocks, or ox goads.

Aneirin was captain of the town militia, but all that really signified was that he was one of the few men in town with any serious combat training.

“Forward!” he shouted, “Give it the pointy end of the stick!” The desperate townsfolk poked and prodded at the beast’s leathery hide, but that only served to enrage the creature further.

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With one blow of its tremendous cudgel, the troll swatted away three of the braver men who had dared to get too close. Seizing a fourth, it flung him around like a rag doll before knocking him senseless against a tree trunk. Finally, it cornered a young man whose only weapon was a belt-knife tied to the end of a long stick.

“Get down, boy!” called Aneirin, throwing himself between the youth and the monster. The troll knocked Aneirin flat on his back as he took the blow meant for the young man, winding the beleaguered captain and breaking a few of his ribs.

As the monstrosity loomed over him to strike the killing blow, Aneirin managed to thrust the point of his long spear deep into the creature’s gullet. For one brief moment, Aneirin thought he had prevailed, but then the troll snarled, blood dripping from its slavering jaws as it pulled out the spear, snapping it to pieces in its massive fist.

Aneirin closed his eyes and prepared for a swift and bloody end.

“Ða eoten ymbseten!” cried a voice from behind him. Thick green vines wormed their way out of the underbrush and entangled themselves tightly around the troll’s arms and legs. The creature roared in dismay, but was held fast.

Aneirin stumbled to his feet as best he could and turned to see who had spoken. It was a pale woman with long, dark hair and eyes that glowed like fire. Where had she come from?

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The woman’s gaze was fixed on the troll. Raising her hand, she screamed, “Þunor ond līeġetu!” Black storm clouds appeared out of nowhere, expanding until they filled the once clear sky. A jagged bolt of lightning burst out of the clouds and struck the troll, frying the monstrous creature like a sausage. Moments later, the troll’s death throes were punctuated by the most colossal thunderclap Aneirin had ever heard.

Rain began to gently fall as the black clouds slowly faded to grey. The surviving townsfolk looked from the troll’s blackened corpse back to the woman, who stood silently before them with her arms folded.

“She slew the Svinafell troll!” whispered one of the townsfolk, “All by herself!”

“A Godir!” said another, not so quietly, “Has our Godir returned?”

An older, grey-bearded peasant put his hand on Aneirin’s shoulder and spoke softly into his ear. “Have a care, sir. You know what she is. The only way she could do all that is if she’s one of them.”

Aneirin looked back at the man nervously and nodded. He approached the woman tentatively, his broken spear forgotten on the ground next to the fallen troll. How exactly did one address a demi-god?

She turned to regard him, but still did not speak.

Aneirin knelt before the She-Godir. “Our most earnest thanks, my lady. Please… you must come back with us.”

“Come back with you?” The woman looked confused and perhaps a little irritated. “Come back where?”

Aneirin rubbed his hands together anxiously. “To Caer Eluned, my lady. Where else?”



Author’s note: Góðir is actually the plural form of an Old Norse adjective meaning “good” or “goodly.” However, based on the context in which it is used in AoW4, it seemed reasonable for Morgana to learn a somewhat different definition in Magehaven.

The reasoning behind the use of Old English for her spells is because a) I studied the language a bit in grad school and am somewhat familiar with it, and b) it adds a sense of mystery and antiquity to the use of magic in the story. You can thank the creators of Merlin for trying this idea out first. I may also use Latin at some point down the line.

Thanks for reading!

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So, is this the same woman as in the prelude, only "awakened"? Seems like she's gone through quite a change!
 
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Ah, Caer ;Myrddin shouldn't be too far away...
 
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@Nikolai: Yes. Morgan(a)’s journal entry was meant to indicate how much she has learned in Magehaven, a mystical, interdimensional hub where the constraints of space and time are not nearly as strong.

@Kurt_Steiner: We’ll have to wait and see. Merlin played a pretty big role in the Age of Wonders series, but by the time of AoW4, he hasn’t been seen for quite some time… that we know of.

@EaglePursuit: So glad you like it! And yes, she’s a Briton. Although who knows how many dream lives she’s lived in her mind during the time she was adrift in the Astral Sea.

I’m intending on using Old English more comprehensively for magical incantations across the board. It’s meant to represent a more antiquated form of whatever language the characters are speaking. (Surely modern English is not actually the lingua franca of the Astral Void.) My intent is to emulate how Tolkien used Anglo-Saxon for the Rohirric tongue to represent how it was an older version of Common Westron, a language represented by modern English in his books.
 
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1.2 - The Dark Tower
BOOK ONE: THE FIELDS OF REBIRTH
CHAPTER TWO: THE DARK TOWER


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The Fourth Age, date unknown
The Fields of Rebirth, Athla


The Lady Godir rode at the head of the militia as they escorted her back to their home. Aneirin rode next to her, his ribs bandaged and his arm in a sling. He did so at the lady’s bidding, as she wished for him to answer questions about the realm. He would never have been so presumptuous on his own.

“Do you know of any sources of petrified dragon’s blood nearby?” she asked off-handedly, without looking at him.

Aneirin couldn’t help but wonder if all the Godir’s questions were going to be so outlandish. He turned to regard the lady as he contemplated how to respond to her inquiry. She was even more magnificent than the old legends said, but at the same time so utterly unknowable.

“No, lady,” he said as he tried to gather his wits, “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Hmm,” was her only reply. Her gaze was still fixed somewhere else, though not on anything Aneirin could see. They endured the remainder of their thankfully brief journey in uncomfortable silence.

Caer Eluned was a rustic little town built at the foot of an ancient, ruined fortress. The setting would have looked quite picturesque were it not for the fact that the townsfolk were hastily constructing makeshift barricades and digging ditches. The town itself was ringed with a simple wooden palisade, adequate enough for keeping out brigands, but woefully insufficient compared to the destructive power of a troll.

The lady seemed to have noticed the ramshackle state of the town’s defenses as well, as she did not look particularly impressed. She glanced up at the ruin on the hill and scowled.

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“How long has it been since your people swore fealty to a Godir?” she asked, turning to Aneirin at last. He blanched under her green-eyed stare.

“I know not, lady,” he answered, “Beyond all living memory, before my grandfather’s grandfather was born. It has been an age.”

“Do your people know anything of those times?” Many of the townsfolk were stopping to stare at her as the column of ragged militia rode through the bustling marketplace.

“Only what is remembered in the tales,” Aneirin shrugged. “It is said that you and Merlin brought our ancestors here from another realm when Avalon of old fell for the last time. Our forefathers were your faithful liegemen.”

“What changed?”

“Well…” Aneirin did not want to offend the lady. “You… went somewhere,” he finally said, “All the Godir did. Beyond the confines of this world, some say. No idea if that’s true or not, but surely your ladyship knows more about such things than I.”

“And your people have been beset by creatures like that troll for all these centuries?”

“No, lady. Only in recent years.” Aneirin had a growing suspicion that the recent monster attacks were somehow tied to the return of the Godir to Athla, but he left that thought unspoken.

The militia had scarcely dispersed to their homes when the great bronze bell at the village hall began to ring the alarm. The townsfolk scurried to and fro, locking up shops and hastily retrieving weapons.

The Lady Godir followed the guardsmen onto the wooden battlements to see what had given cause for alarm. A mob with torches and pitchforks had gathered outside the town gates, screaming insults and curses. The ringleader was a man wearing a blood-red robe and an ornate mitre.

“We know you are harboring one of the accursed ones!” barked the man, “The Godir are an affront to the Allfather! Give her to us and we shall purge the taint of her heresy from among you.”

“Not the sort of man who can be reasoned with, I take it, Captain?” said the woman.

“The Unsworn,” Aneirin winced, “Bloody fanatics. How did they discover you were here so quickly?”

She did not reply. There was a dangerous look in her eyes as she clenched her jaw in determination.

“There is nothing for you here, Inquisitor!” Aneirin shouted over the battlements, “Speak your piece and then begone!”

“You cannot hide her from us!” retorted the inquisitor, “I can smell the foul stench of Godir magicks from out here! We are prepared to burn your pitiful town to the ground if you do not comply.”

“Battle stations! Protect the lady!” Aneirin called, only to realize that she was no longer standing beside him.

Then he heard the familiar clanking of chains that meant someone had raised the portcullis. Before he could call down to the gatehouse sentry to investigate, the Godir had already stridden out alone to face the unruly mob.

“Allfather’s eye!” cursed Aneirin.

“Give yourself up, She-Godir!” the inquisitor spat at her. “I promise only to give you a quick death.”

“Onwæcnaþ, huyrn!” she shouted, gesturing towards a nearby copse of trees, “Ða burh weardiaþ!”

With the sound of cracking branches, a score of twisted creatures made of wood and leaves pried themselves away from the thicket and staggered haphazardly towards the fanatics.

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“Birnam Wood has come to Dunsinane,” the lady mused to herself.

It was over in a matter of moments. Some of the Unsworn tried to use their torches to set fire to the wooden aberrations, but this only seemed to provoke them. The creatures dismembered the fanatics like children tearing the wings off of insects. The Godir watched silently, unblinking, her expression pensive despite their screams. The moment the final enemy perished, the creatures fell apart into so much kindling.

All was deathly still as the Godir returned through the gates of Caer Eluned. None dared look her in the eye. Each man bowed in turn and every woman curtseyed as she passed by them.

Overhead, a coven of ravens circled counterclockwise.

***​

From the Journal of Morgana Pendragon:

The decaying ruins of this tower have got to be several centuries old at the very least. My chambers are covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs, and the tapestries are so faded and torn as to be unreadable.

I exist only as an ancient legend in the minds of these people. What little information I have been able to discern has only yielded further questions.

What happened here?

Why did the Godir not return until now?

Just how old am I?

Artifacts discovered so far:

*silver signet ring with sapphire inset
*jewelry collection, gold, silver, and orichalc - surprisingly unlooted
*various cloaks and gowns, mostly black, poor condition
*longsword, steel, good condition - enchanted?
*blue orb, unidentified properties
*documents, various languages, vellum and/or parchment, poor condition - spells?
*book, Prophetiae Merlini - look into this

Transcribed inscription from sword, above:

* DOMINA MEA EST REGINA VERA *


Author’s note: Caer Eluned is Welsh for “Castle of the Idol (or Image).” It seemed like the perfect name for a fortress dedicated to the veneration of a quasi-deified sorceress. Thanks for reading!

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Is that a mix of Astral and Nature tomes she is wielding? The first chapter had a lightning bolt, and the one some plant creature. Tomes of Roots and Evocation so far?
 
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