The Vigil at Farpost, Shatir’s Last Breath

[Honathor Longreach]

The Vigil at Farpost, Shatir’s Last Breath

53rd of Ashan
Shatir’s Last Breath, Mac Teagan Wall Vigil.
Night Time, Clear Skies and Mild Temperatures.

F

arpost meant two different things: There was the furthest posting east in Mac Teagan lands and an ancestral burial site of great significance for reborn Lotharro; then there was the furthest wall post eastward in Uthaldria’s city, which is where symbolically the Mac Teagan held important public meetings in Uthaldria, closest to their own territory as was possible while remaining within the walls.

Today the farpost they sort for Shatir’s three day clan vigil was more private than the city celebration had been. It was Mac Teagan and respected guests only. A strongly constructed wall tower led a hundred clansmen onto the outer city walls, and to large open space for the ceremony. They would be sleeping three nights here under the stars, and so many had brought bedrolls or blankets, with people offering spares for those that did not have one. In the day they would be free to go about their business, sure to return here each night to listen to stories of Shatir’s bravery.

Honathor and his son Alondasath had come, with Tobathon back minding the farm in case of trouble. There were many new faces Hona had not seen in this lifetime, his reborn memories stirred to try and place new ones he came across. Why in blazes the old Jarl had wanted him to come along he had no idea. Hona paid his respects then moved on, he didn’t want time away from his farm and livestock for wall camping.

As was Mac Teagan Style most of them were dressed in fancy clothes and had brought along an instrument or two, which put Hona out of place in his simple farmer’s clothes and scruffy appearance. The blankets and bedding being laid down was some of the finest you were likely to see, yet these were still Lotharro. However fine someone’s cloak they were just as animalistic when the time came to take it off.

As the décor was arranged at their vigil, it began to change from a barren stone rooftop to a carpeted, clean looking setup. The old Clan Jarl with his master of Ceremonies were soon making their way to the front, and people were standing up from their own preparations to listen.

[Honathor Longreach]

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scending a few elevated steps at the far edge of the eastern wall, their Jarl began. “Mac Tegan,” they all raised their heads. “Thanks for coming, this only happens once every three lifetimes, it's important you are here.” The old Jarl kept it short, and passed it over to their clan’s Master of Ceremonies as was his preference. The Master of Ceremonies was a smaller Lotharro but he had the appearance of a wild man more than most, shaggy hair and a long braided beard.

“Clansmen, Kinsmen! You honor Thetros by coming here this trial, let it be said that the Mac Tegan know how to respect their father and the great animal that carries him! Each and every one of you can carry this proud moment to the next life and beyond.”

Lighting a huge brazier behind him, the night air was set ablaze with warmth and vision. The Mac Teagan’s wall vigil shown far and wide to any who looked eastward that night.

“Approach now with your offerings!” The Master of Ceremonies called. “And don’t be cheap about it,” one of the senior clansmen reminded them all.

Offerings, nobody said anything about offerings! Honathor, looked at his thirty arc old son, and then at their meagre possessions. One by one the people made their way over to the steps and laid flowers, food, metal, coins, family heirlooms, gems or other precious gifts at the feet of the steps. What did the Longreach have to give?

Patting his pockets down, he had a few coins but not much, his new steel hammer, his clothes and his boots. Damn, the hammer, Hona had just won that yesterday. With a grunt he made his way through the crowds and laid the heavy steel hammer by the steps. Walking around with no weapon was dangerous in Lotharro country, blast it. At least his son had his spear if they found trouble.

The Master of Ceremonies gave Hona a nod, as he stood back up and made his way back to his borrowed bedroll. Thank you for your gifts, they will be sacrificed to Shatir on the second night, now we sleep until Thetros is ready to hear us. A couple of hundred Mac Teagan began to settle in to sleep, there were conversations of course, not as many as you’d expect from the often passionate or rowdy Lotharro, because this was a special night.

Pulling up his bedroll, all Hona could think of was the fact he’d given up his hammer. Waste of good metal! It made the often grumpy Lotharro significantly more so. Some might say that made the gesture greater, parting with something he wanted to keep. Hona's son had taken to watching the stars, and was getting into the event, chatting with the other Lotharro about the Thetros and Shatir. A storyteller had begun to recount a legend for those who wished to remain awake by the brazier, many did, Honathor however was soon asleep and snoring as usual.

[Honathor Longreach]

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et misty dew lay covering his beard and he snorted as he turned to wake. Ruddy cold out here all night, his shoulder was sore as a day’s work, and he had a day’s work now to do too! Time to get to it! The Lotharro pressed his heavy bulk up with his arms and slowly got up. Leaning out over the wall, he soon thought the better of it, wall vigil sounded great except the lack of roof and sharp drop. By Ilaren’s breath! A full three trials without ale sounded like his worst nightmare.

One of the earlier to rise, the night had barely begun to fall to the sun’s embrace, but a farmer had to get up, and before work he had to make a thirty bit trip to his farm from here. Hona looked as his sleeping son and stopped himself from waking the boy. His son deserved his time here, there was a lifetime to work the land or defend it, and if Hona had his way his boy would be a reborn before the end of it, so ten lifetimes!

Picking the last of his gear up, Hona trudged off down the stone steps, catching his boot on one of them. Ruddy hell, stubbed toe and it was only dawn. Hobbling the Lotharro shook it off soon enough, passing some defenders on the way they said their hellos, and without too much else to bother him he was then at the farm.

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good day’s work cleaning the sheep, taking care and attending to any problems they were having. They’d grown a lot more settled while back under his care, and you could tell they were eating better too, having all put on weight, their wool coats looking in a lot better condition. It’d soon be time to shave them with winter ending. Their wool wasn’t going to be a good quality, not with that fool Hadan having ruined the early part of their coats from malnourishment, but he’d salvage some all the same. If he ever got his hands on Hadan…

The Lotharro found his hands digging into a shovel end, so much they’d cracked it and splintered some of the wood drawing blood. This wasn’t going away, thoughts of all those buried graves for his cattle. All he kept thinking about was getting his hands on the wastrel. Bandaging the hand up, he said goodbye to Tobathon and returned to their vigil. Tired and not up to arguing it, when he returned they were ready to sacrifice the offerings to Shatir and Thetros. Honathor did his best to sit upright with the rest of them, but did so against one of the wall braziers, the stone feeling darn good against his back.

Long into the night this ceremony went on. Hearing long tales of Shatir’s best hunts, the battles, feasts and festivals of times gone by, all set to the amber glow of braziers and a clear night sky. Hona drifted off into a gradual slumber, unaware he had, the snoring predictably soon started.

When woke he realised he’d fallen asleep and was expecting a stern comment or two, but when he talked to people they were ignoring him. It was as if nobody recognized him, hmmph, he walked over to his son to rouse the boy. “Alondasath?” He didn’t respond, “dirt in your ears lad?” His son scratched his ears and shook his head.

Someone waked into Hona mindlessly, knocking him out the way. Hona looked about himself, a dreamlike reality dawning on him. All the Mac Teagan were just walking about in a daze.

[Honathor Longreach]

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haking his son, nothing happened. He tried shaking another man and nothing happened. “Faldrun's Blazes, are you drunk?” Not the quickest man on the uptake, Honathor bellowed “WAKE UP!” His voice having its usual carry to it, only shocked him all the more when nobody did wake up.

That was a lie, one man did, rubbing his eyes and blinking in surprise at what he saw. Hona tried shouting again but nobody changed what they were doing, so loud was his third shout that his face went red and his throat became sore. Loud enough too that the guards from the tower below ran up to the wall to see what was going on; joining Honathor’s confusion the defender’s soon started sitting people down, and importantly moving them away from the wall.

It dawned on him. “The wall!” Hona lumbered quickly to the edge, he couldn’t see anything from here! Had anyone fallen over it?! Searching below for anything, shouting over the edge, it was too far to see. “Get someone down there!” He shouted at a defender, his voice so strong that the defender did exactly that, running off down the steps to pass word.

Eventually more defenders came to assist the dazed Mac Teagan, keeping them from harming each other or themselves. It gave Hona the opportunity to seek out the one unaffected Lotharro, “what happened?” Save for screaming in their ears, Hona wasn’t sure what else to do. The man looked at him, uncertain himself as to what was going on, all that was clear was he visibly shaking. Hona sat him down, “get it together! They need you.” The response was blunt because he was a Lotharro not a human child.

A defender passed the shaken Lotharro a large mug of water, which he began gulping down. “Slowly, from the top.” The defender asked, and so began the account of the night’s events.

[Honathor Longreach]

By now a senior Warden Apostle, an elite defender, had joined them to listening in on the questioning.

“All seemed normal. Stories, we all listened to him, the Ceremony Master speak. He put powder in the brazier and then everyone started acting strange, I felt light headed and then dozed off, I was already tired.” Rutikor, the uneffected Lotharro recounted.

“How do you feel?” The Warden Apostle asked Hona and Rutikor, who said he had a headache.

“Groggy,” Honathor admitted, not realising until now that it was more than feeling hungover, or sleeping rough without a roof for two nights straight.

“You were already asleep? That could be why you are unaffected.”

“I was already asleep.” Hona said, rolling around his neck.

“Yeah, I was awake but tired, been out in the fields all day.” Rutikor said, which blew that theory off the cliff. Hona wasn’t able to piece together the evidence, his mind wasn't his own, all he could think about was getting his hands down on someone and squeezing.

No, Hona felt like punching something, or someone, either was preferable. His son was sitting there in a daze, and for the first time since he’d met his adult son, he felt that natural protective bond forming. Alondasath became foremost his concern.

“What do we do?” Hona asked the Warden.

“A Jeger might have seen it before, a packmaster is coming, they have experience with alchemy.”

“Alchemy, blasted mages! Is that who has done this?” Hona’s temper was rising, he flung himself upward and stormed over to his son, taking Alondasath by the arm. “Is that who has reduced my son to this?” The Lotharro grabbed Alond by the shoulders shaking him, he was about to march his boy to the center of town and find the Lotharro or wretch responsible, calling him out like a dog in public.

Asking a Lotharro to keep calm wasn’t a great idea, other Lotharro knew this, “we’ll get them” the warden told him, “you’ll help.” He’d made a move to stand by Hona so he didn’t do anything stupid, but gave him room to express himself all the same. “Yes” Hona said gutturally from his stomach, hands tensing and flexing, pumping blood around his body as if there wasn’t enough circulating already!

“Okay, let’s hear what the packmaster has to say, then we’ll move.” Although the warden was calmer, he was still a Lotharro and a Mac Teagan to boot; you couldn’t call the defender with him impartial in all of this, and it showed on his face when he looked over a couple of dazed friends.

[Honathor Longreach]

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ackmaster Kurgea was a grizzled veteran of many hunts, cloaked in furs and others kills he’d taken as his own. Missing one eye, which no amount of Lotharro endurance could help return. Kurgea was surveying the scene like he might track prey. Squatting down to the ground to look over to incident, then checking over the dazed Mac Teagan, holding them while he pressed their skin, pulled and prodded them. The packmaster sniffed the air and moved to the burning brazier, licking his finger and stirring up the cool embers inside.

“Aidbrane.” Kurgea said conclusively. “Grows in the north, wilders use it to drug predators with their darts.”

“What’s the cure?” The Warden asked obviously. The packmaster was already explaining and talked over him.

“Heartfern trees from north west past the Vargor, or a season of slow waking dreams.”

“Don’t you have any?” The Warden asked

“Some. Not enough.” Kurgea said, sending down for what he had to be brought up.

Hona had heard enough, leaping to his own conclusions. Wild tribes sending his son to a brain addled state! His temper had hit boiling point and before anyone knew he was storming off down the stairs, his son in tow. The Warden was soon running after him, “Hona what are you doing?”

“Finding out who did this.” Honathor’s stomp down the wall tower steps sounded like he wasn’t going to be quiet about it. All the Warden Apostle could do for now was either have him restrained or come with him to make sure nobody died on the way to answers. Restraining a Lotharro in rage usually meant some blood being spilled, for now he chose to walk with Honathor.

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bove them slowly the Jarl was treated, then the Master of Ceremonies along with a dozen or two others being aided. Two dozen would leave over a hundred Mac Teagan without memory or any sense of who or what they were. At the wall tower’s door the wardens made way for one stocky angrier than usual Lotharro, who with his dazed son, was on his way to the very center of the city looking ready for war. Rage had overcome Honathor, and a memory was unlocked, the first of his great grandfather, almost, it was a note he’d left his grandfather.

When the red mist descends on you remember to focus it on what caused it, not others, so easy it is to lash out other uninvolved Lotharro. These words in the reborn Lotharro’s head seemed to hold a special place, as when his grandfather Alondasath had lost his arm and could no longer act as a warden to the city, the rage Alondasath had felt once threatened to overtake him completely. This note from his grandfather’s father, had been the only thing which had made Alondasath think on how he would carry his life forward, and now became the same advice for Honathor.

Alondasath was now his son’s name, named after the same grandfather who had lost his arm. This Alondasath’s mind numbed state was now the cause of Honathor’s anguish, and the cause for him to walk up the steps of the marketplace fountain and stand in front of everyone.

Fin For Now
To Be Continued in Part 2

[Pegasus]

Honathor

Points!:

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: NA (solo thread)
Structure: 5/ 5

Knowledge:

Aidbrane: Grows in the north
Aidbrane: Used to drug predators
Detection: Spotting the signs someone is not conscious / aware
Event: Mac Tegan Wall Vigil
Event: Mac Tegan Wall Vigil: Happens once every three lifetimes
Heartfern Trees: The antidote to Aidbrane
Location: Farpost
NPC: Packmaster Kurgea
Poison: Aidbrane.
Poison: Andtidote: Heartfern Trees
Shatir: Thetros' mount

Loot:

Loss: 1 hammer.

Fame:

+5 (helping, good deeds etc)

Devotion:

Thetros: +5 (prayer and offering)

Magic:

These points may NOT be used for arcana

Overview:

Story An interesting story here - I'm intrigued, which is always a good thing to leave your reader with. I like how you make this both a story in it's own right and part of a larger story, also. A very good read!
Structure A few minor errors here and there, but nothing major at all. Good writing and good pace!

Please do PM me if you've got any questions or you think I've missed anything etc!