Intro - 13th October
- Location
- Germany
Witch General: Verusha (@Estro )
Intelligence and Recon: Kiril (@Ceslas )
Quartermaster: Gregory (@whydoyoubother )
Breaching your way from one world to another, to seek out the origin of the Vodyanov, who had arrived on Earth more than four thousand years ago, bringing with them magic and creatures never seen before, changing not only the face of Earth, but also human history as their gift was copied by the primitives around them, leading to magic wielding kings and high priests, the powerful defensive magic of the Greek City States – the endless roads of the Persian Empire or the enchanted iron armour of the roman Legions that stayed spotless and free of rust till this day. Even the feral wilderness hags that would once turn into the statuesque and beautiful witches that strode or flew past the soldiers these days, had once begun to gain their magical prowess as mere simulacrum of the powers they had observed and copied from the few ancient beings that had survived their Exodus. If the last desperate and failed mission of a dying people had changed the course of history, changed nature and society with their impact and brought countless new useful beings into our world – just what effect might have an organised and prepared army that was going to be send in the opposite direction? Would you find the source of all magic, giving the witches of the Tsar the magical prowess needed to best all rivals? Would you find riches and lands far beyond anything any mortal had ever seen?
These questions were murmured through the complete camp, no campfire was empty as soldiers put their heads together, whispering of foreign shores, weird creatures and exotic sights they were going to see as soon as they passed through: by the command of the Tsar and the blessing of God if the priests walking through their rows and blessing them and their weapons could be believed. Even the usually aloof and long lived witches were excited, different covens mixing and musing about just what the Elder was planning to do and freely moving back and forth between another even larger camp: those of the covens Elder Vasillia has called for help in this endeavour. In this case the Elder had been able to call in debts, negotiate or promise shares of the magical bounty that was to come and had gathered nearly six hundred witches from all over Russia and some even from beyond the "proper" border of the Tsars realm, ranging from those wearing military uniforms, to those walking around like any other woman and even some who went for the whole fur and skeleton clad wild hag look that made some of the soldiers either very afraid – or very desperate to get closer to them.
On the 13th October 1859, more than six hundred witches were standing on the walls of the fort and raising their hands to the sky as their voices echoed over the large field that held the army and an unseen wind seemed to pick up all around you: making hats fly away and horses move nervously back and forth as their eyes flicked from side to side. Not even the witches that were standing on the field with you seemed to be completely calm at this moment, also looking up to their sisters on the walls and some of the whispering the words of the chants under their breath as if trying to understand just what meaning this could have.
Slowly but steadily the sky darkened – clouds moved over the once pristine blue and the wind was getting stronger, starting to blow over tents outside of the fortress walls and even the ropes that held the airship were starting to be stressed further and further, while lightning and thunder could be seen and heard over Vilyusk as the chant reached a new crescendo and the wind started to spiral above the smooth surface of the ruins – the eye of the storm appearing above the gathered soldiers as the rest of the country side was getting ravaged by stronger and stronger gusts and trees leaned to the side before being torn out of the floor. Those of the officers that had been present when their General had arrived a week ago only flinched when the ground started to glow under them – the rank and file were less calm, some panicking and moving backwards, the parade ground formation breaking in places till their Feldwebel moved forward and pushed them back into place with the butt of their muskets if it had to be. Slowly the lines stiffed as the chanting of the witches became a mere background noise against the strength of the wind that had picked up all around them. The soldiers tried their best to stay in place and the cavalry had hold their horses rightly on their reigns to stop them from running as the air seemed to prickle on one's skin with the sheer amount of magic bumped into it. Most of it immediately sunk into the ruins, arcane engravings and more than ancient mechanisms inside of it coming to life for the first time since the days the Vodyanoy walked about them and used them to cross the space between two world. As the engravings were flooded with golden light, forming pictograms, lines and shapes that were crucial for the functioning of the bridge between worlds – as well as telling the story of its builders- the sky seemed to tear open above the fortress and golden pillars of light arose from the border of the ruins, a perfect circle that was reaching up straight into the sky and from which sprang columns of gold. Like a braid, they were starting to come together, former thicker and thicker strands as the magic wavered and swaying like a tree in the wind, slowly but surely connecting as it became more and more corporal.
It took nearly an hour, more chanting, witches dropping from exhaustion or with their magic fizzling out from overextension, but slowly and steadily the golden light was turning into what could at best be described as some kind of golden wood, forming large trunks which reached up and connected with another once more: pulsing with life even as they formed an impressive archway. Reaching once across the whole ruin, it was able to let a complete battalion pass through it easily, as this was precisely its purpose: when the magic started to firm, clinging to the enchantment and purpose of those ruins, a dark black light seemed to shine from the opening between the archway, like a flickering haze that stopped you from seeing the other side of the fortress if you looked through it. It was one: the gateway was open.
Slowly the wind returned too normal and the people of Vilyusk dared to come out of their homes again, inspecting the damages and counting the roofs that had been blown down by the wind, while muttering something about witchcraft. In and on the walls of the fortress six hundred witches fell over with gasps and heavy panting for breath, their faces flushed, and their bodies tired enough for the next few days…only the Elder and her four daughters were left standing even if they had equal expressions of tiredness and exhaustion on their faces together with deep lines.
Slowly but steadily the army begun to march below them, the witches giving their all clear and the first scouts running back and forth between the portal to test if it was working safely as thousands of man, dozens of witches, cannons and hundreds of horses moved over the ruin and towards the archway – stepping into the black haze and disappearing as one step alone took them further than any human could ever image, from a small green pearl in the darkest of black, to a small golden light in the faintest of distances they could see.
These questions were murmured through the complete camp, no campfire was empty as soldiers put their heads together, whispering of foreign shores, weird creatures and exotic sights they were going to see as soon as they passed through: by the command of the Tsar and the blessing of God if the priests walking through their rows and blessing them and their weapons could be believed. Even the usually aloof and long lived witches were excited, different covens mixing and musing about just what the Elder was planning to do and freely moving back and forth between another even larger camp: those of the covens Elder Vasillia has called for help in this endeavour. In this case the Elder had been able to call in debts, negotiate or promise shares of the magical bounty that was to come and had gathered nearly six hundred witches from all over Russia and some even from beyond the "proper" border of the Tsars realm, ranging from those wearing military uniforms, to those walking around like any other woman and even some who went for the whole fur and skeleton clad wild hag look that made some of the soldiers either very afraid – or very desperate to get closer to them.
On the 13th October 1859, more than six hundred witches were standing on the walls of the fort and raising their hands to the sky as their voices echoed over the large field that held the army and an unseen wind seemed to pick up all around you: making hats fly away and horses move nervously back and forth as their eyes flicked from side to side. Not even the witches that were standing on the field with you seemed to be completely calm at this moment, also looking up to their sisters on the walls and some of the whispering the words of the chants under their breath as if trying to understand just what meaning this could have.
Slowly but steadily the sky darkened – clouds moved over the once pristine blue and the wind was getting stronger, starting to blow over tents outside of the fortress walls and even the ropes that held the airship were starting to be stressed further and further, while lightning and thunder could be seen and heard over Vilyusk as the chant reached a new crescendo and the wind started to spiral above the smooth surface of the ruins – the eye of the storm appearing above the gathered soldiers as the rest of the country side was getting ravaged by stronger and stronger gusts and trees leaned to the side before being torn out of the floor. Those of the officers that had been present when their General had arrived a week ago only flinched when the ground started to glow under them – the rank and file were less calm, some panicking and moving backwards, the parade ground formation breaking in places till their Feldwebel moved forward and pushed them back into place with the butt of their muskets if it had to be. Slowly the lines stiffed as the chanting of the witches became a mere background noise against the strength of the wind that had picked up all around them. The soldiers tried their best to stay in place and the cavalry had hold their horses rightly on their reigns to stop them from running as the air seemed to prickle on one's skin with the sheer amount of magic bumped into it. Most of it immediately sunk into the ruins, arcane engravings and more than ancient mechanisms inside of it coming to life for the first time since the days the Vodyanoy walked about them and used them to cross the space between two world. As the engravings were flooded with golden light, forming pictograms, lines and shapes that were crucial for the functioning of the bridge between worlds – as well as telling the story of its builders- the sky seemed to tear open above the fortress and golden pillars of light arose from the border of the ruins, a perfect circle that was reaching up straight into the sky and from which sprang columns of gold. Like a braid, they were starting to come together, former thicker and thicker strands as the magic wavered and swaying like a tree in the wind, slowly but surely connecting as it became more and more corporal.
It took nearly an hour, more chanting, witches dropping from exhaustion or with their magic fizzling out from overextension, but slowly and steadily the golden light was turning into what could at best be described as some kind of golden wood, forming large trunks which reached up and connected with another once more: pulsing with life even as they formed an impressive archway. Reaching once across the whole ruin, it was able to let a complete battalion pass through it easily, as this was precisely its purpose: when the magic started to firm, clinging to the enchantment and purpose of those ruins, a dark black light seemed to shine from the opening between the archway, like a flickering haze that stopped you from seeing the other side of the fortress if you looked through it. It was one: the gateway was open.
Slowly the wind returned too normal and the people of Vilyusk dared to come out of their homes again, inspecting the damages and counting the roofs that had been blown down by the wind, while muttering something about witchcraft. In and on the walls of the fortress six hundred witches fell over with gasps and heavy panting for breath, their faces flushed, and their bodies tired enough for the next few days…only the Elder and her four daughters were left standing even if they had equal expressions of tiredness and exhaustion on their faces together with deep lines.
Slowly but steadily the army begun to march below them, the witches giving their all clear and the first scouts running back and forth between the portal to test if it was working safely as thousands of man, dozens of witches, cannons and hundreds of horses moved over the ruin and towards the archway – stepping into the black haze and disappearing as one step alone took them further than any human could ever image, from a small green pearl in the darkest of black, to a small golden light in the faintest of distances they could see.
And with the beating of the drums, you followed.
Old/New World
Day 1 of the Expedition
Day 1 of the Expedition
Like a golden lance thrown by the hand of god you came down upon this new world, impacting a ruin that matched the one at home nearly completely and which was already surrounded by a deep trench, the beginning of roads that parted the different camping places for the Regiments and deeply dug cellars that would hold the supplies and ammunition that you had brought with yourself and the one that would be send after you as soon as the witches back home were well rested once more. The first few tents for the scouts and pioneers were already standing…and their owners were busy moving over a field that looked like the aftermath of a great battle: bodies strewn around and fallen wherever the soldiers stood and horses moving aimlessly over this field, but thankfully all of these bodies were still breathing and the first ones were already standing up once more even if they swayed quite dangerously as after effect of their travel. Looking behind you, you could see an archway even larger than the one you had entered in Vilyusk and unlike the one your witches had created back home, this one wasn't new and brimming with magical energy, if anything it seemed ancient, wood flaking of its sides and the pulse of magic slow and steady in its workings - even now you could see the black haze getting firmer and firmer below its arch as more and more men and supplies made their way through, some of the stumbling and loosing their consciousness, while others showed no ill sign and caught their comrades before they could go down - or at least carried them out of the way before they were overrun by an artillery piece or worse.
As the soldiers busied themselves, regiment after regiment marching towards the part of the pre-planned fortress that had been assigned to them and starting to build their tents and biwaks in the spots that had been marked – while the officers headed towards the central tent that dwarfed all others easily in size and held the Generals private rooms – as well as a big meeting room, with those being shielded from another by room dividers. In here you found yourself coming together around the map table…. if you wanted to call the rough drawings of the scouts, who had been send out already and were exploring the surroundings of your staging point, a map.
The slightly dampening truth was – you had landed right in a large collection of wetland and even the map had mostly been only made with the help of a few wind witches that had used the stronger magic on this world to propel themselves upwards and describe the landscape to the scouts upon returning. While there were some isles of firm and dry ground -like the ruins you were standing on- the rest of the landscape seemed to be either marshes or bogs, that slowed down any movement with mud and water, while the sparse vegetation offered only so much food to gather and even the fishes were alien to your man and no one had dared to try them out so far.
But you weren't alone in these lands. Your scouts brought back the corpses of a few frog like beings that had attacked them in the marshes and who they had at first thought to be Vodyanoy and wanted to talk to. When the first of them went down with a crude arrow in his neck and the rest of them stormed forward with primitive axes and spears they had opened fire. The Creature before you was…ugly: covered in plants of the seas and dripping wet from the moistness that seemed to cling to it and the air around it. Its wide froglike mouth exposed rows off sharp and savage looking teeth and its body was frail and ….it seemed deformed with its legs and arms being of different size and unregularly growths all over its body. Its long white and green hair grew all over its back like a coat and seemed to serve as some sort of natural camouflage as your scouts told you. These beings were a far cry from the ancient precursors that had built this ruin and shared nothing with them than a faintly frog-like look.
But whatever they were - or whatever you wanted to call them- they were reacting to the first arrival of the scouts by gathering warriors from different villages all over the marshland and while your scouts had the faint worry that they were actually living under water and the few huts they were seeing above were nothing more than hunting huts – they simply weren't sure how many of them were out there and from what direction they would come.
But one thing was sure: the great pillar of gold in which you arrived could not have gone unnoticed and if these creatures had already reacted with violence to your scout's peaceful attempt of contact, was it really that hard to guess what they would do now?
What are your orders?
What are your orders?
Last edited:
