Moot 2 1105
All the nations of Erdreja are surely reeling from the events of the Moot just concluded. I am still in shock as I write this, the reality of the atrocities of which I must report yet to sink through the numb skin of disbelief. Yet we must cling to the hope that also shined throughout the Moot, as factional politics were finally swallowed and Erdreja united against its common foe – extinction.
Following the decision by all the factions to declare war against the Conclave, they struck in force – leaving Erdreja reeling on the brink of cataclysm... our great and noble capital - Pitlochry – has been reduced to a lake of magma, no one or thing surviving the destruction wrought upon the ritual circle there. Orkneyar is being devoured by lava as a volcano at its heart claims the entirety of the island – Wolf and Bear forces hastily evacuating all they could to relative safety.
However, we were not alone in our suffering. Berlin is now just a crater, Holy Isle has sunk back into the sea – leaving all of Lantia facing the same fate, the Underdark – where many sheltered and survived the previous cataclysm – has been flooded and 7 or 9 cities lost, Mauritanjia has been hit by tidal waves, and the capital of Erin withered into dust. Our allies, the Harts, lost not their capital but the city that housed their royalty in times of crisis – clearly displaying the level of intelligence the enemy has about their foes. Not a faction has escaped their wrath.
However, we were finally able to strike a blow of our own in retaliation – and a multi-factional (and Empire) force assailed and destroyed a Conclave camp through a linked ritual. It is small recompense for the devastation, horror and fear that has swept across all our lands.
As old enemies seem to be resurfacing across Erdreja, void hunters from the Forest of Shadow were seen again, stalking Bears – and Aeron MacGregor was torn from us and slain in the void – though not without ripping the life from numerous of his foes before succumbing to their greater numbers.
As the Bears marched to the Vipers in force to declare their intentions towards the Conclave, the two factions were assailed by a group of two dozen or more Ogre-magi appearing from no where. The magical assault that followed was truly terrifying, Dragons and Lions and Wolves and others rushing to help turn the tide as dozens fell in seconds to bolts of magic that tore through any and all protections.
The force was eventually destroyed, but at a truly heavy cost. Amongst the fallen, Talisker McMead heroically gave his life defending his charge, the Laird Arcane, who has declared that his continued life is owed entirely to this noble sacrifice. Talisker showed beyond a doubt the qualities that every aspiring squire will need in the times to come.
Lyam de’Brevick of the MacGregors also fell, fighting valiantly, as that clan suffered what was not to be their last over this black Moot. Our guests and friends, the Harts, lost Lady Imogen – who I have now been denied the pleasure of meeting - and their High Bard, friends to many Bears. The cowardly foe threw forbiddings over the fallen as their magics tore them apart.
At muster, the whole faction was struck by a magical sleep, torn and wrenched with terrible visions and nightmares – which alas, were to prove most providential. For my part, I feared – perhaps truthfully – that m’Lady herself had granted a glimpse of times to come. I felt I was an owl, soaring across our lands – snatching brief and terrible glimpses of what fell below, as waves of formorians washed across our lands, slaying and burning and destroying.
And later a formorian did indeed appear to us, following hot on the heels of news that the Black Isle had been invaded and overrun by the foul creatures. It opened a gateway through which its minions poured forth and assailed us, crushing and smashing their way into the assembled Bears as Beragor MacGregor heroically engaged the leader in its forbidding. Our guests and friends present also dived into the fray, and the intruders were destroyed – fortunately this time without cost.
When Bears ventured to the Isle to establish the situation, they were chased back through the circle by wave after wave of green filth as the formorians poured through the circle. The Bears stood firm against them as the market place erupted into violence, our friends and allies again supporting us.
The hated foe appear to be holding several hundred captives on the Isle prisoner against our retaliation, clearly wary and fearful from their previous engagements with Caledonia’s finest and bravest. Support has not been short in the offer against these green devils, the Elven Alliance of the Griffins offering to take the fight to the enemy.
A dark shadow indeed has fallen once more over Caledonia, assailed from two sides and from within by the Conclave – now more than ever, we need to stand firm to our faith, beliefs and friends and kin. For the Queens, for Caledonia, and for the Clans. The Queens have seen glimpses of the horrors and foes that assail us, and we must support them in this time of need, unite together through the adversity and trust in Anu to see us through.
The Conclave struck again in the darkness, bands of assassins preying under cover of assaults by The Claw – the Griffins hated foe. With terrible poisons at their disposal, they preyed on any isolated targets they could, and three more Bears were lost that night. Faint Mortain and Caliean MacGregor were lost in the darkness, and Laoch of the Cauldron, Angus MacBain - a shining light within the Fianna – was also taken from us. We were not alone in suffering that night, however; indeed, strangely enough, the Lions also lost 3 that night.
We also fought two great battles against The Claw, alongside the other factions, whilst the Griffins finally destroyed them and their leader (aided by Lions and others) – though at a terrible cost: as three-quarters of their presence at the Moot fell in the fighting. A terrible foe, they felt the pent up wrath awaiting the Conclave when we finally get to grips with them – and tear their hearts out. But the cowardly Conclave work through shadows, spies and terror – never in open battle. And we must be ever-wary of their mind-controlling powers.
Alas, even as we unite against a common foe – the threat of the Conclave ever-near – it still did not stop some from looting the fallen of their temporary allies, and several were caught in acts of thievery. However, the spirit of the majority was one of unified purpose – clearly shown by the Bears’ rousing songs and fearful presence on the field – inspiring and terrifying to friend and foe.
The Bears also got to socialise with the Dragons, as the whole faction was invited to their camp for dinner on the Saturday night, firming up the old alliance and friendship of our Celtic brothers. Kallistos and the other Dragons were gracious, generous and noble hosts as we dined and drank at their expense. Maclan also made a great and noble gesture to the Clan McMead, honouring the fallen Talisker as the first Bear to fall against the Conclave following the firming of the Celtic alliance.
I enjoyed the Dragons hospitality and entertainment long into the night, as drink flowed freely, and the marvellously talented Captain Nell and her brother Sebastian kept us entertained. I then ventured to the Griffins camp for a night of cocktails and conversation, which was equally enjoyable – and, as constructs slunk into the camp, more fights were had by the Bears present as we ‘enjoyed’ their unplanned entertainment.
It is these moments of light, of kinship and friendship, which will keep us strong in the darkness of the fight to come. We must remember our loved ones, the heroism and bravery of the fallen, and raise tankards in their memory. And we must never lose our wrath for the horror and cowardice of the foe with whom we fight.
May Anu’s light guide us to the path of victory.
To friends and Bears I lift a glass,
To you, who’ve kept alive
The memory of heroes past
Across dark moors of time.
To you who know this simple truth,
And show it near and far,
It is the tales we tell ourselves
That make us who we are.
So let us drink to Caledonia,
It’s sorrow and its suffering
And lift our glasses in the air,
To the fallen of our gathering.
And to the clans that bear their names,
My sisters and my brothers,
I’d rather be a man in your eyes,
Than a king in any others…
[Found amongst some scrolls and adapted by Kianan McAylwyn]
All Works are © Original Author