Chronicles of the North Star – Chapter 1: Inauspicious Beginnings

Candelaria groaned. The room she’d woken up in was dark and cold. Wood in the roof creaked, and the patter of rain echoed from outside as the storm let loose. At least she had a roof. Not something she could say for some of her friends. Edwin and Colton were in the other room, snoring away. She’d gotten the place with the bed, while they made do with blankets.

Nissa and the rest would either be out at an orphanage for the younger ones, or making do with what they could. They were all street rats. Grown from the outskirts of Korvas. None of them had families to speak of. Some dead to disease, some to Warped attacks, and others just in prison for whatever shit they got in trouble for.

Candelaria’s parents were dead for a while. Killed off by Warped when she was ten. A nasty Slitherling came through town and bit them before anyone could catch it. Unfortunately, they weren’t able to get to a healer before the poison took its toll. She’d done all right for herself for a while, the orphanage system working well for her, but as she grew older, she found herself getting rougher. Her body was strong, and she liked moving, fighting. She fell in with some of the tougher crowds of kids. From there, she spent the years making a meagre living off odd jobs, and other less savoury tasks. For a year, she worked as a strong arm for a thieving crew, taking care of things that the more lightweight members couldn’t handle. Mostly moving their goods here and there.

Candelaria blinked her eyes open, stretching her long body out over the rickety wooden bed. It was made for a human, but whoever had occupied it had long since left it abandoned. It was a big day for her. The day the Gods would decide on the Paths she’d be offered for life. She knew from the Matron’s lectures that it wasn’t a permanent thing. That with enough work, she could always try to get something that better suited her inclinations, not like many did. It was still dark outside, judging by the leaking crack in the ceiling, but she rolled out of bed, anyway.

It didn’t really matter where you were when the Gods decided to bless you, but old superstition said that if you were in a Temple they’d push you one way or the other. Her plan for the day was to either head to Illdall’s or Nylir’s temples.

Quietly she stood, careful not to whack her head against the ceiling, and grabbed a piece of stale bread off the lone table. Gods, she was hungry, and she devoured the morsel. Wiping her tusks, she looked to her left and grabbed her shirt and pants. Tugging them on, she ducked out into the main room.

Grinning, she took a deep breath. “RISE AND SHINE YA WARTS ON A WALLOWHOG!” she yelled as loud as she could.

Edwin and Colton jumped, scrambling to their hands and knees and drawing blades they kept under their pillows.

“Illdall protect us,” Edwin sighed. “Not funny Candy.” He was a willow thing Alfhindur. In his forties, and just about ready to come of age as well. His mousey hair tumbled past his long ears, stopping just before his shoulders. The hooked nose and single eye right in the middle of his forehead, though, were by far his most distinctive features.

“It was a little funny,” Candelaria shot back, pacing across the room to check out the window.

“Just cause you always get to do it,” bitched Colton. He was, somehow, rotund even for a Bultrong. No one knew how or why, but he’d always been a big guy. He joked that he was big-boned, and at this point Candelaria wasn’t sure that was far off from the truth.

“Well, if you two would stop sleeping in, you’d get a chance. Now come on. It’s my Blessing Day! Gotta be up and ready for whatever comes from today!”

“I know you’re right,” Colton moaned, sitting heavily back down on his pile of blankets, “but it’s too early. The temples are probably still deserted. Come on, just an hour more?”

“Ah, suit yourself,” Candelaria scoffed, chuckling as Colton laid back down. “You wanna come, Edwin?”

“Sure, why not,” the boy shrugged. Well, she should really be calling him a man at this point. He’d gotten his Path last month. A thief. Good class for someone like him, and even though it involved helping him steal better, there were other ways he could use it. If he was ever inclined, there were stealthy sorts employed by mercenaries or the military.

She, personally, was looking for a warrior type Path. Gods, she’d love to be a mercenary or soldier. Someone that could be out there, helping people, making shit better for people like her and her friends. That, and the armour was really cool.

After grabbing his own stale loaf of bread, Nolton followed her out into the rain. They’d need this early start to get to the inner city, and Candelaria had her eye on the main Temple District instead of the local outer temples. Something like this felt like it should be done in a big, important place. Make it special.

“Gods above,” Edwin grumbled, hugging his wrap around himself. “Did it have to be a downpour today? The day we’re walking all the way into the city?”

“Hey, at least it’ll be dry there. Maybe we can use it for sympathy points to get a hot meal or something,” Candelaria shrugged. She actually liked the rain. The gloomy weather meant fewer people on the streets and they could move around freely without dodging the guard if they had work to do. That, and the city just got quiet under the oppressive blanket of dark clouds. People spoke in whispers and moved quickly between their destinations if they couldn’t postpone their needs.

As they walked, people darted here and there, hoods pulled up and eyes cast warily about. Candelaria didn’t bother with a hood, and let her long, inky-black hair get soaked, pushing it out of her face now and then.

The guards at the main gate didn’t pay them much mind besides asking where they were going. A visit to the temples wasn’t an uncommon reason for entering the inner city. The pair paused for a minute so Candelaria could wring out her hair, soaking the stone beneath her feet, before moving on.

It was dry. Cold, yes, but dry. The inner city was always dry. It had the mountain’s protection from the elements the outer city had to endure. Yeah, the nobility and middle-class people did their best to help out the people outside, but it didn’t change the reality of things. Shelter was shelter, and they had better shelter.

“So, you decide which of the temples you’re gonna go to?” Edwin asked, trumping along in his soggy boots.

“Yeah, think I’m going with Nylir on this one. I want to fight, you know? Get some payback on the fucking things that took mom and dad from me. Figure she fits that whole image,” Candelaria said, her eyes fixed on the street in front of them.

“Sure you don’t want Illdall? He’s always the protective one. Good for heroes and all that.”

Candelaria laughed. She couldn’t see herself being a hero. Most of what she wanted was to dish out pain and death to things that deserved it. “Nah, not my thing. Too uptight with a stick up their asses. Nylir’s people know how to really fight.”

“Eh, suit yourself,” Edwin shrugged. “Oh, you hear the King and Queen are expecting? Nissa was gabbing about it nonstop yesterday.”

“Girl’s obsessed. What is this, the third royal whelp?”

“Yup. The first two are still, well, kids. Think the second is about my age?” That being forty still felt weird to Candelaria, who turned eighteen today. Alhfindur were a strange lot. “Eh, well, not like that really matters to us. Shit’s so far outta reach. Bet they eat on silver plates and use gold cloth for wiping their asses.”

Before long, they arrived in the Temple district. Candelaria liked this place. Despite its obvious wealth, it was still a place for the people. Early risers like themselves made their ways through Eas’ open field temple, headed to whichever deity they were worshipping today.

Nylir’s was third on the right from the street they entered on. The onyx building was dark and imposing, with statues of warriors lining the exterior walls. Red flame sconces and light crystals decorated the place with an eerie glow. It was not a place for those either faint of heart or stomach.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to maybe try Bryltia?” Edwin asked again. “She’s your kind’s Goddess, and of the hunt, which is kinda what you’re going for.”

Candelaria ran out of patience. “Ok, listen. Big day for me, I get to choose. You don’t feel like coming with? You can shut up and wait out here. I’m going in.”

With that, she strode into the building without looking back. Only the clomping of Edwin’s boots told her that he’d decided to join her.

“Good morning, child,” an elderly priest, haggard and greying with a long beard, said as he approached them. “I am Armsmaster Dunlith. What brings you to the Lady of Hate’s temple?”

“It’s my Blessing Day,” Candelaria declared confidently, puffing out her chest as she looked down on the old human.

The old man regarded her with keen eyes. There was a light in them, even hidden behind his bushy eyebrows, that spoke to an alertness not typical for one his age. “Well you’re a confident one. I’m sure you’ve heard the questions. Why not Illdall? Bryltia?”

Candelaria shot a glance over at Edwin, who just rolled his eyes.

“Well, if you are certain, please visit the cathedral. Down that hallway. You may spend your time in prayer or combat. It matters not. Do be cautioned, child, that simply being in the presence of the Goddess does not guarantee a Path that would best suit her domain.”

“Yeah, yeah. The outer temples said the same. Still, worth a shot,” Candelaria sighed.

“Very well. Best of luck, and may the Warrior Goddess guide your blade.”

They proceeded into the temple. Dark stone lit by either red or bright orange seemed to be the general theme as they made their way into the cathedral. The place was huge. Three, no, four times larger than the ones outside the city’s gates.

Trying not to disturb the mostly silent room, Candelaria found a pew and settled into it. She bent forward, clasping her hands as she prepared to wait.

“So now we wait,” Edwin said as he fell onto the wooden bench next to her, arms splayed across its back. “You gonna be all quiet the whole time?”

“Probably,” Candelaria nodded. “Figure I might as well try praying. Never done much of it, but it’s a special day.”

“Suit yourself,” Edwin said.

They fell into a contemplative silence. Edwin soon grew bored and pulled out a knife from somewhere and began fiddling with it. Candelaria did her best to ignore his fidgeting and focus on prayer.

“Nylir. Goddess of Hate, War, and Warriors. I… shit, I’m bad at this whole praying thing, but you seem like the one who’d care least about that crap. I just want to fight. I want to fight the Warped, to fight other things that’ll give me a challenge. Please, give me something that’ll let me do that. Promise to use it well.”

Several hours passed. Candelaria kept up the prayer, for once being so focused on the action that she didn’t notice Edwin slipping off. He returned, startling her, but didn’t say anything.

Eventually, a silvery screen flashed into her vision.

Level Up!

The Day of Blessings is you. Please make a selection from the choices below to follow. May your Path be walked with conviction.

Thrundol Huntress

A Path of honour within the Thrundol people. Blessed by Brylta, you will be swift and silent on your hunts. Your life’s goal is to challenge greater and greater foes. Risking health and hide for glory.

Strong Arm

You have scraped yourself by using less than scrupulous methods. Associations with the more criminal aspects of civilization have afforded you the choice of this Path. Become adept at unarmed combat, as well as intimidation.

Weapons Mistress

A path provided to those who seek not only combat, but the mastery of the art. Through training, and skills, become an expert in the ways of war. Cut down your foes with an arsenal all your own and bathe in the thrill of the fight.

“They’re here!” Candelaria exclaimed, sitting up and startling Edwin.

“Illdall save me, you scared me. So? Anything good?” he asked.

“Well, first is Thrundol Huntress. That’s really standard. My parents talked about that being presented to pretty much everyone with our blood that can fight.”

“Yeah, makes sense. Imagine if the Alfhindur had a patron, we’d get something like it.”

“Second one is Strong Arm. Seems like a thug Path. Something that’d help me be a bruiser for the gangs and shit like that. Not taking it.”

“Don’t wanna slum it with us forever?” Edwin teased, poking at her side and earning a smack.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Candelaria chided him. “I’m taking the last one, though. Weapons Mistress.”

Edwin let out a low whistle. “Mistress, huh? Sounds like a propah lady,” he joked in an awful accent.

“Yeah, until you get to the whole cutting down enemies with an arsenal of weapons and bathing in the thrill of combat.”

“Oh, damn. Yeah, that sounds like you,” Edwin chuckled.

Candelaria focused, choosing the final option, and her vision flashed. When it cleared, she was presented with her stat sheet. It was good, strong, and she’d been afforded a wide plethora of weapon proficiencies to start her off. She grinned. It was time to start her life.

Polaris shut the heavy book and groaned. This was all that meddling Kremdol’s fault. Bastard had been insistent that she start something like this, to write down her life and exploits. If not for her assumed children, then for others to learn from. Frankly, she thought it was ridiculous, but when Orlana had agreed, she’d figured she’d try.

Her hand hurt, and she massaged the muscles that weren’t quite used to using a quill for such long periods of time. She felt less tired swinging an axe or maul around for an hour than she did after that exercise. This was a scribe’s work, but the thought of saying all this to someone made it feel even dumber than it already was.

She got up from her desk, stretching, and pulled out a bottle of firewater. It was bracing stuff, and would probably get her drunk fairly quickly, but it was the end of the day and she needed to relax.

Sipping from the bottle, she pulled a sheaf of papers and fell into an overstuffed chair made for someone her height. It was good to be a general sometimes. At least her furniture always fit her.

Thumbing through it, she found one that caught her eye. Putting the rest aside, she combed the report.

Katlyn Farragher, Bren Hedera. Ah, the royal troublemaker was headed out on an assignment. About damn time she did something besides start shit or galavant on her own. Kid had a knack for fighting and Polaris had been trying to get her into the military for well over a decade, but the stubborn princess refused every time. At least she had Bren with her this time.

Looks like they’d picked up a third somewhere along the way to the outpost the report had come from. Artyom. No last name. Rifleman, magical augmentation. A good fit for the pair. Combat teams should have a good balance of melee and ranged. She’d at least drilled that into the princess’ skull.

Polaris sat back, remembering a time she’d set Katlyn up against a higher level archer. She’d been cocksure of her skills, and defences, that she’d been bragging up and down the halls that she was blessed by Illdall himself. The sheer frustration on that girl’s face as she tried to break through the oppressive fire was something she wouldn’t soon forget. Neither would Katlyn, if she knew her as well as she thought.

Returning from memories, Polaris set the paper aside. It was good to see the young getting into the thick of things. Where Polaris was no longer. Gods, she missed it. Being on the front lines, facing down Warped and other warriors. She was getting older. About halfway through her natural life, at this point. She wasn’t slowing down what so ever, but this position that had been forced on her by Orlana was… restricting.

“Damn woman,” Polaris grumbled to herself, taking another sip. “I appreciate it, but at the same time, damn you.”