From Winter

Vastly belated 2017 greetings to one and all! Christmas has been and gone, taking the New Year and winter with it. As those dedicated readers will have no-doubt noticed, I ended up being absent for longer than I'd originally anticipated, and this is by no means signals the start of regular posting again. For this I do apologise. Things in the ever-nauseating Real World have been hectic and busy, and I wasn't able to dedicate quite as much time over the Christmas period as I would have liked to preparing material for TFE. That said, plenty was still done, as I shall reveal in due course.

News. As I said, I hoped to spend most of Christmas preparing content for TFE, and I met with somewhat mixed success. Given the nature of the Christmas holiday, its whirling festivities, and a pile of university work, I was not able to do as much as I had hoped. I had envisaged enough content to carry me through to June-time, which, in wonderful hindsight, was woefully naive of me. The good news is that the next short(ish) story is written, is curretly being proof-read, and by all accounts, should be very soon ready to go. There is just one problem:

It's far too long.

Most of my short(ish) stories I've shared so far have ranged from between 12,000-35,000 words. The next story is just shy of 100,000 words in length: almost as long as everything so-far released on TFE combined. As a result, I'm not sure if releasing it in weekly chunks is a good idea, so I'm currently exploring other options for getting the latest tale out to you. What seems likely, however, is that it will not be released on the TFE blog. This is simply a decision based on the length of the piece; I fear that breaking it up into somewhere between ten and fifteen chapter-like chunks and releasing them week-by-week would hugely detract from the narrative of the story: several months would have passed before all the content was available, by which time I fear the reader would have forgotten what took place in the earlier weeks. On balance, I'm reluctant to release it all as one post for that very reason - it would be a truly giant blog post, and near-impossible for the reader to navigate. Still, it is written, and I shall find a way to get it out to you all.

Now, the exciting part: details. Echoes of the Past is a follow-up to my most popular short(ish) story, Of Fire and Shadow. It sees the return of Jaedor Gaelon, the now one-armed scholar, and his reluctant priest friend Derryk Whyte, the cloistered son of a rebellious nobleman. A calendar year has passed since the events that took place in Of Fire and Shadow, and both Jaedor and Derryk are still suffering the effects of the dreadful days they spent trapped in the city of Palvia.

A great deal has transpired since the events in Of Fire and Shadow. The Maedarian Rebellion, spearheaded by the self-proclaimed King Aelfurd, has led to the entirety of the western Vidorian Empire rising up in insurrection. The provinces of Maedar, Westernaea, Eagle Island, and even Westmoor - the land adjacent to the Imperial Heartland's western border, watched for generations by the Fortescue earls - have spurned the name of the Divine Empress in favour of the Old Gods, and their freedom.

The fame of our two characters, however, has spread. The story of the priest and the scholar who, unlike many, managed to escape the war-torn Maedarian city is one that brings hope to the people of the much-shrunken Vidorian Empire. Both men, however, are keen to get away from their day-to-day lives and escape the long shadows cast by the Aelfurdian Rebellion, and when an opportunity arises for them to embark on a new adventure, both men leap for it with open arms. Little do Jaedor and Derryk know, however, that they are about to become key players in mitigating the political fallout from the rebellions - and wanted targets by the western rebels.

So, that is how things currently are. I'm drafting a few lore posts to add a little more depth to Esdaria, and Echoes of the Past in particular. More on those later, though. 

I'll leave you with this picture from my Instagram of the snow that fell in early January. It hasn't snowed in England for several years and, although this only lasted an hour or so, most of the Kingdom of the East Angles was briefly lost under an icy white sheet.

Every U.K. black metal fan the moment the snow came down ❄️🖤☠️ #metalhead#blackmetal#deathmetal#alternative#altguy#longhaired#longhairedmen#menwithlonghair#snow#snowday#snowing#cold#nature#natural#outside#outdoors#blizzard#winter#naturelovers#extrememetal

A photo posted by Rob (@robh_666) on Jan 15, 2017 at 10:36am PST

Archmother Himwyra’s ‘On the Church of the Divine Empress: Hierarchies and Origins’

It's been a while since I did a lore post, and in order to break up the bombardment of short(ish) stories that will be pounding the good reader for the rest of  summer, I decided to do a quick piece about the Church of the Divine Empress. This is something that keeps coming up in everything I write about - be it lore posts, short(ish) stories or the extended pieces of writing (which I've resumed and written a few more chapters of). It's also something that is never gone into in a great amount of detail, simply because the majority of the characters I've touch upon so far aren't themselves overly pious - for example, the next story focuses on a priest who calls himself the "worst priest" in the Vidorian Empire! The Church of the Divine Empress is both peripheral and, perhaps, familiar. Its simple, laid-out hierarchy is described - of course, in the form of a scholarly article - in all its simplicity below. With the dating in the scholarly sections, 1E 1500Y refers to the fifteen-hundredth year of the First Era of Imperial History. Happy reading!

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What follows is a transcript of Archmother Belinda's c. 2E 198Y copy of the much earlier Archmother Himwyra's 'On the Church of the Divine Empress: Hierarchies and Origins'. As one may imagine, this is a document of huge scholarly importance: not only does it outline the hierarchy of the Vidorian Faith itself, but it also draws parallels to the secular order - something scholars have recently locked antlers over as they battle to determine just how similar the Empire's secular offices and spiritual offices were meant to be.

The document here survives as a transcript copied from an original by Archmother Belinda. It is unclear how Belinda, who was archmother of the Altmerian province from c. 2E 197-200 came to posses or encounter a copy of Himwyra's original text. Altmeria was conquered 2E 150 by Emperor Lyshir III, successor of Empress Almani, though it remained an unstable and war-torn province for the following half-century, well into the reign of Empror Lyshir IV. It seems unlikely that the Empire would have happily given a text as important as Himwyra's 'On the Church...' to the archmother of an unsettled province for fear of it being destroyed in rebellion. As a result, it appears probable that Archmother Belinda's version below is in fact a reproduction of an earlier copy of the original document, which is housed under tightest lock and key within the Imperial Citadel itself. 

Little is known of Himwyra. Her time as an archmother seems to have been short, and there are few hints in regional or Empire-wide records that hint to who she was or to which province she was assigned. 'Himwyra' is also an uncommon name, though it seems to have its roots within Heartlandian naming-tradition. That said, it could quite reasonably be Westernaean, as argued by Professor Humbald Kerras at the Imperial University. As a result, just who wrote this most important document is unclear, though the facts within it are irrefutable: this is exactly how the Imperial Faith operates, so Himwyra clearly had a detailed understanding of what she was writing about.

More problems are thrown up by this anonymous 'middle-man' or 'middle men' who made the copy - or copies -  of Himwyra's original that Archmother Belinda herself then transcribed from. The original document has not been seen for some fifteen decades given its importance, so one is left to guess at just how accurate this version is, as one is left to with most historical documents. The infuriating thing about this particular text, though, is that the scholar is told that is does survive, but that he is simply not sanctimonious enough to look at it. 

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Like a star in the inky-back sky, atop all is She, who brought with her light and uplifted the people of the Imperial Heartlands. She struck from their necks the collars of oppression and freed her loyal followers from the stain of the monarchy. The crowns of those who would challenge Her fell, bloodied and broken, to Her feet. And then, when into the Dark Beyond she passed when her mortal body was broken, she vanquished the demonic Old Gods and had them driven away, out of time and reality. The yoke of kings was gone, and the shadow of Old chased away by Her light and truth.

When her body broke, she left behind a void in Esdaria. The light She had brought, wielded, and nurtured, faded. Seeing this, from where she was in the heavens, she blessed one who was as She was: a woman, upright and outstanding in leadership, love, life and devoted to Her light. This woman, known as the Empress’ Elect, became one of the hands of the Divine Empress within the World, whilst their Imperial Highness was the other. Our first, Elect Aelgif, together with Emperor Lyshir I, Her successor who took upon Her Imperial Mantle shortly after the mortal shell of the Divine Empress broke down, formed the Church of the Divine Empress. The void She left could not be filled by one, so instead it was broken into two. Elect Aelgif took up the flag of spiritual guidance for the Children of the Phoenix, whilst Emperor Lyshir I took on those matters temporal.

Within the Church of the Divine Empress, Elect Aelgif then created a careful hierarchy beneath the office of Empress’ Elect. Through Divine-blessed wisdom and spiritual guidance sent to her by the Divine Empress herself, Elect Aelgif created within the Church of the Divine Empress a meticulous and well-thought structure to allow for the light of Vidoria to forever be maintained within her lands. First, the office directly beneath that of Empress’ Elect, sits the Council of Archmothers. Aelgif decreed that each imperial province would have its Archmother – one woman to act as the Elect’s eyes, ears, and voice when she could not be present. The Archmothers are the heads of their regional churches, they are to the Elect as Dukes and Earls are to the Emperor, answerable only unto the Elect and the Divine Empress herself. They are expected to oversee all spiritual matters in their provinces.

Then, Aelgif established the Mothers and the Fathers of the Faith. These wise and honourable souls work on a level to galvanise the faith amongst those of lesser rank, overseeing smaller, regional areas of provincial spirituality. They are conduits, channelling faith and hope from the Elect to those others beneath them, and taking concerns and greater matters to those above. They are as Lords and Barons are to the rest of the wider nobility, of greater number than those above them, yet of high status and rank, known for their wisdom and spiritual strength.

Beneath the Mothers and Fathers lie the Bishops and the Priests. Those men and women from a community who are upright and firm in the faith can become the head of their own communal churches, chapels, or other place of worship – though, it should be noticed, practice of faith in the fashion of the Old Gods is punishable by condemnation to the Divine Empress’ flames. They are to work together, the Bishops and Priests, like a Lord’s sworn-men and knights, to further the faith in the community. They are to be fonts of Her light amongst the people of the Vidorian Empire; for they should sing her word amongst the masses, and open their hearts to Her truth.

Below are the Deacons and the Blessed Sisters – men and women who wish to devote themselves to the service of the Divine Empress and the Empire she created. The Blessed Sisters devote their lives to becoming more like She who built us the Empire in which we live. Each day they strive in quiet solitude, chaste and virtuous, to better themselves and come closer to becoming pure beacons of her light. Those others, the deacons, the monks, and so-on, are those of great faith who elevate themselves from the faithful masses in the depth of their devotion, and enter a life within the Church of the Divine Empress.

Commander Ludwig Nicstaed’s ‘The Creatures and Monsters of Esdaria: A Bestiary Written in Blood’, Part Six of Six

The following section needs a little background. As stated in the introduction to this particular text, during the time Ludwig was stationed there, the province of Westernaea was gripped with rebellion that lasted over a decade. Some of the most detailed passages in his work are in the section on the undead. As a result, there will be fewer academic notes on each type of the undead – partially because they are not needed, as Ludwig’s accounts are very accurate.

Ludwig’s account hints that the undead he often faced were, in fact, the reanimated corpses of foes he had already once slain, which makes his account deeply personal. No-one fully understands the circumstances which cause a corpse to rise again. Many scholars have identified particular links in the events that run up to the deaths of certain individuals that rise from the grave – see the note for wraiths as an example. However, the cosmic or magical forces which enable a spirit to traverse back into their former body are completely unknown, but whatever happens warps the spirit and makes it hostile to all living things. No-one also completely understand why, during this decade-long rebellion in particular, the undead appeared in such number.

It is not uncommon for one or two sightings of the undead to be recorded following a battle, and the simple number of folk-tales and stories that include the undead are testimony to their existence. However, in the Westernaean Rebellion, large groups of walking corpses would frequently engage in battle with both the Vidorian Legion and the Westernaean insurgents – sometimes in such great number that the forces of the living were defeated. No-one knows what prompted such a terrible phenomenon.

Ludwig’s style here also takes a different approach. No-longer is his organisation of creatures alphabetical. Instead, he seems to group them in a ranking of sorts: spirits, the most primordial and basic form of the undead, come first. The lich, which Ludwig terms ‘the most terrible and dangerous form of the undead’ comes last. In-between these two, the various categories of undead he identifies seem to rise in some sort of hierarchical fashion – perhaps in power and danger; or maybe in his encounters with the undead, the creatures displayed some sort of social hierarchy that is lost on us living creatures.

Undead - Those that Rise from the Grave

Spirit

Spirits are unseen to the eyes of the living. One cannot touch a spirit, nor can one talk with a spirit – unless, so I am told, via the Heathen Art. However, one can feel spirits after a battle, lingering and fading. They manifest in a terrible uneasiness, a cold breeze on a warm and clear day, and then they vanish. A spirit, in its invisible form, is completely harmless. It cannot communicate with the living, like the living cannot communicate with it, and it also cannot harm the living.

However, a spirit becomes dangerous once it is driven to return to the corpse which it left. Once this happens, the corpse can reanimate in all kind of terrible, monster-like forms, all of which I have ever encountered are listed below.

This is all theory. Ludwig merely identifies that there is some kind of power which exists within an undead that causes it to animate. He terms this a ‘spirit’.

The Ghoul

Ghouls, like all the undead, are frightening creatures to witness. Most true to the appearance of their former selves, ghouls will reanimate bodies as they were. Those which are forced to return to the world of the living as walking dead-flesh in the form of ghouls look only a little different to how they did when they died: they are Man-like, or resemble the Halfling-folk as their corpses did before they were forced to move once more. There are some differences, however: for one, their eyes begin to glow with a terrible blue fire. Their teeth and fingernails also transform, becoming hard and elongating into needle-like points.

If they are allowed to continue to move, their corpse continues to rot and decompose as it had been when dead. After a time, their limbs will begin to become unusable and fall off. Flies will feast on their flesh and maggots will eat their skin. Once they are reduced to only bones, the carcass is no-longer able to hold the spirit which it was bound to, and it passes into the Netherverse.

When ghouls attack, they do so in great number. One ghoul alone is of no threat, although they can hurt with their teeth and claws. When they appear in groups of half a dozen or more, they become a danger, as their collective strength and depravity enables them to kill viciously. They are the easiest of the undead to destroy, as one simply needs to damage their body to such an extent that they can no-longer support the spirit trapped inside it.

Wraith

The circumstances under which one comes back as a wraith are, at this present date, unknown. In appearance, a wraith looks like the two-week old cadaver of a woman, dressed in funeral rags and wearing her burial shroud as a cloak. The wraith has a ghastly, pale complexion, makes a terrible, weeping sound, and lashes out at any and all around it, as if stricken with inconsolable grief. It has lank hair, unwashed and uncared for, always in the colour of the individual whose corpse it possesses [note: wraiths, as later discovered, only ever repossess their own bodies] and has huge, stretched eyelids that hang down from the luminous orbs of light which replace their eyes. They do not walk on their legs, and instead hover a pace or so above the ground as if caught in an unseen, unfelt wind.

The wraith can be heard from miles away by the heart-breaking, song-like wail it makes. It sounds like a woman’s sobbing moans, and carries with it a faint, chilling echo that strikes fear into one’s very bones. One must always act with extreme caution when in the presence of a wraith, as their continued existence is often bound to either an object or physical body part. This body part is usually glowing, as if throbbing with the energy of the very soul is encased within it. Objects of binding, on the other hand, can be much more difficult to discern. These objects can be jewellery worn on death, a trinket of personal significance, or the bones of a loved one. The themes identified is that these were objects close by or on the person when they either died or were buried.

Unbeknownst to Ludwig, ‘wraiths’ are actually a particular group of undead, which have many complex sub-sets and are caused to repossess their former corpses for many different reasons. Ludwig’s generalisation of all such undead suggests that he only ever encountered, or heard of, one particular type of wraith. These wraiths, by his account, appears to have been murmurs: the souls of grief-stricken individuals who committed suicide, given their ‘terrible, weeping sound’ and the ‘huge, stretched eyelids that hang down from the luminous orbs of light which replace their eyes’.

Wight

A wight is a particularly deadly form of the undead. Though it lacks any rational thought, a wight is devilishly strong. When the spirit returns to the corpse destined to become a wight, it undergoes a transformation, as does the wraith. It grows, becoming around a head taller than the tallest of Men, and broader and stronger to match. Their hands and feet grow particularly large to accommodate the claws that next grow there and, just like the ghoul, its eyes begin to glow a terrible, unearthly blue.

As a wight grows, its skin does not expand with it. Its muscle swells, bolstered by terrible, otherworldly powers. Its skin pulls tight over its now larger body, then splits. Long, dark fissures in its flesh will appear, but these will not hamper its ability to fight. They are strong – stronger than trolls by far, though no-more intelligent in their savagery. The favoured corpses to be turned into wights are those of fallen warriors, so a wight may also be half-encased in the armour of the fallen figure. Often, though, during the metamorphosis from corpse into wight, the wight outgrows its armour, so its new flesh and muscle-mass grow over and around the armour if it will neither break nor move.

The method of defeating a wight is straightforward. Like ghouls, one merely needs to do enough damage to its physical form in order to allow the spirit within to be released. Wights, however, tend to be formidable fighters, and it will take at least three skilled warriors to defeat one.

Revenant

Similar to the wraith, a revenant’s continued existence is bound to an object. In a revenant’s case, it is usually its withered heart.  One of the reasons speculated as to why revenants are so rare is because of the absence of the heart when a spirit returns to the body – either removed, destroyed, or rotted away. However, should a revenant animate, one should be very careful. Usually, they are slightly larger than wights. They often share an appearance to a degree, though a revenant tends to be more skeletal and further on in the process of decomposition. Revenants have an uncanny ability to heal themselves: limbs hacked off can be picked up and reattached. As a result, it is key to destroy a revenant’s heart as soon as possible.

The revenant is one of the rarest kinds of undead creature one can encounter. Unlike the previously listed undead, a revenant maintains some of its rational thought, and some have even communicated with the living – though only ever in threats and curses. Revenants cannot be reasoned with, but they can be distracted by speech – only temporarily. Even in the most skeletal of forms, a revenant can continue to fight. Its physical body is held together by some form of the Heathen Art, probably the same which stops it from dying, though I know this not for certain, as I am not learned in the way of the Heathen Art, nor the dead.

Lich

Unlike nearly all other kinds of undead, bar the revenant, liches are unique in the fact they seem to retain some form of rational thought – though it is completely twisted and warped by a hatred for all life. They often appear in the form of a dishevelled, near-skeletal Man, dressed in a ragged robe and holding a staff or stick of some form. They appear weak in body, but have an uncannily apt ability with the Heathen Art, and can conjure terrible tendrils of shadow from their rotting fingertips and whip life away with a wave of a hand. Under no circumstances should one ever look for a fight with a lich, as their ability with the Heathen Art renders them the most terrible and dangerous form of the undead.

I have seen a lich, with my own eyes, direct the flow of a group of undead from one place to another. They seem to be the leaders, the lords, the earls, and the emperors of the lost souls which they command. As a result, when all of the undead have been slain, a lich will simply vanish. Because of this, neither I nor any of the men under my command have ever slain a lich. We have theorised, however, that they are not themselves spirits that have departed bodies in The World. Instead, they are some manifestation of the old gods, vengeful and brimming with hatred of the true fires of the Divine Empress, who slip through into The World in times of strife to control the corpses of the fallen.