THE DUSKTREE |
PROLOGUE
The legend states that an ancient black dragonborn mage was atop the Iron Slopes, within the village of Duskcliff, and sealed the gateway that allowed demons from the nine hells to run rampant throughout the countryside. Performing some sort of ritual, he sealed the gateway by sacrificing his life, and where the gate was sealed, a tree began to grow. In only a few short days, the tree came to be, an endless expanse of black leaves and dark oak.
The peaks of the Iron Slopes are impossibly cold, and in spite of all vegetation unable to sprout, the Dusktree thrives in the freezing wasteland. Its looming presence casts a shadow over the entire village of Duskcliff, creating a dark and dreary atmosphere for the landscape and its inhabitants. The colony of Duskcliff, mostly consistsing of snow goblins, ice trolls, minotaur, and a race of black dragonborn, all seem to find comfort in the dark valley, as some believe the mages magic is imbued into the tree itself. Once a year, Duskcliff's citizens allow other colonies to enter their boundaries and partake in a very old tradition, an unlikely gathering of many different races. It is on the longest night, the winter solstice, that many gather far and wide and pay homage to the mysterious and alluring tree. There are many different types of offerings, even sacrifices, brought to the tree in hopes of keeping the colonies safe from hellish invasion.
On the coldest day of the year, the townsfolk of Frostshore make the trek to the very top of the Iron Slopes and make an offering to the Dusktree. The mining village of Frostshore is a quaint winterscape consisting of snow orcs and goliaths. It is a great honor to be given the chance to make the pilgrimage, all who are handpicked by the village elders. In many of the treks of years past, not all venturers had made it home from the Iron Slopes, deterring some of the townsfolk from wanting to be chosen. However everyone knows if you are chosen by the elders and refuse to go, it brings great shame on your household. This years journey marks the 100th consecutive year of Frostshore attending the Dusktree Festival.
FROSTSHORE
Everyone was here. The Dok'taurs, Ash'Ers, Ku'Noks, Kl'Rks, Dur'Gos, Tek'nyes, Uganavis, Athunupines, Inulavones, Ogolakanes, and the one and only tortle Ekog, a member of the elder council. Nervous energy filled the crowd as we all gathered around the center of town and with bated breath, waiting on the elders to speak. A short time passed of complete silence, a rare occurrence in the thoroughfare of Frostshore, watching the elders whisper about this years candidates. My good friend Zorlan met me at my side and finally the silence broke; "This year marks the 100th year of Frostshore's tribute and attendance to the Dusktree Festival. The council and I have chosen four individuals who will be embarking on the climb of the Iron Slopes. If we call your name, please step forward." It was the head of the council, Krognak Ku'Nok that was speaking. "Braug Dur'Go. Dura Ash'Er. Zorra Uganavis. Mavith Ogolakane. Step forward and grab your packs." My heart skipped a beat, as I was the last one to be called. It was an interesting group to be sure. I grew up with Braug, a tall and burly male orc, nearly as tall as the female goliath Zorra who would also be accompanying us on this journey. Dura, a stout and strong female orc had already made the journey numerous times before, and finally, me, Mavith, the goliath with the most to prove. Zorlan looked at me with encouraging eyes, gave me a nod and pushed me forward towards the elders, the others joining quickly after. Ekog stepped forward now with his hand out; "We call upon the Ancient One to bless you with safe travel to the Dusktree and a safe return home! May he bring good luck. Blessings upon the offerings to the Dusktree and protection against the demons of the nine hells. Dam ul dam." Everyone beat their chests twice; "Dam ul dam!" The four of us then grabbed our packs and headed out on the cobble path towards the Iron Slopes.
For the first half hour we walked in silence, following Dura who knew the way. Braug was the first to speak; "Why would the councilmen decide to send you Mavith? Are they trying to send us to our deaths?" It was well known that every year a Ogolakane had been chosen, someone from the group did not return home. My family must be cursed by the Ancient One with bad luck, some sort of sick joke for his own amusement. I stayed silent. Dura spoke; "Braug, you should never question the decisions of the elders. They are in contact with the Ancient One, and to question their decision is to go against the will of the Ancient One. I could have you beat." Braug let out a grunt; "What do you think Zorra? You've heard the stories. They're pathetic. Ever since your mother didn't return Mavith, your deadbeat of a father won't even leave his home!" As much as I wanted to punch Braug square in the jaw, he was right. My father had become weak. We were no longer the cornerstone family of Frostshore, my father no longer joined the council meetings, and we're now the laughing stock of the entire town. "Shut up Braug, before I bash yer face in like I did 'n the ring!" Zorra threatened. I'm not sure why Zorra would stand up for me, our families were known not to get along. Another hour passed, Braug making sure I stayed at the back of the group so as to not screw anything up. The path was at a very steep incline now, having to grab at the rocky trail and pull ourselves higher and higher towards the peaks. The packs were getting heavier with every footfall. Each contained a large perfect sphere of black quartz stone, our main export to the neighboring villages who use the rare stone for building and crafting weaponry. This is the offering we've been giving for the past 100 years and I guess it seems to have protected our village so far. Another hour went by and it was time to break out our rock picks to steady ourselves as we continued the climb. Dura was leading, Zorra, Braug and me trailing in order. I'd get the occasional rock in the face as Braug kicked at the wall. Determined to break my families curse, I pushed on ignoring the pain. In what seemed like forever, we finally reached a small clearing and pulled ourselves up onto a plateau.
"Let's eat." It was Dura who spoke. Everyone looked exhausted except Zorra, who was now looking down over the edge, tossing stones and watching them fall. The meal consisted of a Frostshore classic; salted crogash fish and black currants with a swig of Frostshore ale to wash it all down. Everyone else pigged out and gorged themselves but I didn't have much of an appetite. "Say Dura," Braug slurred, tossing off his last swill of ale. "How about we just tell the councilmen we just made it all the wa- Dura?" I looked over and her bow was drawn and nocked. I followed her gaze and realized that the food had drawn the attention of a group of giant bats; dangerous and very territorial. We readied our bows and quickly dispatched of two or three but more and more seemed to gather. "This way, quickly!" Dura started running towards what looked like a long spindly bridge that led to an outcrop with a cave entrance visible. Braug wasted no time at all, even dropping his shortbow so he could only focus on running. Zorra and I followed in suit, letting loose a few arrows as we rushed across the bridge. The bats began swooping down at our heads as we battered them away, using our packs as makeshift weapons. The bridge did manage to hold even though its construction was pretty lackluster. We dove headstrong into the narrow passageway, continuing on in semi-darkness as the bats continued to trail behind. Soon the cave opened up into a massive valley, and arrows began whizzing overhead, hitting the bats who began to return from whence they came. Looking ahead was a force of snow goblin archers held up in a watchtower who were readying themselves for another volley. We had arrived at the village of Duskcliff.
There was no grand entrance, no sort of gate, no one to greet us as we arrived but the careful watching eyes of the goblins as we walked past. I had never been to Duskcliff before, many houses of different shapes and sizes, formed from blackstone, scattered about the area. In the very center was the behemoth that was the Dusktree, in magnificent eerie splendor, seeming to look down and assess each of us. There were many groups similar to ours gathered at the base, carrying foreign wares, small animals, and musical instruments. Many races I had seen before, goblins, orcs, goliaths, trolls, many I had not. I could definitely tell that some of these groups travelled much further than we had to. Dura began pointing some of them out, dragonborn warriors from the west, dwarves carrying gold and jewels, a group of Kenku monks, strange bird people I had never seen before. A large minotaur lumbered past us carrying a large sacrificial ceremonial scythe, surely going to be used for the animal sacrifices to be made to the tree. The sky was lit up with floating lights, Dura explained a group of humans had made these lantern offerings for many years. We sat around for a bit and more and more groups began to appear in the confides of the valley. A congregate of black dragonborn mages circled the tree flanked by goblin and troll warriors. An enormous heavy-footed ice troll stepped to the front of the tree carrying a massive stone club, beside, a black dragonborn carrying a book and quill. "WELCOME TO FESTIVAL OF DUSKTREE," He said in a booming voice. "WE NOT EAT YOU, WE CALL UP ONE AT A TIME TO OFFER." One by one, each group was called forward to make their offering, some a lot better than others in my own opinion. Finally our turn had come; "AH YES, DURA. OF-" The troll looked at the dragonborn with the book for guidance. "FROST. SHORE. WELCOME ONCE MORE. APPROACH AND OFFER." Each of us opened up our packs and retrieved the quartz stone spheres. I didn't really think they were anything special but the chorus of gasps from the surrounding masses seemed to say otherwise. The four of us stepped up and placed the stones among a group of all the other stones we had offered throughout the years. As I stepped away I looked up waiting for something to happen. "YES. OKAY. VICTor of..." The booming voice of the troll seemed to subside and I found a calm come over myself. The offerings were followed by a meal provided by the snow goblins, many of the people there didn't seem to have the stomach for it, but our group thought it was great. A prayer of continued protection, similar to the one Ekog gave before we had left, was vocalized by the dragonborn mages in a chant for all ears to hear. The lights in the sky made the unforgiving landscape beautiful in a way, and the leaves of the Dusktree seemed to rustle in agreement.
We didn't stay the night, wanting to get home as soon as we left. The shorter journey, the better. We made our way back past the watchtower, through the cave, past the bridge and onto the plateau all without incident. Grabbing our rock picks once again, we started to climb down the cliffside. No one was talking now as all of our minds were still processing everything we'd just seen for the first and maybe last time. Hours passed and we had finally reached the bottom, the incline of the trail beginning to flatten out once again to a cobble path. We made it back to Frostshore and I couldn't help myself but fall to my knees. The group knew what this meant. I felt complete and utter relief, a small tear of accomplishment running down the side of my face, quickly wiping it away. I've done it. I've broken our family's curse. Zorlan was there and slapped a hand on my shoulder. I stood up and we walked back to the elder council. Unbelievably, I saw my father standing among them, and his hard goliath stare was replaced with welcoming eyes and open arms. We embraced. And where there was usual doubt and anguish in my mind, a new found confidence slowly began to take its place.
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