The Hive’s Stone and the Roots of Chaos
By Eleawen Galathiel
As the sun did scarce rise o’er Durakiss’ walls, a tale did sweep through the city like a breeze laden with secrets: a stone from the Hive had fallen in the fields to the east. And who, if not thy favourite chronicler, could resist the call of such a mystery? Armed with mine ivory quill and a smile as sharp as an elven knife, I did make mine way to the site, where the guard, under the orders of Their Majesties Queen Jula Marin Maeviir and King Alak Averrendus Maeviir Marin, had already erected barriers and placed the field in quarantine.
« Stand back, citizens! », cried a guard, his spear pointed at the sky as if he could pierce the very clouds. « By royal decree, none shall approach! » The farmers, the merchants, and even the thieves – those usually so quick to ignore warnings – had all retreated to the city, like shadows fleeing the light. « ‘Twould seem even the boldest of Durakiss know when to beat a retreat », did I whisper as I beheld the scene.
But what came next would have made Erevan himself smile. Their Majesties, ever cunning, had summoned an army of a peculiar kind: seasoned adventurers, Durakiss’ scientific team – those brilliant minds who spent more time studying the stars than counting their gold – and even a few personalities from Sambrune, come to lend a hand. « When science and adventure meet, even stones have secrets to reveal », did I note in mine journal, amused.
And then, there was he: the golem. A creature of stone and magic, tall as three men, provided by the enigmatic Lady Irae Maevir. « A gift to dig, and perhaps to crush what needs crushing », declared a soldier with a laugh. « Let us hope it doth not mistake raveners for scholars! » A support team, composed of fighters, healers, and mages armed with ELD weapons – those technological marvels designed to turn raveners to dust – stood ready.
The digging did commence, and the golem, like a patient giant, did delve into the earth for four metres deep. Then, suddenly, it did seize the stone as a child would grab an apple, holding it suspended above the void. « By Tempus, ‘tis as if he doth dance with gravity! », did an adventurer exclaim. And that was when the roots did appear. Not ordinary roots, nay, but black and twisted growths, like malevolent mushrooms, stretching like the fingers of a greedy hand.
« This bodes no good », did a scientist murmur, her face pale in the morning light. And she was right. Cries did ring out as the first raveners did burst from the stone, their monstrous forms rushing toward the diggers. But the defences were ready. The ELD weapons did crackle, spells did fly, and in the blink of an eye, the creatures were reduced to ashes. « A swift victory, yet one that raises more questions than it answers », did I think as I watched the samples being collected by the scholars.
In the end, the stone was destroyed, roots and all. « Better safe than sorry », did a mage declare, wiping the sweat from his brow. « But who knows what the Hive doth yet hold for us? »
As Erevan doth change his form, the land of Durakiss doth hide its own mysteries. Yet remember: even the darkest roots cannot withstand the light of cunning and cooperation.