119 Reminiscence (1/2)

As Li felt the aged man's hands grip tighter around his forearm, he felt a spark of connection form between them, tingling at his skin. Though the old man's eyes were crazed and unfocused, behind that veil of doddering insanity, Li knew there was something whole there, someone who had once been…

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Ivo stuck the wooden end of his rake to the soil with force, digging it in a few centimeters. His hand clenched around the rake handle, the sinewy muscles of his forearm tightening as he exerted force. He grit his teeth as he felt an ice cold breeze shift through him, stealing away warmth, leaving him at a shivering chill.

”All ye faithful to the land, to our great lady Morrigan!” he shouted, his voice, a deep and booming baritone, projecting forwards and enveloping a crowd of men and women just like him. No, not a crowd, at these numbers, this was more like a small army.

Men and women who had spent their entire lives tending to the land. They wielded various farming tools in their hands – rakes, ploughs, sickles, and the like – in their calloused hands just like him. They were cheap and ragged linens and leathers like him. But most importantly, they believed just like him.

Believed in the goodness of Morrigan, their guardian, their beloved, their hope. The source of the life flowing through their farms, the origin of the faith they had kept close to their hearts through their whole lives just as their fathers and father's fathers had before them.

”These foul winds!” Ivo pointed up to the sky. It was dark, the moon and stars choked away with black clouds full and heavy not with rain, but with pure darkness. ”The blackened skies! All signs that the demons are upon us! With the adventurers falling, Riviera has decided to put up its walls, wishing to cower while our great lady pushes the foul horde back. Will we be such spineless little whelps?!”

”Nay!” came the resounding answer in perfect unison.

Ivo nodded. He knew their answer. He could feel their emotions, their drive, their will to fight. They were all connected, after all. Joined in union to their belief in the great lady. And he was their center, the high priest of Morrigan, the center point upon which all other faithful relied upon.

”They, those posh and prim city dwellers, those nobles that know not the meaning of the land, call us weak. They say us untrained, wielding but dull farming tools. They say we are mad to leave the walls while the demons rage outside.”

Ivo turned, facing the great forests, the wondrous Violetwoods that had provided so much for all of them. Now, a dreadful aura settled upon it, the light of black flames emanating in the distance.

”They are right. We cannot compare to knights and adventurers in the way of the sword or staff. But together, we are strong!”

Ivo took his rake and held it above his head. ”[Roots of the Kindred One]!”

This was a spell he had personally learned from the great lady as her high priest. It was a power far beyond human means, but it was proof that she trusted him above all else to lead her flock. The mass blessing spread through the farmers behind him in the form of bright green roots of wispy energy.

When a root latched onto a farmer, it used their life force to spring forth to another, and to another, until finally, all of them were connected.

Ivo's hand began to tremble with exertion, and he used his other hand to hide it, not wanting to show weakness. It was a miracle he could cast such a spell in the first place, a phenomenon made possibly only because so many of his fellow believers were willing to shoulder the burden of its cost. Even then, this was a spell meant for one of Morrigan's roots to cast, not a mortal like Ivo.

Ivo knew that there would be consequences on himself for using a spell like this, but in the face of losing everything he held dear to him and everyone behind him, none of that mattered.

”Now, brothers and sisters of the earth, we are bound not only by trade and belief, but by blood! We share between us not only our strength, but our wounds. Are you willing to make this sacrifice?”

”Been willin' the moment I stepped outta' the city walls,” called out one of the farmers. ”Speech is mighty nice, but we ain't got time to dawdle around while the great lady's strugglin'.”

Ivo smiled. ”And that is so.” He took his rake and pointed it to the ominous, blackened form of the forest. ”Then we march forwards! Slay any demons you see! Do not stop until you reach the great lady!”

Ivo breathed hard as he leaned against a tree trunk. It had been an hour of constant fighting now, of rabid struggle against countless monstrosities, and finally, they had made it to a clearing where he had decided to call a short break.

A much needed one. Wave after wave of imps, hellhounds, blood fiends, spider-like bebeliths, and even an infernal golem had very much bloodied them. Ivo grimaced as he took a scanning look over his brothers and sisters.

Many of them were drenched in blood, open scars littering their bodies. The able bodied fed the weaker ones elixirs they had stockpiled for this moment, with the lesser priests among them liberally casting healing spells while seating the wounded upright, stopping them from drowning in pools of blood.