For Discussion with Nereel Pyreen (Nuria's dreams)


“Make sure I’m not disturbed,” Nuria called to Alphine. “I have to have a talk with someone, and I’d prefer no distractions.”

She turned, walked into her cabin, and closed the door, locking it before she turned to inspect the room.

She’d been at Jenison Post for a while now, so she hadn’t been back at this site since she requested this new dwelling. As she had decided to stay up here, a tent just wasn’t going to do it…

She dropped her bag and made for the bed. She sat on the edge and swung her legs up, then lay back. She squirmed for a few moments, shifting apendages and moving sheets, until she was finally comforatable.

Knowing who she was trying to communicate with, Nuria closed her eyes, and, after a while, allowed herself to drift off.


The cabin was made of wood that arrived as part of a shipment of payment from the Valley of Vegalia for the first of the copper ore sent ahead by Alphine.

Nuria had been away from Jemison Post for so long that she didn’t know much about all the white furs who now were the second largest population in Jemison post, next in line to the Olgog Clone Army. She didn’t know that every day the White Furs who walked by her home spoke jealously of the wealth of the cabin owner. In a land where most homes were carved from Ice and Snow, or completely subterranean, she owned the only cabin in Jemison Post.

The White Furs spoke in hushed whispers about the woman with the red aura. Even more so as the entire cabin began to glow with the flow of Fire Leyas. In a land of blizzards, there was a significant spike in the ambient fire now flowing around the Cabin of Nuria in Jemison Post.


As she slept, Nuria felt the cabin begin to twist and turn and feel as if she was in full freefall. The walls and floor fell away, and suddenly she slid out of bed. Landing on an ice flow, and balanced quite carefully on a single small iceburg.

Nuria looked around and saw the ice flow was coming off a larger Iceburg, one that had a castle carved into its side.

The sky above her looked wrong. She couldn’t tell what it was at first, then she realized the sky was yellow. And the sun looked blue. Yet all the colors of everything else looked normal, which was even odder, as she expected either a yellow or blue shift.

A dreamscape she wondered?

“It is Les’tas’tral, the Prisons of Light,” said Nereel Pyreen, from a nearby ice sheet, where he drifted alongside her, "And that icy island is the traveling fortress of Fredrick IceHeart, where Pelonious IceGuard first served as Fredrick’s champion. This was over three hundred years ago, maybe more, on the day he invaded the mainland in the battle where he lost both the Orb known as the Heart of the Glaciar and his life.

I remember watching this moment through Lord Hec’ath’s Scrying Pool."


Nuria watched the landscape for a while. Then, she turned and faced Nereel Pyreen.

“So,” she started. “A General of Warmonger?”


Nereel looked at her on the sly and said, "I see you found that interesting. Tell me what you looked like when you saw your own soul ripped open and you will understand the path of Warmonger. The path of Warmonger was first walked by Dakotha Nightmare Lord. But it was a master of Shadow and did not have enough power over the other elements.
It drew to its side, Neliff the Bloated who became Fire General. Called the Octopod of Lava, it was more a creature of mass destruction, having loss all capability of breeding, and lost its connection to its hive mind. Sad, angry and many meters larger and taller than a normal Neliff.
It kept this role until it was trapped on the prison dimension of Les’tas’tral. Then the role of Fire General was unheld until the K’ias Wars when the Quall Queen Ha’vaun turned her back on her species role as the consumer of demons and became the first Quall General. She was a more measured and more destructive force in Warmonger’s name.
She was sealed away inside the Armenius Orbs at the end of the K’ias Wars, and then the role sat upon no one’s shoulders.
Until I proved myself worthy…I poisoned the high king Hec’ath with madness so that he would blame his brother Lar’ath’s tribe, the Starfalcons, and kill them, and drive them from every inch of the Prison Dimension. It was a genocide, that nearly wiped the Starfalcons from existence. "

“How do you deem to prove YOURSELF worthy of the greatest Gifts of Warmonger?
Warmonger grants gifts based on the senseless violence you create in other’s groups. The more souls who die senselessly in those battles the more Warmonger consumes.”

“I offered the Hot Press freely, and my ship,” said Nereel, “But I will not lie that if you wish to reach the power levels that Pelonious IceGuard has reached you will need to do dark, dark deeds.
Nuria imagine your enemies, what would YOUR ideal way of immolating them be?”


“I DON’T wish to prove myself worthy,” Nuria exclaimed. “Of anything Warmonger would give. Why should I even continue to listen to anything you have to say? Why should I even think about trusting a servant of Warmonger?”


Nereel laughed aloud in Nuria’s face, “Yes obviously. Which is why you went into this meditative state to ask about it? If no part of your soul secretly wanted it you would not have sought me out in this way.”

Nereel got more serious for a moment, "But let us be honest, I did not reach out to you for this purpose, I reached out to you to stop my former Engineer Vadim. Most importantly to place a check on his ability to awaken Pelonious IceGuard with the Warmonger Cult symbol.

Unfortunately you did not catch up to him in time. Using my name and my power, you could have convinced Crackler Watt and his subordinates to turn on Vadim and imprison him. But now…now that doesn’t matter anymore.

Pelonious IceGuard is freed, and the Ice General is on the warpath. He will prepare the Glacial Wastes for conquest…

I had hoped to give you the chance to embrace the power of the Fire General and stop Pelonius before he sets off a new Elemental Holy War. But you have refused this blessing, and so it will leave you and seek out a new Fire General, hopefully not one who will ally with Pelonious IceGuard."


Nereel Pyreen extended wings of fire and rose into the air, exclaiming, "Your only hope without my blessings is the monster Daemonsbane. If you can find him, he can slay Pelonious IceGuard as he had slain his predecessor…

But I do not know where the Daemonsbane monster now lives…"


There was a dark blade that flashed through the air and pierced through the chest of the floating Nereel. His body fell screaming into the cold water, and Nuria didn’t know what to do.

She could see the blade down in the base in the river. It seemed like the river water itself was avoiding the sword, and the body pierced by it. There was a flash of blue and a massive creature was standing over Nereel’s body.

The creature looked up at her, and to her shock, Nuria recognized the cambion as the same who was a bouncer on a party boat down in the Goblin Lands. She remembered him only in that moment, and was sure that her dream had taken a stranger, stranger turn.

He looked up at her and said, “I am sorry the spirit of Warmonger has been using the spectral desires of Nereel Pyreen to reach out to you. He is always looking for willing souls to serve his evil ends.
I am Rogarth Desdaemon, knight of the Balance and original bearer of the Daemonsbane sword. I’m sorry we have to meet under such strained circumstances.”

There was a rumbling as the world began to shake and Rogarth said, “I will take the next available ship from Port Unen to Jemison Post. Warmonger may continue to try and seduce you, but your fear of his servants is well deserved. Yes they have immense power, but what worth that power when it comes at the cost of so many innocent souls…”

There was a cracking noise, and Nuria saw darkness…


Nuria awoke with a start and found herself still in her bed. There was a strange smell of sulfur in the air. Her room was otherwise untouched, until she pulled back the sheet. Then she saw that while she had slept her own nail had bitten deep into the palm of her hand, carving a bloody image of a warmonger symbol.

She cleansed the wound, bound the hand with clean cloth, and changed the blood stained sheet. Her distrust of the servants of Warmonger had kept her safe from Nereel’s entreaties but she had discovered some deep truths in her conversations with him.

She knew his former servants (except for Vadim) didn’t know Nereel Pyreen was a General of Warmonger. She knew his ship and his Hot Press artifact, and his Elementals were untouched by Warmonger’s corruption. And it seemed this Crackler Watt was also untouched by Warmonger’s corruption. As for Vadim…, Nuria was unsure.

She went back to sleep finally.


Nuria was definitly asleep, the way she was falling through the sky was beyond dreamlike. She suddenly landed softly on a sandy beach, and could see Nereel was standing there looking untouched.

But his clothing was different, unlike the ambassadorial robes, or princely rainments of their previous encounters, this time he wore the grey carapace armor that she (and most folks) associated with the Warmonger’s Dead. At his hip was a magi cannon, and in one gloved hand he held a red orb that seemed to be made from hot, flowing lava. There was no looking into this orb, like one would a crystal ball, as it was so thick and seemed viscous with lava flow. Yet Nereel’s gloved hand was untouched.

“I dream of the day I hold the Lava Orb again,” said Nereel, “And unleash the fires inside upon the many worlds…to watch the worlds burn for the many pains I feel, the many offenses against my genius and my great glorious mind.”

Nuria could see an alien bird of prey, similar in somes ways to a falcon on the chestplate. He noticed her look and smiled sadly and said, "Yes, this is the armor of the GreyFalcon tribe,designed to absorb the dangerous acid attacks of the Krato when we first cleared out the tunnels of Mt. Ber’hoterask of their dangerous ilk. Then the armies of Warmonger stole our secrets, I didn’t know at that time that half the leadership of the GreyFalcon tribe had been turned during the K’ias Wars.

Warmaster Uth GreyFalcon, and my fool brother Zinzar the Red were untouched. So I agreed to send Warmaster Uth on a suicide mission alongside the Falosini Sovereign Azre’Tal to attack the last Nightmare Lord fortresses on the plane of Awareness. And I sent my brother Zinzar on what I thought would be an endless and impossible to succeed task of collecting the Swords of the Bladed Sun."


“But Uth and Azrael succeded, and became cursed for it,” sneered Nereel, "And they brought back hundreds of Uthvelor and Pelebor, cursed horrible creatures that were so disgusting I ordered they were all to be killed on sight. Instead Azrael intervened, and had some in a reservation at the Mt. Ber’Hoterask and others on reservations on many different dimensions.

I used a ring of shapeshifting to assume Azrael’s form and convinced my father Hec’ath to unleash Azrael’s Scalpel on the Uth of Ber’Hoterask. I was hoping it would either cure them or kill them all. Instead…it turned me this sickly grey color, and my people the GreyFalcon tribe became this same sickly color. A waste of an amazing opportunity, but I use it illustrate a point.

Things don’t always work out how we plan. I know you made a psychic connection to the Daemonsbane monster during your last dream transmission. If he arrives,he will try and hunt down Pelonious to our benefit. But when he sniffs the taint in your blood his monster side will be unable to NOT kill you. Your life will be in danger. But I have always hated Rogarth, that creature who killed me so brazenly despite my armies, my rank and my immense Leyas power and endless youth!!!"


“So ask me any question, and I will answer it truthfully. I know the Daemonsbane will hunt you, so it is in your interest to kill him first, so any advantage I can grant you I will…”

[Nuria could now trust Nereel to be honest in his answers. Whether she trusts him about Rogarth is up to her, but she would be advised not to show Nereel any desire to not kill Daemonsbane, no matter what her end choice. Nuria gains +1 Lvl to one Elemental Leyas of her choice that she already knows.

Nuria should act quickly.]


“What taint are you talking about?” Nuria asked. “What’s in my blood?”


“Your natural aversion to water Leyas, your affinity for Fire Leyas. These go beyond being just a natural Pyromancer. Your bloodline obviously dates back to a family of survivors of the Elemental Holy Wars on the prison dimension of Les’tas’tral.” Said Nereel, "Very few still survive outside of the prison dimension. Almost all of the Elemental bloodlines were contained at the end of the holy wars.

The bloodlines date back to the kingdoms of Warmongers Generals in my youth… few if any on Refuge know about it but I died and know those secrets still…"


(Week 10+)

Nereel was enraged the sky above him was like fire in the dreamscape, but Nuria was unafraid.
The long dead general of Warmonger raged at her, "Nuria, you who could have conquered all of these Glacial Wastes.

I have seen the spirit of Pelonious crushed. Is this just a dream? My dreams of yours?"

“I can sense the spirit has left the bloodlines…the hopes of the Elemental Holy Wars now lie dormant once again. Now a commoner, of common blood, bears the Ice General’s Sigil. She does not have his IceHeart or his Ice-Worms, but she bears something Pelonious could never utilize. Her heart breaks, and with its pain she will call down a frost storm…a frost storm for the ages…”

Then there was a loud clash, and the door to Nuria’s home swung inward and with it blew in the blizzard and snow.

Myka Dumbarski the driver who had traveled with her to Jemison Post, stumbled in. His stomach bloodied by claw marks. The cuts were pouring blood as he stumbled into the room.

It had been a long long time since Nuria had seen Myka, and the Immutable was turning pale quickly.
She leapt from her bed and tried to lift up the wounded driver. She remembered the comfort he had given her when they had traveled across the snowy wastes. Since then she had almost forgotten about him, a footnote, if anything in her life. She knew he was working the Copper Mine as one of two drivers moving ore shipments, but the distance between mine owner and simple driver seemed a gulf in this moment.

Then she remembered his kind words defending her to Alphine and the Banking Guilders. He had stood up for her. And she had forgotten him…

Nuria saw the wound and tried to staunch the bleeding. Most of the healing techniques she could utilize wouldn’t work on an Immutable.

He leaned in and whispered, “There was an attack at the Mine. They stole the sacrophagus that Pelonious had been stored in and killed a bunch of guards. I came as quick as I could. The storm is cutting off all radio chatter, so I couldn’t just call. It was some big bestial, you know one of those half-sylvan, half-kias monsters. With the big claws. But this one had a big blue mohawk. I knew…you would want…to know…”

Nuria watched the blood from him pool around her. She was reminded of the symbol of Warmonger…and the question that Nereel Pyreen had asked her.


“I don’t want to conquer the Glacial Wastes,” Nuria said through gritred teeth. “I don’t want to conquer anything.”

Gently, she lay Myka onto the floor, and she stood. “What do I do?”


The door to the cabin opened, and in walked an eight foot tall blue skinned giant. He was massively muscled, and bare-chested despite the cold. Nuria could see carved sections of his flesh. They looked ritually imposed on the Cambion warrior.

He approached her and said, “First thing you do is stop the bleeding. May I?”

He lifted up Myka and gently but quickly carried him over to the bed. The Cambion said, “Take these sheets for example. It will ruin them, but…”

He grabbed them, and drew a zela bladed dagger from his waist. He cut the strips of the sheets and then used them to bind the outer sections of the wound to stem the flow of blood.

“This will buy us some time. But we need surgical thread and a sewing needle,” said the Cambion.

In a bag near the door, the Cambion withdrew a rusty medkit. The Cambion lifted it with shocking dexterity. His nimble hands dwarfed the needle and thread. He first pried open the wound, then grabbed a bit of intestines and began to sew it closed. Then another and another. He worked with the tirelessness of a battlefield surgeon.

The cambion finally sewed closed the outer wounds in the real skin of his patient, and sprayed over the time-triggered disintegrating medical thread with synthetic skin.


He finally set the thread and needle down and stepped away from Myka, and said "This human is going to need a blood transfusion…But he is stabilized enough to move him.

These humans are so fragile. But he will live if he wishes to, he may just do so.

I am Rogarth. These days I work as a bouncer on a party boat out in Port Unen, but there was once a time I had a higher or perhaps lower purpose.

I hunted and granted final death to the Generals of Warmongers. Beings so evil they gave themselves freely. Beings without external corruption but choosing the most selfish and self-destructive of paths. But it is the quickest path to power.

But despite the fact that Warmonger seems to have chosen you, You do not seem to desire the power that Warmonger offers.

A wise first choice.

Especially since you bear the bloodline of an Elementalist of the Prison Dimension. You are lucky I do not currently carry the Daemonsbane sword. Its curse would force me to cut you down with it.

The second choice you are faced with is far more challenging.

Do you wish for me to cleanse you of the Fire General’s Sigil?

You will remain who you, but you will lose the protection you have so far enjoyed from Warmonger’s servants.
But you will be freed."

[Nuria learns Medicine/Healing skill 1.

She must now decide if she will have Daemonsbane cleanse the Fire General Sigil from her.]


Nuria and Rogarth passed Myka long to Alphine who brought him to the Guilder medics. It seemed Rogarth’s quick work had done much to save Myka’s life.

Now Nuria and Rogarth were waiting for more news in Nuria’s cabin. Nuria must make her decision…