The general is quiet for a long moment. Some of what has been said perk her interest, but some others are worrying, to say the least. 

"Prana always has a plan," the general says. There is a brief air of melancholy surrounding her, but it disappears as quickly as it appears. "However, I can certainly say that you are not a time traveller. One of the archons will notice as they are a chronomaster, a person who masters temporal magic and deals with temporal anomalies. It is not the first time we met with time travellers and it won't be the last, but you are not one. If I know Prana, and, believe me, I know her very well, this will be some kind of simulation for you. That means all the people here are already dead in your time. You cannot do anything about it, but Prana is correct in bringing you here. If she said to witness, then you are to witness what will happen to us so you can prevent the same thing from happening again in your time. If I were to guess, Prana has put together an echo or an impression of the people here for you to learn. Those who do not learn are bound to repeat the same mistake."

"If this person you say is truly an archon possessing another person, then it could be one of three," the general continues. "The one who usually comes here is one, but they are not the kind of person to possess someone. Aasimars are beholden to their form and their form only. They despise having another form and that is one reason they cannot and would not learn druidry. The other two perhaps can be persuaded if they are desperate enough. My guess is --"

As the general finishes her explanation, it becomes a bit clear that only a certain feature of the landscape is perceivable. She once said that the encampment spans dozens if not hundreds of miles, but only a couple of miles are perceivable while beyond that is a little blurry to the eyes. Some of the soldiers puttering around, finishing the battle, also have a generic, easy-to-forget face. The entire scene looks like a very advanced re-creation of a memory -- a very magical re-creation. 

For a brief moment, the entire landscape pauses before the general can finish her words. The air stutters and bends before the world appears to rewind. The general returns to her posture before she comments about Prana as if she didn't hear it the first time. The changes to the air settle and the world appears to continue. 

"Strange, indeed," the general comments, looking at Wadi quite intently. She casts her eyes to the other before and nods. "We will cultivate your magic if you have it. I noticed you unconsciously cast a healing spell for your friend. I will be more comfortable sending you to find Kashran if you have some more spells in your repertoire. I will personally teach you and your friends some spells that you may consider useful for your endeavour. Without Kashran to handle the martial side, the only thing I can offer is the sparring pit and some treaties to read."

Beside the general, the winged figure starts treating the fallen druids, Milo, and Myrla. 

{{Myrla make an Insight check for me. And you guys get to level up. So, tell me what you want to learn during the week that will also reflect on the skills you learn as you level up. We'll plan that during the rest of this conversation. There may not be a skill check involved, but if you want to do something specific enough, we will try to make a roll for it to see if there are some fun consequences or if you meet a memorable NPC for it or learn a certain piece of lore that may or may not benefit you in the future.}}

Myrla Insight: 12 (14 after the level up)

(Later, I will try to write more about what Myrla learned and how she might discover her new skill set - I hope I get inspired when I finally have some time.)

(Please let me know if I should wait, but here is Wadi's week.)

Wadi had always been a healer AND a fighter (probably comes from his growing up with Inge; OUCH) so he was torn between learning more about this magic power he has and fighting. 

In the beginning he worked to harness this magical energy within him and to bring it forth, nearly burning down the woods. He practiced on both healing and fighting magic. He learned about the different ways to use this energy or spells as they call it. And that I need to prepare them each morning. Not sure why I can't just decide at the moment, but what do I know, i can make fire appear in my hands now (he laughs). 

The the first of two big surprises came. They showed me how to change into a woodland creature (wildshape). MIND BLOWN. I turned into a mouse and I felt like a mouse, but still had my faculties about me. I ran about till the camp cat caught me I thought killed me, but I popped back to myself, clothes and all. I have to admit, I was a bit worried about that part. But I can change now into many woodland creature save the fieriest or those that can fly or swim. 

The second surprise came when I was meditating on too many things at one time. I was thinking about this shape changing and  the new fire spells and fighting and healing and my mind was spinning with all this new information and skills and stuff. Then I hear a voice. Or more, sensed a thought. I can't really explain it. But it was warm and friendly and reassuring. Guiding me of sorts. When I opened my eyes, before me was this little flame person. For what ever reason I was not afraid or suprised. And somehow I knew it's name was Ember and that she was going to help me on this adventure both fighting and healing. 

WOW, what a week.

Inge grins amiably at Milo as they spar, her long braid starting to come loose.

"I always have trouble with you little ones who won't stay in one place when I try to hit you!"

She finds her attacks strike home more often if she abandons all caution and attacks Recklessly, yet also finds her smaller opponent landing blows every time when she does that.  Nevertheless, she suspects she can take more hits than any of her companions and resolves that it will usually be worth it.

When not sparring, Inge tries to dive into any treaties or other official documents that Lunafreya makes available to her as enthusiastically as she had once drank up all the lore she could from her clan elders, yet after a few pages of reading, all the letters begin to swim in her head.

After a few failed attempts to peruse the treaties offered to her, General Lunafreya comes up to Inge after a few days. Different from the usually strong and untouchable general, there is a reluctance in the general's posture. Before the general can say anything, the world once again spasms and jitters before settling. 

"You look familiar to me," the general says with an unreadable frown. "You look like Helstrom. Your hair, your gait, it's all him. Your jaw and chin are also like his. It's also the air around you. Feels frosty, just like him and his people. Do you perhaps have a frost giant parent?"

During the week following the general's explanation, Myrla dedicated herself to mastering new skills and refining existing ones. She spent extensive time with the encampment's scout team, learning the art of stealth, animal handling, and thieves' tools. Under their guidance, she practiced moving silently and blending into her surroundings, picking locks, and communicating through the silent language of thieves' cant. The scouts also taught her to strike subtly and exploit a foe's distraction, skills she honed through countless sparring sessions.

Early in the week, Myrla approached Inge with an observation. "Inge," she said quietly, "I've noticed something peculiar. When you mentioned being called Helstrom, the general hesitated, almost like she recognised something but wasn't sure what or why. And during your training sessions, I've seen her watching you closely, especially when you're in the sparring pit. It's like she's trying to figure something out about you, something that appears to make her feel uncomfortable."

As the week progressed, Myrla's proficiency grew. She learned to handle animals with ease, calming even the most skittish creatures, and to read subtle cues to understand people's true emotions and intentions. Her ability to move silently and pick locks improved daily, and she quickly became adept at using thieves' cant for covert communication.

In the evenings, Myrla joined her companions in the sparring pit, testing her new skills and learning from each encounter. She also studied combat tactics and magical theory, eager to be as prepared as possible for their mission. Throughout it all, she remained observant, noting the general's continued interest in Inge and wondering what secrets might lie behind that intense gaze.

A growing tension suffuses Inge as she hears Myrla muse about the barbarian's perceived connection to this unknown Helstrom figure, at least in General Lunafreya's mind.  It is not anger or embarrassment, but rather an odd mix of confusion and fascination, with just a touch of pride.

Wandering as an adolescent with Wadi, and caught in a sudden winter snowstorm in mountains bordering the White Waste, Inge had come upon a frozen waterfall.  Motion and stillness, preserved together in pristine, glistening silence.  She had gazed long at it for reasons she could not rightly explain, standing transfixed, as motionless herself as the ice.

Now, when reality stutters once more and the General speaks to her of Helstrom, Inge freezes as the waterfall had, perfectly still and quiet.

When she finally speaks, her voice is strangely soft and full of wonder.  "Frost Giants?  Like from the tales our clan elders tell from before the Emergence?  There are mountain goliaths in the passes, and... my clan first found me in a rocky nook above the tree line, a baby blue with the cold yet not shivering so... I always thought some goliath blood might flow in my veins along with the elven."  She points at her tapered ears.  "I never met my parents..."

Milo spends a lot of time sparing, with both Inge and others who are willing. Having just fought a simulation of the same creatures who decimated his home town and family, his resolve to protect others has hardened. He let them down last time by not being fast enough, and he won't make that mistake with his new friends. In his spare time, he tries to go over any information specifically related to the enemies faced by these fighters. If the creatures they faced already in the simulation matched the creatures seen in real life, you can bet that other creatures in the army are likely to make an appearance again.

He also gets to thinking about rumours he heard before coming in, and trying to make connections with the gauntlets and the archons, but when looking into it, he has heard of more gauntlets than the supposed number of Archons, so they haven't created one each. 

During one of the evening meals he gathers his friends together to share what they have been learning, but also an important topic. 

One of the first things he mentions is this feeling he's had a couple times that the whole world kind of 'spasms and jitters' before coming back to normal. "Have you guys felt that too, or is it just due to my new found magic? What do you think it is?"

"It is less the jitters and more the obvious time rewind that I noticed. And everything that was being said about a simulation. I think this world is not real, we are still in the tower but everyone around is magical creations. Powerful magic that can really hurt us and probably kill us, if not for your magic. And it seems to be that they don't know they are not real, but when they find out that they aren't real, it rewinds so they don't know." 

After a few seconds thinking, Milo continues. "If I had to guess, the jitters are caused when something to do with us changes the course of what actually happened in history. And the magic is trying to adjust. But seeing as my experience of magic comes from that fight just then, and stories, I am more likely to be wrong."

For most of the week Brix had remained separated from the others. He spent his time analyzing plants and compounds. Even though he knew this to be a facade he was nevertheless amazed at how real it was.The area around the camp constantly provided the right components for testing. Whether root, Herb, or mineral, the land provided.  The magic around him almost guiding him, his studies opened new combinations and revealed new compounds. He learned how to infuse items with power though alchemy. 

As he studied he also realized that they may need a way to fight regenerative properties especially after witnessing what he saw on the battlefield. So he engineered a caustic liquid and a delivery system.

The delivery system consisted of two metal tubes strapped to a gauntlet. The tubes are separated by a small lever. Bringing the lever forward opens the tubes allowing for the addition of components. Pressing the lever back flat closed and also pressurized the tubes. 

Now Brix sat with his friends once more. He listened to each of them excitedly. He wanted to share what he had learned but not before hearing what they had done.  Upon hearing Milo's statement he couldn't hold it in any longer.

"I agree with Milo we are in a false world magically created. A dangerous one but a created one none the less. But I believe with its dangers it is teaching us. Testing us. To die here only means we would have died back in the monolith. It is making is ready for what comes next. I have learned some wondrous things. I could enhance your glaive, Inge. I could enhance some armor. So many things. I have even created a special weapon that I think will really help us."

 He demonstrates the gizmo with some non toxic items.

{{Sorry for cutting, but I just returned from helping my sister move into her new residence for her internship and only now have the time to post. Continue your discussion, I'm putting this here as a short continuation of Inge's conversation with the General.}}

"Emergence?" The General wonders before focusing back on Inge. "I'm sorry that happened to you. It is not unheard of. The giant races are still in a period where they value the purity of their bloodline too much. Marriage between races is strictly forbidden in the more traditional clans. The elves had abandoned such practice, but that is because of our low fertility and birth rate. It is why abandoning a child is frowned upon in elven culture. They are precious."

The general falls quiet for a moment. Her eyes roam across Inge's face, studying her features intently. There is a flicker of recognition in the general's eyes, but she doesn't voice anything. "The Helstrom, the frost giants, though, should have done away with child abandonment practice decades ago because of their current low number -- only less than one hundred of them existing now," she adds. "Do you have a memento from your parents? There are rites for giants or elven children. Leaving a totem with the child is a sacred practice. It is a way to connect with the child, and, in a way, to help the child control their inherent abilities -- their elements for giants and their fey magic for elves."

Quote from Krayveneer >>

{{Sorry for cutting, but I just returned from helping my sister move into her new residence for her internship and only now have the time to post. Continue your discussion, I'm putting this here as a short continuation of Inge's conversation with the General.}}

"Emergence?" The General wonders before focusing back on Inge. "I'm sorry that happened to you. It is not unheard of. The giant races are still in a period where they value the purity of their bloodline too much. Marriage between races is strictly forbidden in the more traditional clans. The elves had abandoned such practice, but that is because of our low fertility and birth rate. It is why abandoning a child is frowned upon in elven culture. They are precious."

The general falls quiet for a moment. Her eyes roam across Inge's face, studying her features intently. There is a flicker of recognition in the general's eyes, but she doesn't voice anything. "The Helstrom, the frost giants, though, should have done away with child abandonment practice decades ago because of their current low number -- only less than one hundred of them existing now," she adds. "Do you have a memento from your parents? There are rites for giants or elven children. Leaving a totem with the child is a sacred practice. It is a way to connect with the child, and, in a way, to help the child control their inherent abilities -- their elements for giants and their fey magic for elves."

Inge is very still for a time, gazing at Lunafreya.  Slowly, she holds out her empty hands, large palms turned up and long fingers outstretched, as if wishing to receive something that she cannot see.  Her wide, almost childlike brown eyes are serenely still like mountain crags before a snowstorm.

"I think I've been looking my whole life.  For something.  To figure out where I came from.  But all I have... all I have are the elders' tales and stories.  Of the goliaths in the heights, and of the mythical giants who once ruled there.  There was... there was no memento."

After a pause, Inge considers describing to the General what she knows of the Emergence, but stops, supposing reality would just stutter again and reset.

There is a sadness in the general's eyes when she hears the answer, but strangely Inge cannot find pity there. The air surrounding the general stutters more as the general moves closer and reaches under the neck of her armour. She pulls out a bejewelled pendant in the shape of a green butterfly.

"Well, elf to elf, I hope this makes up for what your parents perhaps don't have the chance to do," the general says, handing over the pendant to Inge gently. "This was given to me by General Helstrom himself when I defeated him in a spar. I don't know why but I feel like you may find some more use out of it. If not, it may make you feel closer to one side of your parents' family. The jewel is taken from the mountain where the frost giants live and can only be found there. It's kind of a rite of adulthood for them to go on a quest to find this jewel and craft it into something resembling their concept of beauty. They are supposed to hold onto them until such a time they taste their first defeat, after which the jewel would be handed over to the victor and the frost giant would have to quest for another jewel to replace what they had lost."

The general's form suddenly shatters into thousands of pieces of glass as she is about to hand Inge the pendant, and the world rewinds. The general's form reappears in front of Inge and flickers for a few moments before her form suddenly appears on the other side of the camp. The general continues talking with the other soldiers as if her conversation with Inge never happened. 

Although, as Inge looks down at the place where the general suddenly disappears, there is a replica of the same pendant made of iridescent glass. It is cold to the touch, but somehow that coldness brings her some comfort. 

Inge stands transfixed, looking at the spot where Lunafreya had been a moment before.

Elf to elf, she said.  I made it all about me, didn't I?  This might all be a simu-whatever.  Not real.  But I still should have asked her about her parents.  Maybe she never knew them either.  How come I never think of who my elven parent was?  And what they may have wanted of me...

Gently, Inge kneels to pick up the pendant, examines it slowly, and ever so carefully puts it on.  She imagines being Helstrom and sparring with Lunafreya.

I hope Simu-General doesn't wonder later why I'm wearing her pendant!

When she returns to her friends, Inge is uncharacteristically subdued.  She even eats portions that are, while large, more commensurate with her fair share.  She accepts the ingenious alterations and enhancements that Brix makes to her glaive with relatively quiet (though sincere) thanks.

About midweek, when Myrla is once again talking with the scouts about ways to be more stealthy, a figure dressed in black garb from head to toe approaches her. The only defining feature she can see of the figure is their eyes, which are a vibrant yellow. A small fur-like hair surrounds the rather expressive pair of eyes. 

"Myrla, was it?" the figure calls. "How have the scouts been treating you? They are a rather secretive bunch and rarely part with their secrets." 

With the help of a few of the on-site blacksmiths and master crafters, Brix learns a few things about enhancing the durability of armour and the effectiveness of weapons through the use of various oils and treatments. It takes a few tries, but eventually, he manages to treat Inge's weapon. 

As a first-timer, the result of Brix's enhancement becomes known quite quickly amongst the soldiers, especially the craftsmen. One in particular approaches him near the end of the week. He is an elderly human, almost to his retirement age. The other soldiers don't know his name, only his moniker: the Vindicator. He is a rather respected and feared figure for surviving harsh battles even at his age. 

"Seeing the quality of your oil making, I assume you can brew," the Vindicator says curtly. "Follow me. You are helping me with potion making for the army and some to take on your missions." The Vindicator turns back toward his own tent without waiting for an answer. 

At the same time, as someone approaches Myrla, another one approaches Milo when he is in the sparring pit. A dwarven man, beard grey from age yet well-kept and nearly goes past his belt, calls out to Milo with a grin on his face and a tankard in his hand. This is Commander Melorius, one of the commanders of the phalanx squad. 

"Lad! Have you thought to specialize more?" The man asks. "You have the build of an agile fighter, not my forte, but one of my men can help give you some pointers. He's a devil with his footwork and can use some manoeuvres and flourishes that require a slight build like you." He then points to the shield he always carries with him bearing many scratch marks and glowing blue scripts written neatly on the rim. "Or would you like to learn some runeworks? Might help you out in a bind. Your flimsy armour won't make it far here and there's nothing stronger than good old dwarven rune-weaved armour."

Another figure appears beside Commander Melorius and snorts derisively. Taller than the dwarven commander, the new figure is almost as tall as Inge and Wadi. Instead of the usual humanoid feature commonly found, this figure has a more feline characteristic. Blackened fur covers parts of her body, but not all. She appears to retain more humanoid features compared to the rest of her people, most notably her five-fingered hands while others in her people only have four. This is Commander Xanthe, one of the commanders of the heavy scout units.

"No, no, no, I don't think so," she cuts in before Commander Melorius can say anything more. "He will have a better time in my unit. His form and agility will only help him when he learns Gema."

A few days after her conversation with Inge, General Lunafreja approaches Wadi when he is meditating. Seeing the fluttering fire moving in an erratic pattern around Wadi, the general decides to impart something. 

"You are trying too hard," she says, disturbing Wadi's focus. The fire quickly goes out of control before the general quickly disperses it into hundreds of orange butterflies that make an orbit around her before flying upwards and dissipating. "You are trying to balance between good fire and bad fire, fire for healing and fire for battle. There is no good or bad fire. There is not only one use for fire. Fire is fire. It has a life of its own. The key is not forcing fire to do as you wish, but directing it. Think of it as a little creature that you need to nurture and guide. Depending on how you guide it, it can harm or it can heal. Your fire, in particular, appears to be more potent than others I've seen. Do you have fire giant ancestry?"

Wadi says "Argh." in frustration. "Yeah, I know you're right, I just need to relax." 

"Fire giant. Good question, but no idea." 

In time he starts to get the hang of it. AND, he finds he has a little spirit friend.

Quote from Krayveneer >>

About midweek, when Myrla is once again talking with the scouts about ways to be more stealthy, a figure dressed in black garb from head to toe approaches her. The only defining feature she can see of the figure is their eyes, which are a vibrant yellow. A small fur-like hair surrounds the rather expressive pair of eyes. 

"Myrla, was it?" the figure calls. "How have the scouts been treating you? They are a rather secretive bunch and rarely part with their secrets." 

Myrla smiled, appreciating the rare direct interaction. "Yes, I'm Myrla. The scouts have been... well, let's say it's been an enlightening experience. They might be secretive, but I've managed to pick up a few tricks," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "They've taught me how to move like a shadow and blend into the background, which is no small feat given my usual preference for a more direct approach."

Myrla paused, considering how to articulate the eerie encounters she'd experienced. "Well, there have been some... unusual moments," she began. "Let me tell you about one, perhaps they aren't as strange from your perspective, I'm new here after all." She leans back and shares her experience, "I was helping with the burial rites after the battle. As I placed a fallen soldier's belongings into his grave, I felt a strange connection to him, almost like I could hear his final thoughts. It wasn't just a feeling of sorrow but a sense of understanding, of knowing who he was and what he cared about. It was as if, for a brief moment, the veil between life and death had lifted, and I could see through it. This had never happened to me before."

Myrla looked into the vibrant yellow eyes of the figure before her. "I wonder if these experiences have been guiding me towards something deeper, something... otherworldly. I can't quite explain it... yet, but it's as if I'm being drawn into a world that straddles the line between life and death, and I wonder if it is normal here and the same for all of you." Finally, she tilted her head slightly, studying the vibrant yellow eyes. "And who might you be?"

(It might not be as clear as I had intended but I wanted this to be foreshadowing that I have a mind to choose the Phantom subclass for Myrla.)

Stunned into wide eyed stationary silence,  Brix pauses for a moment as the Vindicator walks away. Realizing he's about to miss an opportunity he shakes off the surprise and double steps it to catch up. "Yes, Yes! Why uh, thank you. Where do we start?"

"I think you might," the general says to Wadi. "I can sense them inside you. I see that you have met your flameborn. It may look small now, but I've seen fire giants who have a flameborn as large as them. The more powerful you are, the more powerful your flameborn will be." The general gives Wadi a nod before going off to do her own duty, leaving him on his own for the rest of the week. With the fire constantly raging around him, Wadi doesn't see much of anyone else apart from some of the surviving druids who give him some more advice on how to best connect with the magic within him. 

Brix follows the Vindicator through the encampment until they arrive at a clay hut. Iridescent smoke billows from the lone chimney in the middle. The Vindicator motions Brix to come in without glancing back at him. When Brix steps into the clay hut, he is treated to the sight of rows upon rows of brewing stations. Some are brewing a sweet-smelling liquid that reminds him of the alcohol he usually brewed, but some others are more fantastical to him. A group of people covered in protective gear from head to toe suddenly walks in front of Brix all the while gingerly carrying a glowing pepper-like stuff with long tongs toward a large cauldron. The Vindicator quickly pulls Brix back from getting too close. 

"Flaming Pepper," the Vindicator explains. "Potent healing agent, but also potent killing agent if you are not careful in handling it. Some of the ingredients in this place may seem foreign to you, but you will learn. While you are here, you will learn to appreciate the art of potionmaking. First, we need to get you garbed in the proper attire."

{{Brix, I need you to roll me a d100.}}

The figure considers Myrla for a moment before they nod. "What you feel is quite common, especially here," they say. "The land beyond the Crata Line is the land ruled by Oversee Edrath. Death magic steeps this plan for hundreds of years, even long before the fall of the Overseer. The Naphil may look good in appearance and deed, but their ancestors were bloodthirsty people. These lands are a land of blood and sacrifice, and those who know death will feel its presence more prominently. But to feel it that deeply? Hmm... Interesting."

The figure invites Myrla away to a more secluded place. "Come with me," the figure says and gestures toward a lone tent in the distance that seems to be mostly avoided away by the other soldiers. "The ability you speak of is still a taboo to some of the common people. Let us talk in a quieter place." The figure gestures invitingly, but doesn't offer their name.