All Hunts Must End

The air all around reverberated to the sound of metal clashing against metal, shrill ringing filling the background as grinding stones spun against blades, the sparks dancing in the air as they poured like water from each blades edge onto the cold rockcrete floor below. Here and there the sound of dull thuds accompanied by the ringing clang of hammers beating out a rhythm crisped through the air until a melody all of its own was spun for all to hear. Across from this the unmistakable smell of sweat and human aggression permeated everything as great rows of warriors clashed with one another, great blunt mimicry's of their true weapons clasped in their hands as they trained with their fellows in the great sparring ring that formed the centre of this part of the war camp. Raising his head slightly from where he had perched himself he watched as each pair clashed and probed for a weakness in the defence of their other, first sizing each other up and then rebounding off of each other, the next pair would clash in a flurry of blows that would leave neither with an advantage, the next pair would see the smaller knocked from his feet but the supposed victor’s overconfidence flipped on them as the smaller clansmen booted their feet from underneath them. “Smart” His mind whispered as he continued to watch each pair in turn until he came to a set about half way down the line, a shield-born and a viper-marked going at it, holding little back if anything even though this was just simple sparring to break the boredom. Tuning out the noise from around him he watched as the shield-born absorbed blow after blow from the viper-marked; her shield ringing out like a blade-rite's anvil with each impact from the viper-marked’s axe rake. In turn when she came out from her defensive stance each blow would glance off of the viper-marked as he weaved out of the way a fraction of a second before her blow could land with full force. A few others were watching the pair of them as well from the edges of the ring he noticed from the corner of his vision, a couple of rites laying bets, an indentured judging who to challenge, and finally a lone figure sat under the awning of a small tent, the embers of a cigarette barely lighting their features hidden by their hood. A hunter amongst hunters he thought to himself, one worth watching and carefully assessing the old indentured decided as he let his old bones rest against the cool surface of his perch, one hand rested on the hilt of his weapon by his side. The viper-marked cut in low and almost flipped the shield-born from her feet, but in return had to dodge away from the edge of the shield she brought down hard on his shoulders in response, both would take a moment to recover their balance before engaging again he nodded to himself, as the two clan warriors redressed themselves and began to probe their opponents defences once more, the shield born as set as the ground beneath her feet as the viper-marked circled like his clans name sake. He found himself thinking that they reminded him of a tale he’d once heard when a young warrior of a hunter and their prey. Each would test one another as they clashed time and time again, each time one would come off worse but would always return to face the other until at the final crucial moment they both struck with all their collective might against one another, the hunters determination and the prey’s guile succeeding in killing both via each’s blade and fang, only to leave easy meat for the scavengers and silent predator that had been stalking them both through all their effort, in death the true victor revealed to the world from shadow. If the shield-born and viper-marked were the hunter and prey in their own minds, then who would be the silent stalker the old indentured pondered to himself, the scavengers laughed and betted off to one side in the form of the two rites, another predator would be the waiting indentured but their judgement was to find an equal through combat not to strike when both were worn out. “Not the shadow then” He gently stroked his chin, that left the stranger under the awning as he cast his gaze over the flickering light cast by the cigarette, glad in their cloak they were obscured from sight unless one came truly close. He embers moved slightly as the figure for a moment held the gaze of the old indentured, two hunters of a different kind crossing paths for a second as they acknowledged the others presence. Hanging in the air for a moment the figure seemed to be sizing him up he felt, not unlike the indentured watching from the side of the sparring ring with the two clan warriors so vehemently sparring with one another. Shifting his position the light cast by the end of the cigarette for a moment crossed the eyes of the cloaked figure revealing hard set eyes with a metallic like glint to them, not unlike the sparks flying from the forge-wheels as blades were sharpened all around them. A soldier for definite, one who could and would spill blood with little thought the old indentured nodded, dangerous most certainly, no true cellborn could ever not respect the martial capabilities of those around them, those that lived long enough to reach an old age as he had done fell into the position of advising the younger thanes of their clans when figures like this came before them. A memory of a chance encounter with a band of hive-sec when he was a young clansmen came to mind, the hard looks and steel in their eyes came rushing forward as the memory surfaced briefly as the figures own eyes reminded him of the encounter but in the same way their was a bloodlust in them that the seccer’s never had he thought as a sudden roar of noise from the sparring ring pulled his attention to where the rows of sparring clansmen had coalesced into a ring of bodies punching the air and cheering as the viper-marked managed to rip the shield-born’s shield form her arm, only to be knocked from his feet by a swift head-butt that broken his nose and sent a spiral of blood flying through the air as the sparring session decided into a first blood brawl between the two. Drawn by the blood fight the surrounding cellborn swarmed to cheer on the warriors as the respective clans indentured squared up to their counter parts and the beginnings of a true clan brawl began to take shape, blocking the old indentured’s sight of the stranger. Getting up as quick as his old bones would let him he drew his mace to clear a path for him as he pushed through the crowd, a few cellborn raising an eyebrow at the sight of the elderly cellborn moving away from the fight. Side stepping a blob of younger cellborn he had to physically yank a clansmen out of the way to regain his sight on the strangers location, except now only an empty seat with the smouldering remains of a cigarette laying on the floor remained, the shadowed stranger disappeared back into the darkness once more, the hunt already over...

Military Campaign Progress
Across the entirety of human history mankind has been driven by a constant need for purpose, what shape this purpose has taken has twisted and changed from person to person as each era has passed with some old forms being lost to time as new technology or cultures have rendered them relics of a by gone age, whilst others yet that had been looked down upon by each generation to come have risen to prominence and taken their place as a corner stone of civilisations through out time and across the cradle of humanity. In the first steps of human history when humanity dwelled in nought but caves, huddling around the glares of the campfire each night as fearful eyes glanced all around at the darkness beyond this drive was focussed on but one simple thing, survival. This need to find some way to ensure that this generation would see the light of the world the very next day drove the first hunters to pierce through the darkness to bring back the food and skins that would feed and clad the tribe. The need to find new grounds and new lands to live drove the first scouts to crest the hills beyond and help them settle new lands as the ever present need and will to survive drove them onwards. This ever constant drive would come to epitomise entire cultures as mankind grew into the first true nations, its people would centre on the hunt as the pure example set by life of how humanity’s will to survive would always come first, birthing in turn warriors that would take animals as symbols of strength, will, guile and defiance when they marched to war with their rivals. In time these clashes would spawn their own sense of purpose from the survivors that would carry their nations onward through time as they became beacons of true survival in the face of adversity, until as the era’s passed by to the sound of humanity’s progress they would become inspirations once more for those that studied their ways, helping others to throw off chains lashed upon them by others and found new nations that would help launch humanity into the stairs, the constant need for a sense of purpose carrying them onwards like an ever present companion to humanities trials and tragedies, helping to guide and shape those to come.

For the various and myriad clans that make up the Cellborn this constant search for purpose is dually wed with their sense of strength as a culture. From an early age every member of a clan is reminded of the duty they hold to carry on that strength through whatever means their particular clan holds closest, be that strength of arms, mind, guile, craft or dozens of other expressions that can be found throughout the length and breadth of cellborn culture. When these young members come of age this need for purpose often finds an outlet through their chosen clans acceptance rites, their sense of identity matching with that of their newly adopted clan, their search for their place in the world adding to the strength of their new clan and so in turn coming full circle to aiding the clans purpose in the greater scheme of things within the chaotic web that makes up a CellBorn's life. Full blooded clan members never truly lose this need to constantly prove themselves in the face of a challenge, partly giving rise to the cellborn’s legendary; and on occasion notorious, reputation for aggression when first encountered. In some this eventually manifests in them leaving behind their roles to join the ranks of the indentured of their clan whilst others become truly obsessed with their particular talents, either way their individual will joins with that of their clan until they are truly just another part of the unified whole in their continuous hunt for their clans objectives, be what it may. In the end this drive to prove themselves pushes the great clans forward under their banners to the cries of dozens of clans as all their searches for purpose comes back to the original hunt for the same simple objective, the survival of their way of life over all else.

The first days of the new season passed to the sound of cellborn doing what cellborn do best what devoid of any challenge, the cheers and cries from the assembled crowds around the various fighting pits that had been pitched up from various debris available to hand  rang out into the surrounding ruins. To those on the true periphery of the territory the sounds could be mistaken for a swarm in the middle of gorging itself, for the rest of the iron blade’s war camp it was the happy sound of content cellborn knocking the seven bells out of one another as far as the various thanes and thaigs were concerned. These scenes would continue to occupy the majority of the iron blade time for a few days more until come the eve of the sixth day the constant clashes between over active indentured began to fizzle out like a badly cut fuse, the smaller pits would be torn down and often as not the scrap used to construct them would be squabbled over by industrious rites looking for basic supplies, whilst the more important parts were seized by whoever got their hands on them first. Come the midst of the third day of the second week only two of these pits would remain, one having been turned into a tourney square of sorts where clans could spar and settle disputes under the eyes of the army’s attendant adjudicators whilst also saving any other clans from being pulled into one of the cellborn’s famous full bar brawls. The other had become an armours dream set up as various metal workers, crafters, shapers and all those with a pention for weapons had congregated around the edge of the pit, forming in part a bustling weapons market and repair workshop compound at the same time as various clans formed long lines to have blades sharpened, guns fixed and dents buffed from armour plate. The next few days of the week would reverberate to the sound of metal on metal as the nightly gloom was lit by the sparks from the ‘blade pit’ as the rusted sign hung at the small entrance to the collection of tents and hides proudly if hap hazard declared. One thing was noted however by those visiting, amongst the teeming sea of clans from amongst the army visiting and attempting to find something to alleviate the boredom a small collection of hindered were noted during one low morn talking with a rite covered in silver markings. The tale would do the rounds of the various impromptu drinking holes and taverns set up across the camp, the small band clutching spears spent an hour discussing something with the rite before they took a seat in the shadow of tent’s canopy as the rite went to work on the blades of their spears, sparks would fly alongside the sound of sizzling oil and the ringing of a hammer one metal. By the evening the same small band would be heading off with much better blades than they had when they had arrived in the morning, quietly talking amongst themselves with suspicious eyes glancing any cellborn that walked too close by.

When questioned about the Silver wolf simply shrugged and bluntly told whoever brought it up with him where to stuff themselves with a great amount of gusto. The next week or so would see similar strange tales cropping up as the clans on guard noted lights moving too and from the hindered settlement as small bands began to make tentative trips into the cellborns war camp on a more regular basis. Mainly they seemed to be collections of the guards; The Fel’Ra, of the settlement who traded supplies and scrap with the army’s crafters in return for refurbishing weapons or having better blades crafted for them from the bars of rebar or sheet metal they brought upto the camp with them. The final days of the month would see the Thaigs coming together to discuss the happenings with the hindered, gathering in the central tent used when the army’s clans bayed to take lead of their respective cohorts the five thaigs each took their seats as they arrived, some more casually than the others whilst one looked clearly irritated with the meeting. Over the following few hours they would go from discussion, to argument back to discussion and a brawl between two of the thaigs that was only settled when the adjudicator present knocked both of them flat on their backs to the sound of laughter from the others present before the two combatants began to laugh themselves as they got up from where they had been sprawled. Never could talks between the leaders of the iron blade be called boring at the very least, in the end it was decided to pass the situation along to the council to discuss as 3 potential options were open to them but without a Hersekal for the army to decide the split vote they were as far as they could go in terms of a more permanent decision.

The dawn of the next month would pass to much the same tune as those days that had come before as the inactivity that had settled in amongst the army began to shift to the usual agitation that followed them everywhere they went like a shadow to the passion the iron blade was famous for when engaged in battle. Those war bands of berserkers from amongst the first cohort had encamped themselves at the edge of what had once been a market of some sort, the open square at the centre having become a bloody pit where the berserkers had settled themselves with daily clashes between themselves as the rest of the army began to find ways to keep itself occupied as they waited for new orders of any sort. During the third day of the second week a small band of rites accompanied by a trio of indentured from their clan head out from the camp and towards the Hindered settlement east of the army’s war camp. The clan guards on duty simply raise an eyebrow as the small group passes by to the sound of amused laughter and some bawdy tune being sung between them, some hours later the same band would return with a sack on the backs of the indentured seemingly filled to the brim with something as they head off back towards their own tents. Pulling open the sacks the contents would be revealed to be a large keg of some form of alcohol with the others filled with some supplies and the final holding a few more intriguing weapons that the group had obtained from somewhere. The following day the same band would head out again and return once more with a few more sacks filled to the brim before disappearing once again amongst the sea of tents to the sound of laughter and amusement, by the third trip the initially nonchalant guards on duty at the camp gates however became suspicious as one made a note of the time the group was leaving and returning before heading off to find the adjudicators and groups thanes. Returning from their fourth trip at the end of the week the group was met by an equally sized band made up of a trio of adjudicators accompanied by the groups clan thanes and their own guards, all wearing the same scowl of irritation and suspicion whilst glaring at the not so amused anymore group of cellborn. The following hour of ’open’ honesty from the group was met with suspicion and then some bemusement at the antics of the group as the adjudicators present simply maintained their habitual scowl as the thanes shook their heads. It seemed the group after the proceeding month of boredom and the tales of the small bands of Hindered visiting the camp had struck upon the idea of doing exactly the same back, grabbing their personal stashes they headed down to the settlement and went on what they called their little expedition. It seemed the rumours surrounding the hindered were at least partially true, what scavengers or traders had managed to make some form of contact with them had tales of honest traders that drove a hard bargain, this small band of cellborn had found this to be true as they had spent all day trading with the hindered crafters & traders, or Kels as the hindered called them. In the end they had come back with a large quantity of booze, alongside some interesting blades made by the Fel’ra that they had won after defeating the blades owners in a dual of sorts. The following week would find the small band confined to their clan tents as the thanes met with their cohort’s thaig to decide how to handle the groups initiative as they had yet to receive word on how to treat the hindered from the council. In the end one of the clans more elderly members helped to settle the impasse, considered a father figure amongst the clans younger members and an trusted adviser by his thane the elderly indentured suggested rather than treating these strangers as outsiders, they settle the situation as one would between clans. If the group had won the blades far and square then blood was settled he rasped, but if they had taken them without respect then it was owed to the hindered that the iron blades square the account as strength of honour demanded. Nodding in agreement at the ancient clansmen’s words the thanes began to gather their warriors together and called for those clans around them to join them as they marshalled together in the early morn of the final days of the month, clan banner fluttering in the recycled breeze above them as they began to make their way down towards the hindered town, the thanes leading the column with the ancient clansmen hobbling alongside.

The morning of the third month of the season would see this column of a hundred odd cellborn stood quietly before the rusted gates to the hindered settlement, paused on the same slope that in the previous season the Iron blade and Fel’Ra of the town had met and traded words rather than blood. Noticing the large grouping stood literally on their door step the hindered guards had flooded their walls in readiness but rather than aiming their weapons they now stood with a curious look crossing their faces as a band of more wizened and ghostly hindered shuffled out of the creaking gates with their escort to meet this band. Pausing but a few feet from one another, the most skeletal of the delegation would step forward, blackened pupil-less eyes analysing the cellborn before them as it opened it miss-happened mouth to speak, “Why do you bring so many fel’ra before our walls Iron blade?” it rasped, stepping forward alongside his thane the elderly indentured tiled his head in deference to what could perceivably be called his equivalent. “Clansmen drawn from our ranks have come to your hird as your kin have visited ours” He spoke with quiet but clear words, “They return to us with blades they claim are won through fair blood spilled, we question their words and seek the truth to their claims” he continued as the hindered listened, one of the Fel’ra guards going to speak before being immediately silenced by one of the other wizened elders of their kind. “If they have lied to us and stolen these blades then by our rites strength must be settled between us, hence our clans” He raised one hand in a small gesture, The oldest of the hindered nodded before turning to speak with the rest who nodded and gestured for a minute before in turn they face the elderly indentured as the Thanes looked on. “Our brood say that you way is of war, to test your strength in battle yes?” Then thanes nodded proudly “And you value the blade as fair test” again the assembled cellborn nodded. “You come with respect of your traditions to settle any perceived wrong done to us as is your way”, The elderly indentured dipped his head in deference once more as the small knot of hindered seemed to watch their every response. “Our Fel’ra say that your clansmen have tested themselves against their brood, and as is our way won the blades they have claimed from the fights as we have claimed the knowledge from sharing the fight” The skeletal hindered spoke through needle like teeth. “Then blood is settled” one of the thanes spoke for the first time as she stepped up alongside the elderly clansmen, their different markings standing stark against one another, “Yes young-blood” one of the other hindered spoke, bowing formally as it did so. The thane returned the bow and held out a hand ,“Then we are settled once more” she spoke as the hindered clasped her hand, the other cellborn already turning to leave. “Tell me this Cellborn” the wizened leader of the hindered present spoke suddenly “You seek challenges to test yourselves, you have treated us with honour uncommon for your kind” it spoke slowly as the cellborn listened “and yet you stand apart, you do not make war, you do not feign friendship, what exactly do you want from my kin and brood?” It stood silently as it waited for an answer. “We find ourselves in situations new to us” One thane spoke “We wait on word from our home lands council; our greatest leaders, before we act. One day we may go to war, one day we may leave you to your silence, other we may embrace you as brothers, but now we simply wait”  The other thane finished as they turned to leave once more, the assembled bands of cellborn marching back the way they had come.

The following few weeks of the month would see small traffic between the Iron blades camp and the hindered town continue as the two sides settled into what could almost be called simple small talk between them as the cellborn found a quiet respect for the hindered as the two settled down once more. The final days of the month would see a couple of larger groups making their way up from the town to the cellborn war camp, setting up at the gates entrance a pair of Kels would begin to trade and talk with the cellborn on guard duty on a regular basis as the two began to long wait once more until word of what was to come next reached them and the next steps would begin to play out.

Summary:

The Iron blade are still encamped in their half of the territory taken in the previous season, the hindered settlement found occupying the other half for their part have begun trading on a very small scale with the army and in return small bands of cellborn have begun to visit the town as they wait for orders from the council or the elected Hersekal. For the time being the Hindered seem to tolerate the Iron blade’s presence in their lands as long as the peace continues between the two, a few arguments happen but with no lasting effects as the mutual martial respect between the two sides seem to be fostering some form of positive relations, at least in the short term.

Cries in the night…
With the recent happenings in the dome and the loss of the nod providing food to the hold to the tribal peoples in the previous season for the first time since in years the cellborn are facing potential starvation in the near-term. The effects could prove to be devastating if not resolved before the stockpiles run out in the next 2 seasons as every single clan from the lowest through to highest begins to feel the effects and inevitably people begin to die. On the flipside of this the situation with the encountered hindered continues to drag along as the council attempt to settle on a solution from those devised in the previous months, when combined with the ongoing hunt for the final members of the black market separatists the cellborn are besieged from all sides beyond that which they are normally accustomed. Calling a council meeting the gathered thanes and high adjudicator find little discourse with one another as the severity cuts any posturing down to the core as each in turn says their piece before allowing the next in turn to speak. In the end they settle on the one issue that takes true precedent as they issue the order to the clans present in the green dome to resolve the food shortage problems before they become catastrophic, whilst also marking the urgency of handling the hindered before someone makes the decision for them in the coming days and weeks. Aside from this the unanswered offer from the ’Gun runners’ is raised by the crow mother as the offer is withdrawn as strangely as it appeared, apparently another route having been decided upon by the gun runners mysterious leader. What this decision is or was is unknown, but the crow mother is sure of one thing with these shadowy mercenaries it will likely show itself soon and it will likely be as brutal as It is silent.

Summary:

1) With the lack of any food supply the council has issued an order to all cellborn present to claim a nod by whatever means they deem necessary, if that nod happens to belong to any enemy of the cellborn then all the better in their eyes. The lone soldier will be present to discuss the situation further with all cellborn present during the course of the expedition.

2) As the Iron Blade settles itself alongside the hindered settlement the thaigs have bayed for the council to lend them direction if a Hersekal is not elected soon. They will swear by the decision chosen by cry for the choice to be made soon as they attempt to keep the worse excesses under control before it causes some form of clash between members of the Iron blade and the hindered. The lone soldier will have more information on the matter and the options open to the Thanes and Hersekal present should one be elected this coming season.

3) With the lack of an answer on the Gun Runners offer the chance to reply had slipped by and the offer has been withdrawn, the only conciliation is that something happening in the dome may be related to the withdrawal of the offer though the council are unsure as to what.

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