Empire Spotlight Series, Part 2: The Kaj-Tul.

The second entry in our series of Empire Spotlight stories has arrived, this time featuring the Chain Makers of the Spirelands: The Kaj-Tul. TW: the Kaj-Tul claim victory though horrible acts of violence and slavery: please be aware this story reflects those themes.

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Tale: The Taking of Lorkan

It wasn't the cloud of dust and burgundy banners that heralded their arrival to the town of Lorkan, but the unmistakable scent of metal and death. The sound of mothers and fathers hurriedly herding their children into the nearest buildings began to crescendo and as the dust cloud drew nearer, the image of a horned head and dagger became visible. Rumours had reached over a month ago to the residents of Lorkan about the decimation of other communities in the central areas of the Spirelands. Travellers had experienced the scent of rotting flesh and metal, the calling cards for the fate of the ever growing number of suddenly ‘abandoned’ towns. With some preparation, the townsfolk of Lorkan thought they could spare themselves and their young from the horrors that would unfold.

They were wrong.

Horses whinnied loudly as thundering hooves galloped into the town square, now silent as the townsfolk hid in their homes. Mothers clasped firm hands over their children's mouths and whispered prayers to the Weave of Lorkan to protect them, to steer these intruders away.

The silence hung in the air as the horses stilled, then the loud crunch of heavy metal boots echoed off the mud brick walls. The door to the house closest to the town square flew off its hinges with a crash, revealing the family inside huddled against the far wall. The silhouette of a man stood in the doorway, his bronze accented skin casting a luminous glow around him as if ignis and ferris itself had blessed him. His empty gaze scanned the family briefly, before he turned away, his gilded metal armour casting dancing reflections on the walls. He waved two fingers in the direction of the doorway carelessly, before moving towards the next dwelling.

At the gesture, armoured men dressed in burgundy tabards rushed in, and pried the children from their parents arms. The parents howled in pain as their children were snatched up, wrestled from the safe confines of familial embraces and herded into the town square. Soon, the cries of other families torn apart made the town square deafening. A ring of these tabarded soldiers blocked the path of the enraged townsfolk as the children were herded to the centre of the town and soon there was a frenzied mob as the townsfolk threw themselves desperately at the ring of soldiers, a wall separating the terrified children from their families.

The leader with the hollow stare stood in the centre with the sobbing children, and began uttering words only known to a few under his breath. The words flowed freely to the ears of the ring of soldiers who followed with replies of their own, until their voices rose above the cries of the townsfolk. Iridescent chains began to grow from the feet of the abductors, wrapping like tendrils around the legs, chests and throats of the townsfolk, pinning them in place, constricting their chests and lungs. The children had chains of their own, shackles appearing and a single strand of metal links wrapping around their faces to silence them.

A woman nearby wriggled free in a burst of desperation, and the crowd stilled a moment in anticipation, watching for a reaction from the leader of the Kaj Tul. With a lazy wave of his hand, new chains snared her ankles before she had taken more than two steps. Hearts in the crowd beat faster for reasons none would dare voice. Some pitied her courage, some feared her defiance, and all expected a price for her insolence. As the chains slithered in a writhing mass, encasing the woman in a metallic cocoon, it was clear that no mortal effort would best the Kaj-Tul’s might.

“Dogs do not turn away the opportunity to serve their masters. Rejoice today, for the Kaj-Tul have finally given you purpose”. The leader intoned sonorously.

With the grip of his wrists tightening and a sickening bloodied crunch, the chains compressed hard before melting back into the earth. The contorted corpse from within fell with a resounding thud, a life reduced to a lump of flesh and shards of bone jutting from mangled limbs.

“And dogs that refuse to obey their masters are put down.”

The townsfolk strained against their bonds in vain, terror and rage swelling in every chest. The leader lifted the snivelling children into carts with a patience that mocked the parents’ silent screams.

“Sir!,” one of the Kaj-Tul called with the eagerness of a hound awaiting orders. “What do we do with the others?”. The leader scanned the subdued crowd, watching the desperate, angry, and fearful eyes of the families. Their silence was intoxicating, the ambrosia of a people under total domination.

“Bring any that you think have the obedience to serve. Break the others.” He said.

Twenty minutes later, a stillness hung in the air around the town of Lorkan. A litany of hoof prints and footprints trailed out of the town, as a single file of a dozen shackled men and women were dragged behind the cart of children, their eyes downcast, their voices broken.

The Kaj-Tul had departed, leaving silence and corpses behind. In the Spirelands, the slain townsfolk baked where they had fallen, the stench of their remains joining the chorus of heraldry announcing the impending shadow of metal and death.