Glass House

The Dawn

The world of the Clans Moetre has changed forever. Its’ clans come together to find peace to after the doomsayers had predicted a great coming of the darkness. The festival took the city of Golden Home by storm. Games, food, and lendermen stalls covered the city as people from all over the land filled the streets in celebration. With trumpet sounds echoing across the valley the begging to the parade had started. Meanwhile a group of young men had come together in search of something else, the company of beautiful women.

Marek, a “Dream Powder” merchant drew the group towards the beautiful women of the Morini. With a cask of wine to provoke the interest of the ladies they bravely headed into the battle of lust. However, they first had to get into the noble section of the event. As it had happened the younger of the group were familiar with the region, Drale being a runner for the high born of the town snuck the four boys past the guards and into the party. While building the nerve to approach the gaggle of girls Drale was caught unaware by the daughter of Leopal, his caretaker’s patron, Grace. Her insistence that Drael join her family for the event caused a ruckus among the group drawing more unwanted attention after the bastard Wyrien Royce tried to intervene. Trying to turn the social momentum onto his side Marek used the scene to slip into a conversation with a gaggle the Morini women only to have them flee his advances.


After being left awkwardly in the crowd the group decided to set their efforts on watching the procession of clans as they paraded through the street. They were astounded with wonders of the Royces’ wooden beast being led by Vergo Al-Royce. Then the great beauty and grander of the Morini and their priesthood being led by Eillowwy the Everwise. Contrasted only by the colourful and chaotic Tagani and their exotic music. Evreux river folk caused the crowds to fan the air as the hairy earthen people passed by. The Belgics were next causing some women to swoon at the sight of their grimness as well as the scars upon the face of Norgen Hass. And finally, with a wide gap between the clans came the Grey Thunders. Their size and dress caused a murmur of fear rush across the people as they most of their member wore masks that hid their faces all except Asger Vergobret their king.

Once the parade had brought the clans together, in front a stone table that had been set out, Eilowwy began to inaugurated the event formally bringing the people together under the watchful eye of Moetre. Meanwhile Marek had found himself searching yet another woman’s comfort only to clumsily crash into Charwy, a young Morini girl, who left him with invitation to her family feast that night.

During the final moments of the presentations the young men returned to each other to watch. However, what was to be peace erupted into a deafening blast from the outer wall of Golden home followed by the screams of peasants. The boys tried to find themselves in the chaos seeing huge figure on beasts crash through the walls and into the city killing and charging through the streets. With panic in their minds the group moved towards the safest building they had though, the Jaruks’ longhouse but not before Wyrien saw Clawwyn Koplepot sneaking himself away through a house’s side door. Drale lead them to a side entrance that opened into the fortified house but, values got the best of the group. They couldn’t just leave the people, they had to help whoever they could as fast as they could. Marek, Wyrien, and Jerall went back to where the ceremony had taking place as Drale darted into the streets with hopes of finding his adoptive family.

Once returning to the ceremony stage the three boys were faced with the reality that this was a struggle between life or death as they saw the approaching forces killing everything in its path. Taken aback for a moment they watch as a small group of Belgic and Royce soldiers tried to hold the line against impossible odds defending the great Eilowwy who seemed stricken with fear, her daughter pleading for her to abandon this place. After composing themselves they joined the fray. Wyrien headed towards the front lines axe in hand while, Marek and Jerall took to the women trying to get them to safety. With force the two women were escorted out of the conflict and back into safety. However, Wyriens’ battle turned sour quick as he was knocked to the ground and almost killed by one of the great beasts before his estranged father came in to save his life but in doing so paid the great cost. Vero Al-Royce was killed along with many of his men who were quickly routed. Wyrien managed to stay himself and escape into an obscured alley left alone to confront his actions.
Drale on the other hand had found himself, unnoticed through the streets, in his manor of his upbringing. Cold and quiet the manor seemed abandoned. In a frantic effort for clues Drale found a trail of missing items and unforgotten supplies that led him back into the streets. And before he set out took the families commemorative axe from off the wall for protection. And it wasn’t long after that he came across an encampment of these devilish beings forcing his fellow clansmen into chains and makeshift wooden cages. Through the crowd a figure stood out, tall with peppered hair. This man walked among the beasts with a crown upon his head. As the man walked the line of slaves, inspecting the crop that was being tended too, Drale saw Leopal and his family. They were caged and battered looking but still held to each other tightly. Not knowing what too do Drale caught himself drawing the attention of Leopal, who’s eldest daughter was not among them, and attempted to communicate to no avail. Drale forced himself to trudge forward in hopes of finding Grace and as luck would have it he did. Grace was being pulled, by one of these metal covered beasts, out of a house and towards another slave encampment. And before Drale knew what he was doing he had taken the axe and smashed it into the side of the soldier. With that, the soldier turned to face his attacker and, to his surprise, was met with the untrained boy before him. As he let go of Grace the soldier lunged out and struck Drale across the face. Laughing he struck out again but, this time was offset as the young girl pushed the man from behind. Drale took the opportunity to draw the mans’ sword from its’ sheath and bash him to the ground with its pommel. And with that, they fled the scene towards the woods to the north only to encounter Marek at the edge of tow. Mareks group had grown, giving sanctuary to all the clansmen that they met, shepherding them to safety. However, Jarrell had left the group in search of Wyrien.

Backtracking and staying out of sight Jerall managed to track down the shocked Wyrien. Pulling of the man Jerall begged Wyrien to come and save himself. It was with this that snapped the bastard from his stupor and refused to leave without understand more of why this had happened. After a hushed argument the two came to an accord that they would flee the city for now however, Jerall would help discover the true nature of these events another time. The two of them then set out across the city, out the broken palisade and towards the woods.

By this time, Marek and his band of wounded or lost clansmen had set camp on the edge of the northern forrest. It was here where everyone was met again. A small force of refugees that had managed to escape with their lives and just enough supplies to keep them fed for the days ahead. Jerall took to the lead offering his home as shelter for the people however, Eilowwy persuaded the people that Moetre, the city of the faithful, was the only place that would be safe for the people. And so, Jerall set out (being the only one with wilderness experience) in orienteering his way through the rocky terrain up the valley towards the home of the great tree. This travel, even as tough as it may be, turned to be in their favour as they pushed quickly across the way even seeing other forces behind them that may have other captured them.


Upon arriving at Moetre City, the group was faced with a much larger encampment of refugees that had apparently fled Golden Home and sought safety here in the valley. Rested at the edge of the walled city-center the people were under the watchful eye of the Mother Tree -a large Oak that winded its’ roots down and through a cliff that had all but fallen into the lake below. Norgen Hass was among these clansmen, leading people towards taking up arms and building defences around the city. While others had been scheming to enter the sacred city who’s gates had remained closed to the people in this time of seasons. It was a sacred time for the Morini, a harvest time known as The Obana.

After getting the people settled the group fanned out to get more information as to what was going to happen. Marek started to fall back to his roots overing those in need some “healing” powder to help settle their nerves. That left Drale with the unfortunate task of telling Grace that her family had been taken by the darkness. Being quite fond of Grace, Drale felt that it had become his responsibility to take care of her and be her guardian until they could find a way to free her father. The axe of Golden Home held firmly between them stood as a silent promise towards the future. In an effort to help the needy, Jerall set into the wilderness alone in search of game. Jerall came back late that evening hauling a large elk into the encampment. Propping it onto a spit in the center of the camp he supplied the people with a well met feast to some extent. However, that brief enjoyment soon fell out of though when part way through the night the city of Moetre was stunned as the hills filled with the light of flame. An army had set camp on the valley edge awaiting for their chance to attack.

The people turned towards the leaders of the clans for answer and found strength in Norgen Hass. Him and his men were motivating the people to take up arms and defend themselves. With not much time the boys, men, girls and ladies were forced to become warriors. They set barricades and trenches with what little time they could and prepared for the storm. Among those falling under the Pale Paws’ banner Jerall was met with open arms as he enlisted to fight along side the people serving as an example to others in the clans.

On the other hand, Drale and Grace had set out to find somewhere safe to escape to. While attempting to recruit Marek, Grace had to use her skills of debate (Arguing) in order for Marek to compromise for their cause. Once Marek accepted to help them get past the walls of Moetre the three of them headed out to retrieve Jerall and Wyrien. With minor convincing all of them set out to sneak over the walls and into the city. Without a lot of effort the youngsters make their way over the walls and hide away among the buildings, all except Jerall-who remains outside- and Wyrien who is caught by the Morini guards and taken to a small holding room. In the chaos of hiding away Grace, Drale, and Marek are separated.

Marek hides himself away in an animal pen hoping to weather the oncoming of the armies and survive the events. While Drale searches for Grace he watched some of the priesthood prepare a ritual at the base of the tree. But before he could comprehend what was happening they were interrupted by a party of Grey Thunders breaking their way through the wooden gates. Their surprise and viciousness catches the local guards off balance and the Thunders start killing their way towards the Mother Tree. Desperation in their eyes the battle raged.

Meanwhile Jerall had joined the front lines of Norgen Hass’ militia. Faced with the overwhelming odds of the dark forces on the hill. With fear washing over the people shields and spears clattered with nervous energies. As the dawn breached the mountaintops the heavy footed invaders marched to the beat of drum downwards towards Moetre. Soon the clans defences were broken and the onslaught began. Even out numbered the people stood strong but that could only last so long. Jerall stayed in the rear making good use of his bow.

Out of the corner of his eye Drale caught a glimpse of Grace. She was slowly approaching the Mother Tree arm reaching out to touch its’ bark. Before Drale was able to do anything the ritual surrounding the great tree erupted into light as Eilowwy completed its’ final rights. With a last glimpse of Grace the light overtook the land engulfing the people.

The group awoke some time later in a large wrapped tent next to a collection of other injured or unconscious clansmen. With not idea what had happened Drale searched for Grace or any signs of Leopal. Unfortunately they were no where to be found. The encampment of clansmen were nested between the mountains and a glacier. It was being supplied by a group of individuals that were only really referred to as The Council. The members of this “Council” only appeared in the camp without notice and mainly to supply the people with food and some tools. The people were unable to leave the camp until the snows had melted opening passes to the outer world and that would take a month or so of recuperation. One of the many inexplicable things was that every member of the camp had developed some change on their body that resembled a birth mark. Usually taking a shape of something that held some meaning to the person.

Day in and day out the people waited for the passes to clear so that they could return home. And as the days passes the Council members came with less frequency until they stopped coming all together. As the days grew nearer to leaving small groups formed. People from the Pale Paws lead by non other than Norgen Hass was determined to return to their home. A mixed band was to travel south into the river lands and past that. And the few member of Golden Home were to brave returning home in hopes that it was saved as they were. However, once they left the pass and returned to Moetre City the parties were amazed to find no evidence of a city ever being there, including no sign of the Great Tree. The inexplicable change to the world was only worsened when the boys reached Golden Home to find it under foreign rule how it had been for a hundred years, at least according to the locals.

With a new world ahead of them and a broken past Marek, Jerall, Wyrien and Drale were faced with the hard truth, they would have to become men to survive…



The world breaks, its’ lands filled with fire and brimstone enters the end of days. The rivers replaced with red hot molten earth running into oceans that boil over and disappear. A darkness chews through the, once brilliant, skies suffocating the clouds. Flowers burn, rocks melt, and trees ignite all save one. Moetre, the mother tree, her roots and bark so strong that it resists the flame and holds the earth tight until every ember loses is flicker. It is she that subsided the darkness and gives life to the world. First small and seemingly insignificant but, all with purpose. The earth held firmly in the roots of Moetre are on which we live. And from that soil, bound to her roots, life was delivered to the surface again. All that is, all that was, and all that will ever be is because of the grace and strength of the Moetre. We are all her children, every living thing, and it has been our duty to care for our Mother ever since we have had the strength.
- The Clans of Moetre


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