La Guerre des Primes Racines

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de:Die Urwurzelkriege en:The Prime Roots War fr:La Guerre des Primes Racines


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J'écris ceci de mémoire, confortablement assise dans ma demeure. Les quelques jours derniers furent pleins de douleur, de malaise, de batailles, et pire.
Mais ils apportèrent aussi la victoire et la satisfaction d'avoir échappé à un funeste destin. Nous avons empêché qu'advienne le pire. Pour le moment, du moins.

Depuis longtemps maintenant Atys connaissait une période de paix et de tranquillité.
La vie y suivait son cours banal, comme si Atys était tombée dans un profond sommeil, se retournant seulement de loin de loin, agitée de rêves d'avenir.
Ou, peut-être, les rêves du monde étaient-ils empoisonnés par les visions du passé ? Qui sait ?
Il y avait quelque chose de rassurant dans le silence qui enveloppait la Plante-Monde, quelque chose qui autorisait les sempiternels conflits pour les ressources et les biens, mais cachait tout le reste sous un voile de tranquillité. Tout était normal et calme. Rien de vraiment grave ne venait mettre en péril la routine de la vie homine.

Jusqu'à ce jour fatidique.

Une fois de plus, c'était jour de marché à Fairhaven et la Guilde des Marchands Voyageurs accueillait ses clients pour maints marchandages animés et bons temps partagés. Larann, le Maître de la Guilde, et ses associés en affaires étaient venus les mains pleines pour pouvoir répondre à la demande.
C'est alors qu'un message fut délivré, qui allait mettre fin à toute paix et quiétude.

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Alors que j'arpentais les passerelles de la capitale de Naw Trykoth, les eaux éblouies de soleil clapotaient doucement sous les planches tandis que les bruits de pas et les voix des nombreux visiteurs du marché résonnaient dans l'air limpide. J'adorais le marché. Là, vous étiez sûr de rencontrer beaucoup d'amis et connaissances, car presque aucun homin n'aurait manqué l'occasion de faire l'une ou l'autre bonne affaire. On pouvait y acheter les plus belles choses que les artisans (et artisanes) avaient à offrir et s'esbaudir devant les plus merveilleux des jouets et autres bricoles amusantes. Aujourd'hui, je n'avais d'autre but que d'acheter quelques friandises et d'échanger quelques ragots avec les amis que je rencontrerais. C'était une belle journée d'été qui s'annonçait dans les Lacs.
Drapeaux et rubans avaient été accrochés partout dans la ville, des lampions de couleur devaient être allumés au soir et des feux d'artifice avaient été annoncés. Des gens de tous les pays étaient rassemblés, se souriant les uns les autres, et nul ne se doutait de l'horrible nouvelle qu'une paire de pieds épuisés venait d'apporter en ville.
Moi non plus, je ne me doutais de rien et alors que je traversais la dernière passerelle menant au ponton de la Façade des Vents et aux étals des marchands ambulants, une lueur bleue m'accrocha l'œil au milieu de la foule de clients du marché.
En m'approchant j'aperçus, émergeant de la cohue, un certain objet.
Que je reconnus bientôt comme le sceptre de la Gouverneure de Naw Trykoth.
C'est elle qui se tenait là, Ailan Mac'Kean. Celle qui avait succédé à Still Wyler tragiquement disparu, assassiné. Elle était accompagnée de deux membres la Guilde de Try, la guilde officiellement chargée du maintien de l'ordre en Aeden Aqueous.
La gouverneure, inconsciente des regards curieux que lui lançaient les homins alentour, était engagée dans une conversation animée avec Larann, le chef des Marchands Voyageurs.
D'après ce que je pus entendre, leur conversation tournait autour autour d'une importante cargaison attendue de Pyr.
Il s'agissait de cubes d'ambre trykeri qui avaient été découverts dans le désert.

Alors que je faisais de mon mieux pour ne pas écouter, quelqu'un m'a bousculé par derrière.
Un jeune Tryker, vêtu de vêtements tachés de crasse, me dépassa. Puis, haletant et peinant à fendre la foule devant nous, il se dirigea droit vers Larann, qui me sembla plutôt surpris de le voir.

« Je… nous… nous… nous…" gémit le jeune homme en se penchant en avant, la poitrine gonflée pour reprendre son souffle.
La gouverneure, agacée de voir interrompre sa conversation, lui lança un regard froid et légèrement méprisant.
« Maître Larann… Notre caravane… Nous sommes tombés dans une embuscade ! » dit alors l'essoufflé, « En bas, dans les Primes !»
Tous les yeux se tournèrent vers le messager de malheur tandis qu'un malaise visible s'emparait de lui alors qu'il reconnaissait sa voisine. La tête blonde de la gouverneure s'était tournée vers lui et son regard intense plongeait maintenant dans le sien comme celui d'un gingo dans celui d'un yubo].
« Une embuscade ?! Qui ?! Qui vous a attaqués ?! »
Le regard de Larann, manifestement incapable d'articuler une parole, passait de l'un à l'autre.
Celui, intense, de la Gouverneure, mettait visiblement mal à l'aise le jeune marchand.
« Il… Je suis désolé, je… je ne vous avais pas remarquée, Gouverneure. La… la cargaison… Elle est perdue. »
C'est alors seulement que Mac'Kean, remarquant enfin l'effet qu'elle produisait sur le jeune garçon, présenta à ce dernier un visage aimable.
« Bon, bon… calme-toi. Et racontes-nous ce qui s'est passé. Depuis le début. »
Larann tendit une gourde à son collègue et après quelques longues gorgées, le jeune homme continua.
« En fait, au début, tout s'est très bien passé. On a quitté Pyr avec les mektoubs comme prévu et on a avancé d'un bon pas. Même après qu'on soit entrés dans les Primes Racines, tout s'est d'abord bien passé. »
Il secoua la tête avec dépit.
« En fait, on aurait dû se méfier : en principe, une traversée des Primes Racines ne se passe jamais aussi bien. »
Les mains tremblantes, il prit la gourde pour avaler une autre gorgée d'eau et enchaîna à voix basse.



↓↓ À TRADUIRE ↓↓



"We were in the middle of the Distant Forest Region when they came!”
“Kitin! They were suddenly everywhere.”
“Everywhere I looked ... Kitin! The clicking of their legs was so loud and … they terrible screeching - and then the screams of my companions ..."
Tears came to his eyes as the people around him stared.
Shocked from their day to day routine.
The word “Kitin” had startled them all.
"They were... I ... I just ran away. - I just wanted to get away. Away from these... these... „
The governor laid a comforting hand on the young man's shoulder and he looked at his feet in shame.

The voices of the bystanders now began to rustle like leaves on storm-tossed trees. The word “Kitin” fell over and over again, whispered and hushed. Like a bad curse, that everyone feared would summon these evil beasts, when spoke too loud.
The rest of the conversation between the unfortunate trader and the Tryker state official was lost in gaggle of fearful voices.
A chill ran down my back.
The Kitin had deliberately attacked a well secured caravan and destroyed it, it seemed.
Jena protects us.

I myself had taken part in many journeys through the Prime Roots and even alone I knew how to find my way down there. Kitin attacks and fights with them were not uncommon, true, especially if one was careless. But the apparently targeted attack on this caravan and especially with such overwhelming force that it literally wiped away guards and traders ... that was new.
It did not bode anything good.
The voice of my cousin Nuvad, the head of the Order “Argo Navis”, echoed over to me and and I spotted his white armor as he too made his way through the crowd. A questioning look in his eyes. When he reached me, I briefly told him what I had heard. His face darkened as I spoke. He too suspected something bad was about to happen.
Other members of the order joined us and soon the discussion was in full swing. Many speculations were raised and discarded, but there was one thing we agreed on.
"Never again a great swarm!"

A short time later a notice was posted on the walls of Fairhaven and the other capitals.

The leaders of the four lands were calling upon all Guilds to lend their arms to reclaim the important lost cargo. Glory and fame would await any who would participate in this adventure.
And would stave off the thread of a rising swarm, prevent the beasts from gaining a foothold and help protect hominkind.

The “Argo Navis” would do everything in their power to prevent the worst.

That night, sleep did not come to me. My thoughts circled around an event that had happened years ago.
A few months after my arrival in Yrkanis, coming from Borea. A cruel death and an unsolved mystery had gone down in history. An Amber Cube, frozen Kitin and an unfortunate Wise-Man of the Zorai. Who had been killed over the mysterious item, before it was snatched away.
Would these be similar Amber-Cubes?
Even more pictures danced before my inner eye.
Kitin in all their cruel shapes and colors, as they stormed the bark of Atys. Dark and menacing. Ghostly pale and deadly.
Weeks of danger and fear, dearly earned fame, many souls lost and some scars that would always remind me of the first swarming I had witnessed. Whole regions had been inaccessible for weeks on time. Leaving Yrkanis alone had been impossible. Only teams of veteran warriors had dared to venture forth into the wild as the Verdant Heights had been overrun by the monsters.
Someone had told me, that this too had started with minor incursions into the lands and some trouble on the Prime Roots. Young and inexperienced as I had been back then, I had huddled behind the city's defenses and had hoped for the best.
Luckily the elder warriors and mages had been able to cull the hordes and drive them back into the darkness from whence they had come.
This time, years later, I myself am an accomplished warrior. But still I felt a cold fear, deep within my chest that night.
Would it come to such a swarm again?
Only time would tell.
I prayed:
"Jena, let your light shine and illuminate our path,
so that we may see the dangers that line it and oppose us.
Hold your protecting hand over Atys and give us the strength to defend your creation,
if the old enemy should threaten it again.

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Today Jena was well-disposed towards the Homins.
And Ma'Duk did not abandon his followers either, as it seems.

There is still the sweat on my forehead as I write these lines and the smell of blood, bile and acid from the Kitin permeates my home. My hands still tremble with strain, but I will not find peace until I have written down what I have experienced.

A large army of Homins, said to be about one hundred and thirty to one hundred and fifty, bravely volunteering warriors, were led by three Rangers into the “Elusive Forest” Region of the Prime Roots this morning. To search for traces of the lost caravan.
The bloody remains of some poor Mektoubs were quickly found and we were able to follow the trail of death to the established Kitin-Hive down there, known as the “Underwood Woe”.
Apparently the insects had dragged some of the caravans animals into the interior of their burrow as food for their nasty larvae.

Since the item or items the Ranger Scouts were looking for weren't in the bags on the beasts-of-burden found outside, the precious cargo must have been dragged inside the cave.

So we decided to go in. We would try and storm the hive from the front. Huge dark Kinrey stood before the entrance and the original plan was to lure them out and slay them one by one. But, as so often, some intrepid soul wandered too close to them and they attacked. Plans, huh?

Determined and with a courage that hardly any hominid ever knew, we pushed into the dark opening, to face death and its harbingers within the weird, green tunnels. It was hard to fit more that a few of us into the narrow confines of the tunnel. A hindrance that the Kitin seemingly ignored, as the literally flooded the passageway. Nearly overwhelming us with sheer numbers, smallish Kidinak coming from the walls and scuttling between our legs, cutting us down mercilessly.
Many fell under the onslaught of the monsters into the literal thicket of huge, spindly legs.
Many lost sight of what was happening all around us and to my shame, I too must confess that a few times my sword erroneously struck Homin armor instead of insect carapace.
I hope these brave warriors will forgive me, since a true target was was hard to make out in the crowd of Homin and insect bodies. We walked over the corpses of many abominations and the unconscious forms of fellow warriors alike

It took three attempts, between which we all took the blessing of our gods to regain our strength and regroup, but finally we succeeded in the impossible.
Their numbers seemed endless. For each one we slew, two fresh creatures seemed to take its place. But after what felt like an eternity, their numbers thinned and one of the Ranger Scouts eventually managed to get through to the carcasses of the pack-animals without being spotted by the Kitin. He rummaged through the torn bags of the pack-animals while the fight raged around him. I am impressed by that Trykers skill and courage.
He found the governor's amber cube and other, unfortunately broken containers of knowledge.
Slowly we retreated from that hellhole, fighting off stragglers and those few beasts that had managed to sneak up on our support troops and healers from behind.


The splinters of amber that had been found were distributed among the Homins and the all important cube was brought back to its owner. I declined a token of this battle. My memory will serve, for all its worth.
Who knows what these cubes will be used for one day?

But be that as it may, the Homins have proven once again that they can defy the beasts. Side by side, Karavaneer and Kamista fought. Jena and Ma'Duk, grant this unity in the hour of greatest need, should it ever occur.

Never again a great swarm!

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As I finally reach my abode in Yrkanis, with aching limbs and unsteady movements, I am still covered in sweat, smeared with the blood of insects and fallen comrades-in-arms.

I dropped straight down on my bed, as soon as I had reached it.
I don't give a Gingos ass if my sheets will be stained.
I need to rest.
Every movement hurts.
Every bone hurts.

But, it is a good pain.


I wince as I pick myself up again, after a few fitful hours of exhausted sleep. There's still a lot of pain that hides under the exhaustion, ready to pounce on the slightest provocation.
My thoughts wander back to the battle, as I look down my body and fall into the routine task of Slowly and carefully taking off my armor.
With trembling fingers I struggle to open its clasps and knots.
The new dents and scratches on my armors surfaces will be cherished and will remind me of this day for a long time.

Almost the worst case had occurred. The Kitin had tried to swarm.
The leaders of the Four Peoples had again sounded a call to arms via their heralds and many had followed the call.

Slipping off my left vambrace, I have to grin as I think back on the reaction of a cheeky Tryker to the patriotic song I had sung as the army had gathered to march into battle.
He threw a half-rotten fruit at me, but well... he had later fought bravely beside me and so I will not resent his disapproval of my art.
Not everyone likes my people. That's the way it is.

I quite like the lyrics though.
I had sat down composed the song shortly after the first proclamation of the heralds.
<poem>
“Matis, stand together!
Matis, fight together!
Destroy the enemy!
Destroy the monsters!
Your swords ready to taste blood!
Your souls ready to trust one another!
Your eyes ready to see the greatest evil!
Your hearts intertwined in a web,
that even the sharpest sword will not break through!
Go on Homin and do your duty today!
Destroy the evil!
In the name of Jena, for the good of Atys!
Go on Matis!
Be pride and example to all!
Matis, stand side by side!
Matis! That your courage may forge the way!”

So the the army of Matia had set out for the Abyss of Ichor, on the advice of a Ranger envoy, whose scouts had told him about unusual numbers of Kitin appearing there. As soon as I arrived at the Karavan shrine at “Saprun Watch” by small sap lake, I met some members of the Illuminati Jenae. My former guild. They were out gathering precious materials and obviously didn't know about the danger yet. Just as I was about to explain, our small group was attacked. From the corner of my eye I noticed something green speeding towards us. It threw itself at my friend Chloe in a ferocious attack. With an inhomin shriek something crashed into me also. It's terrible force nearly knocking me down. As I struggled to stay upright another beast jumped at Gazeto, the older Fyros warrior reacting with lightning speed, facing the beasts head on. Three almost man-high Kirosta, determined to kill us all. With a few strokes of our swords and some spells, the beasts were dispatched. They were not much of a threat to us.

Then however other, bigger beasts followed. They outnumbered us and we held them off as best we could, until the “Alliance of Honor” arrived and helped us defeat these Kitin. Brave warriors of Matis, though with a somewhat stained reputation. However, it was only then that I became aware of a huge hole in the bark opposite the shrine. As I watched a horrible, chattering sound emerged from the opening and the far shore of the sap lake suddenly teemed with greenish, slender, chitinous bodies. With a speed belying their huge forms another small group of even bigger beasts shot from the hole and threw themselves upon us. So shocked were we, we barely were able to hold our position under the onslaught.

Fortunately, more and more warriors, mages and healers of the Matis guilds arrived and they fought desperately for the Karavan-Shrine at the lake. The monsters seemed intent on destroying it and all its defenders. At first, the situation seemed to be under control and the insects were fought down. But then they suddenly rose by the hundreds from the entrance to the lower levels. It was carnage!

The Kitin overran the army of Matia and tore at Homins bodies as if they were straw-dolls. The images of severely wounded Homins will haunt my dreams for a long time. Only with luck we survived this second, massive attack. One or two Homins had managed to escape the mass of insects and healed their comrades as soon as the beasts turned to other targets. Killing off the normal fauna that surrounded the lake and had not yet fled the vicinity .

We struggled to defend the shrine against constantly attacking small swarms of insects. Often I fell and often my final death was only prevented by the hands of a capable healer or the protection of the shrine. There were just too many. After long minutes of futile battle desperation set in and we had no choice other than to seek shelter in the shrines small magical protection. To stay there until the beasts tired of running against its impenetrable, invisible walls. The huge insects cruel claws furiously scratched and tore at the magic of the shrine but were thankfully unable to penetrate it. The blood-stained mandibles of the horrible insects spat cruel sounds at the Homins tightly huddled around the shrine. The chitinous beasts hatred for all soft life was almost palpable. Only inches away from my face I beheld the slavering mouth of a huge Kirosta. I could smell its foul breath and feel it, strangely cool on my skin, even through my helmet. Like an unholy wind that caressed my face. The insects eyeless head moving in a slow, weird sway from side to side and up and down. Its legs unable to come closer to us, but somehow forced forward by some sense of proximity or evil drive to slay that which was in front of it. It was almost as if the beasts knew we were near exhaustion, that we were struggling to keep still and as close together as we could inside the Shrines protective Magic. They could smell or fear. They wanted to eradicate us. There were about twenty to thirty of us, huddled inside the holy aura. Its magic permitting no harm to come to us within its circumference. But all of us knew, that to set one foot beyond the invisible border, would mean a horrible death. We endured for long hours, close to desperation. Every attempt at a breakout was cruelly punished. Every push forward was cut down by razor sharp claws and cruel pincers. So we stood. Face to face with the enemy. Grimly aware that we were trapped by our duty to defend the shrine and the world above. For if this breach was left unchecked, the beasts would surely swarm up to the surface and find was to breach the upper bark from below. Encouraged by our failure and cowardice.

But finally the troops of the Fyros and Trykers fought their way through to us, the besieged warriors. As I learned later, they too had been attacked by Kitin, in their homelands. Not as many as down here, but the fights were hard enough to delay them in reaching the site of tour desperate stand. At first, these warriors Homins tried to rush to our defense, sure of their own strength. Emboldened by the victories they had won on their way down into and trough the Prime Roots. But the large number of Kitin surprised them too, and the monsters mercilessly slaughtered them. I closed my eyes against the massacre. Their screams and the shocked gaps of my fellow captives ringing in my ears.

Bit again a few escaped the claws and mandibles and managed to revive their comrades. Their second assault was more coordinated and they managed to pull the Kitin away from the shrine and bind them into a vicious battle, near the shores of the sap lake. Elated by their bravery our smaller force finally rushed out of the protective perimeter and took the distracted Insects by surprise. With a united, mighty push we manage to beat them back into the hole they had emerged from and suddenly … the battle was over.

Or so it seemed.

After a few short moments of calm and tentative thoughts of victory the ground began to shake. The soft bark of the Prime Roots tore open and two humongous Kizarak Swarm-Queens emerged, accompanied by a truly titanic Kirosta. They seemed to strengthen the morale of the drones that again emerged in droves from the ground around their legs, but also the determination of us Homins.

Tapping into our last vestiges of willpower we, the children of the New Lands fought against the monstrous and terrible enemy. Never giving up hope. Back and forth the fight went. Over, trough and around the sap lake, surging between the shrine and the opening in the ground. After what once more felt like hours, we finally managed to get the better of the roiling masses of smaller insects and were able to concentrate all our remaining strength on the Titans. The beasts held out for a long time and even tried to flee, but the now near victorious Homins saw their chance and took it, as the first behemoth came crashing to the ground. It was a long, tough struggle, but the huge beasts finally thundered into the muddy ground of the Prime Roots and their disgusting blood seeped back into the bark that had spat them out.

At the end of our strength and nursing many wounds we dragged ourselves home. Not knowing if this victory was final or just the prelude to even greater, even worse battles against the hereditary enemy.

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I just noticed a message from my good friend Muetze. He invites me to join him in the warm waters of Pyrs bathhouse. To dispel the strains of the fight and discuss what we've experienced. I did not even notice him among the warriors. There were so many of us, fighting, struggling, almost dying and coming back to life. Falling again and straining to get back up. Keeping friend and enemy alive in the face of a common, far greater threat. Yes, I will go to Pyr. My whole body still aches with exhaustion and my limbs tremble with effort as I shrug out of my armors chest-piece and place it on its stand. How good it feels to slip into clean, soft clothes and how I resent the task of later on having to clean my armor. I activate a holy pact of the Karavan and a few motionless, senseless moments later I find myself in the desert, near Pyr. I slowly limp towards the city.

In the streets of the Fyros capital there is great joy to be seen and heard. People are celebrating the victory over the Kitin. To have averted the threatening disaster of a surface swarm. They are singing and dancing in the streets. Its beautiful. My ears snatch up a song , sung by many rough, yet melodic voices coming from the tavern near the well in the old part of town.

“We are going forth!
Into battle!
For the glory of the Empire!
We stand by each other as soldiers!
Brothers and sisters, together for the truth!
Share with me your fire that I may burn with you!
Keep my ashes, so I may return to you.
My soul into Ma'Duk's hands, that he may keep it.
My heart to the Emperor, that it may bleed for him!
For honour!
For justice!
Let us go forth to battle!"

A catchy text, concise and precise. Like a Fyrosian ax. Wonderful. Slowly I limp down the stairs to the bath proper, where my friend is already waiting for me. A warm bath will do me a world of good now. </poem>

Lylanea Vicciona, Barde des Quatre Nations