Women of Cinders and Ash
Sharp, deep crackles of blistering vermillion casted an eerie glow staining the island of
Pyraine. Dawn on Pyraine revealed the untamed wildernArtss in hues of fern and midnight. Thick canopies stretched over winding paths, casting the forest floors is near-
perpetual twilight. Twisting roots overgrown in moss and vines covered by a blanket of mist. Whispering rivers of crystal-clear water tore through the terrain from their
underground springs.
Nature’s control over Pyraine meets a human’s touch in the fortress town of Scoreia.
Home to the women of cinder, warriors coated in armor with calloused hands. Strength,
pride and honor flowed through their veins challenging the island’s demand for control.
Their presence a testament to the island’s perilous nature and omniscience. During the
night, battle-hardened sentinels stand watch over their sisters and daughters. Weaving
through the streets and perimeters leading straight to the towering foot of the volcano.
Deimes.
An ancient name of a god before humans. A god of fear and bravery balancing a
crackling threat of eruption and a glowing promise of warmth. Here the sentinels
guarded the entrance of the dungeon. A labyrinth of molten corridors and forgotten
relics deep in the heart of Deimes. Within these volcanic walls lurked living nightmares
and conjured terrors. Something cold and ancient resided deeper. Resting beneath the
stone and dirt waiting for the brave. Or its next meal. Its presence silenced the creatures
in the dense forest and channeled a primal fear into the humans who venture in its
home. An evil stir beneath, waiting for the day they might rise again.
Until the inevitability, the women of Scoreia hold down the fortress. Though once before
becoming a stronghold of warriors, it stood as an exiled island disconnected from the
mainland. Outcasted from their homes, these women were daughters of fallen warlords,
betrayed generals, and forsaken warriors. Women considered as the rot from their
wounded homelands meant to be discarded and forgotten. War scars even the toughest
of skins. It hardens under pressure, sinking under the weight of oceans. Exile dragging
the affected women deeper into its abyss. Until all that is left are the calloused hands,
stone hearts, and fiery perseverance.
Exile to them did not mean the end. Exile finished a chapter in their story. Refusing to
yield to the demand of others. With unwavering courage and forged pride, they
searched for their own place. Somewhere to not rebuild but create in their image. Free
from the rule of kings and restricting politics of weak men.
And in the wake of their plans, bloomed the desire for more. Not just their freedom, but
their home. In tattered hands the women reached for the sky, asking the divine for
guidance. The moon and stars would answer them. A Goddess of Hunt and Protection
touched by the hope in their hearts gave them a chance. To help the flowering vision of
a land of their own, the Goddess set them on a forged path with her cryptic words.
Southeast of Artamiz, City of the Forge. Across cerulean waves with lurking beasts.
Follow the burning glow- a crimson promise. There will be blood to pay, but all freedoms
require a fight. Let courage guide you and find strength to claim what could be yours.
It is your right to find your own way.
For the first time for most, trust in their own abilities finally earned. The exiled took their
steel, supplies, and hearts leaving behind the weight of their past. On a moonless night
they followed the crimson glow. They crossed the cerulean waves of the Azuren Sea.
Slaughtered the oceanic nightmares that hunted their ships. A challenging journey that
leads them to the curved shores of a wild volcanic island. The hum of horror failed to
scare them away- only exciting them further. The cove harbored their ships and
abundant in marine life gave way to exponential growing hope.
This is where they will create something new for themselves and for their future. Afterall,
they were women. Women who have the power to make and unmake. A woman on
Pyraine knew no weakness, only strength.
The first settlers carved a home in the shadow of the looming volcano. It took years, but
with determination and grit the women founded the fortress of Scoreia. In stone and
iron, blood and sweat a sacred oath promised no ruler would ever dictate their fate
again. Sealing their fate as the Women of the First Ember.
Within the First Ember, stood a casted out former general with fiery hair who led the
exiled and damned. Seraphine, thrown out for refusing to bow before a corrupt king. It
earned her many scars on her skin, but it did not leave her bruised.
“I kneel to the gods not to men.”
With her warhammer Ashbinder, she earned her position as leader to the women of
Scoreia. Her sisters gave her the title Ashen High Matriarch, and she earned the
nickname Protector of Cinders. Training and aiding in all aspects of their home. From
the warriors to the crafters, forging weapons from volcanic metals. They vowed to
respect and protect their land with their lives.
It would be Seraphine and her scouts that would come across the Dungeon of Ashen
Depths. The mouth of the dungeon carved from wine-colored stone towered some of
the trees. This appeared to be made by something more than nature. An all-consuming
darkness whispered from deep within the dungeon. Three words carved into volcanic stone over the entrance of the dungeon, foreign and weathered with age. The women did not need to know the translation to understand what could be written over the
entrance. The layered whispers and ominous air warned every fiber in their being.
Turn Back Now
With Ashbinder in hand, Seraphine crossed the looming threshold before Nymera’s
logical approach reached her. The volcano crackled and a low groan from within the
heart of the dungeon vibrated all around her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at
the sensation. What lied deep in this dungeon now knew she had crossed into its
territory. The smell of human blood awakened a carnal hunger in the monsters within
Deimes. Bloodcurdling screeches and screams echoed outward from within the
labyrinth.
Seraphine knew what it meant; she became the hunted. A smile bloomed across her
face. The challenge from a nightmare meant for the brave and daring. She did not care
for death. For death to a human is inevitable. To live would be more challenging.
And to live demanded a risk that she could not ignore.
Nymera, second to Seraphine, sighed at the sight of her friend. Once Seraphine got a
taste of an adventure nothing will get in the way of the chase. Nymera took notes of the
surroundings on the outside of the threshold. Directing their scouts on examining the
entrance of the dungeon before Nymera follows Seraphine in. Blooming ashen glories
surrounded the ground in a crescent. Many medicinal plants and lichen coated the
walls. Scouts taking notes of the many ore deposits in this region of unique volcanic
metals. Nymera could already see the potential in the metals, what they could become.
Both Seraphine and Nymera cleared the first section of the dungeon. Nothing living
resided this close to the surface, nor dared to be exposed by the outside air. They only
ensured the safety zone of the entrance cavity and restricted the corridors leading
deeper. Just from the entrance cavity alone hid riches and relics in forms of treasure,
totems, old weapons and ores. Crystal clusters and ivory bones of former prey piled
against the walls. Their knowledge of the island’s secrets growing rapidly. In short time
they collected and preserved the area at the mouth of the dungeon.
The transition of blistering heat to fallen leaves symbolizing the south’s cold invasion.
Winter fell over Pyraine when the last leaf fell from the Meras Tree at the center of the
fortress. Frosting the forest in an icy coat before stopping at the foot of the volcano,
avoiding the molten blaze from Deimes. The Ashen High Matriarch called for her
second to summon the Ashen Wardens and Ashen Keepers. Nymera lead the ten
women to their roundtable. Thick cotton and wool clothing lined the bottom of their
armors. The Embersteel glinted with each motion and the fiery orange ashen glories pendants prominent. On their sleeves a band with an embroidered symbol
differentiating their sector.
The Ashen Wardens wore gray bands.
A Blade for the Warden of the Blade, the supreme commander of the warriors and
battlefield tactics. A Hammer for the Warden of the Forge, the hand that oversees trade
and manages weapon and armor production. A Bow and Arrow for the Warden of the
Hunt, the spear who plans and leads expeditions into the dungeon, searching for
magical artifacts and resources. A Shield for the Warden of the Walls, the protector who
defends Scoreia strongholds and maintains fortifications. A Torch for the Warden of the
Flame, the guide of traditions, lore, and the Festival of the Ashen Oath.
The Ashen Keepers wore red bands.
A Dove for the Keeper of the Grace, the mother for those new members of the Ember to
kindle the flames. A Mesa Leaf for the Keeper of the Herb, the doctor who aids in
ensuring the wellbeing and health for everyone who sets foot on the island. A Sickle for
the Keeper of the Harvest, the farmer that organizes the growth and production of food
from sea to land. A Book for the Keeper of the Glory, the records of all Scoreia written
and unwritten history to remember their feats and sisters. A Star for the Keeper of the
Mind, the strategist of educating, guiding, and providing wisdom.
During the discussions each Ashen Warden and Keeper presented their updates on
Scoreia. Winter on Pyraine is far from simple. Animals and humans alike know what it
feels like to go hungry. Keeper of Harvest and Warden of Hunt both ensured that the
stronghold had enough to last through the colder months twice over.
Seraphine and the Warden of Forge drafted the letter for Artamiz negotiating a new
trade proposition for weapon enchantments. Their access to the raw volcanic ore, rare
dungeon relics, and their own expertly crafted weapons would prove the perfect
resources for Artamiz. They could enchant the arms and armor with their powerful
magic. This could guarantee the future protection of the island from the growing evil
deep in the volcanic dungeon.
The communication with Artamiz brought back pleasantries with a lot of the women in
Scoreia. The Forge City a beacon of light to every being across the land who search for
expertly crafted armor. Seraphine and Nymera personally knew those who work at
Artamiz Forge well. For it had been years since Nymera entered the forge city when she
lost everything. The smell of magic and steel. Surreal. They made her scythe, Last
Breath, with high quality steel and enchanted with a wind that could cleaning slice
through stone.
Nymera, a former banished princess of the western isles. The Lady of Summer Wind
now the Guardian of Ashen Glories. She follows all that Seraphine did. Sun and Moon
counterparts. Her knowledge aids her forward and in return brings light and refinement
to Scoreia. She is only second to Seraphine in combat but had no heart for bloodshed.
After all, a princess with blood on their hands cannot lead the people. At least, that was
once a belief in the old. Blood on their hands was inevitable; it all depends on whose
blood stained them. And why the blood was shed. Nymera grew like wildflowers in
summer. Free and unpredictable. To avoid blood, she would use a staff almost her full
height in length. Nymera’s natural talent with it sparked the idea in Seraphine and the
artisans of Artamiz Forge to add a blade to the end of her weapon- transforming her to a
bladed whirlwind.
This unpredictable windstorm surprised her oldest friend when she offers the idea of
venturing into the dungeon. Her logic straightforward, resources in the dungeon will help
them thrive and the unavoidable threat could be explored. The island of Pyraine felt the
shift when they compromised the threshold. The animals wary of the southside of the
island avoiding the Ashen Depths. The looming presence weighed in the air. Deimes
trembled often now, pushing more molten rock and ash.
The volcano’s distress worried a lot of the women.
Fear of jeopardizing their home, they intended to act upon the events. Before it
becomes a real issue. It took all twelve women to outline their plan. Preparations
meticulously calculated to avoid the harsh of winter ensure a successful deep dive.
Their goal to travel and mark as much of the dungeon’s depths to clear routes for
extraction of materials. The Warden of Blade presented the strategy plans and provided
the warriors. The strongest of their Ashen Blades volunteered to aid their sisters into the
unknown of Deimes. Both Seraphine and Nymera spearheading expedition to ensure
the best outcome.
The women who will set foot into the Ashen Depths Dungeon became known as the
Inferno Night warriors. The strongest that Scoreia had, a group of six Ashen Blades
women, the Ashen High Matriarchal, and the Guardian of Ashen Glories. Seasoned
warriors with their coated armor. The first expedition into the Ashen Depths began when
the eastern winds brought spring again. Each warrior armed with weapons from Artamiz
and carrying pouches of cinder quartz. A glowing crystal to mark the best path to ensure
their way out.
Scoreia honored their sisters as they lead them to the mouth of the dungeon. Their
chants and songs lightening the atmosphere of early spring. Seraphine with Ashbinder
in hand turned to her group before addressing her sisters.
“Fear cannot exist in a world without Courage to counter it. Today we give ourselves to
the unknown for that tomorrow’s light burns on. Scoreia gave us a home, a place where
we once were ash to rise forth in crackling flames. Something stands in this dungeon at
the heart of Deimes that can extinguish our courage in darkness- I say to hell with it.
Take my blood for I am just flesh, but to dampen my spirit? Never.”
Seraphine lifted Ashbinder, “to die is easy!”
Nymera’s Last Breath rose next to Ashbinder.
“To live is a risk I am willing to face!”
The voices of every woman on Pyraine echoed the line. A vow to live no matter the
hardships and challenges. To rise even when fallen.
With a wide smile Seraphine left with her last promise “any woman who sought a new
beginning, regardless of past will find home here with our walls of Scoreia. On our
shores of Pyraine there are no rulers. no masters. Only sisters. And we will not let
anything taint our lives.”
The Inferno Night warriors crossed the threshold once Seraphine gave her speech. A
hiss of volcanic gas responded to their invasion. The first few passages in the dungeon
held no serious threat. The walls lined with flowing lava and stained stone. The floor
almost leveled evenly with paths winding deeper into the volcano. Clusters of special
ores and radiant crystals scattered within cavernous pockets marked with double cinder
quartz.
It was until the crystals turned to treasures and the walls lined with talon marks when
the women met their match.
First, they noticed the eyes piercing from the darkness. Glowing amber flecked in
bloodred. Distorted faces twisting in molten skin and rotting flesh. Multi-limbed
nightmares bled Deimes’ lava from their pores. Talons and fangs the color of midnight
and wine. They melted off the walls peeling from the stone lunging at the warriors.
Moltrens.
Piercing screeches echoed through calling for more beasts. Swarming the women in
fiery wraith. For every group of moltrens another Ashen Blades warrior fell. Consumed
in their shadows and ash until there were only two.
Seraphine and Nymera.
Nymera, a lost princess of a forgotten kingdom with her scythe of judgement utilized
one last gale to push back on the moltrens. They were down to the last option: fight until
death. She followed Seraphine to the end of the world and Seraphine trusted her second with her life. And their legacy will always rest on their bond. Their current
position had them deep within the labyrinth. This would be the furthest anyone dared to
venture in the winding corridors. Lurking in every corner, molten six-legged creatures
waited for them. Their distorted faces and melted flesh conjured into living nightmares.
Guarding the secrets of cursed relics and crystalized totems further into the heart of
Deimes.
They fought every beast up until this moment. Nymera’s Last Breath melted by the
slash of an inferno monster. A wind that could not snuff out the coils of a flamed
darkness. They were now at a crossroad. One side guaranteed a way out to the
dungeon’s entrance lit by the cinder quartz markers. The other overflooded with
creatures running towards them.
The women of steel and fire now met the terrors of shadow and ash. Their limbs twisted
in molten skin and talons of obsidian scratching along the volcanic walls. Taunting them
with the realization they are trapped. Their bilateral eyes fixated on the two women and
the potential escape for more food. Shadows that did not repel from the light but
planned to consume it all.
Seraphine knew what she had to do.
Wounded and running out of time Seraphine let out a final laugh. This would be her final
stance. If she did not stop them here, they would take over their home. She will hold the
line until Nymera could breakaway to the exit. To warn her sisters of the sinister
creatures who plan to melt the world they swore to protect. Seraphine had a rush of
excited desperation pulsing through her entire body. Cornering a wounded animal with
nothing to lose is the worst opponent of them all.
“Nyme, this is where we part ways” her voice firm.
Nymera knew deep down what her captain meant. But the question spilled from her lips
without missing a beat, “is that a suggestion or an order?”
The women shared a long look. Their eyes revealed the truth in their situation. If they
both died here in this labyrinth of molten rock, then how will their sisters know what
occurred. How will their home survive a storm of shadows that knew only hunger?
One of them had to live and Nymera will be the one to listen to her sister.
Her oldest friend.
With one step towards the crawling nightmares, Seraphine took a grounding stance. Her
voice of unwavering passion, “To die is easy-”
Nymera took one step backward, “and to live is a risk I am willing to face.”
Seraphine raised her Warhammer striking into the rock with unwavering strength. The
volcanic stone barely scratched. She raised it again with a battle shriek brought down
her unbent Ashbinder in a thunderous strike. The stone cracked and from within the
small opening that familiar crimson glow began to seep into the cavern. Her hands
tightened around her warhammer she braced herself for the final blow.
She will ensure her sister made it home. To keep their memory alive and to light the
torch of courage. Her duty to protect Scoreia will not end here. Seraphine shouts to her,
“Nymera do not mourn what was lost. Honor what we gained- what we did here. Fear
cannot exist in a world without Courage to counter it. Now live! For me. For our sisters.
For our future.”
Nymera’s courage intertwined with her heavy heart strengthens. Running back through
the known path to escape the dungeon. Cinder quartz glistening for the Inferno Night
warrior. Seraphine’s final words echoing, “let no woman wander alone as we once did.
Scoreia shall be a home for all who seek refuge, warriors or not. The only price is
strength- the strength to rise, to fight, and to never break.”
Strength comes from within. It is the same strength found in a mother defending her
child. The same strength found in warriors fighting for their life. The strength it takes for
a tree to hold strong and the strength in the stem of a gladiolus to withstand a breeze. It
will be from this unwavering strength that Seraphine will refuse to yield to the darkness.
A soft melody filled the air around Seraphine as she brought Ashbinder high in the air.
The distorted terrors just a few paces away. Her shockwave warhammer charged full of
energy. With her remaining strength she brings down Ashbinder shattering the volcanic
floor in a burst of carnelian light before sealing the void in darkness. Never to be seen
again. Seraphine risked herself for the sake of her family. Becoming the blood to pay for
her sister’s freedom.
The dungeon trembled seeping into a deep slumber.
Waiting for the return of the Ashen.
⟢⟢⟢
Scoreia wakes with the light of the sun seeping from the tree line.
Winter’s chilling touch on the island faded in bursts. The eastern winds pushed away
the frost in dancing ribbons of warmth. Spring stood at the horizon. The smell of sweet
nectar from the ashen glory meant that preparations of the Festival of Ashen Oath will
soon begin.
Five years past since the last one.
Older members of Scoreia weaved through the fortress in guidance and wisdom. Years
on Pyraine stained their hair in a glint of fire. Newer sisters still free from the blessing of
Deimes with no shine of ruby walked along their mentors. Following in their shadows in
hopes to earn their own casting. To prove their strength and wear the armors that glint
under the glow of Deimes.
The excitement building up on the eve of the festivities. The Temple of Seraphine stood
right near the base of Deimes. Decorated in Ashen Glories and cinder quartz honoring
the first Ashen High Matriarchal a lifetime ago. Six pillars of polished volcanic stone split
to stand on each side of the temple’s length. Each one representing an Ashen Blades
warrior from the Inferno Night. Within the temple stood a stone carving of Seraphine’s
Ashbinder on top of a split pillar. Leading up to the carving were the names of the
Inferno Night warriors, in order of when they fell. Three words were written on the top of
the entrance, a promise and a goal.
Unyielding. Unbent. Unwavering.
Unyielding Seraphine. Unbent Ashbinder. Unwavering Strength.
The Festival of the Ashen Oath brought everyone into the walls. More than a
celebration- it was a promise. It reminds every warrior why they fight, who they fight for,
and the cost of their strength. It is a time of mourning, renewal, and unbreakable unity,
ensuring that the legacy of Scoreia’s warriors will never fade into the ash.
Many young women trained to go through the Trials of Embers. At the start of the next
sunrise the aspiring warriors will undergo a grueling trial of endurance, combat, and
willpower. The trial takes place on the volcanic slopes, where the heat and shifting
terrain challenge even the most hardened fighters. Traveling up Deimes takes almost a
full day’s worth of time. It will be a test of physical and mental strength. The first part will
be simple, each competitor must carry a slab of enchanted volcanic stone up the
treacherous path of Deimes. Where they will face battle challenges, including duels and
tactical tests, overseen by senior warriors. Those who reach the summit and make their
way down to present their stone at the temple of Seraphine are officially recognized as
Ashen Blades, full-fledged warriors of Scoreia.
After the succession of The Warrior’s Test, experienced warriors will be given the honor
of The Forging of the Oathblades. They will present their weapons to the Great Forge,
here is where the Warden of Forge will invite Artamiz smiths to re-temper and bless
their steel. Each warrior must offer a drop of their own blood onto the forge, symbolizing
their continued commitment to battle and sisterhood. Oathblades that survive multiple
reforgings are considered sacred relics, passed down through generations. A symbol of
Renewing One’s Purpose to their sisterhood and the physical representation of what
they stand for.
At Dusk on the fifth day of the Festival of Ashen Oath, The Procession of the Fallen will
take place. Warriors don their heaviest armor and battle regalia, marching in complete
silence through the main stronghold starting at the Mesa Tree. Each warrior carries a
torch lit from the volcanic flame, representing the spirits of those lost in battle. Of every
sister, friend, and warrior touched by ember and cinder. The procession ends at the
Edge of Sacrifice, a cliff overlooking the molten heart of the volcano. One by one,
warriors step forward, speak the names of those who have fallen, and cast their torches
into the abyss. Followed by an ashen glory and cinder quartz. This is the highest honor
a warrior can give to the dead, ensuring they will never be forgotten. Even the dead will
fight on.
On the seventh night, the final day the women of Scoreia will host The Ashen Feast.
Every torch of Honoring the Dead extinguished and the following day of the Somber
Silence respected lights way to the celebration of life. Where strength and unity thrive
forward. Warriors gather for a massive feast, featuring roasted game, volcanic-brewed
ale, and spiced fruits. The night is filled with combat dances, war songs, and
storytelling, where veterans pass down tales of battles past. The festival ends at
midnight, with warriors carving their names into the stone walls of Scoreia’s fortress,
marking their continued legacy.
Nymera, the last Inferno Night warrior ensured a legacy of the Women of the First
Ember would never forget what occurred. For her fallen sisters. She spoke of the
horrors of that night and fueled the determination to face the darkness. She spoke of
Ashbinder who lays rest deep in the heart of Deimes. One day, a promise to Seraphine
and a quest to the youth, Seraphine’s warhammer will find a new wielder. A brave
challenger who will take the challenge head on, reclaim the legacy and bring Ashbinder
home. A woman of cinders and ash, rising through without breaking.
Fear cannot exist in a world without Courage to counter it.
The only price? Strength.
Written by: Artamiz Forge Historian