The Rangers

The Rangers

"A Turtle Beast self-exiled in shell is doomed to starve. To grow jaws is a rebellion against circumstance, and nature smiles with approval" -Fiann, the first Ranger and King of Slan Abhaile

The Rangers are the sect of the Slan Abhaile tasked with exploration of the wilds below, the search and gathering of resources from those wilds, and the cities defense against beasts that try to cause it harm. Simultaneously made up of the most valuable and the most expendable parts of the city, this guild focuses on trying to expand Slan Abhailes borders to strongholds barely maintained below the Barrier Woods.

The Príosúnach

Those that commit crimes in Abhaile are not sent to prison-as no prison exists. It would be a waste of resources to keep the cities' worst offenders fed and watered, but simply executing all criminals would be a blatant failure of morality. Thus, those who do not abide by the rules of Abhaile are given to The Conclave, to determine whether you have the skills necessary to justify your reintegration into society.
During your sentence you cannot leave the Rangers service on pain of execution. When in Abhaile you live within the barracks of the Fiann Conclave. Príosúnach are tattooed with flowing blue lines and celtic knots along their arms and chest that tell the story of their crime but left incomplete on the ends. They are left open until a Príosúnach has completed their sentence, at which point the tattoos are inked closed to prove they have atoned, and more importantly survived and grown in the Green Sea.
The Príosúnach are treated by many leaders in the Rangers as expendable and sent on some of the most challenging missions- the reason why many Príosúnach end their sentence in death. However, if a Príosúnach is able to survive their sentence, they are reintegrated back into society with honors and earning themselves a high-ranking career if they wish, having proved they can survive the worst of the forests below.

The Maorga

The general term used to describe all career Rangers who are not Príosúnach or a member of a Noble House, this Sect is perhaps the most diverse and most multiskilled gathering in all Abhaile. All are encouraged to fight in the Moamian Arts of the Individual, and find how they best survive- but below are some more tread paths of specialization within the  Rangers Conclave:
Saor “A gust of air picks up on the south most cliffs by the Gate of Ash, pulling at the Petal Vestments of an individual. Their robes are dyed a faint mint-green, an alteration to represent their former tutelage at the Covered Tower-though the change in color does nothing to mask the faint iridescent glow of Lunar Petals. Two attendants flank them on either side fastening clasps and making sure that unmarked bark scrolls are secure. The caster falls into a trance weaving light pulled from their robes into visible patterns of power that swirl and dance, from their hands, swirling up into their closed eyelids and out their mouth. The wind continues to rise with their focus. The thoughts of all the paths the Rangers will take today clear in their mind, it is because of the information they gather during their short flight that lives will continue. As they draw one last looping line to the corner of their mouth they mutter a single phrase “Down for an hour and out in less”. A strong gust knocks dirt and dust off the mountain's face, so too does the Saor rise with the wind and fall towards the tree tops below.”
The flying scouts of the Rangers, the Saor are those that could not keep up with the cutthroat requirements of The Draoi, but were proficient enough to master the rare art of limited flight. Using this ability, the Saor go ahead of Rangers and survey the land to the best of their ability- an invaluable asset on a mountain whose terrain changes nearly every week. The Saor have a motto; “Down for an hour and out in less”, as a Saor caught alone below the mountaintop without any spell energy left to fly-is often a dead one.

Beetle Block Knight “A mighty Lynx-Beast, deep-furred and saber toothed, 3x the size of a full grown man pounces from undergrowth towards an armored warrior. The warrior's body is covered in wooden blocks of odd shapes and size that gently clack together with every move of a limb or gust of wind. The lynx feels instinctual satisfaction at what it believes to be a successful ambush. The Beetle does not flinch, their carved mask- the visage of a lion with antlers sprouting from their mane- betrays nothing as they move into swift action. Clicking percussion fills the undergrowth as the warrior stretches their body, unlocking armor parts as one leg braces against a nearby tree as the other digs into the ground. They raise both their arms to meet the blow, and compress, as wood interlocks with wood. The paw connects, but not with soft flesh, but the slawart exoskeleton of a warrior unfazed.”
Many grimace at the idea of taking a hit from a beast, their big size and massive strength spell death to anyone unlucky enough to be struck, but it is the Beetle Block Knights who are taught not to flinch. The Beetle Block knights follow a fighting style that emerged from the Ancient days of Dromore, which centers around heavy wood and bone block armor designed in such a way that the force of any blow received channels through the armor instead of the person, similar to a beetle’s shell. To accomplish this the Beetle Block knight is trained in a litany of poses, designed to lock their specialized armor from an attack from a specific direction, and how to use their terrain to their advantage.

Cloudy Blade “A deer-beast staggers through the mountain forests, leaking blood onto the sphagnum moss below. It looks wildly about, sprouting eyes on the end of antlers in a desperate attempt to spot the swordmaiden flitting through trees. They had whittled its limbs down to gristle, never staying in one place and slicing with a blade so long that they were always just out of retaliation’s reach. Quite a few times they had fallen onto the deer beast and pierced between bone straight to their heart, had they had only one heart the conflict would have been over long ago. The deer-beast instinctually manipulated its rib cage to fuse and protect its remaining heart as its head swiveled to hear the gentle sound of feet on wood high above them. It was dizzying following them, an intentional tactic that- when coupled with small cuts and immobilizing strikes- makes the unseen guillotine fall a guaranteed kill.”
Developed by Scathach, the original cloudy blade, the falling technique relies upon the readily available resource of gravity- and a really big blade. Semi-life blades when fed water purified by the Saoi can grow incredibly large. The Cloudy Blade wielders then utilize these longer blades to drop on beasts and ideally, guillotine them in one strike. Over time the Cloudy Blades have added design specializations to their blades, including a standing board they can flip onto mid fall to add their own weight to the cut, as well as changing the angle of the blades cutting edge to be more conducive to drop attacks.

Thorn Flight Knight “A Lone Ranger remains hidden in the dead of night behind the coarse notches of a Gingko’s bark. They blend in perfectly, their armor a tangled mess of viny rope and wooden plates that hug their form. They remain as still as their ragged breathing will allow, while their once comrades are being grown through by a patch of carnivorous grass. The grass caught them all by surprise, the lunar flowerage’s light barely pokes through at this depth, and before they could react it began growing into harsh swords of fibery green. Only they out of their whole group managed to avoid detection, thanks to their wraps of semi-life. They slowly turn to survey the scene.
Amidst the carnage, blood turning green as the Grass consumes it, the Ranger spots it. The point at which the grass merges to-a large hulking ball of green that pulses as fluid runs through its tendrils to the forsaken stomach that sits somewhere in its core. The Ranger pulls out a vial of slightly glowing blue liquid- Pure Drui Water- and opens the top. The starving semi-life that the Thorn Knight wears reaches into the vial and greedily drinks it, the roots and plant-matter stitched in and out of their armor beginning to swell with temporary life. Then, with a breath, the Thorn Knight turns.
The Grass sensing movement sharpened to attention, swelling with water and caustic digestive juice- but today it faced more than a mortal. The Thorn Knight with a surging pose called their accoutrement to action. 5 vines surged to wrap 2 nearby trees and propelled them forward with immense speed as they assumed -The Briar’s Path- stance. 20 slicing tendrils of green death slashed out all spikes and barbs, cutting through the grass like it were a blade through a cloud. The Thorn knight's blade whipped around them with trained precision, avenging each last breath until the green lies still.”
Thorn Flight Knights hail from ancient Dromore, and utilize their armor to both aid in mobility and attack. Woven into the form fitting plates of wood they wear is the dried out husk of a bramble vine. When these vines are imbued with semi-life they reinvigorate and immediately extend and reach for nearby surfaces. Careful control of the body and specially designed poses allow the wearer of the armor to influence where the vine grows too, and with training allows the user to enact the Bramble Path finisher

Theorbo Hecatoncheires “A swarm of 500 oversized rats circles around the party at breakneck pace. They began to climb on top of each other, and run in the direction of the swarm creating walls and a ceiling of rats that began to block out light. Each inner facing rat bristled with saber spikes, each It was unlucky that no one saw it coming, but the speed at which it assembled itself into a formation around them had nothing to do with luck. This being- which appeared to be several but was actually a single organism that disguised itself as a swarm- began to shrink closer. Slowly tightening the eye of this flesh storm, as wil eyes began to chitter with hunger.
One figure, sat on the floor in a criss-cross style in their loose fitting white robes, and unslung their theorbo. A long necked instrument over 6 feet long, covered in strings that wound in odd formations from the frets down the neck, ending in a turtle shell shaped wooden box. If this figure felt fear, their face did not betray it as they tuned the strings of their instrument with closed eyes. Then with a breath, they began.
It started off slow, notes plucked out without rhyme or reason, perhaps a mimicry of the swirling chaos that surrounded them. Their hands moved quickly from string to string as the circle drew tighter and tighter. The theorbo players' comrades were now back to back, soon to be ground meat, when more notes joined the air. An addition to the notes seemingly pulled at random arose from strings plucked by nearly translucent floating spectral hands. The closed eyes of the Theorbo player flitted about in their sockets as they started to sway, adding new notes played by new hands. Spectral arms- some with jewelry adorning their fingers, others with tattoos that line the fingers in swirling shapes, some with long overgrown nails that curl into the shape of picks- reach out from their back to play the many strings of the instrument. From duet, to trio, to quartet and further- the Theorbo player layers on harmony after harmony at blinding speed until the air hums thick with sound.
A change starts to form in the swarm as the Theorbo player continues to play, their eyes roll in their heads, some are flung from the force of rotation, their little body fast asleep. Others begin to bite at themselves, while others simply crawl to a nice rock and bask in the sun. The swarm loses all cohesion as the rats around them fall like sugar from the sky in Siucra. The Theorbo player calmly stands up, eyes still closed as they continue to play, as their relieved party members help guide them through a sea of disoriented rat flesh.”
The Theorbo Hecatoncheires are a group of artists who have learned to tap into the minds of creatures. It is not known when it was discovered that the quick playing of notes could affect beasts, but its origin comes from the ancient musical tradition known as Dromorian Folk also known as Many-Handed music. The solo version of this art, has a power that is used to disorient, to drowse, and even charm the beasts that they encounter. To accomplish the speed at which notes have to be played, the Theorbo Hecatoncheires learns to play with what is known as a “Hand Bouquet”. As they play with their physical hands, they focus on playing with their spectral ones as well, and almost trance-like weave together incredibly complex musical patterns.
Artists at heart, the technique they use is one of both practicality and reverence. Each Theorbo Hecatoncheires bouquets are different, some honor their teachers by including the likeness of their hands, some surround themselves with the hands of their families, all create their personal method of playing.

Bestiary Specialist “Hunched upside down in a fallen log, a young lad with flint glass spectacles flips through pages as fast as his sweaty fingers will allow. In their hands is a book so thick, that to describe it as a tome would be to diminish this book's enormous content. This book- about 1 foot thick- has a spine that distends from years of supporting its paper genius, its pages made from reinforced gray Saoi cut parchment. It is burnt in some sections, acid coated in others, three weeks ago it acquired a new stain from a morning beverage, and now this young man’s perspiration is added to the collection as they struggle to hold and read it upside down.
An explosion, the third explosion produced by a creature with an overextended jaw and some large bloody sack that heated blood just below its gullet, rocks the wood and sends splinters flying. The log does a full rotation from the force, sending a wave of nausea through him, but he still persists, cross-referencing pages, checking a horribly arranged glossary and picking up small index cards with chicken scratch notes on them as they fall from wrinkled pages. His comrade leans out the side and presses three motes of energy into a swirling pattern that hangs in the air- before igniting and flying at the creature. They let him know that it has no effect, before the log is once again tossed through the air by another violent explosion.
The young man with the bestiary begins to mutter, repeating the beast’s traits and characteristics, his mind working out what horror nature has assembled this time. Frog-like gullet, vestigial-wings, red feathering down the back that breaks to yellow. Another explosion sends the log flying as vine-light starts to break through the cracked portions. As if by fate, illuminated in natural spotlight is a one side tab that fills the bestiary specialist's heart with elation. Turning to he scans the key words of the passage as quickly as possible, before yelling to their comrades the weak points on its form- a nodule of veins under the solar plexus that supplied its maw with bombarding blood. With a nod he and his comrades surge from either side of the log, a incantation of binding escaping his lips as tendrils of energy pull the beast onto its side, making the incision all too easy for his ally. The beast’s death cries wouldn’t be too far off now.”
Bestiary Specialists are those trained to fight with the most powerful resource in the world, history. The Bestiary is a collection of every recorded beast Abhaile has ever recorded, every iteration they’ve ever come in, and every

All who work in the rangers will eventually find the folk that they enjoy working with, and form a company. A company is a gathering of rangers who work well with one another, and decide to brave The Green Sea together.

Noble Houses

In a completely different class than all other Rangers (and all other people in the city) exists the Noble Rangers. Some sport simple mutations such as being able to spit volatile acid or possessing great strength, while others have more complex and layered abilities like emitting poison or being able to camouflage in plain sight. These mutations are considered sacred by many as the cities founder was the first to possess such a power, now known as Noble Gifts.
Not much is known about the creation of the Noble Gifts or why some people manifest them over others. What is known is that these powers seem to manifest in about .5% of the population (around 300 at any given time) if beast flesh is ingested at a young age. Thus to foster the creation of Noble Rangers Bi-annual festivals occur in which all are welcome to come and eat opulent meals of meat and more for free. At least one new Noble Ranger is found a few days after these ceremonies, at which point the trajectory of their lives is changed- and training to become one of Abhaile’s mightiest forces begins.
As with most things in this world, little is known of how hereditary Gifts work, but it is known that if the child of a Noble Ranger can manifest a gift, it will be in some way related to the parents. Past that it isn’t known what makes a gift persist through generations. Noble Gifts are seemingly fickle in their choice of inheritor, as some lineages consistently produce heirs with Noble Gifts, while some have spotty inheritance that skips two, three or four generations of offspring at a time. Other families may only support Noble Gifts for a few generations then never create Noble Heirs again-while other random people may suddenly manifest a gift from a family that had never produced any Noble Lineage prior- and start a new Noble Line with new and exciting abilities. Much research goes into those with Noble Gifts to this day, as unlocking their secrets could shift the balance of the natural order entirely.
It is said that any group that goes into the Green Sea with a Noble Ranger is fated to succeed, and after this statement is quite true. Noble Rangers use their powers to get shit done and save lives. For this reason many people in the city exalt those born of Noble Lineage in a manner similar to gladiators. They save lives, make expeditions succeed and support the city in a way unique to themselves. Many Noble Rangers even find ways to use their gifts in non-combative ways- such as the Gallino family's gift of bee swarm control. A long-standing multi-generational family, it is thanks to their Noble Gift that bees can be controlled at all, and that there is both honey and mead- two very important amenities to Abhaile.

Type

Guild, Adventuring