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Ep. 16 - Wildheart - Interregnum VIII - Kade
18 Plays2 days ago
Kade doesn't need much to get him into a grump, yet this recent batch of Tidecaller deaths has really thrown him into a surgefilled mood. A useless second in command and a town that has blood on their hands. He needs to get to the bottom of this and then have a well-earned holiday - maybe to Obsidianis for their wine.
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Transcript
Introduction to Wild Heart and Dewdrop Falls
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In wild
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hearts land where legends grow Tidal surges rise and flow Golden treasures deep below Time to get voice, here we go
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Gold on emerald shores, glories felt in ancient lore. But Dina sings to heal his scars, to color chosen stone and stars.
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In wild hearts land where legends grow, tidal surges rise and flow. Golden treasures deep below, time to get moist, here we go.
Meet Cayde and the Interregnum 8
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The world moves in cycles, and between them, stories wait. This is one that rises from the silence. Interregnum 8. Cayde.
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Dewdrop Falls wasn't just a place on a map, it was a heartbeat. The falls themselves, towering and powerful, were as much a part of the land as the very stone beneath them.
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The water was a constant presence, cascading down the jagged cliffs in a ceaseless, thundering roar that reverberated through the bones.
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Even in the quietest moments when the night descended like a blanket over the world, the falls never ceased. The soft, gentle hum of the river's energy wrapped around the town in an embrace, a lullaby, the pulse of life.
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It was said that if you listened long enough, you could hear your own heartbeat echoing in time with the water.
The Role and History of Tide-callers
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The town of Dewdrop Falls, though small and isolated, had a history as old as the water. It was a place of pilgrimage for the tide-callers, those revered for their deep connection to the water, who could read its patterns and predict its moods.
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The town itself was built around the falls, its wooden homes and humble stone buildings stacked haphazardly on the hillsides, nestled between the steep, unforgiving cliffs.
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But it was not the town's appearance that made it known across the region. It was the tide callers, and it was their proximity to the falls that had given them such power.
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For centuries, these mystic, part priest, part oracle, had been the guardians of the water, offering prayers and rituals to ensure the prosperity of Wild Heart.
Tensions Rise: A Mysterious Death
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But tonight, the town felt hollow, its beauty muted as though the falls themselves had fallen silent. The low hum of life, once a comforting constant, had turned cold and indifferent.
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The water now felt like a threat, not a blessing. Sergeant Cade Thorne crouched on the riverbank, the mud tugging at his boots as he surveyed the scene before him.
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His sharp grey eyes scanned the body of the girl lying in the rocks. She was young, a tide-cooler apprentice, barely old enough to enter the training.
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Her pale hands were curled into tight fists. Her ceremonial robes, once a proud mark of her calling, were torn and stained with dark, dried blood. A faint smear of it reached up her neck.
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The water, cold and uncaring, lapped at her lifeless form as though the river itself had cast her aside. Abandoned. A third one this tide, Cade muttered under his breath, feeling the weight of his words settle heavy in his gut.
Fear and Distrust in Dewdrop Falls
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The stress of the past few days had left their mark. A steady reminder that things were slipping beyond his control. Corvin Welk, the junior guard standing beside him, shifted uneasily, his face pale beneath the torchlight.
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His voice trembled when it spoke. This doesn't feel like a coincidence, Sergeant. Who would... Not a who. Cade interrupted, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.
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He wiped his hand across his face. It's the town. All of them. They're blaming the tide callers for their failures. Someone one decided to take action.
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Once revered as protectors of the town, we're now scapegoats. The failed surges, those floods that had ravaged crops, drowned livestock and left families without food.
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They turned the townsfolk against their guardians. Fear had taken root, and now it was sowing chaos.
Cayde Learns of Unrest from Jarek
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The sun had barely risen the next morning. As Cade walked through the market square, he felt the weight of every eye upon him. It wasn't just the usual scrutiny of a guard moving through the marketplace.
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This was different. People were watching him with suspicion. Their glances, not just wary, but accusatory. Farmers haggled for surgefish, the silvery scales glinting in the early light, but Cade knew the air was thick with something more than just trade.
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They're useless now, you know, a woman muttered as Cade passed, barely loud enough for him to hear. Can't even tell the tide from the wind. Cade clenched his jaw but kept on walking.
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He had heard this before, the words, that like daggers, slipped into his skin. The tide-callers once, the saviours of dewdrop falls, were now seen as failures.
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The town no longer respected their connection to the waters. They had stopped trusting their prophecies, their guidance, and now some of the town's folk had obviously taken matters into their own hands.
Mob Mentality: Harvin's Uprising
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Cade stopped at a s stall where a fisherman named Jarek was unloading crates of eel. The man looked up briefly before quickly looking his way, as though he didn't want his eyes to meet Cade's. "'Mornin', Jarek,' Cade said, his voice casual.
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He'd known Jarek for years. He was a man of few words, and Cade had learned to trust him. But even Jarek had been acting differently lately. Sergeant, said Jarek, his voice a little too sharp, a little too careful.
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Heard anything strange? Seen anyone outlaid? Cade asked, leaning closer, lowering his voice just enough for only Jarek to hear. He hesitated.
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The silence stretched between them like taut wire. "'I mind my own business, Sergeant,' Jarek finally said. There was something in his eyes.
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Cade's patience was wearing thin. He leaned even closer, his breath warm against Jarek's ear. "'People are dying. Think it's bad, no.' Wait till there's no one left to predict the tides.
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No one left to protect us. Jarek swallowed hard, his shoulders sagging under the weight of it all. There's been talk, he said quietly, his voice dropping to near a whisper. That's all I'll say.
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Talk about what? Jarek's eyes flicked nervously towards the edge of town, where the old mill stood like a skeletal remnant of a forgotten era. The old mill.
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Nightfall.
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It was a ghost of a building. Its wooden frame warped by decades of rain and neglect. The roof sagged beneath the weight of time. The walls were rotting from the inside out.
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The wind howled through the cracks, sending loose timbers rattling.
Cayde's Confrontation with the Mob
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To the casual observer, this was a relic, a place abandoned by the town long ago. But Cade knew better.
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As he and Corvin approached, the sun had dipped beneath the horizon, casting long dark shadows across the land. Cade motioned for Corvin to stay back, his hand on his sword hilt.
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They approached the mill cautiously, their steps silent against the gravel. Through a crack in the wall, Cade caught sight of them. The mob.
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A dozen town folk were gathered, their faces contorted with rage. At the centre stood Harven. a burly farmer known for his violent temper and his deep-rooted belief that the tide-callers had abandoned the town when it needed them most.
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They are the cause of all our trouble, Harvin's voice rang out, sharp and accusatory. The surge should have protected us, but it instead drowned our homes and taken our children, and these tide-callers, they're nothing but frauds.
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Arvin was standing in front of a pile of tattered robes, a mockery of the sacred garments that the Tidecallers wore. Blood stained the fabric, the crimson staining it like a curse.
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The crowd was growing restless, the anger simmering beneath the surface. Cade stepped in, his presence commanding, his voice carrying authority.
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"'Thus ends nigh,' he called, his tone firm and final. The mob stopped, their eyes shifting to him, and for a moment there was quiet.
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But Harvin, a man driven by his own rage, didn't hesitate. "'Sergeant!' he spat. "'You're not one of them. What are you protecting? Liars?
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Charlatans?' Cade met his gaze, unflinching, I'm not protecting them, he said. I'm protecting order.
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You think this will end with the search? All it will do is destroy the town. But Havan took a step forward. Maybe that's what it takes.
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The first blow came from the side. A wooden plank swung by someone Cade didn't see. Pain exploded across his shoulder as he staggered.
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And then the mob surged forward. Corvin shouted something, but Cade couldn't hear him over the roar. He drew his sword, its blade gleaming in the dim light, and fought to hold his ground.
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but the weight of the crowd was too much. As the blows rained down, the last thing Cade saw was the tide-caller's robe trampled underfoot.
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Thank you for listening. As we continue to share the stories of Wild Heart, we'd love to hear your thoughts. If this tale has sparked your interest and you'd like to learn more about the characters, let us know.
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Your input could help shape the stories we tell next. Until next time, farewell.
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In wild heartland where legends grow Tidal surges rise and flow Golden treasures deep below Time to get moist, here we go