Epic of Tesalach: Dawn of a New Age - JusticeEnjoyer (2024)

Chapter 1: A Rude Awakening

Chapter Text

Prologue

Welcome to Tesalach, a realm brimming with diversity of lands and peoples. Its long and rich history contains a myriad of stories from all over the realm. From the epic founding of the empire that would unite the realm under a single banner to the simple farmer who made a friendship with a mischievous rabbit trespassing in his garden. The tale that shall now be told is one that would change the course of the realm’s destiny forever. It all began when news came from the east that a massive barbarian horde was marching westward on a collision course with every city, kingdom, and nation in its path.

No one knew quite how many there were. Perhaps 50,000 were on their way, perhaps 100,000 or perhaps 1,000,000 who could say? All were sure of one thing. This horde of ruthless and vicious barbarians would bring death and ruin throughout the realm. The threat was clear, but Tesalach’s divisions made it impossible to manage a defense. Little did anyone know that the actions of a few fateful adventurers would change everything. And so that is where our story begins. In the city of Archai, five adventurers would meet and would change the course of Tesalach’s history forever.

Chapter 1: A Rude Awakening

SPLASH!! Cold water smacked the young man’s face. As his eyes slowly opened, his other senses took hold. A pungent stench of mold and rot filled his nose. Screams of agony rang from the distance coming through the walls. A damp, moist sensation covered his whole body. Manacles pinched his wrists and ankles. Jagged stone scraped his bare back constantly. Suspended by his arm chains, he felt exhausted. Finally Seraph’s eyes began to take in his surroundings. A single torch held by one in long, red robes illuminated the figures of two others dressed the same. Their faces were indiscernible, covered by shadow. To his left there were five others chained to the wall as him.

The furthest, a man with matted dark brown hair and unkempt hair. “Been here awhile” Seraph thought to himself. The man shook with a start in response to the water that had just been thrown on him. His eyes widened and his whole frame quivered with fear. The next was a woman, beautiful in form with an agile frame. She opened her eyes slowly and yawned as those gently waking from a relaxing nap. A sly smile drew across her face as she looked at her captors. Next to her was a little kenku no larger than a child covered in black feathers. Curiously, this kenku had the face of a duck, complete with a bill. Seraph had always heard that the kenku resembled humanoid crows and had even seen one in Center City that fit such a description. “Heh, guess I’m always learnin.” Seraph wistfully imagined a whiskey in his hand. A swig would really help process the strange company as well as the increasing discomfort of his shackles.

The little bird suddenly opened its eyes and blinked with wonder at its environment. It vibrated its whole body, shaking off all of the water that had been splashed on to it. By the time it was dry the kenku’s feathers had all puffed out giving it a fuzzy look, resembling a duckling. On the right of the duck like kenku was suspended a large, toned, and scaly creature double the size of the bird. The dragonborn violently shook the water off of his face. The water droplets mixing with the light of the torch made his golden scales glimmer and shine. He stared intensely at the robed figures with rage in his eyes.
Immediately next to Seraph was… a corpse. The pale husk smelled no worse than the rest of the dungeon, but it certainly looked worse. Suddenly, its bald head lifted. The corpse’s lifeless eyes moved from left to right. When the creature’s eye met Seraph’s, an awkward smile drew across its face. Seraph shuddered. He really wish he had his whiskey right now.

The middle figure clothed in red stepped forward. The flames revealed his visage. A well-groomed half-orc with a brown goatee and moustache. His arms were interlocked, and the large sleeves covered his hands. He smugly scanned his prisoners and addressed them in a shrill voice

“Excellent you are awake. Nooooow we can begin, the trials!”

A groan rang out from all of the prisoners with the exception of the quivering man on the far left who let out a whimper.

“All of you have been accused, of blasphemy!

“Against our great god Zuru you have violated Their tenets of unity and brought disorder to the mighty city of Archai. In the name of the gods, who are just and merciful, you will be given the chance to defend yourselves and claim innocence. If you claim to be not guilty, then you will be subjected to either a trial by combat, trial by ordeal, or trial by word. But beware if you lie and are found to be guilty by the gods for you will be punished!”

The shrill voiced half-orc sauntered to the ragged man who was struggling to compose himself.

“What do you plead? Guilty? Or not guilty?

“I, I uh I’m guilty okay? Whatever you say I did, I did it alright? I admit it so can you let me go please?”

The half-orc smiled ruefully and drew a dagger from his sleeves. With his right hand he patted the face of the frightened mess and with his left hand, the half-orc stabbed the man’s throat. Blood trickled down onto the dagger and the killer’s red gloves. Whilst cleaning his dagger the half-orc approached the woman.

“How do you plead? Guilty? Or not guilty?”

A smile crept up Xenobia’s face. Standing before her was a simple man. She knew how to get out of this situation. Sure, she didn’t expect to be imprisoned in this backwater city she had never even heard of growing up in Center City. When had one of the courtiers mentioned Archai? Of course, they were often too busy complimenting her beauty and trying to seduce her to discuss politics when she was in the room. Xenobia had learned the game a long time ago. She had to. Being a yuan-ti pureblood made her both exotic and dangerous in the eyes of the royal court. She was a target of desire. Desire to bed or to brutalize her to prove that civilization was above such monsters, often both. But now she had mastered the art of charm.

Flattery and deception will work perfectly on men like these. Arrogant men who think power and status makes them untouchable. Too easy. Xenobia softly lifted her head and met the eyes of her interrogator. With a shocked face and water filling her eyes Xenobia spoke.

“I’m sorry sir! But I am not guilty of what you speak.”
The inquisitor nodded, and his harsh smile began to disappear and turn solemn as he looked at the poor and pretty face before him. With far less vitriol than before, the inquisitor spoke

“What then do you choose? Trial by word? Trial by ordeal? Or trial by combat?”

“May I do trial by word sir?”

“You may. You were found blaspheming in the town square when you passed by the sacred statue of our great god Zuru without performing the necessary rituals indicating your reverence for Them. How do you defend yourself?”

Welling with tears and quivering her lip, with great courage Xenobia mustered forth her response.

“I’m so sorry! I do not know the customs of this city or honors to be given to its god. If only someone would give me the chance or show me the way, I would gratefully give all of my reverence to the Holy One whose gracious name I am not worthy of speaking. Could you find the mercy of the gods in your heart sir to give me this allowance and prove my devotion to all of the gods and your own?”

As soon as her speech finished, Xenobia’s voice choked and she pitifully cried. She clutched her head close as she could to her chest, vainly trying not to make a scene in front of the inquisitor and the other captives.

The inquisitor stepped back. All glee was wiped from his face and replaced with shock and pity. Surely this was not the same woman who had been accused of such a vile crime. The inquisitor turned to his associates.

“A mistake has been made. Draft up a pardon for this woman immediately! In the eyes of the gods and their eternal mercy, they find her not guilty! Now unchain her and give her all of her weapons and armor. All of her stuff! Including that violin and big snake we found with her.”

“Oh thank you noble and just sir! Thank you, thank you!”

Xenobia continued to cry. The emotions of the exchange were simply too much for her to contain inside her fragile self. So she conveyed. Internally, Xenobia congratulated herself on yet another successful duping. As she expected, it was too easy. She could not wait to be reunited with Vaballathus again. It had been far too long since she had been with her sweet, vicious friend.
After a few deep breaths and chattering with his fellow zealots, the inquisitor spun around with a dagger in hand and a wicked smile on his face. He approached the fuzzy little kenku and began his routine anew.

“What do you plead? Guilty? Or not guilty?”

Mags’ oversized eyes blinked curiously at this strange man. She tilted her head to the right to get a good look of him. That mustache sure looks odd. She’d laugh if he wasn’t holding a dagger to her face. This was not how she expected this day to go. There she was in the middle of the town square selling her forgeries of famous Tesalachan artists when all of a sudden she couldn’t move and a bag was over her head. She wasn’t sneaking her way out of this one. After all she was completely chained up with some guy with a dagger in front of her.
This wasn’t what she was expecting to get into when she left home. No big deal, she had gotten out of worse. Mags had listened intently to the conversation between the inquisitor and this woman. She had a pretty voice. It would be a good one to use in the future. The inquisitor’s voice was too grating and silly to be utilized. Maybe Mags could mimic it by herself when she wanted a good laugh. This lady next to her seemed to have the right idea. Make them sad and lie about being sad and sorry. Easy enough, right?

Mags began her act. She looked down, making the saddest face a duck could and began to make crying noises. The tears did not come out of her face, but the sound emitted from her beak sounded exactly like an incredibly sad and pathetic woman crying. With a squeaky voice that reminds one of a child trying to talk like what they think a bird sounds like, Mags spoke

“Not guilty please.”

The inquisitor was surprised by the unique blend of sounds he heard coming from this duck girl. Nonetheless, she seemed to be genuinely repentant as the woman before her was. The duck may not have been beautiful, but she was cute, and it was difficult to speak harshly to such a creature.

“What then do you choose? Trial by word? Trial by ordeal? Or trial by combat?”

“Trial by word.”

“You may. You were found blaspheming in the town square when you passed by the sacred statue of our great god Zuru without performing the necessary rituals indicating your reverence for Them. How do you defend yourself?”

“Very sorry! Do not understand custom or city, and do not mean to be blas-fee-mee. Please forgive and do not be angry for bad custom. Seem nice and just person. Forgive please, and thank very much!”

With these last words Mags perked up and gave a really big smile for the inquisitor. The inquisitor was a bit confused by Mags’ plea. His eyes moved to the top of their sockets as he searched for an answer in his head as to what this bird had just said. He mumbled some of the words back to himself and finally looked back at his prisoner. She was small, cute, and seemed harmless. She also appeared to be truly repentant and ignorant of what she had done. A true blasphemer would have brazenly disrespected the symbol of their great god, not seemed confused and apologetic about their misdeed. The inquisitor walked back to his cohorts and announced his judgement.

“Another mistake. The accused was not aware of the crime and disrespect they were committing. This makes her actions only worthy of a misdemeanor at most and is by far not worthy of the punishment of death. The gods in their eternal mercy find the bird not guilty. You two! Unchain her and give her back her cloak, hand crossbow, rapier, art, rod, and pink bow.”

The inquisitor shook his head. Two not guilties in a row? This is not how these inquisitions are meant to go about. He strode up to the golden dragonborn ready for another repentant response. With the least amount of pomp yet, the inquisitor began his questioning.

“How do you plead? Guilty? Or not guilty?”

Fus Roh scowled at this puny half-orc. He better unchain him soon or face his unbridled wrath. Such injustice! Arresting a newcomer in the middle of the street and then threatening their life with no evidence for a crime they did not commit. Fus Roh was surprised that the humanoid in front of him was not a dwarf. He would expect such disgusting actions from them. Of course those monsters would have already begun the torture by now. Fus Roh did not have time for these games. He had to get out of this dungeon, equip his weapons, and continue to build up his strength to fight the mountain dwarves. This pompous fool better get out of his way soon or he will find himself added to the list. With a snarl and a booming voice, Fus Roh retorted the inquisitor.

“I am not guilty of these false allegations, and I demand to be given my weapons and armor that I may show you just what a holy warrior can do!”
The inquisitor smiled. Finally, a fool who was not sorry. It will be amusing to see him fail and suffer the consequences of his blasphemy.
“So… you want to do a trial by combat?”
“Will that get me my weapons back?”
“Yes.”
“Then unchain me and suit me up. I will partake in your trial by combat.”
The inquisitor laughed sinisterly. Now the real fun can begin.
“Unchain the dragonborn immediately and put him into Dreshka’s pen!”

The other two inquisitors got to quick work unchaining Fus Roh and dragging his hulking body over to a heavy wooden door with a small window with bars filling much of the space. They tossed his mass into a dark room that sloped into a shallow pit.
Spinning around with a new pep in his step the inquisitor spoke

“Well now that he’s taken care of let’s move onto you. Ew you’re not looking any good there buddy. Don’t worry. We can make you much much worse. Now, how do you plead? Guilty? Or not guilty?”

What is going on? This man keeps accusing me of disrespecting his god when I have not even heard of him or her or whatever it is. There I was, strolling down the street taking in all that surrounded me. So many people of different kinds. Yet none of them looked like me. They all seemed repulsed by me and turned away whenever they looked at me. I wish I understood. Why is my skin so discolored? It’s pale in some places and yellow and purple in others. Who even am I? Oh well, I need to get out of here first.

The androgynous corpse turned its head towards the inquisitor, stared at him with pale, unblinking eyes, and began to sign. The inquisitor was visibly baffled. He had no idea what this thing was doing or why. Was this some kind of joke? A different language? After a painfully long pause, the inquisitor interrupted the creature’s communicative gesticulations.

“What? What is this? What are you doing with your hands? Just talk. Speak! Common, elvish, dwarven doesn’t matter, just say something!”
Receiving no verbal response the inquisitor smacked his hand against his face. Exasperated he continued,

“Are you guilty or not guilty? Ok, if you’re guilty nod your head and if you’re not guilty then shake it side to side. Ok, so you claim to be not guilty. Alright, I’m going to list the trials by number for you one by one and you are going to select it by raising your fingers for the number you select. Number 1, trial by word, number 2, trial by ordeal, number 3, trial by combat, which do you choose?”
The moving carcass raised a single finger in response.
The inquisitor’s face met his hand for the second time that day, they were starting to become friends. Grinding his teeth and with a growl in his voice the inquisitor recited his prepared speech “You may. You were found blaspheming in the town square when you passed by the sacred statue of our great god Zuru without performing the necessary rituals indicating your reverence for Them. How do you defend yourself?”

The prisoner broke out into an impassioned expression through its hands. It moved its hands in complex motions detailing an account that, if anyone understood it, would have surely captured them with its grace and poetry, triumphs and failures, and would certainly have moved even the most stonehearted audience to tears born of catharsis and solemn appreciation of the masterpiece that was laid out before them with a pair of restrained limbs no less.

Sadly, the inquisitor did not understand any of the pure art and culture being presented to him. Frustrated and seething with anger the inquisitor shouted
“That’s it! It’s guilty! The gods in their infinite wisdom have found you guilty and you will be severely punished. But the first part of your sentence shall be the breaking of your arms so that you will forever cease that infernal motion with your hands!”
The other inquisitors brought forward a mace for their leader. The head inquisitor snatched it from their hands and proceeded to smash the humerus of each of the thing’s arms until a satisfying crack was omitted from them. The corpse looked at its arms with sadness as it could no longer use them, but it did not respond with any visible signs of pain. Panting with sweat pouring down his face, the inquisitor turned to the final prisoner.

“And you, how do you plead? Guilty? Or not guilty?”
Seraph Grimlock saw this coming. He was going to be trapped in a dungeon and have to figure a way out. The future he foresaw made this abundantly clear. Of course, he did not expect to be locked up along such… interesting people. Oh well, this could be useful. The dragonborn seemed capable of handling whatever foe they would throw at him for the trial by combat. Seraph knew he could handle himself easily in a fight. In a world of chance and unpredictability, this would be the best way to tilt the odds in his favor.
Seraph had seen a few glimpses of the future. He would succeed greatly at something today, and a foe would fail. Calmly, Seraph looked the inquisitor directly in the eyes and spoke with a steady, even handed voice.

“I ain’t guilty of these charges.”
“What then do you choose? Trial by word? Trial by ordeal? Or trial by combat?” The Inquisitor asked.
“I’ll take trial by combat.” Seraph replied without a hint of fear.
“Oooh excellent. Unchain him immediately! Give this man his staff, spell book, cloak, and whiskey.” The half-orc excitedly ordered the other inquisitors.

Seraph perked up. At last he would be reunited with his flask. Now he could finally drown out the existential horror of the future he had seen that strangles all meaning of the present with the inescapable talons of twisted fate and destiny. As soon as Seraph was given his flask he took a swig. Much better. Everything is going to be alright.

Fus Roh had just finished donning his armor and readying his shield and war hammer. He was ready for whatever might come out from the other side of this pit. A dragonborn paladin in full plate armor is an intimidating force in any battle, and he was a nearly unstoppable one at that. Suddenly, a man was tossed into the pit with him. This beardless boy didn’t seem like much, but he stood and walked like a man of status. The robes and staff were a clear mark of a mage. Perhaps this scrawny man would not be so useless in a fight.

The sound of metal creaking rang through the duo’s ears. A gate about 30ft away in the darkness opened up before them. Seraph whispered an incantation and drew silver energy from the end of his staff. Seraph delicately shaped the silver into a cuirass and slipped it on. The inquisitor’s voice rang out from a barred window to their left. Full of excitement, the inquisitor yelled

“Now you will face a true terror of the realm! Only the power of the gods themselves will protect you from the ferocious might of this creature. Prepare for the vicious, unstoppable, tremendously powerful, Owlbear!!!”

With a roar and screech a gruesome sight stepped out of the darkness. A creature with the girth of a bear, the face of an owl and talons mixed with paws faced them. The monstrosity was heavily scarred and filled with rage. Before Fus Roh and Seraph could react, the owlbear charged at them and swung a heavy claw at the dragonborn.
Fus Roh’s shield blocked his opponent’s blow, but he could not stop the monster’s follow up attack as its beak snatched his shoulder and pierced his armor. Fus Roh let out a scream of pain and immediately countered. Fus Roh shouted

“Face judgement beast. I will slay you!!” as the head of his warhammer shone with holy light.

With a single phrase Fus Roh had declared a magical vow of enmity and empowered his weapon with the power of smite making his attack all the more likely of striking true and dealing massive damage to his foe. The hammer found its target and smashed into the owlbear’s head. Light burst out from the point of impact.
Another roar and screech rang out from the beast. Fus Roh struck again and cracked his hammer against the creature’s face. Seraph swayed his staff back and forth at the owlbear and silver began to glow as he chanted ancient elven words of power

“With the power of the weave and my knowledge of its workings, your wounds shall further your pain: Toll the Dead.”
A foreboding bell rang that only the owlbear could hear. The creature could not help but be overcome by fear, and its head wound worsened from a fracture in its skull to cracking it like an eggshell. In horrible pain, the owlbear clung to life and struck at Seraph.
Seraph immediately lifted his staff and shouted “Shield!” in the ancient tongue and a silver disc the size of his own body appeared between the claw of the owlbear and Seraph. The blow was slowed but broke through the shield and continued towards the mage’s flesh. The magical armor blocked the strike from connecting with his flesh and Seraph was spared any harm.
Imbued with holy light yet again, Fus Roh’s hammer fell upon the owlbear’s skull and crushed what remained of it. The hulking body stood for a brief second and then slumped to the ground, a lifeless heap of feathers and muscle.

A sigh of relief escaped from the armored dragonborn as he put his hammer and shield away. Fus Roh placed his hands on his chest and his whole body began to glow. After he took his hands off, his shoulder wound was fully healed as though no harm had ever come to it.
“Need healing wizard?” Fus Roh asked politely.
“Nah.” Seraph took a swig of his whiskey.
“Thank ya kindly though. That there was ‘n impressive smite ya had there. Name’s Seraph. Yours?”
“Fus Roh. I am a paladin. I have taken an oath of vengeance to pursue-” The dragonborn began to proudly proclaim.
“That all’s great, partner, but we can finish that once we get the hell outta here.” Seraph callously interrupted.

Blushing with anger, the inquisitor yelled out
“What?! NO!!! That wasn’t supposed to happen! How could they have defeated an owlbear so easily?! Unless they are actually innocent and the gods in their infinite mercy and justice aided them in the defeat of the monster.
Damn it!! Draft up a pardon for them as well! Something’s wrong! Why would Katak order the arrest of so many people who turned out to be innocent? That’s it. We’re taking the prisoners straight to Katak. Round them up and follow me.”

“Can we bring the feller with the broken arms too?” Seraph asked.

“What? Sure, why the hells not? Maybe Raj Katak can clear things up with him too.”
The five prisoners were unchained and organized in a single file. The dead looking one was given its staff and rags back, and the five were directed out of the dungeon and into the courtroom of the Raj.

Chapter 2: In the Court of the Raj

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: In the Court of the Raj

As the party was led into the court, the massive oak doors opened up to an expansive room supported by ten columns on each side with a huge banner in between each on the wall. Each banner had a black primary color and white secondary color. They shared an emblem of a bundle of sticks tied together in the center of the flag with a golden crown directly above it. In front of each banner were two guards in full plate armor armed with a sword and shield.

At the end of the room was a pedestal that sat atop three stairs. On this pedestal sat a throne. Upon this throne sat a towering man with a long black and white cape and clad in armor as the guards were but with the distinctive shine of the legendary Kythrilian steel. On the right of his throne lay a shield of the same making, and on his left a sword strapped to his side.

This man wore a golden crown with rubies, emeralds, and diamonds, and he overlooked two elves convening with each other. One elf judiciously wrote on her scroll, and the other, back turned to the party, seemed to be dictating what was being written.

The dictating elf donned a baby blue cloak that bore a white dolphin on its center. Seraph recognized this as the emblem of York.

To the left of the man stood a pale, half-elf with a cloak over his head casting a shadow over his face. The young man stood off to the side sulking and taking little interest in the proceedings, but raised his eyes ever so slightly at the entrance of the five.

To the right of the crowned man stood a dwarf adorned in lavish black and white robes with an orb topped staff in hand and tomato red in the face. Huffing and puffing the dwarf began to shout upon the entrance of the party,

“HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT, GRAND INQUISITOR!! Your Lord Katak is in a most important mee-”

The raj turned his head to his underling and with almost indifference on his face but absolute command in his voice he said
“Shut up, Leon.”

Leon immediately did so. The cause of his blushing shifted from anger to humiliation. Mags laughed to herself and gleefully repeated to herself “Shut up, Leon” several times. Katak stood up and addressed the interrupting offender

“Inquisitor, why have you come at this time?”

Bowing low before his raj, he answered with utmost humility.

“My lord, these prisoners who were ordered by you to be arrested on the charge of blasphemy have been found innocent by our trials, with the exception of this kind of dead looking one. As such, I have drafted and signed their pardons and taken the liberty of presenting them to you to execute. Please forgive my intrusion sire.”

“Bring them here.” Katak commanded.

After a quick exchange of the papers, Katak addressed the court.

“Inquisitor, unbind them. Leave us. All of you. I will discuss this group’s situation with them in private.”

Everyone complied in short order. The hooded half-elf rolled his eyes and glanced at the five with a smirk on his face as he left. Leon marched out with a huff, cheeks still as red and hot as when the group first entered. After all of Katak’s attendants had exited the room, he stretched out before him the written pardons of Seraph, Xenobia, Mags, and Fus Roh.

Silently, a red flame manifested in the palm of his right hand. He brought his right hand to the papers in his left and watched the reactions of the five as the flame caught hold of their pardons and burned them to ash from bottom to top.

A scowl drew across Fus Roh’s scaly face. Xenobia responded with an indignant “hmph!” that transitioned into a curious “hmmmm”. Seraph took a swig of his flask. Mags stared intently at the fire for all of its short duration with fixed, black eyes the size of saucers. As the tongues of flame finished licking up their meal, Katak began to speak

“The Church of Zuru may release you of your charges, but I do not. I have use for the five of you, and you shall not be free of my grasp until you have earned it. If you have not already heard the rumors of the approaching barbarian horde from the east, know that they are absolutely true.

Although many people of the realm from all strata of society; poor to rich, lay to nobility, and from the Fair Fields to the Badlands and the halls of the mountain nation of Kythril deny the threat on our border or mitigate the danger it poses, this wave of savages will crash against our walls soon and will destroy countless nations, kingdoms, cities, towns, and villages until there is nothing left of Tesalach that can distinguish it from the primitive Wilds.

Only a united Tesalach stands a fraction of a chance of surviving this invasion. My people understand the task that is before us and have the strength to accomplish it. We have just defeated a siege from the kingdom of York whose ambassador you just saw. Despite our strength we will need help uniting the Fair Fields and the rest of the realm to fight off the Horde in time. It is in this monumental task in which you can provide such assistance. You-”

“Why would we work for you?! A man who impris-” Fus Roh indignantly interrupted.

“Do not interrupt me again!” Katak snarled as his right hand grasped the hilt of his sword. Fus Roh fell silent and stared at the floor not wanting to meet the glare of the raj.

“Shut up, Leon.” Mags quoted with glee.

Fus Roh whipped his head around to see Mags sporting a big ducky smile. Fus Roh’s contemptuous face melted into a smirk, and he chuckled a little as he patted Mags on the head. The kenku’s eyes stared at the scaly hand patting her head as she stood motionless, not sure what to do or think about the dragonborn’s action.

Katak continued as though no interruption had occurred.

“If you serve me in this endeavor, your rewards will be great. You shall receive land, wealth, and title. You will have high positions in the new world order, and your livelihood will be secured. If you refuse, you will return to the dungeon and remain until you have rotten away. The task I have for you is simple.

York’s ally Mar, needs to be informed of the armistice they have made with us. The journey is not far but is dangerous. I would like for the five of you to be the ambassador’s escort. Do you accept?”

This raj could be useful, Xenobia thought to herself. He has a powerful army. Getting into his good graces could afford her the influence she needs to acquire allies and return to Center City. This may prove to be a wonderful opportunity to sow the seeds of her plan to collapse Center City from the inside and to rise the ensuing power vacuum.

Katak is far too arrogant to allow a rival to his power though. She can use this to her advantage. She’ll practice her wiles and undermining on this raj and maybe more in the Fair Fields before moving on to the greatest city in the realm. Katak’s pride will be the perfect foundation to make him fall. Xenobia suggestively bowed before Katak and with a submissive and sultry voice proclaimed

“Oh gracious, handsome. and mighty raj. I would be honored to serve you however I can.”

Mags tilted her head. Why does he give option? Obviously would be bad to say no. She did not like the dungeon and didn’t want to go back. Maybe can get out of mess someday. For now, go along.

“Why not?” she squawked.

This man is strong, Fus Roh reflected. I do not like being silenced, but he speaks with authority and power. He seems to be fit for the task of leading the defense against the Horde. If he keeps his word, I’ll be more capable of achieving vengeance upon the dwarves. This is a good deal I shall take it.

“This is a good deal. I shall take it.” Fus Roh declared.

I don’t see why the hell not, Seraph thought to himself. This ain’t an ideal situation, but it’s something to do. This guy is capable that much is obvious. Maybe he won’t be such a dick after we do this little mission for him.

“Sure.”

After a few seconds of silence, everyone turned around and stared at the shambling husk, waiting for its response. Why are they looking at me? I am so confused. I don’t know anything about this horde or York or Mar. I just want my arms to be fixed. Maybe I’ll get a chance to be healed at a temple if I’m allowed out of here. The creature nodded its head at the raj.
Katak cunningly grinned as he sank into his throne and with a cool regal air responded

“Excellent. The ambassador will leave tomorrow afternoon. You all will be provided with horses for the journey. A room is reserved for the five of you at the Drunken Wizard. It’s a tavern at the eastern side of the city. Any questions?”

“No.” Everyone responded.

“Good. You may go.”

Katak stood up and took his lifted his right arm halfway up, closed his fist, and crossed it against his left breast

“Strength through unity.”

“Strength through unity.” The five responded.

A guard entered the room and escorted them out of the palace. As they exited, the five were greeted by the cityscape and the sky that resided over it. The sun was setting in the distance just over a grouping of cirrostratus clouds. The clouds glowed cascades of pink and orange hues. They distilled the sunlight into a pink blanket that spread out upon the city painting it with warmth and beauty.
Out before them lay the city of Archai, an urban community of well over 10,000 with houses and businesses made of brick and stone. To the north stood an Octagonal building of marble three stories tall that towered over the buildings around it. To the southwest lay the port with ships be loaded with pearls, grain, iron, and glassware ; several ships were being unloaded with crates carrying sugar, spices, and timber.

To the east stood a tavern whose sign could not be quite made out and beyond that the city gate rested secure in its position as guardian of its people. The city bustled with peoples of all known races. Humans, elves, dwarves, and halflings walked amongst each other with neither deference nor disdain for one another. Even a few tieflings, orcs, and half-orcs could be seen. Tradesmen and workers of several professions strolled their way home several greeting each other with the farewell Katak had just given the five and many stopped to soak in the calming rays of the setting sun.
Seraph turned to the mangled body.

“Look partner, you’re in real bad shape. Lemme help ya real quick.”

Seraph began to pull silver energy like silk from the tip of his staff. He attached one end to his chest and attached the other to the corpse’s chest to make a foot long of silver string between them and took a swig out of his flask. Seraph chanted as he had in the battle with the owlbear

“With the power of the weave and my knowledge of its workings, my body shall heal yours: Life Transference.”

The color in the young wizard’s face drained away and his knees buckled as he struggled to remain standing. Meanwhile, the corpse’s arms reformed with crackles and pops as wood does in a fire. When the bones were fully healed, the silver string disappeared and Seraph fell to his knees exhausted by the transaction. Mags and Rygo helped him back up, and the walking dead tried to hug him. At this Seraph put forward his staff blocking the creature’s path and took a swig of his flask.

“How did you do that?” Xenobia asked quite impressed.

“Just somethin' I picked up at Heka. Ya learn a lot at the University. Sometimes too much.”

“He’s a wizard.” Fus Roh proudly proclaimed.

“And I am a paladin, from the Dragonlands (of course). 10 years ago I swore an oath of vengeance with my brother Rygo when we discovered the mountain dwarves had wiped out our clan. They will be judged for their crimes and pay with blood.”

“Am good at blending in.” Gleamed Mags.

“I want become rich from sell paintings, have good eye, very good for that.”

“I’m rather skilled with the violin.”
Xenobia smirked as she bowed a dark melody with her enormous Vaballathus wrapped around her like a scarf.

“I’m just trying to climb my way up in this world.”

“And what about you small man?” Fus Roh clapped his hand on Seraph’s back expectantly.

“I’m just a disgraced prince of Wolnocc. Trying to find a reason to do anything.”

“Prince?” Xenobia perked up.

“Wolnocc? My brother lives near there! But how did you become disgraced?”

“I dropped out of Hekka University without telling anyone why. I’ve been wandering since.”

“Why?”

Why? As if any of them could understand the consequences of divination magic. Of seeing so much of the future that you realize everything is a cosmic joke that means nothing. As if they could understand the truth that choice is meaningless and every life is a meaningless drop in a pitiless ocean.

“I don’t know.” Seraph downed the rest of his whiskey. A silence a few breaths too long descended upon everyone.

“Well…” Xenobia broke the silence.

“I’m going down to the Drunken Wizard to relax and have some fun. Care to join me?”

With a wink and a laugh she strolled down the street playing a peppy tune as Vaballathus swayed its head side to side in rhythm. Amused, Mags, Fus Roh, and the corpse caught up with Xenobia and joined her. Bored, Seraph tagged along. What better was there for him to do? The party set out for the first time.

What sort of religion surrounds Zuru? What do its followers believe? Does this city have any knowledge of the barbarians that threaten it? These questions swirled throughout Seraph’s mind. The church would be the best place to find answers. He determined to split off when the chance arose.

At the first fork of the road the party came across a hectic scene. Two groups of people standing opposite of one another, drawing weapons, blocking the road and were yelling at each other. Each were five in number. The group closest to the party were arranged in a line, and although they were not high class by any means, they had clean and well kept clothes. Some of them had an insignia on stitched into their clothing.

The insignia was a green, red, and yellow circle. Green was on the bottom left portion, red on top, and yellow on the bottom right. They were armed with short swords and small wooden shields. They jeered at their opposite

“You’re all just a bunch of terrorists!”

“Boot lickers! Willing slaves! f*cking statists!!” was the reply of the other group.
They were a disorderly mob of obviously peasants who seemed to have no sense of fashion or symmetry. A vortex represented by a whirlpool was etched upon their skin in various places. They had a variety of peasantry weapon amongst them. One had two daggers (probably actually kitchen knives), two had spears, one had a hoe, and the fifth was armed with a hatchet. On the side of the road amidst this pandemonium sat an old beggar man reaching out a hat for money.

Xenobia dropped a coin in the man’s hat and inquired

“What’s these idiots problem?”

In a high and raspy voice, the beggar replied
“Oh these are members of the Fellowship of the Realm and the Cult of Chaos. They are rival cults that often cross blows.”

Seraph walked up to the beggar and tossed in a coin.
“And what do they believe?”

The beggar replied
“Oh the Chaos cult believes in freedom at all costs and the Fellowship wants peace and safety. They usually wind up working within the law or for it. I even hear that members of the different receive wondrous powers. Thank you for the generosity you two. Perhaps I’ll see you later.”

With a knowing smirk, the beggar faded away until no trace remained. Xenobia and the walking dead man watched in shock. “Teleport.” Seraph thought to himself.
Mags was too busy enjoying herself to notice. She hopped from one leg to the other side to side gleefully saying “f*cking statists! f*cking statists!” She was so excited to learn such fun new words. Fus Roh in the meantime had approached the opposing groups and stood between them. He lifted each arm in a command to stop and shouted

“Cease this rabble! There is no need to fight! I’m sure we can solve this dispute peacefully and with justice.”
A disease ridden Chaos cultist retorted

“No we can’t! And no we won’t! Our differences will be settled in blood! If living free means anything to you, you’ll join us!” She raised her spear and prepared to charge.

A member of the Fellowship responded
“There is no justice for these villains except at the end of a blade. If you value what is good, you’ll help us kill these mongrels.” He stepped forward with his shield in front and his sword lying on top, ready to fight.

“This is not right! We can deal with this orderly. We can…”

Fus Roh’s pleas were of no use. Each side was consumed by their bloodlust, and they charged at one another. Fus Roh dashed out of the way, and the rest of the party watched as the enemies clashed and a vicious melee ensued. Spears pierced flesh. Swords sliced through bone. It was quick and brutal.

The fight ended in merely 10 seconds, with three Chaos cultists left standing, catching their breath and tending to their wounds. The rest lay on the street, dead or dying. No member of the party had chosen to pick a side in the conflict.

A weak moan escaped one of the wounded. Fus Roh immediately approached the barely conscious body of a Fellowship of the Realm cultist. He stooped down and held the man’s head in his arms.

“Is this justice?” The cultist weakly asked.

“No. This is foolishness.” Fus Roh prepared to heal the injured man.

This was the first time Xenobia had seen people cut down right in front of her. She hadn’t known what to expect. Her head became light and started to spin. She couldn’t look at the bodies without wanting to vomit. 1,2,3, deep breath, and exhale. Much better. Her mother had taught her well how to handle the tragedies of life.
Mags stopped her dancing. She approached one of the dead and co*cked her head to the side. Bodies very strange. It move and make noise but now no. Tough to imitate. Mags grew bored and moved to the next corpse to observe.

The dead one felt nothing, but it felt like it should. The air smelled of fresh blood. A familiar smell. Why?

Seraph approached one of the Chaos cultists.

“What are y’all doin in this city and what y’all about?” The cultist turned to him.
She was a plump dwarf who had just acquired a grisly cut across the face. She eagerly stuck her hand out and responded

“Tairene, nice to meet you. Well we believe in achieving freedom for ourselves and all others and that’s what we’re trying to do in Archai. If you wanna know more, I could invite you to one of our next meetings. It’s super secret of course so don’t tell anyone.”

Seraph considered for a moment. This was a clear opportunity to learn more and maybe acquire some connections and power early on. Just what do they mean by freedom? What can they be free from? Certainly intriguing enough to pursue.

“Shore. Just lemme know where.”

“Oh, I’d be happy to. Let me just take out a scroll and write it down for you. We’ll be meeting tomorrow right before noon. This will tell you where to look for one of our symbols. Say you know Tairene. Come alone. They won’t trust you otherwise, and they’ll escape before you can sic the guards on them.” Tairene hastily scribbled directions onto the back of a scroll and handed it to Seraph.

Out of the corner of his eye, Fus Roh saw something. A glint of light off of, off of what? Fus Roh turned just in time to see an incoming crossbow bolt headed straight for the man he was about to heal. It pierced his skull, killing him instantly. In a moment, every cultist standing had been shot in the head with a bolt and collapsed where they stood.

Reflexively, Xenobia turned in the direction one of the bolts had come from and saw a shadowy figure standing in an alleyway with the front of a crossbow poking out. She immediately sprinted towards the figure which fled before her. It rounded a corner with her right on its tail. The figure bobbed and weaved as it ran down the dark alley, but Xenobia matched its every movement as though she were its shadow. She was catching up. She was merely an arm and a half lengths away when the figure ducked behind a stack of boxes and when Xenobia followed, the figure was gone. She could find no trace of it and even her Vaballathus could not sense it. She returned to the party empty handed and sorely disappointed. When she returned, she saw a piece of paper wrapped around one the bolt of the cultist Seraph had been talking to just a moment ago.

Seraph picked up the paper, unraveled it and spoke

“It says: We’ll be watching you. And underneath the words is a picture of a black scorpion with red eyes. What the hell?”

The party didn’t know what to think of this occurrence.

“Perhaps someone at the tavern will have answers.” Xenobia chimed in. The rest of the party nodded and grunted in agreement.

“Let go.”

Mags chirped and headed east towards the tavern. Fus Roh followed after.

“I’m gonna explore the city a little more first. Meet ya there tonight.” Seraph called out to the group as he walked north towards the church.
The living corpse joined him. Xenobia chuckled, pet her Vaballathus, and strolled to the east joining Mags and Fus Roh.

Chapter 3: Chapter 3: A Walk About Archai

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: A Walk About Archai

Not long after, Seraph and the corpse came to the church they sought. The marble construction towered over the local houses, but rather than give off an imposing impression, it seemed warm and inviting. There were no doors barring entry, rather there were nine columns (in the classic Fair Field style) with a Bad Lands Arch between them.

They formed a circle and served as a foundation for the three story structure while also allowing anyone to enter the first floor from any direction. A dome of gold, silver, and platinum, which scholars shared a consensus originated in the Dragon Lands, sat atop the church with a spike protruding from the top with the symbol of the multiverse fixed to the tip.

Sculpted into the arches of the entrances were depictions of the 6 ages of Tesalach with a space left open for the current seventh age to be added. Spread amongst this tapestry of stone statues of the many heroes that appeared throughout the realm’s history. As they entered the southeastern entrance, Seraph recognized the representations of Fairfan the Loving, Lumar the Scholar, and Phesis the Diplomat.

As they entered, the pair saw several priests adorned in robes of black and white that bore the same symbol of Archai but without the golden crown atop. They were of many races as were the commoners they attended to with prayer and blessings. Under the ceiling of the ground floor were idols depicting various gods.

In the center of the room there stood a marble statue of a being unlike Seraph had ever seen before. Its face and body was a host of features of various races. It had the ears of an elf, the beard of a dwarf, the underbite and tusks of an orc, the horns of a tiefling, the eyes filled with creativity of a gnome, yet with the irises of a snake.

Its body was as short as a halfing, but with the proportions of a human. Scales covered its skin, and in some areas, feathers grew as well. A marble cloth draped over the body covered all of the features that might suggest the sex of the entity, and its face did not provide many clues either.

To the right of this strange creature was a stand with a bowl atop it, and to the left was a staircase leading to the next floor. A pink skinned, tiefling priestess stood in front of the statue. Her apparel differed from the others only in her robes being made of silk rather than cloth, and she possessed a simple wooden staff with a small orb of amber on top.
Seraph approached the priestess and awaited her to initiate. He did not know the customs and rules of this religious institution, and he would rather not get into trouble with it again. This priestess must be the one in charge though. At least she’s the most important one on this floor.

The priestess warmly greeted Seraph and the corpse.

“Welcome to the Church of Zuru strangers. Please grab a pinch of salt from the bowl and throw it before the statue to pay honor to our god.”
The corpse complied, but Seraph subtly tossed it away from the statue.
“Does this statue portray Zuru then?” Seraph asked.
“It does! Zuru is the god of Unity and it is our duty as their servants to spread their message until all are united under them as the chief god of the multiverse.”
“Interstin.” Seraph reached for his flask but remembered it was empty.

He silently cursed all of existence to a dark and miserable end. Gotta find a distraction. Learnin about this religion of theirs might help. Best to know what kinda city you’re dealin with too.
“What about the other gods?”
The halfling’s face lit up. Someone who’s interested. “The other gods certainly exist as well! But none are nearly as great or needed as Zuru is. Especially in these dark times.”
“What’s in the rest of the building?”

“The rest of the building contains more depictions of the gods but in different forms. This floor they are depicted as they would appear in the material plane, and thus look quite humanoid. On the second floor they appear as they would in the inner planes so they are a bit more abstract.
For example, Gond, the god of craft, would appear as a man made of fire and iron. On the third floor, they appear as they would in the outer plane, a fully abstract form. The same god would appear as cogs turning, and a furnace burning, as they are often portrayed through their symbols.”
“You must be the high priestess then.”
“Oh no. I am merely the steward of the material floor. Leon is the high priest. He governs the whole church and works closely with our raj in all matters.”
Seraph chuckled in surprise that that sputtering dwarf could be in charge of anything.
“Thank you kindly, I’ll be on my way ma’am.”
“Strength through unity, friend.”
“Strength through unity.” Seraph turned to exit the church and realized the corpse was not there.

He quickly scanned the room and saw the odd creature staring at the statue of the goddess of death.

Why am I drawn to this thing? Something about it feels familiar. Do I know it? Does it know me? Death keeps filling my mind.
Suddenly, flashes of events raced the creature’s mind. It saw a man killing, assassinating, and bringing death to hundreds of individuals. This man took no pleasure in its methodical tasks, but it took no pain either. Flashes of a tall, thin figure kept repeating after each kill. From this figure came a wispy voice that said “Calla Lily”.
Quick as a snap, reality flashed back into existence. Head throbbing, heart pounding, and body shaking is what would normally happen to a mortal after such an experience. Instead, a smile crept up his face. Calla Lily remembered.

Seraph shook his head and tapped the creature on the shoulder. It turned around.

“Let’s go.” And so they walked to the tavern together.

They arrived at the tavern by nightfall. They recognized the establishment by its name, The Drunken Wizard, and the sign that hung above the entrance depicted a bearded man with a pointy hat with a large glass of ale. The rest of the party stood right outside of the entrance conversing with one another.
Xenobia called out to Seraph and Calla Lily

“Hey you two. Come help us figure out what this black scorpion thing. We’ve been talking about it for hours and none of us have any idea what it means.”
The pair approached them and Seraph took up the scroll with the insignia on it. He studied it, examined the ink from which it was created, and looked over every detail of the parchment. He handed the scroll back to Xenobia.

“I have no idea what this is.”

“Maybe someone inside will know. Time to have some fun.” Xenobia primped her hair, gave Vaballathus a good scratch, and sauntered into the tavern.

The Drunken Wizard was brimming with life and revelry. Nearly every table was filled. Tieflings sat with Halfings, Orcs conversed with elves, and a trio of musicians provided a joyous atmosphere of merriment for all inside.
Seeing the lack of open tables, the party approached the bar and took their seats. Some of the patrons noticed Xenobia’s giant Vaballathus scarf and scooted away to avoid her and the party.

“What’ll it be?” The antelope horned, tiefling bartender asked.
Seraph sat down and impatiently held out his flask to the bar keep.
“Whiskey.”

Without a word the bartender began to fill it up. Mags perched herself onto a seat and chirped
“Apple juice please.”
A glass was poured for her with a little straw sticking out.

Xenobia slid into her seat and with a sultry voice asked “May I have a fine glass of champagne?”

Fus Roh enthusiastically plopped down “Just an ale for me.”

Calla Lily remained standing and motioned drinking from a cup.
“So which one do ya want?”
Calla Lily attempted a complex representation of clouds forming, rain falling, and rivers flowing to communicate his drink of choice. The bartender just stared blankly at the bizarre spectacle.

“It wants water.”
Seraph took a long swig from his whiskey. Why’d he have to get stuck with these people?

After a few minutes of drinking, Xenobia pulled out the scroll with the black scorpion and addressed the bartender “Do you know what this symbol means?”
The bartender’s eyes widened, and the color drained from his face. He took a couple steps back.
“I don’t know anything about that!”

Xenobia scowled and glared at the bartender with her reptilian eyes. She pulled out her violin, and began to play a somber tune. Green light flickered off the strings of her bow. Some of them travelled to the bartender and began to dance around his head.
“You really should tell me the truth. What do you know about this symbol?”
The lights flew into the bartender’s head and his eyes flashed with green.
“It’s the insignia of the Shadow Cult. They’re really dangerous. Please, I don't want to talk about this.” His eyes returned to their amber color.
“Shadow Cult. How deliciously interesting. That was fun boys. I think I deserve a victory dance.”
Xenobia strutted to the platform the minstrels played upon, and joined them with a lively jig on her violin. She danced and played with passion and got much of the tavern to dance to her tune. The minstrels followed along.

The party looked at each other.
“Magic! Amazing lady.” Mags gleamed.
“An impressive skill. I wonder how she uses it in battle.” Fus Roh mused.
“So what if she can use suggestion. Ain’t that special.” Seraph sulked.
Calla Lily nodded his head in approval and clapped to the beat Xenobia laid down.

“Eh eh eh. Excuse me.”
Mags looked down to see a halfling man struggling to climb up one of the seats. Mags immediately grabbed his hand and pulled him up.
“Oh thank you. Wow, I haven’t seen any of you around here before. And you’re so heavily armed and geared up. You must be adventurers. My name’s Krent. What’s yours? You must have so many interesting stories about your travels and quests.”

Krent eagerly stuck out his hand to the various party members. Seraph turned away and continued to drink his whiskey. Fus Roh shook his hand vigorously nearly throwing the small halfing off of his seat. Mags tentatively shook his hand. Calla Lily politely shook the halfling's hand.

“Well, I could tell you all about my heroics in the Dragon Lands.” Fus Roh beamed.
“Oh boy please do!”
“Well, there was the time when I was surrounded by five of those treacherous mountain dwarves of Kythril all at once, and I almost lost faith in myself and surrendered. But then I remembered our clan mother would always say to us ‘a golden dragon never sacrifices their pride or honor, and neither does their dragonborn.”

As Fus Roh yammered on, Mags inspected her juice. She did not trust the incredible and unwarranted interest of this halfing. She didn’t see anything so she took a sip from her glass. That was a mistake. She began to feel woozy. She tried to call out to her new friends but all that came out was a quack as her head fell flat against the table with a muffled thud.
Fus Roh also fell in the middle of his epic about the time he took down a Kythrilian mech with a broken arm and his legs tied. Seraph felt a twinge in his stomach and his vision started to darken. But his body pulled through, and he resisted the poison. A great success. Just as he had seen in his glimpses of the future at the beginning of the day.
Calla Lily did not feel the effect of the poison slipped into his drink. His stomach didn’t work anymore. The two turned and stared Krent down.

“Got somethin to say for yerself little feller.”

Seraph got off his stool and approached Krent. Shock and fear sprang across Krent’s face. How could the poison not work? He shook with terror and turned towards the door. He screamed out

“Gronk!!”

A huge black scaled dragonborn pushed his way through the crowd. He stomped up to Krent and put himself in between him and Calla Lily and Seraph.

“Grab the unconscious bodies and run.” Krent whispered to Gronk.
Krent began to yell out to the crowd of customers

“Hey everyone! This human said that halfbreeds are-”

Krent’s muscles froze. His mouth remained open with his lips stuck in the middle of forming the next word. Seraph chuckled to himself. This must be the foe failing he foresaw. He turned and saw Xenobia playing her violin as green lights flickered off the strings. She’s using hold person. This woman might be useful, Seraph thought to himself. He took a victory shot of whiskey.
Gronk looked at the paralyzed body of Krent with dumbfounded confusion. He followed Seraph’s gaze and saw Xenobia casting her spell. He roared and charged at her. Whack! Thwack! Thump! The dragonborn fell unconscious to the floor.

Calla Lily restrapped his quarterstaff to his back. His work was done. The patrons stared at the scene for a few seconds and then decided it’d be best to go back to their drinks and so they did. Seraph took out a small pouch of coins and dropped it on the bar.

“We’ll take care of this.” Seraph, Calla Lily, and Xenobia grabbed Krent and dragged Gronk through the back door into the alley. Xenobia stopped playing and pulled out her rapier and pointed it at Krent’s chest.
“Who do you work for?! The f*ck were you doing?!”
“I, I, I don’t work for anyone! I was just trying to rob you.”
Xenobia pressed the scroll with the Scorpion symbol into Krent’s face.
“Who’s the Shadow Cult?”
Krent somehow seemed even more terrified than he was already.
“Don’t mess with them. They’ll kill you. Just please let me go.”
Krent began to cry and slobber pathetically.
“I’ll let you go, if you pledge your loyalty to me. Tell me, what do the people think of Katak? Do they hate his rule? Who are his enemies?”
“I don’t know! I don’t think people have a problem with him. Anyone who speaks out against him or the Church disappears.”
“Then find out for me, and report to me when I call for you. Meet me at the eastern gate each night at sunset. If I’m not there by its completion, you may leave. If you are not there, I will find you and kill you slowly.”
“Ok! Ok! I will.” Krent whimpered.
“Good boy. Now get the hell out of here.”

Krent got up shook his friend back into consciousness and ran away with him.
Seraph rolled his eyes. She’s trying to scheme against Katak this early? She’ll keep his loyalty right up until he’s out of her sight. Ah well. Not my problem. The three walked back inside the tavern and saw Mags and Fus Roh waking back up. Mags fluffed her feathers and blinked quizzically.
“What happen?”
“You were poisoned by the halfling.” Xenobia replied.
“We stopped him from robbing you.”
“Thank.” Mags flapped her feathered arms happily. Fus Roh awoke groggily.
“After that, I just want some food and sleep.” The party agreed.
“Your food and lodging is already paid for by the raj. There’s a large room reserved upstairs for all of you with a bed for each.” The bartender informed them.

The party thanked him, collected their meals, and headed to their room. Exhausted by the long day, all of them went to sleep. Except for Calla Lily, who did not need sleep. He pulled up a chair and pulled out a book in his pack. The Raunchy Cultist. The rest of the party slept soundly. Their adventure would begin tomorrow.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4: An Unexpected Visitor

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: An Unexpected Visitor

The new day dawned. The light of the morning pierced the window and softly blanketed the sleeping party. The door opened without a sound. Something had entered the room. Calla Lily had remained alert throughout the night and until this morning, but his attentiveness could not outmatch the stealth of this intruder. The dim light cast excellent shadows for hiding. The wardrobe, beds, and corners provided valid choices for such an endeavor. And so the intruder chose a spot just outside of Calla Lily’s view and waited for the opportune moment.
The morning bells awoke the party at around the same time. Fus Roh rolled out of bed and began his morning stretches. Seraph stood up and took his morning swig. Xenobia tuned her violin, fixed her hair, and applied her makeup (not that she needed much). Mags sat up, rubbed her large eyes and fluffled her feathers.

Everyone had finished their morning routine and were ready to head downstairs when one of them turned and saw a skinny, pale, half-elf, with hair covering half his face, the other half sporting a smirk, and armed with a bow and quiver filled with arrows standing in front of the door staring at them.

“Hello.” He said with a smooth and snarky voice.

Calla Lily put his book down and gaped with surprise. He was awake all night. How could anyone have snuck in?

“Who are you and what are you doing in here?!” Xenobia grasped the handle of her rapier and began to draw it.

Completely unfazed by this threat, the smirking half-elf replied.

“Oh, my name is Nothos. I just wanted to see what interesting characters my father has recruited this time. I can’t wait to see how your diplomatic mission goes.”

Her interest piqued, Xenobia put away her sword took a more relaxed stance.

“So you’re the prince of this city?”

“Well, technically no. I am currently the heir, but if my father were to get married and have a child I no longer would be. I am, unfortunately, an illegitimate son after all.”
Nothos looked down in sadness.

“Ah, bastard.” Mags chirped proudly.

Nothos stepped back and blinked his eyes a bit.

“Well, yes I am, but you wouldn’t believe the kind of freedom that allows you. Anyways, now that I’ve gotten a good look at you, I am happy to say that my father has good taste. He certainly knows how to pick the cute ones. I look forward to seeing your pretty faces in the near future if you survive that long of course.”

At the utterance of the word ‘cute’ Nothos addressed the whole party but gave a special wink to Seraph. At the word ‘pretty’ he looked directly at Xenobia. With every sentence he maintained his smirk and spoke in an almost taunting manner.
In response to his flirting, Seraph rolled his eyes. Calla Lily would have blushed if he could have. Xenobia enjoyed it but did not react. If anyone is going to be moved by wooing, it will be this boy, not me. She thought to herself. Mags and Fus Roh didn’t get it.

“Adieu, adventurers.” Nothos sarcastically bowed and then slunk out of the room, out of sight.

“Well he was weird.” Fus Roh gruffly stated.

Everyone headed downstairs and ordered some breakfast. As one would expect of a flourishing city in the Fair Fields such as Arcahi, there was much food to be had for a low price. A simple breakfast consisted of a loaf of bread, eggs, vegetables, and an apple along with a slice of pork. Milk and cheese were not hard to come by, and a glass of ale washed it all down well. Seraph grabbed a couple of loaves for later as well as enough whiskey for two days travel. As he exited the Drunken Wizard ,he called out to the rest of the party

“I’m gonna do some research about the Horde.” Seraph headed straight for where the Chaos Cult were meeting that day.

It did not take long for Seraph to find it. The directions Tairene had inscribed for him were not difficult for him to follow despite not having been in the city before. He had an excellent sense of navigation.
Seraph found the whirlpool symbol of the Cult of Chaos in short order. It was painted in yellow in an innocuous alley of the residential district. Seraph put his hands against the wall and skimmed over it. Aha! A loose stone. He removed the stone revealing a door knob concealed behind it. Seraph turned the knob and pushed the heavy stone door open. Torches bathed the room in a dim glow.

Seraph paused before entering. Is this wise? What will joining this cult entail? What will they ask of him? What will he have to do to gain their favor and the power they claim to have? It will be worth it. Whatever this dark future Seraph had forseen would be, he would need power to face it. Perhaps he could prevent it all together. He was not strong enough now. Better to tilt the odds in his favor. Seraph took a long swig of whisky and entered.

Seraph could see little more than silhouette in the dim light. No furniture was to be seen. A small crowd of cloaked figures surrounded him. Each member bore a tattoo of the whirlpool symbol on their cloaks, arms, or forehead. A figure wearing a goat mask approached Seraph.

“Who are you? Why have you come?” They said in a deep, guttural voice
“I’m a friend of Tairene. I’m here for the power and freedom y’all offer.” Seraph firmly declared.
The masked figure nodded in approval as the small crowd cheered and wooped. A raised hand brought them to silence.
“Have you pledged loyalty to any creature or government?” The Assessor asked while slowly tilting its head side to side as though examining the disgraced prince.
“Naw.” Seraph replied nonchalantly.
“Good. You are vassal to no one. No one rules you, not even yourself. If you wish to join us and be gifted the power we wield, you must be a free man.” The Assessor declared.
“How will I do that?” Seraph asked.
“The choice is yours. Publicly insult the rulers of this city, blaspheme against its gods, spread discord through the markets. Show that you have no deference for status, divinity, or wealth. Cause a sufficient amount of chaos, and then return to us to receive your power.” The masked one explained.
Seraph took a swig of whisky.
“Ain’t too hard. I’ll see y’all before the hour is done.” He said as he casually strolled off.

Seraph left the room and strolled over to the city square. This would be too easy. When Seraph arrived, he surveyed the plaza. The market was waking up and beginning to bustle. Typical of a city nearing midday. Shops opened and entrepreneurs set up booths and carts with their wares.

One such cart was filled with wine barrels. People were paying their respects to Zuru and praying at the statue situated in the center of the plaza. Seraph took another shot of whisky and went to work.

“With the power of the weave and my knowledge of its workings, none shall see my deeds: Invisibility.”

With a flick of his wrist, Seraph released a shower of silver sparkles over himself. They fell like leaves, and by the time they landed on the ground, Seraph could no longer be seen. Seraph walked over to the wine barrels, picked one up (with great effort of his scrawny arms), and carried it over to the statue of Zuru. The vendor did not notice his barrel being stolen, but a few bystanders did and caused quite a stir about the floating barrel headed for Zuru.

With a crowd watching, the barrel made its way to the statue, raised itself up, and smashed itself against Zuru. Wine spilled and poured everywhere. Some in the crowd yelped in fear, others in delight at the odd spectacle, and others with indignation at the disrespect to their god. Many did not care, and rushed over to the spilled drink to lap it up. Seraph made his way into the crowd and yelled whatever blasphemies burst into his mind.
“Down with the false god Zuru! Leon is a moron! Katak has a big nose!”
Seraph snuck his way over to the wine barrels and knocked them over one by one, spilling them onto the streets. The oblivious owner did not notice until the last barrel had been burst
“My wine!!” He exclaimed.

Quite pleased with his work, Seraph strolled back to the Chaos Cult hideout.
Seraph came upon the same scene as before. With a word, Seraph dismissed his invisibility, and the cultists gathered around him in interest and wonder. Unfazed, the masked figure approached Seraph.

“We have already heard of your deeds. Well done. Rather than choosing between your tasks, you accomplished them all at once. You will fit right in.” The Assessor declared with a cool, even tone.
“Thank ya. Now what comes next?” Seraph asked unceremoniously.
The masked figure raised a hand. Suddenly, candles lit, and the room glowed with a magnificent light. Seraph saw 30 some cultists surrounding him. He could tell them apart now. Just by looking at them he could tell most of them made up the underclass of society, both socially and racially. The cultists began to chant in a forgotten tongue
As the chanting grew louder, two cultists brought forth a chair. Seraph was seated upon it, and his arms and legs were strapped to it. The masked figure began to weave golden light in front of him. They chanted in the same lost language; it seemed ancient and terrifying. Seraph asked for a drink from his whisky, his lips slightly trembling as he sipped from the flask. A bit better. Nothing terrible was supposed to happen today, not that Seraph had forseen. The cultist to his left asked.

“You will be given a mark which will focus your new power. Where would you like it?”
“The bottom of my left foot.” Seraph replied.
The masked figure finished their ritual. They had woven a swirling torrent of chaotic light.
“Gaze upon this void of energy. It shall confer unto you great power. Repeat our creed after me. Don’t be ruled by the law.”
Seraph stared deeply into the vortex, mesmerized by its wild beauty. He complied.
“Don’t be ruled by the law.”
“Don’t be ruled by others.”
“Don’t be ruled by others.”
“Don’t be ruled by yourself.”
“Don’t be ruled by yourself.”

As he uttered the last line, Seraph felt a burning pain in his left foot. He screamed in agony. A stream of light lept out from the vortex to the point of Seraph’s pain. The stream ran and ran into Seraph until its was fully drained. The chanting ceased the instant the last of the vortex’s light was diminished. The Assessor stepped towards the prince of Wolnocc, opened their arms up, and said with a warm gravitas.
“Welcome, to the Cult of Chaos.”
Seraph slipped out of his restraints with ease. He would not have noticed how difficult it should have been had it not been for the marks left on his wrists and ankles.
“You will be far harder to restrain and bind now, though it will not be impossible. Contribute to our cause of spreading chaos, and you will receive more powers.” The masked figure explained.
“Anything y’all got for me now?” The mage asked, eager to gain greater gifts offered by the Chaos Cult.
“As of right now, no. Check back with us in the future. We should have something for you. In the meantime, live free.”
“I’ll take my leave then.”
Seraph left the room and headed towards the city library. He had some research to do.

Seraph came upon a small, neglected building in the northwest district. The sign indicating it as the library was quite weathered with several of the letters worn away till they were unrecognizable. It could not compare to Wolnocc’s library as that would be comparing a hamlet to a city.
To say it was anything like Hekka’s Great Library would be to say that a stone is much like a castle. Even so, this sad structure may house useful information about the local politics. Who knows, perhaps nestled somewhere is knowledge of the Barbarians from the east. Another swig of whisky, and Seraph entered. The interior was as poorly lit as he expected. Many shelves were completely barren of books but excellent reservoirs of dust and spiderwebs. Several shelves were in complete disrepair.

Seraph’s nose immediately became stuffed, and he cast a simple spell to evacuate the tainted air from his vicinity. The floor creaked as he walked towards a random shelf and plucked a book from it. This seemed to disturb the equilibrium of the shelf and the whole thing collapsed into a pathetic pile of wood, nails, and books.

“Oh what’s that?! Is someone there?” An elderly gnome with wild hair and wilder eyes popped up from behind a several stacks of books strewn upon a desk.
He saw Seraph and tilted his head inquisitively.
“You don’t look like the robbing type. I don’t have anything if you’re looking for money.”
Seraph rolled his eyes.
“I’m a traveller searching for knowledge that can be found in this library. Got any books about politics or culture of the Fair Fields or the East?”
The gnome vibrated his head and blinked several times.
“Oh, not many people like you come around these days. Ah yes. There’s a section in the back over there that might have what you need.”
“I see that your library is a bit worse for wear. Entire shelves are empty too.”
“Ah yes. Ever since the raj cleaned the place out of most of the good stuff and pulled funding from the building, there really hasn’t been much to offer. The Church picked this place clean of all religious texts. I can still smell the fire from all the ‘heresies’ they burned.”
The gnome shuddered.
“I’ve been retired for some time, so I’ve taken care of this place and kept it in order. Not very well I suppose heh heh.”
“Damn shame.” Seraph took another swig of whisky and went to work.

As sparse as the library’s selection was, it possessed scrolls and books of use to Seraph’s pursuit. He found a scroll of a map of the realm which had been drawn quite recently by a local cartographer. He did not find much information of the Eastern peoples. Just what all educated people knew.
The plains to the east hosted all kinds of nomadic and semi nomadic peoples, but he could find no further insight about them. Beyond the plains lies the land of Morcia, a spiritual region with many mountains and hills. Despite how hard he searched, Seraph could not find any books or scrolls that told of the history of Archai or its political situation.
“Hey, y’all got anything on the history of this place?” He asked the gnome.
The librarian looked up quizzically. His gaze trailed to right above Seraph as he seemed to get lost in some unrelated thought. The librarian found his thought again and shook his head to focus himself.
“Ah yes. Everything related to the history of the city, raj, and Church have been removed.”
“Know anything yourself?”
“Oh not really, I don’t pay attention to those sort of things. I’ve always been more interested in poetry myself.” The gnome awkwardly smiled.
Disappointed, Seraph drank from his flask and headed back to the Drunken Wizard to meet up with the rest of the party.

As he entered the tavern, Seraph heard a boisterous quack “Shut up, Leon!”
Fus Roh chortled so hard, ale spewed from his nostrils, and leaned back too far sending him and his chair tumbling to the ground. Xenobia chuckled and threw in some scathing insults for good measure. Quite amused, Calla Lily dotingly patted the happy kenku. Seraph rolled his eyes, but could not stifle a grin. The party welcomed him back, and they cheerfully enjoyed their meal.
In the midst of their meal, the bartender approached the party.

“Hey uh, some guy from York over there wants to talk to you all. I think he’s important or something.”
With remarkable synchronization, the party whipped their heads around to see an elf in a baby blue cloak with white highlights. Seraph could see the top of the white dolphin that signified the kingdom of York.
“Alright, let’s see what he wants.” Seraph walked over to the dignitary. Hopefully this won’t be boring. The rest of the party followed.
The elf stood up and politely greeted them. He folded his hands, fidgeted his fingers, and then cleared his throat.
“Thank you for coming over to talk to me. I am an ambassador of the City of York. I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’re travellers that have been recruited by Katak, the ruler of this city. I’m sure it involves unification of the Fair Fields to deal with the threat of the Horde. Katak will not bring salvation to the Fair Fields but subjugation. He won’t be satisfied with his “united front” until all peoples in this region are his slaves.
My people know we need greater strength to defeat the barbarians, but we also recognize the danger Katak poses. We already have an alliance in the making. Join us and help us nip Katak’s power in the bud before it grows to consume us all.”

Xenobia’s eyes lit up. So there is a faction that greatly opposes Katak. They might be rather powerful themselves. Oh the possibilities. She could feed York information from the inside. All the while she’d be climbing Katak’s ranks and increase in power and influence. Being instrumental to both sides, it will only be a matter of time before she had the leverage and connections to begin to take down Center City itself from the inside. This is her in.
Seraph was less enthusiastic.
“Who’s in the alliance?” He asked pointedly.
With a confident air, the ambassador responded
“Mar, Aima, and us, York.”
A formidable alliance indeed, Seraph thought. Mar is famous for its knights, Aima its soldiers, and York has the best navy on the West Coast.

“But yer siege failed. You just lost to Archai yet claim to be strong. This city is allied with Parlington as well. Parlington is the wealthiest city in the Fair Fields and Archai is known for its military prowess. Are ya sure you have the strength to defeat Katak?”
The party looked at Seraph with surprise. He took a swig of his whisky and shrugged his shoulders.
“You have to know these sorts of things when yer a prince.”
The ambassador of York became flustered.
“Well, if we get Hillton or Logos on our side, they won’t stand a chance.”
“And how do ya plan on doing that, ‘peacefully’?”
“I don’t know all of the plans of my city. We’re working on it, I can assure you.”
Seraph shrugged his shoulders.
“Let’s go guys. This man’s nothing but bluster.”
“Wait.” Xenobia interjected.

“We haven’t given this much thought. Do we really trust Katak to not just throw us away when he’s done? We need some kind of insurance. This guy’s offering us an out. If we work with him, we can use Katak instead of him using us. I don’t care who wins and defeats the Horde, but we gotta take care of ourselves too.”
“It’s not the right time to play double agent.” Seraph retorted.
“We’re gonna be used by someone for now. Either York or Archai, we might as well go with the one that has the best chance at fighting off the Horde. That’s Katak’s faction. They just defeated York, and I can tell he’s a forceful leader.”
“He does seem to be the strongest.” Fus Roh agreed.
“Seem like best choice.” Mags chimed in. Calla Lily gave no indication either way.
Xenobia became visibly frustrated. She was ready to go into a tirade, but then a thought occurred to her and her anger subsided. The party walked out of the tavern together to find Archai’s ambassador that they were meant to escort. As they walked and talked, Xenobia slinked back and found York’s ambassador. She took him aside and whispered
“Don’t listen to what they said. We can still work together. We’re delivering a message to Olaphine, the queen of Mar about the armistice. The ambassador needs an escort apparently. You help me with info and I’ll help you okay?”
The York ambassador was puzzled. Is she telling the truth about working against her party? Why does Archai’s ambassador need such powerful guards? He nodded in agreement anyway, and the two went their separate ways.

Chapter 5: Off to Mar

Chapter Text

The party approached the east gate. The ambassador of Archai was there waiting impatiently inside of his coach. The ambassador condescendingly addressed the party

“Oh finally, you have arrived. Let’s get going immediately, this will be the defining moment of my career.”

He snapped his fingers and his personal guard fetched a riding horse for each of the party members. In short order, they set off out of the city of Archai towards Mar. On their way through the gate, Seraph noticed the wine seller leaving the city as well. A small boy clung to his leg.

“It’s going to be alright Jimothy. We’ll stay with your uncle in Kavos until I can get my business running again.” He told the boy in a soothing voice.

Seraph turned away. He did not have time to concern himself with everyone’s problems.

The party set out east to the kingdom of Mar. They traveled along an unpaved road that had been formed from years of common traveling over the path. In the days when Tesalach was united, the roads were well paved with concrete and stone. Along the path, loose stones could still be seen left from the ancient days of the Tesalachan Empire.

As they exited the city proper they saw a vast open countryside filled with farms of wheat and barley. The last of the crops were being harvested. A good yield was being brought in as was usual in the Fair Fields. Archai was no exception for bringing in bountiful harvests. The land spread peacefully before them with gentle sloping hills. The ground was easy to walk upon and elevation was rarely a problem.
The party passed several farms tended to by families of serfs. Some of the farming communities had little groves of trees and wildlife near just beyond their farms. These were the only trees in the vicinity as all the forests had been consumed for food production.

As the party traveled along the path to Mar, a few groups of refugees crossed their path. They brought with them everything they could carry. The fortunate ones had wagons for their humble belongings. Many of them were diseased or injured. A fair number of the sick had similar signs of red sores present all over their skin and the one’s at death’s door would be coughing up blood. The refugees consisted of a plethora of races.

They all appeared to be headed towards Archai. The party ignored this scene. It was as though they all shared a silent agreement that these people were none of their concern and that there was nothing to be done even if they were. There was one group of outcasts that caught their attention.
As the party approached one of the few forests in the Fair Fields (no major power had made a solid claim on the land and so the forest served as a convenient buffer) that evening, a whole clan of gnomes came out from the forest. The gnome who was clearly the matriarch was loudly complaining

“They kill my daughter and banish us to die out here in the wilderness?! A curse on all of them. May their uptight, arrogant heads be stuck in their own asses forever!” The rest of her clan grumbled.
“Ma! We’ve heard it a hundred times already. Whining about it won’t change a thing.” One of her sons griped.
“Well I wouldn’t be as worked up about it if one of you cowards had gotten our family amulet back and avenged her. I bet these nice people will be more than happy to help us. Hello, younglings, would you like to help us? I’ll give you a nice artifact for the trouble.”
The party exchanged looks. They shared a collective shrug. Xenobia turned to the gnomes.
“If you have payment, then we would be happy to help you out. What would you like us to do?”
A rueful smile sprang upon the matriarch’s face.
“I want you to find our family amulet. It’s a sapphire shaped like pixie on a silver chain. It is in the possession of an utterly awful elf named Adhorn. Kill him and bring me proof along with the amulet he stole!”
“Oh that shouldn’t be a problem at all. Where shall we find you?”
“We’re on our way to Archai. At least they accept gnomes there. Come on!” The matriarch yelled at her family.

The two groups parted ways, and the party headed into the forest. Dusk had fallen. The sinking sun imbued the forest with a golden glow carried by each leaf as stars carry a piece of light in the night sky. A crispy crunch accompanied each step, and the cool air of autumn blanketed the travelers. The Archai dignitary moaned

“I’m tired. We shall camp here and sleep for the night. Tomorrow…” he looked off into the distance like an epic hero gazing off into the horizon “We arrive at Mar, and I complete the mission of a lifetime. I’ll be known as a great peacemaker to be sure.”

“To be sure.” Mags mimicked him in a mocking tone.

The ambassador pretended to have not heard and clapped his hands for the driver and his personal guard to roll out a tent.
Seraph scanned the surrounding area. He picked up some sticks and staked them into the ground to form a 20 foot diameter circle. When he was finished, he recited an elven poem of crafting that took a whole minute to quote. As he spoke, he drew a silver string from his staff and attached it to each stick. He finished the circle and the incantation at the same time

“With the power of the weave and my knowledge of it’s workings, I create an impermeable shelter:Tiny hut.”
A string of silver on top of the first sprang out and circled around the assortment of sticks until it had fully formed upon the original string. Then another and another silver string swirled around and formed on top of the one before it culminating in a simple shelter. When the structure was complete, the silver burst away leaving behind a mundane, brown hut.

“This’ll do fer the night. Nothin will get through less I want it to.” Seraph announced.

“Oh all right. As long as I don’t have to sleep too close to you all.”
The ambassador fussed about until his blankets were laid out and his pillow fluffed to perfect softness and then finally laid down to sleep. The party tied the horses to a nearby tree and agreed to take turns watching them. Calla Lily took first watch, and it wasn’t long before his watch was disturbed.

A loud rustle came from the thicket near the horses. Calla Lily immediately woke the others up. Seraph was quite disturbed by his sleep being disturbed and grumpily called out
“Who the hell is out there and what’re you doin?!”
A booming voice called out.
“We’ve got you surrounded. Come out and surrender all of your valuables.”
Grabbing his warhammer and shield, Fus Roh chuckled
“He’s lying. Time for some combat.”

Seraph whispered into his staff and an orb of light flickered into being. Seraph threw the light to where he heard the shout. A band of 5 bandits was illuminated. A human in front with four orcs behind. Too close to the horses for a fireball Seraph mused.
“Uh uh, that’s it! You asked for this!”

3 bandits drew their bows and fired at the hut. Their arrows bounced off without dealing so much as a scratch. A knife flew out of the hut in response straight into the human’s throat. He gurgled his last breaths as he fell to the ground choking on his own blood.

A bandit drew his sword only for it glow red hot, and he screamed in pain as he released the burning hilt from his grasp. The last thing he saw before falling unconscious from shock was a woman with a giant snake for a scarf playing a violin with a sinister smile sauntering out of the hut.

The dragonborn bearing his shield and warhammer rushed out of the hut straight for an orc and fell him with a strike to the knee and then another to the head.
The last two bandits turned to flee but one of them got hit with a dart in the back. It did not pierce deep enough to be deadly, but then the wound burst open and his ribcage was exposed as he fell to the ground bleeding out.

Xenobia watched as the last orc got a good ten feet away before playing her deadly tune. She sang a ditty as green wisps lept off her violin’s strings and pursued the final bandit

“If you wanted your story to be told, you shouldn’t have been so bold. Now hold!”
The wisps hunted the orc down and wrapped around him, paralyzing him. He tried to resist but to no avail. His body became frozen in place. She approached the orc.
“Who are you and who do you work for? I’m feeling generous, but Vaballathus is hungry and very impatient.”
“My name is Gret. I’m from the Anaki tribe. Please don’t kill me. I’ll be your slave.” Gret began sobbing uproariously. Seraph walked up with a dagger in his hand.
“Just kill him. We’ve got a job to do.”
“We can learn where his tribe is and take it out. Or maybe we can recruit them. I’m not wasting this opportunity.”
Seraph stabbed the orc in the throat. He was not going to argue about this.
“It’s just some orc camp. We don’t have time for every little side adventure!” Seraph angrily took a swig of his whisky.
Xenobia blushed with fury. She put her hand on her rapier ready to draw when Mags came between them. She showed them her knife she pulled from the human’s corpse and smiled at them.
“Good throw, yes?”

It was enough to diffuse the tension. Seraph and Xenobia nervously laughed and complemented Mags on her kill. Awkwardly, they returned to their sleeping spots. Calla Lily took watch again, tossing the dart that he had just retrieved from a bandit corpse.
It was not even an hour before his watch was interrupted again.

Suddenly, a figure stood next to Calla Lily. He whipped his head around to see an old man carrying a dim lantern. The man smiled and set the lantern down. In a familiar high, raspy voice the old man spoke
“Ooh you’re an interesting one. You’re one of Tulani’s aren’t you? What are you doing way out here?”
Calla Lily recognized the voice of the beggar in Archai, and the name he mentioned sounded vaguely familiar like a name from a distant dream. Who is this man? What does he know about me? Whose Tulani? Calla Lily tried to express all of these questions at once. He made a jumbled mess of signed words.

“Oh I don’t understand that. Wish I did though. Would certainly make this conversation easier haha.”
Xenobia had always been a light sleeper. She was woken up by the conversation and lantern’s light and immediately shook the others awake. This was a fascinating encounter.
“Who are you?” She asked as she stood up.
“An observant fellow. Thank you again for your generosity, and to you as well young man. You are an intriguing and formidable group. No doubt your actions will dramatically shape the realm. I wonder though, shall you bring about an age of Heroes, an age of Conquest, or an age of Chaos?”

Seraph was baffled by this strange man. How did this beggar get in here? The spell is supposed to make it impossible for anyone to enter without his express permission. He spoke of the ages of the realm like a scholar. A powerful wizard perhaps?

“You didn’t answer my question.” Xenobia grumbled.
“I’m not here to answer your questions.” The beggar replied.
“I’m here to size you up. Take an account. See what you all are made of. Besides, it’s more fun not telling you. If you interest me enough, maybe I’ll tell you more about myself. If you live long enough, of course. You’re gonna have an exciting day tomorrow.”
“Do you mean to threaten us with your cryptic words, old fool? You’d have to try far harder to scare us.” Fus Roh stared down the strange man.
The beggar stared back at Fus Roh and sported an awful smile.
“Oh I could terrify you Fus Roh. But I want to be friends.” The old man gleamed and snapped his fingers, vanishing instantly.
Mags turned to the rest of the group and smiled
“Like him.”

She immediately flopped onto the ground and began to sleep again. Shaken up by the bizarre conversation, everyone else decided to go to sleep for the night.

The party had a pleasant awakening the next morning and shared some breakfast together before saddling up to finish their journey to Mar. Seraph studied the movements of the wind, the positions of the clouds, and the flight of birds this morning. The signs were clear. There would be two great victories for him or his allies.

Seraph took a calm drink from his whisky. He’d be able to see his way through the challenges of the day. As though fate’s retort to his certainty, a foreboding sign immediately followed Seraph’s prediction. The pounding of hooves beating the ground rang in the party’s ears. Before anyone could register its distance or orientation, a lean riding horse dashed past them at a deranged speed.
The rider flashed by as a blur of blue and white. Seraph immediately determined the rider’s alignment and destination. Someone of York rides to Mar. Seraph was perplexed as to why this would be and what the need was for such haste. Did it have to do with the conversation they had with the ambassador of York just yesterday?

Seraph’s brow furrowed and his whisky found its way to his lips. Perhaps this day will need all of the fortune I can get, Seraph thought to himself. The party exchanged looks and queries with each other as to what the rider’s purpose could be, but none could find a satisfactory answer. Seraph remained silent.

After some meandering, everyone returned to their horses, the dignitary to his carriage, and they headed off to the kingdom of Mar. After a few hours they left the boundaries of the forest and came out into a vast open stretch of land. Expansive ranches filled with vibrant green grass along with cattle, sheep, and horses peacefully grazing lay out before them as far as they could see.

Amongst the serene view the party saw a troop of knights approach them carrying the flag of Mar, a red horse upon a green background. The leader of the horsem*n, a handsome brunette elf wearing a pixie amulet with a silver chain and a stoic face shouted at them

“Halt! In the name of Queen Olaphine lay down your arms!”

The party complied, not wanting to get into an unnecessary conflict, and stood still as thirty knights encircled them. They were not afraid, but it was concerning to them to be surrounded by so many heavily armed, and unhappy looking, warriors.

“I am Adhorn son of Olaphine.” The leader said

“I will be escorting you into Mar. Follow me, and don’t make any trouble.”

The knights behind the party moved forward with their lances pointed at the party. The party allowed themselves to be prodded along, but Xenobia became increasingly incessed by this unwelcoming entourage. The Archai ambassador shared her frustration and spoke up “Is this what passes for manners in Mar? Never in all of the Fair Fields have I been treated with such-”

Adhorn swung around and gave the dignitary a steely glare. The Archai ambassador quickly learned his lesson and silenced himself. As the party moved along with their escort, they saw no farms. The vast tracts of land laid before them were used for ranching and raising livestock of all kinds.

There was a disproportionate amount of horses being raised and cared for as well. This served to provide the Marian military with its signature units, knights and horse archers. Naturally, enormous amounts of land were necessary to support this, and it was quite fortunate for Mar that they had plenty.

As they trotted along, the bellowing of cows, bleating of sheep, and neighing of horses filled the air. The smell of animal refuse swarmed their senses as well. Humans and some dwarves were seen clearing the excrement as best as they could. The unfortunate souls also handled the maintenance of the animals as well as waiting upon their elven lords.

Fus Roh scoffed at such injustice, but was all too aware of his inability to change the plight of the human and dwarf underclass. As the knights brought the party further into the interior of Mar there were less pastures and more buildings. There were few such buildings however, and even the city proper was quite scant.

The only notable structures were the barracks, tavern, general store, and two-story longhouse with an open roof at the meeting point of the city’s crossroads. The knights escorted the party to the Sozzled Knight tavern and ordered them to stop.

A human servant with a big mustache came out of the tavern to take the ambassador’s luggage. He helped the ambassador out of his carriage and took out a case of finely crafted oak with the royal sigil etched into it. He opened the case, saw the beautiful longbow inside, closed it, and smiled. The servant looked up at the party, and in a familiar voice whispered

“Hey, guys. Things look a bit tense here.” They immediately recognized Nothos as he winked at them. They were relieved to see a friendly face.
“Nice disguise.” Mags chirped quietly.
“What’s going on here? What’s with all of the guards?”
Seraph responded.
“We don’t know.”
“Well keep calm and try not to annoy them.” Adhorn dismounted and approached the ambassador.
“A messenger of York warned us you and your entourage might cause trouble. Hand over the letter for the queen. I’ll have one of my men deliver it to her. And you will wait patiently for her response.”
Xenobia stepped forward
“How dare you treat us this way?! You cannot just keep us here. We are on a mission to deliver this message to the queen personally, and I will not stand-”
A steel glove smacked across her face.
“Silence cur. You will do as we say in our lands.”
Enraged, Xenobia lashed out at the captain of the knights
“You will pay for that! I am Xenobia! Daughter of the king of Center City! I will not-” Another smack across her face.
“This is your last chance.”
Adhorn said as he began to draw his sword. The rest of the thirty knights drew their blades as well.

Fus Roh and Calla Lily pulled Xenobia back. They did not want to lose their new friend so quickly. Shocked by the strike and her comrades yanking her sharply, Xenobia’s blood ceased to boil long enough for her to quiet down. She realized she could not get through to this pompous moron. She’d kill him soon enough.

It took all of Seraph’s self-control and two good shots of whisky to restrain him from smacking Xenobia himself. They almost died just for her pride. She’s lucky Fus Roh and Calla Lily stopped her ranting or he would have frozen her in her place.

The ambassador awkwardly walked past Xenobia to hand over Katak’s message to one of the knights. The knight rode with haste towards the longhouse. A few minutes of tense silence passed as Adhorn and his knights stared down the party. Xenobia incessantly muttered to herself all of the ways she could kill this elf who had insulted her. Suddenly a screech rang from the longhouse

“WHAT?!” and a small cloud appeared from seemingly nowhere in the clear sky to send down a lightning bolt hurtling down into the longhouse.

The crack of thunder could be heard for miles. Seraph smacked his head against his staff. When was the good fortune supposed to come? A knight came rushing back on his horse and desperately whispered in Adhorn’s ear. Adhorn motioned the party to follow him, and he led them to Olaphine’s keep. As the party left Nothos whispered to them

“Stay calm and keep your heads about you. She’s got a temper so don’t insult her. I’ll see you soon, hopefully.”

The party was brought into the large longhouse. The structure was made entirely of wood and it possessed an open roof. Two flags of Mar hung along each wall. Smoke still rose from the blackened point of impact of the lightning bolt. The party and ambassador saw Queen Olaphine standing in front of her wooden throne holding the letter in her hand.
She was a tall woman with angular features and a wild mane of hair. Atop her head sat a garland that served as her crown. To her right stood one of her son’s in the armament of a knight. The court was filled with druids and noble knights. Lying upright like statues on pedestals were two direwolves as large as ponies.

“Come forward ambassador.” Olaphine commanded in a poorly disguised furious tone.

Nervously, the ambassador stepped forward, a courtier directed him to the charred point the lightning impacted, merely inches away from the dire wolves. Olaphine crumpled the letter as she spoke to the ambassador

“It’s a very well constructed message. The word choice, grammar… the mocking tone. All come together excellently to perform the task of this letter. To deride my sovereignty, to demand my subservience, to call for my sons as tribute, to INSULT AND BELITTLE ME!!! Had my advisors not had such soothing tongues I might havhave acted rashly. Instead, I would like to give my response.”
Shaking uncontrollably, the ambassador timidly asked
“And that would be?”
“Fluffy, Daisy, EAT.”
The dire wolves pounced upon the ambassador and tore him to shreds. Without missing a beat, Olaphine called out to Adhorn

“Katak clearly seeks war, and he shall have it. The Archaian army at the Klahm river is certainly not headed for Hillton. We shall strike it down tomorrow. Gather up all of our vassals and their knights and bring them here. Tomorrow we ride.”
Adhorn rushed out of the longhouse. Olaphine turned her attention to the party.
“Now, what should I do with you?”

They all stood stunned by the brutality done upon the ambassador. None of them wanted to say the wrong thing. Xenobia could not take her eyes off the mangled corpse. Her stomach churned. Her eyes widened. Her breathing became short and shallow. Seraph broke the silence and Xenobia out of her stupor

“Well ya got two choices. Keep us alive or kill us. We ain’t loyal to Katak or his city. Bastard forced us into this. We’d be more useful to you alive than dead. How big is that army at your border?”
“We estimate 2,000. Along with 50 casters, most of them mages, and 500 light cavalry.”
Seraph took a swig of his whisky.
“Heh, You’ll need all the help y’all can get. I know yer knights are famous, but warriors like us will help eliminate that pesky bit of chance that’s left.”
An impulse drove Seraph to look straight into the sky and feel the weight of the air around him. This was it, the victory he had forseen. Olaphine’s scowl melted into an impressed grin.
“Very well. You fight for me on the battlefield tomorrow, and you may earn your lives and my favor. Take them to the tavern. Keep them under guard until the troops are assembled. I want them on the front lines tomorrow.”

A pair of knights approached the party and escorted them back to the Sozzled Knight. They were brought to a room in the top floor that had enough beds for the five of them but little else.

“Stay here ‘til someone gets you tomorrow.” One of the knights ordered.

Two guards were stationed outside of the room in front of the door.

A group sigh of relief exhaled from them all. Seraph took a long gulp of whisky. That was too close.

“I’d rather not fight for that woman. She’s insane and her kingdom is built on injustice.” Fus Roh said in a hushed voice after a few minutes had passed.
“Weren’t many options.” Seraph responded nonchalantly.
“We had to get out of there alive and now we have another day. Gotta think quick if you want to survive.”

A knock came at the door. A gruff voice called in.
“If you want dinner, let me in.”

The door opened and a guard walked in with a cart filled with cheeses, cuts of mutton and beef, and lots of milk. The guard closed the door, turned around, and took off his wig.

“Oh good you’re all alive. How’d you do that? She seemed pissed.” Nothos spoke to them in a low but excited tone.
“We agreed to fight for her when she attacks your army at the Klahm River tomorrow.” Seraph replied.

Nothos smirked and leaned against the wall.
“That won’t make father very happy. Shame, I was starting to like you guys. You didn’t throw me under the cart, though… I’m grateful.”
Mags and Fus Roh assured Nothos they would never do such a thing. Calla Lily patted him on the back. Xenobia blew a kiss but did not say a word. Seraph smiled ruefully
“Oh you didn’t think we’d keep our word did ya?”
Nothos looked up, intrigued.
“Now that yer here I can communicate with the commander your army. Tell me their name and what they look like, and I can send them a short message with magic telling them…”
Seraph clapped his hands and spoke an Elvish word. Suddenly, a falcon appeared on his shoulder.
“To look out for my familiar, Caleb. He’ll be carrying a letter spilling the details.”
Nothos laughed.
“Excellent. I’ll put my sign on the letter so they know it’s with my approval. I know the size of the army they can muster on such a short notice so I’ll dot that in there as well. The general’s name is Lord Durim. He’s a red dragonborn. Anything else?”
“Tomorrow, when we go into battle against your soldiers, we’ll switch sides at the last second. So make sure to put something in about not killing us.”
“Well, I don’t know how you’ll do that but sure. When you send the magic message, preface it with The Tail of the Crown.”
Seraph drew out silver from his staff and stretched until it looked like a piece of paper. He wrote on it his message
From the Tail of the Crown. A letter of great importance shall be delivered to you by a hawk this day. Receive it. Read it.
Muttering the words in elvish as he wrote. Once he had finished the writing vanished. Seraph waited for a moment. Then a response.

It will be done.

The sending spell had worked perfectly. Seraph and Nothos got to work on the letter immediately. Nothos provided the parchment and pen, and they discussed what precisely to say together. Mags turned to the others and asked
“Do we want to betray?”
“Oh yes. And I want to stab that Adhorn myself.” Xenobia replied.
“She must be brought down. Besides, we already pledged out loyalty to Katak.”
Calla Lily gave a thumbs up. Finally, everyone understood him.
“Well this was fun, but I’ve got to get going. Always more spying to do.” Nothos said whilst tying the note around the hawk’s leg.

Nothos put his disguise back on and took the hawk out with him in a sack, as the party bid him farewell. The bird did not stir at all.
Good thing familiar’s are so well behaved, even when they’re fiends. Seraph thought to himself. There was no way he was siding with Olaphine. She’s far too volatile. Katak may be an asshole but he’s one that can be worked with. A few hours later Seraph overheard conversation between the guards that caught his attention

“Did you hear about what’s going on at Wolnocc?”
“What, that city all the way in the Bad Lands? Who cares?”
“You should, idiot. They’ve got the best walls in the realm. Not even magic can scratch them.”
“Yea so what? Stop boring me with this sh*t.”
“Fine, guess nobody cares about the geopolitical situation of their world sorry I asked.”
Seraph cracked open the door and popped his head out.
“Hey, ya mind tellin me what’s goin on at Wolnocc?”

A shift in the air pressure. The humidity and temperature is just right. This shall be the other victory that was foreseen Seraph realized. The guard perked up. He was so excited someone was interested in what he had to say.
“Oh uh yea! There’s this guy called Zersto the Conqueror laying siege to the city. He’s some sort of warlord in the area. Anyway, normally the walls mean no one stands a chance, but he found a way to break them! I heard rumors he’s already busted through the first wall.”
“Thanks. Bye now.” Seraph slammed the door.

His hands shook, sweat poured down his face. Impossible, Wolnocc is impenetrable. What if he had been there. Could he have helped stop this? Is his family alright? Seraph downed the rest of his whisky. A hand fell on his shoulder

“You alright Seraph?” Fus Roh asked concernedly.

“I’m fine!” Seraph shook himself away from Fus Roh and went off to a corner.

He began furiously casting a sending spell. Damnit fate. Why do you always cut me down after I triumph? No no. It’s going to be alright. I will make it alright. Seraph sent his message to his father
Are you safe? I heard Wolnocc is under siege. What’s going on?
After a few minutes of anxious waiting, Seraph received a response.

Son? Family is fine. Frederick missing though. First wall is down. They are using a new weapon called a cannon. Come home. I love you.

At least his family is safe. Frederick is missing though? Damn fool should never have joined the rangers. Seraph went to bed. Nothing he can do right now. Wolnocc will hold until he gets there. Need to focus on the immediate future. Tomorrow will be a busy day. The prince lay down his head on the rough, hard excuse for a pillow provided for him. He tried to rest, but sleep eluded him for much of the night.

Chapter 6: The Battle of the River Klahm

Chapter Text

Seraph awoke from a dream. He had seen failure, agony, and loss. Not for him or his allies, but for his enemies.

Seraph took in his surroundings. Everyone else was awake and suiting up for the battle. Xenobia armed her rapier and strapped on a buckler. Her Vaballathus wrapped around her and she picked up her violin.

Mags loaded her hand crossbow and strapped a rod to her back that was quite peculiar. It was painted gold and the end of it was shaped like a crown. How the hell did she get that? Seraph wondered. Doesn’t matter. Probably best not to know.

Fus Roh was finishing up donning his plate armor, and Calla Lily simply had his staff and a few darts to check. Seraph shaped and put on his silver cuirass. Fus Roh had just finished putting on his greaves when a guard came through the door.
“I see you’re all ready for a fight. Good. I’ll take you to Lord Adhorn.”
The party followed the guard down the stairs and out of the tavern. They were brought to their horses. Fus Roh refrained from his horse.
“May I have a moment to fetch myself a better horse for the coming battle?”
The guard seemed a bit confused but agreed. Fus Roh drew out a gold chain with half of a dragon at the end of it. He clutched it against his chest and said
“To fulfill my promise, I shall find myself a worthy steed.”
The chain glowed as he spoke and light burst from it as he finished. For a moment, nothing happened and everyone looked at Fus Roh as though he had escaped an asylum. Then a winnie rang from the distance, and a beautiful chestnut horse with saddle and bridle galloped straight to Fus Roh. Fus Roh pet the noble beast and mounted it.
“I shall call you Oathkeeper.” Fus Roh looked up and saw the dumbfounded faces of his comrades.
“What are you waiting for? We have a battle to win.” Fus Roh rode his horse ahead.

The guard on his horse directed the rest of them to Adhorn who had taken a position a mile away from the tavern. His golden hair blew gracefully in the wind. It was a clear day, perfect for a battle. Several hundred knights were gathered in front of him bearing the sigils of their houses and the flag of Mar on their lances. Their armor shone and the tip of their lances gleamed.
For each knight there were two horse archers. Lightly armored for peak flexibility and mobility. For every three knights they were accompanied by a druid. Healing would be necessary for the upcoming fight.

Adhorn addressed his army
“Counts, Lords, and Barons. You know why you and your attendants service has been called upon. The enemy is camped at the Klahm River mere hours the capital of our kingdom. Just yesterday, they insulted our fearsome queen and our people. Shall we accept this brazen offence?!”
“NO!!!”
“Shall we let the enemy remain so close to our heartland that they may strike at any moment?!”
“NO!!!”
“Shall we hesitate in our assault?! And give mercy to any who flee before us?!
“NO!!!”
“Then ride with me! And we will show the Fair Fields the might of the Marian knights!!”
“May our spears taste blood!!!”
“FORWARD!!!”

Dust kicked up. Banners flew. Horses brayed. The army moved slowly, then faster, then faster, then faster into a full gallop. The Marian knights moved Southwest to the river Klahm with the party at their head.

Seraph rode alongside one of the knights.
“What’s the plan?”
“The Archain army is positioned at a point in the river too deep and wide to cross without losing the strength of our charge. We shall cross at the thinnest point further west, then swing around and smash them with their backs to the river.”

Fools. With nowhere to run, the Archains will fight to the death.
“Won’t the Elonae tribe be there?”
“They won’t even be a nuisance.”

Shortly, the army came upon the crossing point of the Klahm river they were riding towards. As Seraph predicted, The Elonae tribe was out in force to defend their point of the river. Like most of the river tribes, their people were equipped with primitive weapons and armor. The lucky ones possessed steel or leather armor they had gotten from traders or battle. The small tribe was more than a match for settlers from the cities, but they were no match for Mar’s knights.

Spears bounced harmlessly off the plate and shields of the knights and their horses. Most didn’t even bother using weapons and simply trampled the tribesmen before them. Fus Roh rode in front of the rest of the party and took all of the attacks which were harmless to him. The Marian army tore through and rode on. It was a grievous loss for the Elonae not even worth a footnote for Mar. The army rode on as they planned and swung around to point themselves North.

After little more than an hour, they saw the black and white banners of Archai. Already having momentum, Adhorn ordered a charge, and the knights brought down their lances as they complied. In the distance, the party could see what awaited them. Hundreds of pikes jutting out towards them. The Archain pikemen had taken up position. They were ready. Xenobia pulled out her violin and began to play.

“A few verses to lift the spirits.” She announced to the knights with a fiendish grin.

Ride on to death you heroes
Ride on to death you all
Ride on to death for we know
That today you all shall fall
To be torn and gutted by spears
As screams tear through your ears
In pools of blood you’ll drown
All for a silly crown
Ride on to death you heroes
Ride on to death you all

As she spun her words, her fingers wove music and magic together. Green mist sprayed from her fingers and enveloped the minds of the elven warriors around the party. Seraph saw it as clearly as in his dream. His enemies wracked with agony. Thirty knights were overcome with terror. They broke rank and turned their horses to flee in all directions but towards the pointed pikes.

Disorder spread down the line of the charge. Chaos swept through the ranks, and the charge broke down. Just then, a volley of arrows launched from the Archain army and fell upon the party and their accompanying knights.

“Brace yourselves!” Fus Roh shouted holding up his shield.

Arrows landed all around like a lethal rainstorm. Fus Roh’s armor protected him from most of the volley but an arrow pierced one of his leg joints, and he roared in pain.
Mags and Calla Lily positioned themselves perfectly to avoid the incoming missiles, but their horses were not so fortunate.
Seraph casted shield. An arrow made its way into his side nonetheless. He winced with pain and carried on.
Xenobia was glanced by several arrows and one pierced her shoulder. She screamed and her music stopped. The music had done enough though.

With several knights screaming and fleeing from the battle, panic spread throughout the charging knights. Then they finally made contact with the line of pikemen. The charge had broken, losing all of its impact, and the Archain line held. Horses were thrust upon shafts, neighing in agony and throwing their riders into the lines of Archain soldiers where they were set upon and torn apart.

Some knights were impaled directly by the shafts, their armor unable to protect them from the high impact. Others were lucky or skilled enough to fall off their horses to the ground with minimal harm. These knights bore their shields, drew their weapons, and threw themselves at the foot soldiers attacking with a ferocity that was enough to force a melee. A flurry of Marian arrows flew over their knights into the Archain lines, causing a minor disruption.

The party was riding all alone. All the knights that had surrounded them mere seconds before had fled and met their deaths or continued to run. Their horses still charged straight for the line of pikes sticking out like a porcupine’s quills.

Xenobia and Calla Lily attempted to stop their horses, but the frightened creatures would not listen and plunged forward. Calla Lily dragged his horse down, and they both tumbled into the ground the zombie nearly being crushed by his steed. Xenobia jumped off her horse just before it impaled itself upon the pikes. She landed on her feet and drew her rapier.

Mags lept off her horse right over the line of pikemen into the mass of Archain soldiers. Luckily, they had been told to watch for a friendly duck, and a friendly halfling helped her back up. Seraph threw silver mist over himself and shouted in Elvish

“Misty step.”

Teleporting himself into the same mass of soldiers Mags had fallen into. Fus Roh had a bond with his Oathkeeper and so when it was just about to hit the pikes, he turned Oathkeeper around and faced the opposing army. Fus Roh and the others saw the battlefield. The charge had not routed the Archains, but it still made an impact. Now the fight had devolved into a chaotic melee of sword, shield, polearm, and warhammer.

30 feet to the right or the left was a frenzy of fighting in which friend from foe could not be recognized. Men and women moaned in pain as they were cut down and left wounded on the ground, trampled again and again until their wails were finally silenced. In the small clearing before them, two knights rushed at the party with four accompanying archers.
Seraph smirked, they’re all bunched up. Seraph plucked a tiny ball of light from his staff and held it in his hand. He spoke the elvish word for fire, and it burst into flame. Seraph swirled the flame in his open hand with his staff all the while chanting

“With the power of the weave and my knowledge of its workings, this flame shall consume you; Fireball!”

As he spoke the flame grew larger and larger till it doubled the size of his hand. Then Seraph launched it at the Marians, and the fireball grew ever larger as it approached them. Seraph remembered his dream. None of his foes would escape this. The flame had grown as big as a horse, and it exploded in a burst of fire as it landed in the middle of the Marians.
Horses screamed. Men shouted. When the fire had cleared, only a single knight remained, his horse a charred corpse beneath him.
Fus Roh rode over to the wounded knight and with warhammer glowing a bright white, smashed it against his foe’s chest as magical energy burst into him. The knight fell dead. The party cheered, but that was hardly the last of it.

Another wave of enemies burst out of the mass of bodies. Three knights this time, accompanied by two druids. Seraph cast fireball again and hurled it at his enemies. The horsem*n had seen the destruction of their allies before and reacted more quickly.

Two of the knights and a druid got out of the way and took little damage from the burst of flame. The knight in the center took the brunt of it and was killed instantly. One of the druids was badly wounded from the fire.

Damn it, Seraph thought. He was far too exhausted by that last spell to cast another fireball.

Fus Roh rushed into action. He engaged one of the knights and his hammer clanged against her shield and his own blocked her returning strike.

Calla Lily rushed the other knight, swinging his staff at the knee, then the head faster than the knight could block. Stunned by the blow to the head, the knight was an easy target for Calla Lily as he jumped in the air and kicked the knight twice before he landed.

One of the druids ran over to their hurt comrade and chanted in the secret tongue of the druids and spread honey upon his injuries. The grass of the field grew to cover her comrade’s wounds. The grass withered and died leaving behind partially healed burns.

The treated druid stood up, pointed his willow staff at Calla Lily and said “Hold” in the druidic tongue. Bees burst from the tip of his staff and swarmed Calla Lily stinging him with a paralyzing venom. The undead tried to resist but failed. The knight across him gathered their senses and prepared a deathblow with their greatsword.

Mags and Xenobia rushed to rescue Calla Lily. Xenobia leapt at the druid stabbing her rapier through his side. Vaballathus bit into the druids shoulder, injuring him further. She yelled to Mags.

“Hit him in the f*cking throat.”

As she spoke, green wisps flew from her mouth to Mag’s hand steadying her aim. She fired. The druid had no time to react and dodge as the bolt flew through his throat killing him.
The bees tormenting Calla Lily disappeared and ducked just in time to avoid the knight’s finishing blow. Calla Lily uppercut the knight in response and another of Mag’s bolts found its way in her neck.

Meanwhile, Fus Roh was having trouble with his armored opponent. Neither of them could break through the other’s defenses. Seraph took care of that. He drew silver from his staff and tied it into a binding knot chanting

“With the power of the weave and my knowledge of its workings, your muscles shall betray you; Hold.”
The knight could not resist as his muscles contracted, and he could not move. Fus Roh grinned and quickly smashed the knight till his chest caved in.

Still another wave came. Only two knights this time but with three archers and another druid. Xenobia stepped forward to meet them and began to play on her violin. Green lept from her strings as she sang

“Lend me your ear, and I’ll make appear, your absolute worst; Fear!”

Xenobia appeared to twist and meld with her snake into a gigantic serpent towering over the Marians with poison spitting from her enormous fangs.

One of the knights and two of the archers immediately fled with abandon. The knight rode straight into the fray of the chaotic melee and was consumed by blades and stomping feet. The archers fled right back where they came from till they were out of sight.

Fus Roh rushed the druid and his hammer glowed with white as he struck the unfortunate soul. The remaining archer fired an arrow at Calla Lily but he caught it and threw it right back into the archer’s eye.
One of the knights saw through Xenobia’s illusion and attacked her. His blade scraped Xenobia but did not harm her greatly. She responded by playing her violin again

“You should have been told, to not be so bold. Now Hold.”

The knight was paralyzed and ganged up by the rest of the party. He died quickly. The battle lulled for the party, and they got to relax for a few brief moments.

The rush of battle had not yet left them though when they were approached by a red dragonborn in full plate armor.

“Thanks to you, we’re winning this battle. It’s time for a counterattack. We can take down the queen herself.”
“She’s here?” Seraph asked.
“Yes. And now it’s time to seize victory. Come with me and my men.”

The party was given new horses, with the exception of Fus Roh. They rode with Lord Durim and his knights and tore through many yards of chaotic fighting. They lost several knights in the mass of death that surrounded them. The party lost track of Lord Durim, but they finally broke through to a clearing in the center of Mar’s army with two knights alongside them.

There they saw Olaphine with what appeared to be skin made of wood and several soldiers. She had a druid on each side, four archers on the wings two on each side. Her direwolves prowled in front of her. Before them were four Marian knights with Adhorn leading them. The fray surrounded the party and their foes. As they approached it closed up behind them. No escape. It would be victory or death.

Olaphine made the first move. With a scream in druidic and an eraged stomping ritual she summoned lightning from the sky straight down on top of Seraph and Vaballathus. Seraph brought his staff between himself and the lightning bolt just before it struck him and shouted

“Absorb!”

The electricity coursed through his body, but did little harm. The serpent was hit directly and slumped to the ground. He would not rise again.
Xenobia had no time for grief and so in rage drew her crossbow and fired it at Olaphine. It bounced harmlessly off her protected skin. The knights of Mar and Archai engaged one another, lances shattering against shields.

Mags drew out her rod and swung it around her head three times quacking

“Friend!”

Golden light blasted out of the end of the rod. The opposing elves felt an urge in their minds to follow the kenku as their leader and friend. As the light faded, the eyes of the druids by Olaphine’s side glowed gold. They had failed to resist. The druids proceeded to cast healing spells upon the Archain knights allowing them to fight on against their Marian opponents who outnumbered them.
Fus Roh rode for Olaphine, but her direwolves intercepted them and they engaged in combat. Xenobia ran up to assist him. Calla Lily went straight for the archers. He ran to the one’s to his left first ducking and weaving between horses and blades swinging all around.

Seraph threw a shower of silver from his staff and stepped into chanting
“With the power of the weave and my knowledge of its workings, one shall be many; Mirror Image.”
As he finished the spell, three more Seraph’s stepped out from him. They shared his form and his movements. No one could tell which was real, and which was illusion. Olaphine shouted to her archers
“Shoot the wizard!” And they took aim at Seraph.
Four arrows flew at Seraph two hitting his false counterparts. One traveled straight towards his heart and Seraph put his staff forward shouting
“Shield!”

A silver disc blocked the incoming missile. Frustrated, Olaphine continued to call down lightning. She directed towards Fus Roh and Xenobia, who were attacking her precious pets.
Fluffy leapt at Fus Roh trying to knock him off his horse. Rather, a hammer blow and a burst of white energy sent the beast straight into the ground. Fus Roh rode straight on to Olaphine.

Daisy swiped an enormous paw at him as he went by, scraping through his armor. He ignored it. Just a scratch. Then Olaphine’s bolt struck. He could move out of the way in time and was flung from his horse.

Xenobia stabbed her rapier straight through Daisy’s eye whilst whispering words of hate that flowed out of her mouth as green wisps into the mind of Daisy. Which hurt more? The blade or the pain in her mind wrought by Xenobia’s magic. None can say.

The wolf yelped in torment as it died. Xenobia saw Olaphine casting her spell just in time to jump out of the way of the lightning bolt’s path. She stood up and smiled. Olaphine was next.
Calla Lily dispatched the archers on his side quickly. Two whacks to the head with his staff and one fell. Calla Lily ran over to the remaining archer and kicked him several feet screaming into the chaotic fray. The poor elf was torn apart before he touched the ground. Calla Lily turned and headed towards the other archers.

Mags fired a bolt at one of the Marian knights which pierced his armor in his neck enough to lodge itself in but not enough to kill him. Seraph took care of that by casting Toll the Dead. The knights wound ruptured and blood poured out of his neck as he collapsed.

Adhorn broke off from his engagement with the Archains and rushed at the kenku who had caused so much trouble. He rode at Mags and swung at her with his greatsword. Mags dodged and the blade cut through her leather armor but only enough to give her a small cut.

Then Adhorn swung again. This time, it was a direct hit against her chest and she was buffeted off her horse onto the ground. The impact knocked her unconscious. Adhorn raised his horse so that it would stomp upon her and finish the job.

Just in time, one of the druids spoke a word of healing, and Mags awoke seeing a horse about to crush her. She rolled out of the way as its hooves pounded the ground. Seraph cast hold on Adhorn, and he failed to resist.

Mags got up, climbed up Adhorn’s steed, and drew her rapier. She stabbed straight through the visor of her paralyzed foe. He plunged to the earth. Mags snatched the amulet around his neck as he plummeted. Seraph was rather satisfied with himself, but two arrows flew straight at him.

He cast shield again, blocking them. He fell to his knees exhausted. That was the last of his powerful spells he could cast. The toll had drained his energy too much.
Fus Roh got back up, his head buzzing. He charged at Olaphine shouting “Your reign ends here!” and struck her twice with his hammer glowing white. The bursts of energy were even more powerful than before. Each strike broke away much Olaphine’s wooden layer of armor, but they failed to deliver a decisive blow.

Olaphine knew her armor would no longer protect her, and she saw Xenobia charging. She took out a fistfull of ivory and crushed it chanting

“Spirits of Nature. Give me the strength to vanquish my enemies.”

Her hands turned to hooves, her body enlarged, a horn grew from her forehead and she transformed into a rhinoceros just as Xenobia made it to her. With a roar she trampled Fus Roh as she charged at an Archain and impaled him with her horn. Xenobia gritted her teeth and charged at the beast.

Calla Lily made it to the other archers and dispatched them one by one. He broke one’s legs with his staff and the other’s arms with well-placed strikes from his hands. He left them to suffer on the battlefield.

Mags, Fus Roh, and Xenobia surrounded Olaphine. Despite her slaying of an enemy knight, she was all alone. The last Marian knights had been taken down by the Archains before she had transformed. Seraph called to her

“You can’t win Olaphine. Surrender.”

Olaphine looked from left to right. Despite all her rage, she knew it was hopeless. She acquiesced and transformed back into her original form. The battle was won. The remains of the Marian army would surrender with their queen, and the party was celebrated as heroes by the soldiers of Archai. The party celebrated the victory with them.

Except for Xenobia. She did not share in the revelries. As the rush of battle subsided, Xenobia’s senses became fully aware of her surroundings. Mangled bodies lie strewn upon the open field. Many of them still alive. Screams, and moans of pain pierced the air. The smell of burnt flesh wafted up her nose. The ground was wet and sticky with blood.

Xenobia’s breathing became faster, and faster, and faster. Her heart pounded against her chest. Her vision grew blurry. There was no one to comfort her. She didn’t even have Vaballathus. She could not handle so much gore. So much pain. Xenobia broke. She stared out to the horizon, silent. She would never speak again.

Chapter 7: Knights of Archai

Chapter Text

The battle was over. The message spread quickly through both armies. Flag after flag of noble houses fell and were turned over to their captors. Over a hundred knights of Mar surrendered, opting to share the same fate as their queen. Many fled to fight on. Vowing that they would rescue their queen from bondage. Others were not so loyal and decided self-preservation would be preferable to keeping one’s honor. The archers and the druids followed a similar pattern. Very few druids were killed. They were too useful.

The Archain army had its losses, but it had won quickly and fought well. A quarter of its forces had fallen but no more. It was a great victory for the city of Archai.
As the fighting drew to a close and a calm began to settle in, Fus Roh sat upon a pile of corpses and cleaned his warhammer. He did not mind the grisly scene that surrounded him. War was quite a common experience for him in the Dragon Lands. The corpses tended to consist of dwarves and dragonborn but more or less it was the same. The smell of burning flesh was a lot more pervasive though. Fus Roh had grown rather dull to it.

Fus Roh looked up to see the setting sun but instead Xenobia’s lone figure caught his eye. She stood alone with her rapier in the dirt and her violin lying on the ground. Fus Roh walked up to her, concerned. She wore an expressionless face that stared out to the horizon. Her mouth was open but no sound came from it.

“Xenobia, are you alright?”

No response. What happened? Fus Roh thought to himself. Was she paralyzed? Did some cast a spell on her? Fus Roh checked her body for wounds. Nothing that would cause paralysis. He waved his hand in front of her face. No response.

“Xenobia, it’s me, Fus Roh. Why are your weapon and instrument on the ground? Why don’t you speak?”

Calla Lily heard Fus Roh’s commotion and walked over. On his way he tapped Mags who had been deep in thought. She waddled behind him up to Fus Roh and Xenobia. Calla Lily took a look at Xenobia’s face. He lowered his head. Just as he feared. Like many of his brothers and sisters she did not pass her initiation. Her initiation to death and blood.
Mags peeped up at Xenobia and co*cked her head to the side. What wrong? What does she see? Mags looked out to the horizon. Nothing there. How strange. Fus Roh had become unnerved by his friend’s unresponsiveness. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her violently.

“Wake up Xenobia! We’re here! We can fix you! We-” Calla Lily put his hand gently on Fus Roh and shook his head. Fus Roh began to calm down and released Xenobia.
Mags looked up at Calla Lily and quacked

“What wrong?”

He pointed at Xenobia, then walked his fingers up in the air, and pointed to the sky.

“Did she go away?” Mags asked curiously

Calla Lily nodded.

“Ooooh.”

Strange thing Mags thought. Will she come back? Oh well. Mags returned to thinking about Seraph’s fireball. It was devastating and remarkably effective. How could she replicate the effects of such a spell?
Seraph did not check on Xenobia. He was too busy talking with Lord Durim.

“You did well to take Olaphine alive. Pacifying the rest of Mar should be far easier now. They will sing praises of your deeds in this battle for generations to come.”

“So long as Katak is as generous and grateful as ya say, my assistance will have been worth it.”

“Oh he is. Katak made me the dragonborn I am today. You will receive a hero’s welcome, land, and title upon your return, perhaps more.”

“How about aid in the defense of Wolnocc?”

“Maybe. I’ve heard of that city. It would make for a great ally. Perhaps if you help me secure Mar’s capital heh heh.” Durim nudged Seraph knocking him off balance. Seraph took a swig of whisky.

“Shouldn’t be too much trouble. If it’s on the army’s way back to Archai, then I might as well. Hey y’all!” Seraph called to the rest of his party.

“We’re moving onto Mar then back to Archai. Let’s go.” Fus Roh sheepishly approached Seraph, more nervous than he ever was in the battle.

“Uh, Seraph. Xenobia isn’t moving or talking. She doesn’t seem to be hurt. Can you check on her? Use your magic or mage skills to find out what’s wrong? I cannot heal her.”

“Aw hell.” Seraph took a large drought of whisky and stomped over to Xenobia.

What trouble is she causing now? Can’t she just stay out of the way? Seraph walked over and examined her. He spoke a few words into his hands and then touched her forehead with glowing silvery fingers. Nothing happened. Seraph turned to Fus Roh.

“I don’t know what happened, but it ain’t magical. We’re wasting time. Let’s go.”

With his head lowered, Fus Roh cradled Xenobia and carried her to his horse and sat her upon its back. Seraph was given a horse by Durim and rode alongside him. Durim graciously gave Caleb back to Seraph and filled his flask with whisky. The party joined Seraph, and they marched north to the capital of Mar with the army. They secured the town easily and moved westward back to Archai.

During their travel, Nothos came up alongside the party. He was dressed in a leather cuirass adorned with ruby and emerald studs. A black and white cloak with the symbol of his city hung from his neck. He carried his oaken bow and his back carried a quiver of arrows. Each arrow had a shaft of a different color and runes of different languages carved into them.
A grin sat upon his face.

“So wonderful you all survived the Battle of Klahm River. You made Lord Durim’s purse 50 coins lighter for that, Xenobia’s condition notwithstanding.” His smile disappeared for a second and then reammerged.

“So excited for you to see the city on holiday, it’s so much more fun. There’s someone I’d like you to meet Seraph after you all are knighted. Her knowledge ought to interest you.”
Durim frowned at Nothos. He laughed in response.

“Oh I suppose that wasn’t supposed to be spoiled. It’s not that big of a deal really. We’ll have so much more to accomplish in the future.”

“Knowledge in what?” Seraph responded inquisitively.

"Why the magic arts of course. What else would you be interested in besides drinking yourself to death.” Nothos teased. Seraph decided to ignore this. It was hardly the worst insult hurled at him.

“When we get back, can you teach me archery?” Fus Roh asked, eyeing Nothos’ quiver and bow. Nothos smiled as one does at a silly child.

“Of course. Then perhaps you shall be a true warrior like me.” They both chuckled.

The party arrived at Archai in a few days. They rode into the city at the front of the army alongside Durim and Nothos. As they entered, they were greeted by an enormous crowd which lined the street that cut through the heart of the city. The whole city had gathered to greet the triumphant heroes of the Battle of the Klahm River. Bombastic brass played throughout the streets as victorious marches. Archain flags were mounted on every street corner.

The civilians each held a small one of their own or a bundle of sticks bound together. Many through salt along the path of the parading army in honor of them. The people of Archai repeatedly performed their city’s salute chanting

“Strength through unity!”

A statuette of Zuru was delivered to Durim, and he held it high for the crowd to see. Thunderous cheers erupted from the city. The clamor rose like a wave following the commander’s path to the palace.
Calla Lily covered his ears in annoyance. Why must these people be so loud? So many of them all crammed shouting and clapping overwhelmed him. In battle, he could focus on his mission, kill the enemy.

But in this environment there was nothing but sound and masses of people surrounding him. Calla Lily wished he could hide, but he knew this would be uncouth. He steeled himself to go on.
Mags had never seen so many joyous people and heard such unique sounds. She mimicked the trumpets, the voice of the crowd blended from thousands of individuals, and the marching of steel boots on cobblestone roads. She was greatly enjoying her adventure. She had already learned and experienced so much. What more could be in store for her?

Fus Roh welcomed the cheers. It reminded him of when he would return to his clan after a successful raid or battle. There were much less people welcoming him back, but he liked it that way. It was intimate, and all of the people familiar. How do these Archaians live amongst such complete strangers?

Many today are next to individuals they’ve never met nor will they see each other again. So strange. There’s also a lot less dancing than back home used to have. Still, the familiarity of this jubilee warmed his heart.

Seraph took a swig of whisky. All of this noise and revelry for what? A small victory? Much more will need to be accomplished to protect the realm from the Horde. They probably don’t even know that. Good. Let them celebrate. At least they can be cheery thinking they have a future. Yet there is more hope now than before. Seraph was sure fate had something in store still. Something to dash their hopes and progress away. He took another drink of his whisky.

At the top of the hill which the palace sat atop, Katak awaited them with his entourage. Alongside him were Leon and a pretty elvish woman whose eyes scrutinized each member of the party. Behind them was a ladder leading up to a plaque that 7 ropes dangled off of. A black and white cord had been tied into a green and gold cord. Katak awaited the party with a cool smile. As they reached the top of the hill and came face to face with him, it transformed into a bombastic beam.

“Well done heroes of the Battle of Klahm River!” His booming voice reverberated down to the crowd who erupted in feverish applause.

Katak nodded to Nothos who ascended the ladder. Nothos tied together a red and green rope with the two that had been knotted with one another.

“The alliance has grown! Mar has joined us in the defense of the realm against the Horde! Zuru has granted us a great victory!” The crowd roared with cheers and praise. Katak gave the Archaian salute
“Strength through unity!” The city responded with the salute and their motto
“Strength through unity!” Katak turned to the party.

“You have done well, Lord Durim. You shall receive much of the plunder from Mar as well as a quarter of its land. But let us not forget those who made such a victory possible.”

Katak looked at the others and noticed Xenobia’s strange composure.
He looked at Seraph and asked quietly
“Is something wrong with her?”
“She seems to have broken down since the fight. We don’t know how to fix her.” Seraph responded.
Katak motioned one of his attendants over.
“Bring her inside and give her a warm bath. Come to me later if she does not recover.” The attendant rushed Xenobia away. Katak’s smile returned, and he announced for all to hear
“For your service and loyalty to our fair city and our god, I offer each of you a knighthood and gifts that shall further aid you in your quest to unite the realm. Do you accept?”
“Yes.” The party replied. Calla Lily nodded.
“Then kneel and swear your loyalty to Archai, her crown, and her god.”
The party complied. Katak drew his finely crafted sword of Kythrilian steel and tapped Fus Roh’s shoulders.
“I dub thee, Sir Fus Roh of Archai and present to you a suit of plate armor crafted of Kythrilian steel specially for you.” Katak moved on to Calla Lily.
Calla Lily hastily cut a piece of cloth from his ragged cloak and wrote into it his name. Katak saw this display and seamlessly reacted.
“I dub thee, Sir Calla Lily of Archai and present to you these Darts of Power.”
A case of steel darts were presented to Calla Lily. All of them pulsated with magical energy. Five of them glowed red, five glowed black, and five of them glowed white. Katak moved on to Seraph.
“I dub thee, Sir Seraph Grimlock of Archai and present to you a scroll of Hypnotic Pattern and a scroll of Thunderstep.”
At last, Katak approached Mags.
“I dub thee, Birb of Archai and present to you this rapier whose blade is made of Kythrilian steel.” Fus Roh and Seraph snickered but restrained themselves from guffawing.
“We shall discuss our next move tonight and enjoy a victory feast. A room has been prepared for each of to sleep in tonight. Go ahead and do whatever you want. Leon and I will check on Xenobia.”
Katak looked out to the crowd once more and saluted them
“Strength through unity!”
“Strength through unity!” They replied.

Katak and his entourage went back inside the palace, and the citizens of Archai began to disperse and return to their homes and professions. Durim joined them to discuss future military operations.

Mags addressed the remaining group
“I have study to do.”
Mags waddled off to the library, her bow bobbing up and down on her head. Calla Lily nodded to the others and followed after her.

Nothos turned to Fus Roh with a smile
“It’s time for your lesson knight of Archai. Follow me.”
Fus Roh and Nothos walked toward the courtyard. A few steps into their walk, Nothos turned.
“Oh that’s right. Seraph! Come with us. I still need to introduce you to a friend. I’m sure you’ll like her.” He said with a wink.
Seraph looked up a little surprised. He had been focused studying his new spell scrolls.
“Oh, sure. Long as ya got somethin better than the sh*t down at the Drunken Wizard.” Nothos laughed.
“How about Wildtree whisky? Aged for 350 years. Old as the family line itself.”
“Now that’s worthy of a prince.” Nothos and Seraph chuckled. Nothos ordered a servant to fetch a bottle.
“That’s right.” Nothos said to Seraph.
“You’re a prince of Wolnocc. How’s your home city doing in this time. Do they take the threat of the Horde seriously?”
“I’ll be talking about that with Katak tonight.”

Easy to brush off. No use talking about Wolnocc’s siege if they can’t do anything about it. Nothos is alright but he doesn’t have the power his father does. Damn it. Why now? Wolnocc hasn’t been under serious threat in over a thousand years. Of all it’s history, now is when the walls are being breached? Damn you fate. Why did you choose my life to torment?

Calm down, calm down. There’s a way to fix this. There’s always a way. I have new spells to learn, and I can figure things out once I get home. If I can get Katak to lend some troops and these others to help me out, it might be enough. Can’t hurt. Fus Roh likes to fight. Xenobia’s out, but she won’t get in the way. I don’t know what Mags and Calla Lily want but they seem to just go along.

I can convince Katak. Wolnocc will serve as a good ally, and I won the battle for him. Ok, I can do this. Seraph took a large drink of the well aged whisky.
They arrived at the courtyard. Several targets were set up. A table filled with weapons was positioned on the other end.

“Take whichever one you like. Although, you’re going to want to take off your armor first. It’ll give you more movement for your arms.”

Fus Roh looked at his steel covered hands. He was so excited to learn how to slay dwarves from a distance. Their weapons of war were well designed to pick off dragonborn from afar. Learning to shoot a bow could help even things out. But at the cost of his armor? It had been some time since Fus Roh had fought with the mountain dwarves of Kythril, but he remembered intimately how easily they cut through his people in battle.

Additionally, he enjoyed the intensity of hand to hand combat. The rush of fear and power, and the contest of skill was exhilarating. Still, the benefit may be worth it. Fus Roh complied and picked up a bow and quiver.

Nothos equipped his personal bow and quiver and stood next to Fus Roh. Seraph voraciously studied his new spell scrolls to understand them and copy them down into his spell book. Nothos took his stance and notched a red arrow. He drew and fired, hitting his mark right next to the bullseye.

“Did you see that?” Nothos asked Fus Roh.
“Yes. It was a good shot, but I was looking at your arrow the most. Why is it red, and the others of different colors?”
“They’re enchanted. Helps me to tell them apart. Most of them are slaying arrows. The one I just fired is a dwarf slayer. It usually only takes one shot to kill a creature when you use a slaying arrow. For me it’s always one.” Nothos smirked. Fus Roh’s eyes lit up.
“Dwarf slaying? I must have at least one, but please allow me more.”
“Haha sorry big guy. I’ve got the one, and I’m not parting with any of my babies.” Nothos patted his quiver. Fus Roh noticed an arrow, dark as ebony with sickly green writing etched into it. He could not read the language nor did he recognize it.
“What is that arrow for?” Fus Roh asked, mesmerized.
“This? This arrow is for someone special. I don’t suppose you would relate to desiring revenge.”
“Oh but I would! The dwarves of Kythril slaughtered my clan 15 years ago. That’s why I want to learn to shoot. So I can better kill them.”
“Well, like you with the dwarves, I have a special someone who has done me a grievous injury. This arrow will be my way of paying them back. It’s specifically attuned to my target. I just need the right opportunity.”
“Who is your target?”
“Oh Fus Roh, unlike you, I don’t like to reveal things to every person I meet. Perhaps in time.”
“Oh ok. So, I saw what you did, but I have no idea how to do it how do I shoot please help.” Nothos smiled at the ground. “Ok, follow me. I’ll call out the steps. “
“Ok.”
“First, stance. Stand upright with feet shoulder width apart, and feet at 90 degrees to the target. Next, have a relaxed grip. Now notch your arrow like this. Place your index above the arrow and two beneath. Draw. Use your back not your arm. The string should touch your lips and nose. Aim with your dominant eye. Finally, relax your grip and allow the string to slip past your fingers.”
Fus Roh released his arrow launched it straight into his target.
“Yes! I got it haha.”
“Good job. Do it again.” Fus Roh relaxed himself and notched another arrow.

He drew it back concentrating on sending his righteous fury through the arrow. If he could smite through the arrow, this might be a worthy weapon for him.
Fus Roh thought of his people. He thought of the injustice done to them. Children, elderly, sick, none were spared. Their bodies torn apart. Tortured and maimed bodies far as the eye can see. Shattered eggs. They will PAY!!!

The arrowhead began to glow white hot. With a roar, Fus Roh released the arrow into the target. Nothing special happened. The arrow penetrated its target as normal. The white energy had dissipated as soon as it left the bow. Despite his focused rage, Fus Roh could not channel it through the arrow into the target.

Frustrated, Fus Roh grabbed his warhammer and charged toward the target. With a strike and a burst of white energy, he obliterated it. Seraph looked up, saw the destroyed target, took a sip of whisky, and went back to copying down his new spells. Nothos took a step back. His mouth hung open unconsciously. He slowly approached Fus Roh.

“Sorry, I don’t think archery is right for me. It doesn’t have the same mph I guess.” Fus Roh sheepishly said facing the ground.
“I know what it is to hate your enemy and for that to come out in ways you’re not proud of. I hope you get the revenge you seek.” Nothos offered his hand to Fus Roh who gladly took it.

Just then a slender yet graceful elven woman arrived in the courtyard. She had long beautiful golden hair and a coy yet clever face. She sauntered up to Nothos.
“Where’s this wizard you wanted me to come down here and meet?” Nothos wheeled around and bowed with a goofy smile.
“Oh illustrious Vaven. Thank you for gracing us with your presence. Your eyes are the stars and your hair the sun. The light you bring banishes all darkness from our hearts. Over there is a sad sack that could really use a friend. He should at least be interested in another mage.”
“Why don’t you compliment us like that?” Fus Roh asked.
“Would you like me to go on and on about your toned arms and bulging back.” Nothos responded while lightly touching Fus Roh’s muscles.
“Uh nevermind.” Fus Roh awkwardly replied as his tail curled out of embarrassment.
With a click clack of heels, Vaven strolled up to Seraph. As she lowered his spellbook with her wand she said
“How is it that a dropout of Heka has come to be so acclaimed? I was expecting a decrepit pile of dust and outdated jokes rather than such a... handsome young man.”

At last another wizard, Seraph thought. A beautiful one at that. Someone who can understand him and be a delight to talk to. She’s snarky. She’d be fun to mentally spar with. He took a sip of whisky and looked up with a co*cky grin.
“Exchange our spell books and you’ll see why I won a battle and defeated a monarch. I wonder if it’d reveal why you deserve to be a court wizard.” Vaven chuckled.
“I’ve heard of your ability to create discord on the battlefield. Evocations wizards create quite the show but lack, technique. Surely, a prince of Wolnocc would choose a more refined school.”
Seraph leaned back against the wall.
“As you know, evocation spells are quite useful in such mass combats. I find the mystic arts of divination to be more… interesting.”
“Oh? Such an art can be dangerous for the mind. Is this why you left Heka?”
Seraph smirked. “Clever girl.” The memory of that time forced its way back into his head. A somber expression usurped his smirk. For a brief moment, his hands quaked but Seraph quickly regained control of them. He shook his head back into focus.
“Had you seen what I did, you would have fled too. But none can escape fate.” Seraph took a long sip of whisky.
“Surely, there must be something of use you’ve gained from your study.”
“Give me your dominant hand.” With her eyebrows raised, Vaven obliged.
Seraph held her right hand in his own gently and flipped it over to expose the palm. He ran his finger along a the line on her palm that began between her thumb and forefinger and ran down to the base of her thumb. He gently squeezed her hand with his as his finger glided along her palm.
“Let’s start with the life line. This shows how vital ya are and what yer life energy is like. Yours forms a cramped semi circle that sticks closely to the thumb. Ya have limited energy and get real tired easily. However, ya got a’ upward branch above it. You’re diligent, optimistic, positive and got a strong thirst for knowledge.”
Vaven blushed at the soft feel of Seraph’s hand and the confidence in his voice.
“Go on.” She encouraged the prince.
“Now the head line. You can see it right here strethcin’ from the palm between the forefinger and the thumb across the middle of the palm. This line reveals your mental capabilities along with belief, attitude and wisdom. I see you got yourself a long line. You think clearly and are considerate of others. It’s curved too.
This means you’re tolerant, realistic, and skilled with people. It’s also doubled which is really rare. Ah, and it’s joined with the life line, you got a decisive and flexible character. Finally, we go to the heart line.”
“Surely you could have just guessed these things about me.” Vaven said, looking away with embarrassment.”
“But it’s all true ain’t it Vaven? Now the heart line starts from the edge of the palm under the little finger, runs across the palm and ends below the middle finger, or forefinger mind you, or the place where they join. Can you guess what it reveals?”
“Hm one’s attitude towards love and the quality of love.”
“Very nice.”
“I had a class on divination at Hekka. It’s the one part I remember.”
“That would explain why it appears like a chain, you’re sentimental. The upward forks at the beginning show that you’re full of love and charm for the opposite sex.” Seraph looked up at Vaven with a sly smile.
“Would ya say that’s untrue?”
Vaven stood up and covered her blushing face with her hand.

“Your skill is impressive Seraph, prince of Wolnocc. You must excuse me, I have important matters to attend to.” She rushed off with her heels clacking against the cobblestone.
Seraph chuckled and took a smooth drink of his whisky, finishing the glass. He looked to Nothos
“She’ll be at the dinner celebration tonight?” The young man coolly asked.
“Yeah. Planning on putting more moves on her as the debonair dropout?” The half-elf said with a playful smirk.
Seraph took out two pairs of dice and rolled them on the ground. Snake eyes for one, and seven for the other. Terrible failure and great success are in store for later that day.
“We’ll see.” Seraph walked off with a large smile upon his face.

Calla Lily walked deliberately down the streets of Archai. His eyes scanned the alleyways vigilantly for where an ambusher might strike from. He knew instinctively where a sniper would take position from to fire a projectile, who in the crowded streets could not be trusted, and which hiding spots an assailant may spring from to get the drop on their target. My memories, Calla Lily thought to himself. They guide me everywhere I go. Each step feels familiar. I was a killer once... and good at it.

I know the vulnerable parts of the body, where to attack an armored opponent, and which defensive maneuvers I need in the midst of battle. My body does all of the fighting. I have very little control. I determine who my enemy is, and my arms and legs do the rest. Yet I remember so little. So few images come to my mind of my past. Only impressions. I know my name. I know I was a skilled assassin.
And I now understand I am neither alive nor dead. I have no need for sleep. I neither feel tired nor estatic. I get no pleasure from food or drink. I feel no pain. But why? What made me this and for what purpose? What’s the point?! I’m so confused! I don’t understand this world.

But I have seen much suffering. I know what it is to take the life of another, to be responsible for drawing out their last breaths in pain and horror. I cannot experience such agony, but I understand its weight. These people I met in the dungeon have taken me in as their own and treated me as a friend. I can spare them of such pain.

Especially this little duck girl. So full of vigor and innocence that I wish I could conjure up in myself. She will not have to suffer as poor Xenobia did. That beautiful soul that gave us such joy however brief our time together. I will prevent all harm from coming to Mags. I shall protect her from having to stain her small wings with blood. I shall be her watchful eye, her guardian angel. Yes, that shall be my purpose.
Mags skipped cheerfully ahead of Calla Lily, thinking of how best to slay her future enemies. She did not understand why the strange mute was following her but gave it little thought. Rather she pondered how best to replicate the wizard’s fire. To make an explosion of fire and destruction that eliminates foes in seconds. It would be a mercy to them; their suffering would not need to be prolonged, and it would be efficient.

Now the tricky thing about fire is keeping it burning and remaining on its target. How do? Mags waddled up to a street vendor whose cart brimmed with scrolls and books piling on top of one another haphazardly.

“What selling?” She asked.
“I’m glad you asked.” The vendor replied with a twinkle in their eye.
“I bring to you tomes, knowledge from distant lands, gripping tales of truth and fiction, and lost letters of correspondence between famous individuals.”
“Hmmmm, have things for fire?”
“That is a unique request. Let me consult my list.” The vendor whipped out a scroll and unfurled it. It rolled out further and further till it stretched several yards down the street.
“Fire, fire, fire ah! Right here, I have a scroll on ‘The many things that burn.’ That’s a fun one miss, great for the kids.”
“Don’t have kids.” Mags chirped.
“Oh of course miss, I didn’t mean to presume.” The vendor rubbed the back of their head uneasily.
“Anything else?” They asked.
Mags squished the feathers of her face together. What would work? Suddenly, an idea struck.
“How ‘bout something real sticky?”
“Sticky? Like jam or glue?”
“Yes!”
The vendor consulted the list.
“Well, I’ve got a few cookbooks that include how to make jam. I’ve also got a scroll on creating glue.”
“Yes please.” Mags quacked.
“Very well my kind and polite customer. Your desire is my mission. I shall retrieve these for you. What would like to offer in return?”

Mags pulled out a cylindrical case from her bag, opened it up, and unfurled a painting. It was a beautiful landscape depicting the sun setting on the Red Mountains of the Dragon Lands. In it, the Trees dotted the feet of the mountains and snow glistened atop it. In the distance, a golden scaled dragon could be seen. Mags flipped the painting around to point out a squiggled signature in the corner. The vendor peered closely at it.

“Is this an Ipazu?” They asked.
“An original.” Mags gleamed.
“That would be an excellent addition to my collection! I’ll gladly take it.”
They exchanged their goods and Mags walked off with Calla Lily back to the palace.
“He he he.” Mags chuckled to herself.
Calla Lily looked at her in surprise. Mags looked up at the corpsed man and said
“It’s a forgery. Am very good at copying things. Like people’s voices.” She cleared her throat, puffed out her chest, and shouted out in a perfect imitation of Katak’s voice
“Shut up Leon!”
“Or their movements.” Mags mimed playing a violin precisely as Xenobia had done days before.
“Have real good memory. Very useful.”
Calla Lily smiled to himself. The little scamp. They strolled up the street back to the palace.

Chapter 8: A Lovely Party Where Nothing Goes Wrong

Chapter Text

The palace bustled with excitement that evening. Servants dashed to and fro desperately trying to finish preparations for the night’s feast. Even more banners hung from the walls displaying the pride and prestige the city felt. A bit of the aristocracy trickled in. They wanted to arrive early to admire the marvelous architecture and art on display throughout the castle. Some wanted to observe the royal guard in all of their glory, every inch of them covered in steel.

Of course, the primary reason for arriving so early was to get a head start on the gossip, the currency of all upper classes. Beautiful music filled the halls as the bands hired to play had tuned and warmed up long before. Servants stationed a myriad of candles in every corner to banish all shadows from existence.

The party were escorted together to the palace war room. Katak stood at the end of a table covered with a map depicting the whole of Tesalach. He was dressed in his armor as usual along with his black and white cape. This cape was embroidered with far more gold, however and was made with pegasus feathers. Leon and Durim stood at opposite sides of the table scanning the map.
Nothos stood in the darkest corner of the room. Even in the shade it was obvious that he was wearing a gorgeous black and white suit made of silk. He looked quite displeased and bored until the party walked in.

“Welcome knights of Archai!” Katak boisterously greeted them.
“Join us in our discussion for your next mission.” Katak motioned to Lord Durim to speak.
“Thanks to the capture of Mar and her queen, the rest of the kingdom should fall in line shortly and your assistance will not be needed. However, there is much more to be done in the Fair Fields. If we want to unify the realm quickly, this will be the best place to start. It is the breadbasket of the continent, and there are many people we can conscript into an army.
The armies of the regional polities are not too large, but they have well trained men and women. Along with the aforementioned benefits, this is where we should focus our efforts. Your mission would be to go to a battlefield between Aima and Logos. These two city-states have over a century of rivalry between them, but they are about to declare a truce so that Aima can support its allies Mar and York.
Prevent this from happening. Cause disruption, tip the balance of power, Hells, if you could get one onto our side that would benefit us greatly.”

Leon cleared his throat, took in a deep breath, and loudly declared
“Alternatively, the Bad Lands is an excellent region to raise an army from. Four major warlords spread throughout the region have already gathered forces in the tens of thousands. The region lacks great stores of food but does not lack in able-bodied people ready to fight. The disorganized divisions of the land would make it easy to sweep up towns and cities all the while conscripting more warriors.
If you managed to snatch one of the warlord’s armies from under them, that would be more than enough to return with overwhelming force to the Fair Fields and conquer it. In addition to its manpower, the Badlands is bountiful in natural resources especially, iron and lumber.
Who knows, since the land is well known for springing out innovations, you may find one that turns the tide. This is where you ought to go. Your goal would be to raise a massive army by any means.”

Nothos chuckled and stepped out of his corner to speak
“You can waste your time in a decades long venture of trying to take the Fair Fields or gather a force of 10,000 or more in the Bad Lands. To defeat the invasion from the East, we need a trump card and we need it now. My intelligence has gathered information about a magical artifact in the Dragon Lands more powerful than any army can hope to match.
They call it the Omnishield. Rumor has it that it’s located in the Dwarven theocracy of Kythril. Finding a superweapon in an inhospitable land is the perfect mission for a small, elite group. We can leave the conquest to the army.”

Katak nodded and grabbed the collar of his breastplate.
“Well said all. Your dedication to the success of the raj has not gone unnoticed. I will turn your attention to Center City for now. The king of the city has a single heir, his daughter Cassia, ‘The most beautiful woman in all of Tesalach’ all who’ve seen her say.” A warmth came over Nothos’ face upon hearing her name.
Katak continued.

“She is the most eligible bachelorette in all the realm. The king intends to have her married within a year, but know one knows to whom or when. It has been implied that could be nearly anyone of import. If I were to marry her…” Nothos turned away with a frown.
“I would secure a union with the most geographically strategic city in the realm as well as secure the largest professional army known. The city is notorious for being filled with assassinations, corruption, and intrigue. If I am to pursue Princess Cassia’s hand, it would be rather helpful to have back up. For your prior loyalty and success, the choice is up to the four of you. Which path shall you take.”

The party looked at each other a bit confused. It was a lot to take in. Seraph waited for one of them to speak up. None of them did. He took a glass of the War Room wine, chugged it down, and stepped forward.
“I’m sure y’all know by now, I am the Prince of Wolnocc. My city is under siege by Zersto the conqueror. Normally, I wouldn’t give two sh*ts about it, but he’s managed to bust through some of our walls with a new weapon called a ‘cannon’.” Leon and Durim gasped in shock at the news. Katak and Nothos did not react.
“My city is one of the largest and most powerful in the realm. When we drive off the enemy, we will be able to field several thousand soldiers to aid in the unification of the realm. Also, I think this ‘cannon’ is just the kind of innovation yer lookin for. I am devoted to the cause, but I must save my people first. Allow me to return to my home and save it, and we will help you.” Seraph turned around to his party members.
“Will y’all join me?”
Fus Roh immediately responded.
“I will aid you in the defense of your city, Seraph.”
Mags and Calla Lily nodded. Katak looked up to the left corner of the room. He pondered for a moment. He looked back at Seraph.
“Very well. We have a teleportation circle that can get you to Wolnocc, so long as you give us the access code. You will not arrive without aid. Nothos will accompany you along with five of my best troops, as well as two priests of Zuru to help spread the faith. You leave tomorrow afternoon, 3 o’clock.”
“Thank ya kindly Raj Katak. My people will remember your help in our time of need.”
“This meeting is adjourned. Now let’s have a lovely feast.”

Everyone shuffled out of the room. Seraph took another glass of wine with him and sent a message to his father. I’ll be arriving tomorrow with aid from Archai. I’ve made an alliance with Katak. He’ll help save our city and unite the realm against the Horde.
Shortly after he received a response. Katak? I don’t trust him. He’s a greedy warmonger. Glad you’re coming home. Love you.
Why you gotta be so naive and stubborn Father? Seraph thought to himself. At a time when everyone in the realm is in jeopardy, it is not prudent to be picky about allies. Sadly typical though. Most people of Wolnocc are distrustful of outsiders. Their wariness won’t help them now. With another sip of wine, Seraph entered the dining hall.

A dull roar filled the hall. Influentials of various kinds chatted noisily with each other as they seated themselves. The feast was about to begin. Tables were arranged in a giant U. The raj and his personal favorites were seated at the cross sectioned table. The rest of the party had already taken spots at this table.
Seraph spotted Vaven, who was dressed in a beautiful green and gold silk dress. There was an empty seat next to her. He made his way over and claimed it for himself.

“How’d they get such a pretty darlin like you to come this borin place?” Seraph said to Vaven.
She turned away with a smile and responded.
“They told me a charming and handsome wizard would be here. Clearly I won’t be disappointed.” They flirted and chatted as the food came out.
An hour into the feast, the entertainment arrived.
The Backstreet Bards took center stage between the three long tables. The lead, a handsome half-elf dressed in purple and gold addressed the audience with a voice smooth as velvet.

“We are honored here today, to entertain such lovely guests with our talents and work. May we be as skilled in our performance of “The Battle of Klahm River” as our valiant heroes were in their defeat of the wicked Queen Olaphine. Do not fear as we act out this gripping tale of guile and strength. All that you see is but an illusion and none of our actors shall be harmed as well tell our tale.”
Behind him, a human woman dressed in blue and orange played her clarinet. She played a soothing melody transporting the audience to another time and place. The notes she played flowed out of her clarinet as orange and danced around the audience. Quarter notes hopped on the candles, dimming them. Eighth notes swirled round and round forming a funnel of fog.
Then they floated away with the fog spreading out creating an atmosphere of other worldliness. Seraph noticed two more bards whispering and moving their hands in delicate patterns as the lights dimmed and the fog formed. The lead took out his lyre and began to play and sing an upbeat melody.

Let me tell of our heroes so brave and so fair
Their mighty deeds by which I will swear
How they faced the queen with aplomb
And won the battle of the river Klahm
The wise Raj Katak knew peace must be made
So he sent our heroes who promptly obeyed
But the messenger Olaphine killed in a rage
So the queen our clever heroes did assuage
Let me tell of our heroes so brave and so fair
Their mighty deeds by which I will swear
How they faced the queen with aplomb
And won the battle of the river Klahm
For her they’d fight they very well lied
Refuse she could not because of her pride
But soon as they were out of sight
They warned the army of Mar’s knights
Let me tell of our heroes so brave and so fair
Their mighty deeds by which I will swear
How they faced the queen with aplomb
And won the battle of the river Klahm
With music they filled the queen’s men with dread
Then from the battlefield many of them fled
With the coast clear our heroes turned
Foolish Olaphine’s trust they had spurned
Let me tell of our heroes so brave and so fair
Their mighty deeds by which I will swear
How they faced the queen with aplomb
And won the battle of the river Klahm
With strength and cunning the battle they fought
Until the queen herself they had caught
Our hearts and honor they all had won
But we know their adventure has just begun
Let me tell of our heroes so brave and so fair
Their mighty deeds by which I will swear
How they faced the queen with aplomb
And won the battle of the river Klahm

Three more bards accompanied the lead’s song. The clarinet player had switched to bells. A human male dressed in green and purple played took out a rapier and positioned himself across from a tiefling woman clad in a dress of pink and black who similarly armed herself. They donned masks representing each character in the song and sparred throughout as illusions of knights in shining armor, fearsome direwolves, and soldiers clashing surrounded them.
The human represented the heroes and the tiefling the villains. The audience, including the party, were awestruck by the performance. At the finishing of the final note, the audience clapped and voraciously called for more.

“Encore!! Encore!!” They shouted.
The Backstreet Bards bowed, and the lead addressed his patrons again
“Thank you so much for your generous cheers and applause. We will be honored to provide you even more superb entertainment. Please lend your attention and ears to the lovely “Mystique of the East” Rosara!”

Amidst the claps of the nobility, the tiefling stepped forward and began to play her flute. She played a soothing piece to put everyone at ease. She was a gorgeous woman, and her song so magnificent audience members could not choose between being mesmerized by her or the music. As music flowed from her flute, the fog spread out to the tables, and the candles grew ever dimmer. Her partners danced rhythmically around her singing of the pleasures of rest.

A calm descended upon everyone at the tables. Their cares floated away as did their awareness of what was happening to them. Fus Roh began to close his eyes, but he shook them back open. He wanted to hear the exquisite music. But his eyes dragged themselves back shut, and he felt so tired. He decided to let the flute put him to sleep.

One by one, all of the seated guests fell asleep. Katak, Nothos, and Vaven did as well. Seraph saw everyone nodding off and suspected a spell. He fought against the urge to sleep, but his eyes began to close anyway.

Suddenly, Seraph saw the image of the dice he had cast earlier in the day, seven, success. He sprung up fully awake. Mags really, really wanted to stay awake to listen to the music so she picked up one of her forks and stabbed into into her left arm. With a scream, she dispersed the urge to sleep. Calla Lily did not feel any desire to sleep and was quite confused as to why so many others were nodding off.

Once nearly everyone was asleep, Seraph saw the lead bard pulled out a hand crossbow from his suit. Its bolt dripped with purple poison as it was pointed at Katak. The assassin closed one eye and pulled the trigger. Seraph remembered the snake eyes he had cast. Failure. The crossbow bolt flew straight to Katak’s nodding head and buried itself into his chair. It had missed by a hair. Baffled, the assassin immediately began to reload his crossbow.

Seraph looked to his side to see if Vaven was still awake to see him save the day. He saw that she was asleep, sighed disappointedly, and cast fireball. He hurled his silver flame above all the bards just high enough to hit them without the flames reaching the tables. Though surprised, the assassin bards managed to dive quick enough to escape with only a few burns. Mags and Calla Lily sprang into action.

Mags rushed towards the tiefling with her rapier drawn. She was determined to keep her away from the raj, but more importantly, Fus Roh. They engaged one another striking and parrying steel clanging against steel. They were evenly matched, and neither could land a mortal blow.

Calla Lily charged at the human male. Rather than try to best what appeared to be an undead rushing him, the bard began to sing.
“Attacking me I’d not endorse, for now you shall suffer a; phantasmal force.” The words colored in purple oozed from his mouth and flew towards Calla Lily. Upon their approach, they transformed into a swarm of hornets and attacked his eyes, stinging him blind. To everyone else, Calla Lily was swatting at nothing, but he did not perceive these images for what they were. They looked, sounded, and felt real. Calla Lily was fortunate that he could not feel pain, but he could no longer see his opponent and so struck wildly at nothing.

Seraph looked to Katak. A raj surrounded by so many warriors and commanded such respect of all of them must be useful in a fight. He yelled at Katak trying to wake him from his stupor.
“Hey Katak!! Don’t ya not wanna die?! There’s people tryin ta kill ya! Help us stop them!”
Katak’s body remained slumped over, motionless. f*cking damnit. Seraph thought. He began to prepare another fireball. But the lead bard was finishing a spell of his own. Strumming on his lyre he sang with a twang.
“Oh I wish ya didn’t stir, cause now you’ll be a rooster.” Strings of yellow stretched out from the lyre’s strings and wrapped themselves around Seraph.
He felt his body twist and contort. He tried to fight it but could not resist. A flash of yellow light blasted, and when it dissipated, Seraph was a chicken.
“Bacaw!!” He squawked trying to cast fireball.

Seraph looked around. He saw Fus Roh asleep, Calla Lily tormented by nothing swinging his staff aimlessly, and Mags stabbing the tiefling bard through the heart. At least she was doing well. But the woman and man were now approaching her. She couldn’t take them both on.
What could Seraph do? He had been polymorphed, and the only way out of it was to get hurt enough to turn human again or break the caster’s concentration. Small chance of that. Seraph turned to Katak again and started pecking him and squawking as loud as he could.
“BACAW!!! BACAW!!! BACAW!!!”

Katak’s hand shot up and swatted Seraph right off the table and into the wall. The damage was enough, and he transformed back into a human, upside down with his head on the floor. But he could still see Katak slowly stand up with a terrifying scowl on his face. Katak drew his Kythrilian sword and in the ancient dragon tongue shouted.

“Fire!!” and the sword lit up in red flame.

The bards began to panic. They had not accounted for the raj awakening. The two attacking Mags immediately disengaged to try to run for the exit. Katak pointed his sword at the half-elf leader. Without a word or fine movement of his hands, lightning crackled from his arm out to the tip of his sword and shot straight at the assassin.

He didn’t stand a chance. The bard was hit straight on by the bolt and convulsed as his nervous system fried. From his electrocuted body three more bolts shot out and struck each of the other bards. They all were shocked for several seconds before falling to the floor, dead.

“Wake up the rest.” Katak growled.

Seraph and Mags immediately got to work waking everyone up. The enchantment upon Calla Lily was broken, and he joined the others in their task. Everyone was awakened. Many gasped in horror at the mess that was made.

“Nothos, inspect the bodies.” Katak ordered.
Nothos ruffled through the clothes of each of attempted assassins and came back with a note.
“They seem to have been ordered by the state of Hillton to infiltrate and kill you.”
“They must fear our growing strength. They will pay for this brazen attack, but in due time.” He turned to Vaven.
“Withhold issuing a declaration of war to them. I want to finish the York, Mar, and Aima alliance before moving onto them.” He turned to the party.
“Thank you for protecting me. Your loyalty will be rewarded. Each of you will receive fifty pounds of gold upon waking up tomorrow. Furthermore, each of you will be given an estate carved up from Mar’s territory.”
The party thanked him graciously. After calming down from the battle, they all retired to their personal quarters set up for them in the palace. They slept through the night, trying to think of the gold they’d gain in the morning rather than the death they nearly faced.

Chapter 9: 3 Evangelists

Chapter Text

Light pierced through the window and scattered throughout the room. It chased away the darkness and vanquished its enemy wherever it was found. At last Fus Roh could see his freshly cleaned suit of armor and get dressed. He had been up for some time mulling over today’s mission. The defense of Wolnocc. Yet another battle to fight.

Fus Roh wondered when it would be able to end. When I avenge my clan, and slay the dwarves I suppose. But how many battles would that take? How many dwarves would be enough? All of them? Fus Roh could not say. So much fighting. So much killing. So much taking away life and giving pain. It was getting tiring.

Fus Roh slid out of bed his tail slapping onto the floor as a dead weight. He meandered over to his armor. He dressed himself in the red cloth that would serve as the foundation and tied every not. He slipped his mail on and then got to work on the plates. As always, it was a long and arduous task on his own. He had gotten used to being on his own.

He never wore armor when he was with the clan. The clan was his protection, and they protected the clan mother. These western people were strange. They would say they fought for their respective clans, but they just as much were fighting for themselves. Such a shame. They did not know the comfort of truly living for others.

What would it be like to have his family back? Could his new friends take their place? Never. But maybe they could be a family of their own. It would be nice to belong to a people again.
Three knocks rang out from the door.

Fus Roh finished slipping on his gauntlets and grabbed his shield and warhammer. Can’t be too careful in this city. He walked to the door and opened it.
“Here is the gold you were promised Sir Fus Roh.” A soft voiced boy said. He held forward a pouch filled with pieces of gold.
“Thank you small child.” Fus Roh set down his shield and grabbed the pouch.
The servant nervously tapped his fingers together and then spoke up.
“Sorry to bother you sir, but there are three nobles who would like to speak with you.”
“Alright send them in.” The boy bowed three times and scampered away.
A short, springy woman scrambled into the room. Her eyes darted about and she peered her head around the door. She turned to Fus Roh and sharply asked.
“May we speak in private?” Fus Roh nodded.
A wild grin flashed on her face and she closed the door to Fus Roh’s room. She reached her hand out to Fus Roh.
“I’m Malania. Pleased to meet you Fus Roh.” Malania was a rather odd looking noble.
On one side of her head her hair was azure blue and on the other side it was completely shaved off. Her skirt had holes in it and her top was an asymmetrical smattering of disparate, brilliant colors. She sported a cape of bright orange with yellow highlights. Even her makeup was bizarre. The upper half of her face was designed to highlight cuteness but the lower half maturity.
Fus Roh took the strange woman’s hand. She spoke rapidly with great enthusiasm.
“I love your victory at the Klahm river. The way your merry band struck discord throughout the Marian army is so brilliant and delightful. You and your party are excellent agents of chaos! Tell me, have you ever considered the oppression that society and its institutions put upon us?”
“Um, no?” Fus Roh responded confusedly.
“Well you should. We’re all subservient to something. Whether it be kings, religion, family, or even ourselves, something demands fealty from us. We in the Chaos Cult-”
“Chaos Cult?! Oh no no no. You’re a bunch of lunatic terrorists. Get out of here, goodbye.” Fus Roh interrupted as he pushed Melania out of the room.
She tried protesting but quickly gave up against the brawny, adamant, and heavily armed dragonborn. Shaking off her failure she scampered off in search of new potential recruits.
Fus Roh let out an exasperated sigh and stomped back into his room. A silvery voice from behind reached him.

“Fus Roh?”
He turned around to see an Orcish woman of dark complexion, wearing a cape as black as her hair, complimented by a dim gray dress. A crow sat upon her shoulder. Her hand stretched out to Fus Roh. He took it tentatively. She began to speak.
“Nevale, pleased to make your acquaintance. Your espionage and subterfuge of Mar’s efforts were quite impressive. You have potential for bringing this realm together. Have you ever wanted to be part of something bigger?”
Fus Roh’s head dipped down and he brought his hand to his chin.
“All my life.”
A half-smile crept up Nevale’s face.
“Then join us. We can accomplish great things. Our spy network sprawls the entire realm, and we have agents in every major court. Together, we can unite the realm better than any polity could. People don’t want to cooperate. So we’ll guide them unseen from the shadows.”
Fus Roh looked up tentatively at Nevale.
“You’re with the Shadow Cult aren’t you?”
Nevale shrugged.
“Who’s to say? If I was, would you accept my offer?” The orcish woman said with a sly smile.
“No.” Fus Roh firmly replied.
Nevale frowned.
“Hm, a foolish decision. Oh well, I-”
“I will not join you for your kind are cowards and assassins who hide behind the lie that it’s for a noble cause. You only want power.” Fus Roh interjected with a sense of righteous condemnation.
Nevale put her hand to her gaping mouth in mocking shock.
“Oh how dare you? I best be off before a righteous warrior like you decides to rid the earth of such scum as I.” She slipped out of the room and slinked away.
“I wonder who’ll show up next.” Fus Roh sighed.

As he finished his sentence, a well groomed halfing walked softly in. He had a kind, soft face. His outfit was a blend of fashions across the realm. Simple leather boots from Wolnocc, beautifully complex jewelry from Kythril, and a silk robe from Parlington colored in red, yellow, and green. He offered his hand and spoke with a gentle voice
“My name is Fenrick. It’s very nice to meet you Fus Roh. May I speak with you for a moment?”
Fus Roh squinted at the hand but shook it slowly.
“And what do you want?” The dragonborn asked with great suspicion.
“Only to talk with you for a brief time. It was a great thing you did for the non-elves of Mar.” Fenrick said warmly.
“Oh? What was that?” Fus Roh asked with raised brows.
“You defeated their masters. Now they can join with the rest of us in bringing the realm together.” Fenrick turned thoughtfully.
“Although I wish it was without such violent means.”
“Do you believe we could?”
“Of course we can. We are all brothers and sisters of one realm. Tesalachans would sooner work together rather than kill one another. The people are not so vicious as their rulers. They merely need the right leaders.”
“Perhaps. I tried before, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“I heard about that. I’m surprised they didn’t. You have a strong, commanding presence in every word you speak. I’ve also heard you care about doing what’s right.”
“I’d like to think so. Justice has always been a priority of mine.”
“Me too. How do you want to make the world more just?”
“I… I don’t know. So far I try to bring consequences for evil doers and protect others from them.”
“Oh really? Excellent. I’m part of an organization that does just that. Would you like to meet them?”
“Heh, heh sure Fenrick why not. I could use some friends. I hope they’re like you.”
“Oh thanks Fus Roh. That means a lot coming from a living legend. Well, the Fellowship of the Realm is meeting about an hour from now at the docks. Go to the vendor smelling rotten fish and ask for four.
He’ll take you to us. I’d like to inform you ahead of time, it is customary that you pass some sort of trial or complete a mission for us. You may need your friends.”
“Heh, if it has to do with combat, won’t be nothing I can’t handle. I’m sure my friends will be fine with tagging along heh heh. Huh, didn’t think I would join the Fellowship, but I’m glad to join others in the pursuit of bringing justice.”
“I’m so happy you will be joining us. I have to go Fus Roh. Thank you very much. I’ll see you later.” Fenrick strolled out of the room with a smile on his face.
Fus Roh’s stomach growled.
“Heh, heh time to take care of you buddy.” He said patting his belly. Fus Roh headed off to the dining hall.

That morning, Mags was voraciously studying her new scrolls. Her eyes gleamed as her mind raced through the possibilities. If she could get it right, she would create something sticky as glue that would be highly flammable. Or at the very least, she could make some delicious jam. Mags looked up with a triumphant smile. She won’t be seen as just a silly duck for long. She’ll be just as effective and dangerous as a wizard.
A light knock tapped at the door. Mags jerked her head towards the sound in surprise. Who could that be? She grabbed her crossbow and rapier. Have to be careful after last night. She slowly waddled up to the door. She opened it slightly.
“Um, Sir Mags? There are some visitors who would like to see you.”
Mags sheathed her rapier upon seeing the harmless boy.
“Ok let in.”
“Oh and here’s your gold, courtesy of the raj.” The boy set down a pouch of gold and ran off.
Who could these visitors be? Assassins? Probably not. Even so, I should be careful. Mags hid behind a column between her and the door. Melania scurried into the room. She frantically looked around for Mags, confused by her absence.
Mags looked this strange woman up and down. She had no armor or weapons. She did not seem to be a threat. Mags came out from her hiding place and cheerfully quacked “Hello, who you?”
Melania spun around, her eyes wide and sweat glistening down her face. She chuckled nervously.
“Oh, I’m Melania. So glad to get to meet you Mags.” She shook hands with Mags.
“I uh, wow, I had this whole thing prepared. I wanted to congratulate you on your victory against Mar.” Mags stared back at her with no reaction.
“Heh, heh, anyway you managed to free the nonelves of Mar from their oppressors. So I was wondering, would you like to be free too?”
Mags tilted her head quizzically
“Am not free?”
“Well no, you are ruled by Katak, and you are most likely a slave to your fears, desires, and passions. But there is a way to be free.”
“How?”
“Come with me to the Chaos Cult, and we will show you how to be free of others and your own self.” Mags rested her beak on her feathered hand. It would be nice to have the power to be safe from others and their control. But what did they want?
“What do for rest of realm?”
“We will wrest them from the grips of their rulers. We will work together and fight until no one must take orders from any other.” Melania proudly proclaimed.
Not have to take orders? Mags thought. It would be hard for an army to work without obedient soldiers. Without an army, how can they hope to defeat the Horde? She closed her eyes and shook her head.
“No thank. Not good idea. Maybe someday, not now.” Melania’s chest fell.
She felt so close to convincing the kenku. She meandered off to find her next potential convert.

Mags thought to herself. Maybe it would be a good idea to join one of the cults. It could get her powerful connections and allies. The party will need all they can get to win this war and save the realm.
Nevale slipped into the room. She announced her presence with a cool
“Hello, Mags.”
Mags jumped back, startled by the stranger’s sudden appearance. She saw Nevale standing tall with a hand on her hip and smirking at her. Mags giggled. She liked her already.
“Who you?” She chirped.
“Nevale. I must say you’re quite the impressive kenku. One of the few of your number without any known magical abilities and yet you survived the battle of the Klahm river. I even heard you killed one of Olaphine’s sons, Adhorn.”
Mags suddenly remembered. She took the amulet from his corpse that the gnomes wanted. She had to do that. Later. She smiled at Nevale and pulled out her rod and twirled it showfully.
“Had little magic.” Nevale smiled cunningly.
“You are full of surprises. But surely, you must know you cannot survive in this world on your own. If you want to be safe, you’ll need friends. Friends who know things. Friends with influence. Friends who are everywhere.”
Mags stopped spinning her rod. She looked at Nevale solemnly.
“What want?”
“Me? I don’t want anything. I’m simply here to see what choice you’ll make. Do you agree with what I said earlier?”
“Yes. Have friends. Fus Roh, Calla Lily, and Seraph.”
“Oh but you’ll need more. If you care for yourself and the bigger picture, you will make the best decision to secure both won’t you?”
“Get on with it please. What want?”
“Hmmm, join the Shadow Cult Mags. You’ll work for us and in exchange, we’ll help you. We have movers and shakers throughout the realm. Alongside us you’ll see the strings behind everything, and if you prove yourself, you’ll get to pull the strings.”
Mags feathers crinkled into a smile.
“What Shadow Cult want?”
“We want to connect the realm. We’ll have our people in seats of power throughout the continent. Our network will spread deep and wide. We will have our hand in the movements of all races and classes.”
“Good.” Mags replied.
“World is falling apart. Need people bring it together. You help me. I help you.” She stuck out her feathery arm to Nevale.
“You’ve made the right choice. Meet me at the marketplace at 1:00 this afternoon, and we’ll discuss the details of your membership.”
“Ok!” Mags flapped her arms excitedly.
Nevale grabbed her cheeks and fluffed her feathers.
“Oh you’re so cute. See you later sweetheart.” Nevale sauntered off.
Mags furled her face feathers and crossed her arms.
“Am not cute.” She pouted.
A couple minutes later, Fenrick arrived. He nodded to Mags and began to speak.
“Hello, my name is Fenrick. It’s rather nice to-”
“Fellowship of the Realm, right?” Mags interrupted.
“Uh, yes but how did you-?”
“Thank! But I’m good.” Mags happily quacked as she shut the door in his face.
Stunned, Fenrick trundled off.
“Mmmm, reading about jam made hungry. Time for lunch!” Mags waited till she heard Fenrick’s footsteps disappear and then she waddled off to the dining hall.

Calla Lily was engrossed in his book, The Raunchy Cultist. The protagonist had just committed his first murder for the leader. He knew that it was wrong, but he so desperately wanted to make his love happy. Calla Lily was puzzled by the protagonist. He was loyal, self-sacrificing, thoughtful, and sensitive. What good did any of these traits do for him? And why did Calla Lily still feel enraptured by his story?
He peered at one of his lines of dialogue. He tried to speak. In a raspy, gurgling voice he began to express
“I, I, I love you.”
A cascade of impressions seeped into Calla Lily’s mind. I loved someone once, he thought. Calla Lily tried to focus his thoughts to remember. A knock at the door. Calla Lily swiftly put his book away and approached the door.
When he opened the door, a boy stood in front of him with a bulging bag. He screamed, dropped the bag, and ran away. Calla Lily snatched the bag out of the air before it hit the ground. He sighed. He knew he disgusted people. Even when they didn’t say anything, their faces did.
Mags and Fus Roh didn’t seem to care at least. He couldn’t tell if Seraph’s looks of disgust were because of his rotten flesh or because he saw him as an idiot. Melania walked around the corner and greeted him with a big smile.

“Hi, I’m Melania, and I hear you don’t talk much, like at all. So I’m going to be really simple. You were really cool at the battle of Klahm River, and I think you would really get along with me and my buddies.” Calla Lily stared back with no response.
“Right, so I’m with the Chaos Cult, and we want everyone to be free from control and tear down the oppression that defines society. Want to help?”
Calla Lily shook his head. Who was this noblewoman to speak of oppression. As far as he could tell, some people needed their rulers to protect them, others were taken advantage of by them. Calla Lily did not know which was which and did not hope to. Disappointed yet again, Melania walked off.
As soon as she had left, her presence was replaced by Nevale. The sleek orc looked Calla Lily up and down. She laughed.
“You’re either the kind of person people can’t take their eyes off of or avert them at all cost. Sir Calla Lily, I know of your skills as a warrior. If your dextrous and talent for silence could be used for subterfuge, you could be a key player in the Shadow Cult.”
Calla Lily raised his eyebrows.
“You’re an unknown in this world, and I like that. I don’t know what you want, but perhaps you’d like to be a man of influence. You can be a hunter in the shadows, striking all who dare threaten what you cherish. In exchange for extending our reach, we’ll give you the power to seize what you desire and all others being none the wiser.”

Perhaps she has a point. If the Shadow Cult are assassins, then my skills would let me fit right in. Certainly I’ll be asked to commit terrible acts that will corrupt me, but what is there to corrupt? Who even am I that I can fall? There’s nothing in me worth preserving.
But what they offer, I could use to protect my friends. I’ll be their unseen sentinel. From the shadows, I will watch over them. Especially Mags. Just yesterday she picked up scrolls to learn how to cook as the world around her plunges into war. Such innocence can’t last in this world, but I will do my best to preserve it. Calla Lily nodded.
“Excellent. Meet me at the marketplace at 1:00. So long.” Nevale slipped out of the room with a self-assured smile on her face.
Calla Lily walked back into his room and grabbed his staff. If and only if their promises are upheld, will I serve them, Calla Lily thought to himself. I have no need for loyalty but for my friends. A gentle voice reached his ears.
“Excuse me?” Calla Lily turned around to see Fenrick.
“Hello Sir Calla Lily. Mind if I talk to you for a bit?”
Calla Lily nodded and pulled up a chair to sit in. Fenrick followed suit and began to speak
“You’re an interesting person. No one seems to know who you are or where you came from. If you ask me, I think there’s something poetic in that. A man of unknown origin comes to a realm in chaos. Despite not owing us a thing, he fights to liberate and unite Tesalach. I don’t know what is you want Calla Lily, but I think you can stand for something.
You show us that it doesn’t matter who you are, fighting to protect the weak and to spread good throughout the realm is up to all of us and we can. So how about it? Would you be willing to join the Fellowship of the Realm and truly bring it together in an era of peace?”
Calla Lily enjoyed his idealism. He wished he could believe in it. Symbols wouldn’t be enough to bring the world together, and Calla Lily was not prepared to fill such a role. He’d rather slip into the background and let the real heroes lead. Whoever they were. Calla Lily shook his head. Fenrick sighed.
“Alright. Thank you for considering.” Fenrick walked off.
Calla Lily gathered his belongings, put them in his pack, and headed off to the dining hall. His friends were probably already enjoying brunch.

As Seraph finished copying his new spells into his spell book, he heard whispers from within his head.
“Failure.”
“Success.”
Seraph took a sip of his morning whisky. Had he not been trained in the art of divination, he would have thought he was going crazy. Seraph knew such messages were knowledge of the future. He just had to wait to see them play out. There was a knock at the door.
“Come in.” Seraph called. A timid boy pattered into his room.
“Here’s your gold sir.” He set a pouch filled with the precious metal on Seraph’s nightstand.
“Thank ya kindly. You may go.” Seraph said without bothering to look at him.
“You have some visitors sir.”
“Any of them a beautiful blonde elf?”
“Um no sir.”
Seraph sighed.
“Send ‘em in anyway I guess.”
Melania bounded into the room with a bottle of wine.
“Hello comrade. I heard you enjoyed a little something to take the edge off.”
Seraph looked at her confusedly but accepted the wine. Melania giggled and continued
“So we’re having a meeting in a little under an hour and we’d like to talk to you about your future in the cult.”
“Sure thing if it means I can get somethin more than the sh*tty ability you’ve given me so far.”
“Hmmm well you’ll just have to come and see. We’ll be meeting at the alley two blocks north of the Drunken Wizard. You’ll know it when you see it, trust me.” She winked and walked off with a skip in her step.
Seraph took another swig of whisky. Even the nobles in this cult are weird as f*ck. Nevale sauntered into the room.
“Hello, Sir Seraph.”
“And what do you want?” Seraph grumbled.
“Only to congratulate you on your victory this past week. You’ve proven yourself to be a master of deception and intrigue. I would think someone as clever as you understands what a gift it is.”
“Heh for me it is. I guess you wanna use it for somethin?” He took another shot of whisky and started pouring himself some wine.
“How perceptive of you. I won’t try to hide my intentions from you. The Shadow Cult would greatly benefit from having you amongst our number, and a prince like you would do well to have an information network such as ours at his backing.”
“Sorry lady, ain’t interested. I don’t give a sh*t about the Shadow Cult either way, so don’t take it as an insult.”
“Hm, I’m surprised by such a foolish outlook and an oafish response coming from you.”
“Don’t care. Goodbye.” Seraph dismissed her with a wave of her hand.
Nevale stormed out of the room. Fenrick walked in as soon as she had left. Seraph gathered his things and walked right past him. He didn’t have any patience for this charade. His home was assault. He would finally be able to arrive and help that very afternoon. He needed to get ready. First things first, he needed to eat.
Fenrick didn’t even bother to address him. He figured his foul mood was due to him being transformed into a chicken the previous night. Who wouldn’t be upset after that?

Chapter 10: Dikella’s Salvation

Chapter Text

The party met one another at the dining hall. Exquisite dishes of the finest cuts of beef were served along with mead plundered from the stores of Mar. As was custom in the Fair Fields, bread was served alongside a mix of vegetables and fruits. Some were local, others were from throughout the region.

The party was not joined by any members of the royal court so they ate together. When Fus Roh returned with his fifth helping of beef, he spoke up.
“So, did you guys get visited by three cultists too?”
Seraph and Mags exchanged exasperated glances. How could he be so foolish to talk about this in public?
“I had a few visitors.” Seraph responded.
“I can’t imagine what they were there for.” He said sarcastically.
“Three people said hi. Very nice.” Mags chirped.
Calla Lily put up three fingers.
“Heh heh. Well in the business of cementing trust, I say we all announce who we joined at the count of three. 1…2...3!!!”
“I joined the Fellowship of the Realm!” Fus Roh proclaimed loudly.
He was met with silence. After a brief pause, Seraph and Mags looked at each other and busted out laughing. Fus Roh scowled, stood up, downed his mead, and slammed it on the table. His voice cracked as he tried to shout intimidatingly
“Well I’ve got a meeting with them coming up, and I might get a mission from them too so I hope you two have pulled yourselves together when I get back!” Fus Roh stomped out of the hall.
He felt a hand tap his shoulder. He turned around to see Calla Lily offering him a hug. Fus Roh snorted but accepted his embrace.
“Thanks.” He disengaged his friend and walked off more peacefully.
As he exited the palace, he paused.
“Heh heh. That was pretty funny.” With a smile on his face he walked down to the docks.

The Port of Archai was bustling with ships arriving from all over the Western Islands. Spices and sugars were being unloaded and replaced with cattle, crops, and ornate glassware. Many of the foreign sailors tried to keep their distance from the locals whom they saw as unsavory. Those of tiefling and orcish presentation were the most common receptors of such ire. Of course, members of all races were subject to such attitudes including the local elves in certain cases.
Fus Roh could not help but scoff. What reason did these people have for such behavior? It's not as if their peoples were fighting one another for their very survival. As Fus Roh approached the fish vendor offering his rotten wares, he noticed a mountain dwarf sailor carrying some cargo to his ship. Reflexively, he bared his teeth and emitted a low growl.
Suddenly, the dwarf tripped and fell, his hefty box crashing into his knee. With a yelp he fell hard onto the dirt covered ground and hit his head. Fus Roh let out a boisterous laugh, but he could not help but notice the dwarf appeared to be in serious pain. His tumble had become quite the serious accident. The diminutive man looked quite distraught as he contemplated how he could continue his labor let alone stand. Fus Roh’s laughter ceased. He saw the pain the dwarf was going through.

Rolling his eyes he stood the man up and put his hands on his back. The dwarf’s back began to glow, and his wounds were healed. Before the sailor could thank him Fus Roh was gone. That dwarf was no warrior, Fus Roh thought to himself. There was no need to let him suffer.
Fus Roh approached the vendor selling rotten fish. He cleared his throat and said
“I’d like to buy four of your… delicious fish please.”
“Right this way.” The vendor put a closed sign over his stand and brought Fus Roh over to a nearby alleyway.
He took out a key, unlocked a cellar door, and directed Fus Roh inside. The cellar was damp and smelled of ale. The pair entered through a door into a simple room. A white banner with a circle divided into thirds of red, green, and yellow was nailed to the top of one of the walls.

Fifteen people sat in a circle holding hands. They were all plainly dressed, but the jewelry of some made it quite clear they were of greater wealth than the others. Their eyes were closed. Fenrick was amongst the circle and said in a calm, gentle voice
“Our honored guest has arrived. So let us end. In the name of the Spirit of the realm.”
“In the name of the Spirit of the realm.” The rest of the members in the circle chanted.
“We shall protect the Innocent for they are weak.”
“We shall protect the Innocent for they are weak.”
“We shall seek peace for in it life will flourish.”
“We shall seek peace for in it life will flourish.”
“We shall uphold the law for it brings harmony.”
“We shall uphold the law for it brings harmony.”
“For the good of the people.”
“For the good of the people.”

They all opened their eyes and began to instinctively look at their newcomer.
“Hello Fus Roh. It’s good to see you.” Fenrick greeted him.
“Same to you Fenrick. I wasn’t interrupting a ritual was I?”
“Oh no need to worry about that. We were sharing in communion. It would be rude of us to do so at the exclusion of a potential member.”
“Potential?”
“Yes. You must demonstrate your dedication to the cause of spreading peace throughout the realm and your capability of carrying it out.”
“What must I do? I am willing to do whatever it takes to be a member of the fellowship.”
“Hm. I appreciate your eagerness Fus Roh. We have a mission for you. The village of Dikella has pressed for money and soldiers by the Honorable Company. The village has refused to pay it and now those vicious mercenaries will take it by force. You must come to the villager’s aid and save them from this fate.”
“What of the royal army?”
“There are no detachments of Archai to protect them?”
“How far away is the village?”
“About an hour away south of here. If you hurry, you should be able to save Dikella.”
“Then there’s no time to waste. I will return when the deed is done.”
“Good luck Fus Roh. May the Spirit guide you.”
“May the Spirit guide you.” The cultists chanted in unison.
Fus Roh turned and ran out of the cellar. He headed straight for the palace.
***
After a good laugh at Fus Roh and another swig of whisky, Seraph left the dining hall for the Drunken Wizard. He made his way over to the tavern and then turned north toward the residential district. In a nearby alleyway, he saw the Chaos Cult’s vortex symbol painted on one of the walls.

Seraph felt his foot singe where he had his tattoo placed. On an impulse, he placed his hand on the emblem and it glowed a bright orange tinted with yellow. Seraph blinked, and he was inside a room filled with people. Nearly all of them were dressed in rags, many of them were members of the less desirable races, and a large number were disfigured or disabled in some way. An elderly tiefling woman approached Seraph.

She had a severe cleft lip and possessed a lazy eye. Seraph contained his shudder at the sight. She spoke in a hoarse voice
“Welcome back Seraph. You did well subverting the Marians and spreading disorder amongst their ranks. The people subject to their rule will be less abused than before but unfortunately will not be free under their new masters.”
“Well I did what was realistically possible given the circ*mstances.”
“WE do not restrain our goals by your standard of what’s realistic. We shall strive till all are free from all control.”
Seraph rolled his eyes.
“So you ain’t gonna give me anythang but a pat on the back for that huh?”
“Your work is appreciated, but you must demonstrate your commitment to the cause of spreading chaos.”
“And how’ll you determine that?”
“We have learned that the Fellowship of the Realm plans on protecting the village of Dikella from a mercenary group. They will save the people’s lives, but it will do nothing to change the status quo. Go there, and shake things up. What you do to spread chaos should determine your commitment.”
“Thanks for the idiotic vagueness.” Seraph hissed under his breath.
“How far away is it? I’ve gotta be somewhere this afternoon.”
“It’s only an hour away on horseback.”
“Alright sure. I’ll do it for ya, but I expect something in return.”
“We are not your masters. We always exchange for services. We do not command. Now go spread chaos.”
Seraph took a long draft of his whisky and turned to leave. He didn’t want to spend another moment in this miserable place. He saw Melania as he turned around. She was dressed as poorly as everyone else. Seraph looked her up and down confusedly and asked
“Why you dressed so differently here than at the palace?”
“I’ve gotta put on airs for the nobles. Cut and dye your hair, they think it’s eccentric. Start wearing poor people’s clothes, and they start to think you’ve got a real problem.”
Seraph scoffed.
“If I had done my hair like you, back home that alone would be enough to have my family put me away.”
Another swig of whisky and Seraph walked through the symbol on the wall. He couldn’t wait to be back home. He was tired of being surrounded by weirdos and fools.
***
The party met back up at the dining hall of the palace. Calla Lily and Mags had not left and instead spent their time reading their respective books. Seraph and Fus Roh came in at around the same time. As soon as Fus Roh saw everyone was gathered there, he loudly announced to the group
“I have been given a mission to save the village of Dikella from a band of marauding mercenaries. Will you join me on this noble quest?”
“Sure Fus Roh.” Mags chirped.
“Sure. Why not?” Seraph said with a sly smile.
Calla Lily nodded.
“Thank you friends. We don’t have much time. The ‘Honorable Company’ could be upon the villagers this very moment.” Fus Roh said. The party scrambled together their warhorses and rode off to the village.

They arrived close enough to see the smoke rising from the village within an hour. They spurred their horses on to top speed towards the burning buildings. When the party rode into the village, they came upon pandemonium. Houses were ablaze.

Villagers were being struck down for what little valuables they had. Others, especially women and children, were being carried off by mercenaries. There were eight mercenaries in the party’s line of vision. Furthest from the party were two mercs fifty or so feet away gathering a group of cowed villagers together.

Closer to the party, a woman was being pulled between two mercenaries. Two mercs were trying to break into the doors of village homes not yet on fire. Another mercenary was running off with a small boy. The last one was pulling away a young woman.

The party sprang into action. Mags sent her horse barreling at the merc carrying off the child. She threw a dagger into the man’s arm, and with a scream, he dropped the boy. Mags immediately drew her rapier and leapt off her horse onto the man and stabbed him several times in the chest.

Calla Lily jumped off his horse and charged towards the mercs fighting over the woman. He threw a red dart of Power of each of them. One of them connected, and the mercenary burst into flames. He fell to the ground screaming in pain for the rest of his brief life. The other mercenary’s face flushed all color from his face, and he grabbed his captive tightly quaking with fear.

Seraph scanned the battlefield. How to disrupt this mess? He pointed his staff towards one of the mercs trying to break down a house door. He chanted elvish as his staff’s orb glowed a silvery energy.
“With the power of the weave and my knowledge of its workings, your body shall alight with flame: Firebolt!” A bolt of silvery fire shot out of Seraph’s staff towards the mercenary, and missed.
The flame struck the house instead, and it instantly set ablaze to the thatch roof. The door burst open, and a family rushed out desperately trying to escape the flames.
“Oops.” Seraph said with a smirk.

Fus Roh rode towards the mercenary trying to drag away the young woman. With a roar, he brought his glowing hammer down upon the terrified brigand, and terribly missed. His hammer went straight into the side of a house busting straight through the wall. The merc blinked with surprise then went back to dragging the woman away.
“Ragh! You shall face judgement fiend!” Fus Roh swung again, and missed wildly again.
The merc decided he might have a fighting chance. So he drew his blade and swung it at Fus Roh. It clanged off harmlessly. And so they went back and forth, Fus Roh missing and the mercenary futilly striking him.
Mags got off of her victim and picked up the terrified child. She held him close as she drew her hand crossbow. She shot the merc Seraph had missed in the back, and he fell to the ground paralyzed and bleeding out.
Seraph continued casting firebolt but ‘accidentally’ kept hitting the village hovels. What few people were still hiding in the structures ran out with what little they could carry.
“Damn it. I must be real off today.” Seraph complained.
The mercenary across from Calla Lily held his axe to the woman’s throat.
“Another step, and she’s dead.” He growled at Calla Lily.
Without missing a beat, Calla Lily threw one of his black darts at the raider’s axe hand. It dug into his flesh, and his skin rotted from his hand, spreading to the rest of the body. Within a few seconds, the man fell with mere patches of his skin left.
Calla Lily spun around and threw a white dart at the merc still trying to break into a hovel. White light burst from the point of entry, and the man flew back several feet and crashed into the ground dead.
“Drop your weapons!! Or we’ll gut all these welps!” A shout came from the small crowd of villagers.
The two mercenaries that had gathered the villagers were amongst them pointing their swords at the frightened people.
Seraph stepped forward and drew silverlight from his staff. He swirled it in front of him in a big, circular motion.
“With the power of the weave and my knowledge of its workings, you all shall sleep: Hypnotic Pattern.” The swirling circle grew larger and extended out to the hostages and their captors.
Its color changed from silver, to red, to gold, rhythmically. Several of the villagers were dazzled by the spectacle. They stared deeply into the pattern and then slumped to the ground unconscious. Some tried to look away, including the mercenaries. Seraph heard the whispers again “Failure.” Despite their efforts, those in the crowd who tried to look away could not and fell unconscious.

Fus Roh had tried to strike his enemy over ten times and kept failing. He was getting tired out. The marauder could not harm Fus Roh, but he also could not drag his loot away. With a final heave, Fus Roh swung his hammer again, and he konked the poor woman on the head with his handle.
She slumped onto the ground unconscious. The merc and Fus Roh looked at her motionless body then looked at each other. The merc turned to run.
“Ah f*ck it.” Fus Roh muttered to himself.
The golden dragonborn took a deep breath, gargled his saliva, and blew fire on the mercenary. The man screamed in agony as he died.

All of the villagers who had ran from their burning homes huddled together around the party. The little boy Mags carried pointed down the street.
“Dere’s more of dem.” He cried.
The party saw just over a score of the Honorable Company rushing towards them. Many of them were carrying loot from the village chapel but some were prudent enough to drop their treasure to gain speed. They went into formation to better assail their powerful foes.

Seraph smirked. All bunched up. He took a step back, cast fireball, and hurled it at the mercenaries. They weren’t expecting the attack and most of them got caught up in the flames. Several mercenaries lay dead or dying. The rest immediately fled, many screaming in terror.

The party gathered the survivors together and tied the two unconscious mercenaries up. Seraph released his concentration on the hypnotic pattern those affected by it came to. The village burned and many civilians lay dead. Meekly, one of them spoke up and asked
“What are we going to do now? Our homes are gone.”
Seraph shrugged. It wasn’t his problem, and he saved their lives. He had done more than enough. Fus Roh stepped forward and addressed the crowd.
“We shall bring you to Archai. They will provide you with food and shelter there. We are knights of the city. They will listen to us.”
The villagers exchanged looks with each other. They were dazed and exhausted. They shuffled together behind the party riding on their horses. Mags was still carrying the boy and asked him
“What name?”
“Jimothy.” The boy weakly replied.
“Where’s Daddy? Where’s uncle Kavos?” He whined.
Mags looked around. There were few men left. Most of them lay on the ground, motionless. Mags shook her head. She looked at the child softly and sang a drinking song she had heard long ago. Jimothy closed his eyes and hummed along. He nestled his face into Mags’ shoulder and went to sleep.
The party arrived at Archai and explained the situation to the city guard. The captain of the guard said they would do their best to find housing for the refugees and take care of them.
“It’s becoming all too common these days.” The captain commented.
“War does that.” Seraph replied.
The party split up. All of them claimed they had business to take care of. Except for Calla Lily. He just stood there as everyone else walked away. He decided to go to the market and continue reading his book.

Fus Roh returned to the docks and went to the meeting place of the Fellowship of the Realm. The members were gathered together in a circle sharing a light meal together of bread and water.
“Oh, hello Fus Roh.” Fenrick called out in a soft voice.
“Hey Fenrick. The village is saved.” Fus Roh replied.
“Oh good. Were there any problems or complications?” Fus Roh thought of all of the houses that had burned down and the woman he knocked out.
“Nope!”
“Excellent. For your service, we shall formally induct you into the Fellowship of the Realm.”
“Wonderful. What do I do?”
The members stood up and approached Fus Roh. One by one, they put their hands on his back, shoulder, and chest. Fenrick stood in front of him with his hands on Fus Roh’s forehead.
“Just hold still and answer my questions. Do you pledge to protect the innocent?”
“Protect the Innocent.” The members chanted.
“I do.”
“Do you pledge to seek peace?”
“Seek Peace.”
“I do.”
“Do you pledge to uphold the law?”
“Uphold the law.”
“I do.”
“As a member of the Fellowship. The common will look up to you. Your brothers and sisters of the realm will call upon your aid. Are you ready for this responsibility?”
“I am.”
“Welcome to the Fellowship.” Fus Roh felt a warm empowering rush flow from the hands of his fellow members. It filled him with pride and vigor. He felt so wonderful to be part of something again. Fenrick smiled at his protege.
“Most villagers and townspeople will recognize what you stand for. They will see you as a hero and often be willing to help you. Now, where would you like your tattoo?”
“Right below my chin!” Fus Roh beamed.
“Very well.” Fenrick motioned for a man to come over.
He carried a poker with the cult’s insignia at the end, glowing red hot. Fus Roh stuck his neck out. He didn’t even wince as the symbol burned into his flesh. Fus Roh laughed heartily and left the building. He took a deep breath. It felt like a new day. He strolled down the street whistling a tune he used to sing as he marched with his clan.

Chapter 11: Initiation

Chapter Text

Seraph returned to Chaos cult’s symbol. His tattoo singed again when he drew near it. After a swig of whisky, he confidently placed his hand on the symbol and found himself in the room as he had that morning. There was very little light in the room. The few candles that were lit had been dimmed. Seraph could only make out vague shapes of robed figures.
“Ah sh*t.” Seraph grumbled.
“You did well at Dikella, initiate.” A low, raspy voice called out.
“For your commitment to chaos. We offer freedom of the mind. Do you accept?”
“I do.” Seraph replied.

Suddenly, the vortex symbol of the Chaos Cult burst into existence directly in front of Seraph. It glowed a bright orange and yellow, and emanated like fire. The light it gave off revealed the cultists. They had donned masks once again and wore orange robes. They chanted in the unknown tongue.
Seraph stepped back in amazement. He had no time to comprehend the fantastical sight before experiencing an assault upon his mind. Seraph felt an onslaught of fears that he had kept at bay for so long. What if you can’t save your people? What if everything you do is meaningless? What if your family hates you and rejects you for leaving them?
Seraph could not muster a single thought against them, and they quickly switched to the affirmative. Seraph had no response to this offensive and collapsed to his knees in despair. His mind became completely subsumed by his darkest thoughts, and he perceived nothing else.
Then, Seraph heard the chanting of the cultists once again. Suddenly, he could think for himself. I will save my people! I don’t care if what I do is meaningless. I’ll do it anyway. My family don’t hate me, and if they do, I’ll find a new one. His fears fell before his counterattack, and he routed them out of his mind.

He stood back up, took a long swig of whisky and dispatched the last of his pessimistic thoughts. The symbol had disappeared, and the room was lit as normal. The cultists wore their rags as before and were without masks. The elderly tiefling said to him.
“Now that you have won freedom over your mind. It will be far harder for others to control you, even with powerful magic.”
“Damn it! Do you gotta make the ritual so awful?!” Seraph exclaimed.
“Freedom does not come easily.”
“f*cking horsesh*t. Either way, I appreciate bein' tougher to enchant. I got sh*t to do. See ya.”
Seraph stamped out of the room and headed to the palace. If he could find Vaven, his day could get a lot better.
“Where find gnomes? Should be new to city.” Mags asked a merchant.
“There’s actually a whole clan further down. Take about thirty steps then take a left and you’ll find them. They’re selling all kinds of wares. I hear there’s even some magical items.”
“Thank.” Mags headed to the gnomes.
“No no no! Don’t sell that! It’s been in the family for six generations!” An elderly gnome said as she slapped a younger one showcasing a ring to an elf.
“Who cares? We need to pay rent and this thing’s not helping any.”
“Ugh! Heartless boy! You have no respect for our heritage.” Mags waddled up to the matriarch.
“Hello. Want some heritage?” She held up the amulet she had taken from Adhorn. The matriarch blinked her eyes in disbelief.
“I didn’t think you could actually get it. Much less bring it here.” She reached out to grab the amulet, but Mags quickly withdrew her wing and stuffed it in her sack.
“Oh, right. I promised an exchange.” She went to the family wagon and returned with a magnifying glass.
“This is no ordinary spy glass. Not only will it magnify what you see, but it will guide your eye to find what it seeks. Now, you do have to tune yourself to it to use it. Simply allow its power to flow through you as you hold it.”

Mags grabbed it and handed over the amulet simultaneously. She felt a force pushing out from the glass and onto her. It as though it was trying to enter her skin. It reminded her of how she felt when she held her magical rod for the first time. She took a deep breath and gave in. Power surged through her body, and she felt connected to the item.
Satisfied, she waddled away back to the market.
Calla Lily stood patiently in the marketplace. He had been waiting for Nevale since arriving from Dikella. Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around to see Nevale smirking at him.
“It was smart of you to come. We don’t like it when someone backs out of a promise.”
They stood there for a few moments. Calla Lily looked at Nevale put two fingers on his hand and walked them. He then put his hands up and shrugged.
“We’re waiting on another. We’ll go as soon as she gets here. Oh excellent, there she is now.”
Calla Lily’s jaw dropped as he saw Mags waddle up to them. SHE was joining them?! There must be some mistake. Mags would never willingly join such a shady organization.
Mags tilted her head when Calla Lily came into her view. Strange that he was joining. Although she didn’t know what his goals were. Guess being mute will be good for keeping secrets. Oh well. One more ally doesn’t hurt.
“Let’s go. We have work to do.” Nevale led them into a clothing shop.
She gave a nod to the dwarf at the desk who nodded back. The dwarf opened a back door, and the trio entered a storage room. Nevale walked over to the center of the room and lifted three of the floorboards revealing a staircase beneath them. The trio walked down.
After passing through a narrow hallway, they crossed into a spacious room bustling with activity. Nearly a score of people were down there. Several wrote furiously on paper, others were relaxing next to their crossbows, an elvish woman was showing off some poisons she made to a halfling.

Nevale turned to Mags and Calla Lily.
“It’s about time I told you a little more about our operations. Our primary activities involve information gathering, removal of key opposition targets, and the manipulation of seats of power. Removal may involve assassination, scandal, or imprisonment. So, what skills can you offer to our cause to spread across the realm?”
Mags squished her face feathers thoughtfully. She responded with Nevale’s silvery voice
“I’m excellent at mimicking others, whether it be their voice or handwriting.” She returned to her own high pitched voice.
“Also real good at sneaking. Very small.” She chirped excitedly.
Calla Lily scratched his head. How could he get himself on missions with Mags so he could keep her safe? If she just copies things, that will be perfectly safe. But if they send her on assassinations… Calla Lily silently slunk off to a corner in the wall and pressed himself against it.
He waited for a few moments and then jumped at and swung his staff at Nevale’s head stopping just short of her skull. She did not flinch, but smiled instead.
“The both of you will make an excellent team. Mags will infiltrate while Calla Lily watches from the shadows, waiting to strike if things go south. I love it.”
Calla Lily’s shoulders relaxed with relief. Mags hopped from side to side with excitement. Nevale continued.
“Your first assignment will be to infiltrate high priest Leon’s quarters and steal some reports from his church officials. We need to be updated on the going ons of his institution. Any questions?”
“Paper please.” Mags replied.
“Also, where reports?”
“They should be in his desk. He typically leaves them in his right drawer.” Nevale responded as she handed some extra paper to Mags.
“Report back once you’re done.”
“Ok!” Mags waddled off and Calla Lily trailed behind her.

As they walked through the palace, Mags asked a servant where Leon’s quarters were. She was directed to the west wing she made her way over with Calla Lily close behind. They saw two lightly armored guards standing in front of the door to Leon’s room. The guards had not yet noticed them.
Calla Lily put his hand on Mags’ shoulder and pointed with his other arm to a nearby pillar. Then he pointed to himself and to the guards. Mags nodded. She hid behind the pillar and waited.
Calla Lily ran over to the guards waving his hands wildly in the air. They looked at him confusedly. They didn’t seem to recognize the strange, decaying man approaching them.
“What the hell? What are you going on about?”
Calla Lily continued flailing his arms. He ran over to the guard, grabbed his shirt, and shook him violently.
“Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing?! What’s the big deal?!”
Calla Lily frantically pointed further down hall and started to walk briskly over. The guards looked at each other dumbfounded, but they followed Calla Lily.
Seeing this, Mags snuck from pillar to pillar all the way to the door. She opened it up and went inside. Sitting at a desk with his back turned to the door, Leon called out to the intruder.
“It’s rather rude to enter without asking for permission. What is it guard?”
Mags winced. Her eyes darted around. She saw an enormous stack of books and papers and dashed behind it.
“Well??” Leon called out impatiently. Hearing no response, he got out of his chair and turned around.
“What in Zuru’s name?” He started to look around in his room for where the intruder might be. He walked by the pile Mags was hiding behind. She trembled silently.

Having taken the guards away from the door, Calla Lily decided to get rid of them. He whacked one of the guards on the head, knocking him to the floor. He turned and swung at the other guard but but missed and threw himself off balance. He stumbled to the floor as his shocked target gathered themself and ran for the door to Leon’s room. Calla Lily got back up and ran off. The guard on the ground picked himself up and gave chase, calling for help. Calla Lily quickly lost him.
A pounding at the door distracted Leon from his search.
“Sir! Someone just attacked us! I think it’s an assassin!” A terrified voice yelled from the otherside. Leon stomped over to the door.
“Well go capture them and bring reinforcements! I think someone has invaded my room.”
“Ok sir.”
During their brief exchange. Mags slipped over to Leon’s desk. She opened up the right drawer and sifted through the papers. She took out her enchanted magnifying glass and quickly found the documents she was looking for. She snatched them and closed the drawer, then darted over to her hiding place. She took out a piece of charcoal and frantically copied the information down onto the paper she brought.
Leon returned to his search. He looked under his bed and behind his window curtains. With each failure to locate his suspected intruder, he grew redder in the face. He stomped around, throwing furniture and objects out of his way. He approached his enormous stack of books. He paused, then brought his head around the pile. There was no one there. He stamped and swore to himself in frustration. He had looked everywhere.
Mags finished copying the documents under Leon’s bed. She looked up and saw Leon occupying himself with throwing a tantrum. She slipped out from under the bed and tip toed to the desk. She put the original documents back and then darted to the door. She didn’t bother closing it softly as she left the room. She heard Leon yelling from inside
“Intruder!! Someone broke into my room! Help!”

By the time the door had opened, Mags was long out of the room. She saw guards rushing around yelling that there was an assassin loose in the palace. Amidst the chaos, Mags went behind a pillar and pulled a dagger out. She brought the blade down onto her leg. She screamed with pain and dropped her dagger. She stumbled out of her hiding spot.
“Help! Been stabbed!!” She called out. Three guards rushed to assist her. They took her to a chair and stopped the bleeding.

After the mayhem died down, Nothos entered the hall and approached Mags with a look of shock and worry on his face.
“What happened here?! Are you alright Mags?”
“Be fine. Assassin or something run around. Got stabbed.” Nothos turned to the guards attending the wounded duck.
“Two guards have been attacked, Mags is injured, and Leon’s quarters were broken in. Fetch the witnesses immediately and round up Calla Lily, Seraph, and Fus Roh.” He looked up dramatically.
“I’ve got a hunch.” Nothos marched off with a sense of purpose. The guards scattered to comply with his orders bumping into each other as they bumbled their way out of the hall.

The party was gathered along with the two guard Calla Lily had attacked.
“f*ckin takin me away from havin a good time with Vaven.” Seraph grumbled to himself.
“What’s going on? Are you alright Mags?” Fus Roh asked worriedly.
“It ok.” Mags responded.
If Calla Lily could sweat, he would have been sweating.
Nothos returned wearing a deerstalker hat, a suit, and an inverness cape. He carried a pipe and paced back and forth in front of the party.
“Three of you, have been reported as having been seen in the palace when the crime took place. Your absence does not remove you from my suspicions, however, my good Fus Roh. It is very curious indeed. I suspect that at least one of you was involved with the alleged attack and burglary that has occured today. But who? Guards, do either of you recognize one of these fine people as your assailant?”
“Well-”
“A shame! I shall have to solve this riddle myself.” Nothos contemplatively smoked his pipe.
Seraph! Where were you just ten minutes ago today?”
“My gods Nothos. I was just chatting with Vaven before I got dragged over here.”
“Hmmm, very interesting. We’ll see if Vaven can confirm that. A wizard of your skill could easily have performed the crimes here. Calla Lily, why were you seen running down the halls?... Not talking hm? Tsk, tsk, tsk, very suspicious indeed. Mags.” Nothos pulled out her bloodied dagger.
“What did your attacker look like?”
“Don’t know. Turned corner, got stabbed. Person gone before could even scream.”
“How curious.” He strolled over to Mags.
“Perhaps your stab wound can tell us something.” He turned to Fus Roh.
“And what about you Fus Roh? You’re unaccounted for much of the day. Have you been making new friends? I must warn you all that being a member of a cult is illegal in this city.” Fus Roh blushed.
He looked around frantically and then pointed his finger at Mags.
“I’m sure she’s the one you want. She’s definitely part of a cult. I bet it’s the-”
“You have a tattoo right on your neck!” Mags interrupted.
Fus Roh began stuttering but no intelligible words escaped his lips. Nothos smacked his hand against his face.
“Fus Roh, go cover that up. You can’t be walking around with that or someone will have to arrest you. The rest of you are dismissed. Nobody got seriously hurt and there’s no sabotage as far as I can tell. Guards, forget what you saw today in the interest of Archai. See you at the teleportation circle.” Nothos walked away smirking.
“What was that Mags?!” Fus Roh yelled clutching his neck.
“Try throw me under the cart. Throw you instead.” Mags smiled at Fus Roh.
“Heh heh, that’s fair. Lemme heal that wound for you.” Fus Roh pressed his hands to Mags injured leg. It glowed and when Fus Roh removed his hands, the wound was healed.
“I’m gonna go take care of this. I’m sure makeup will help.” Fus Roh walked off. The rest of the party split up.
“Finally done with that stupid sh*t.” Seraph grumbled. He took a swig of whisky and returned to Vaven.

Mags and Calla Lily returned to the Shadow Cult, documents in hand. Nevale greeted them warmly.
“Excellent job you two. I heard things got messy at the palace, but you pulled through. You have the potential to make it far in our organization. Now, are you ready to officially be inducted into the Shadow Cult?”
“Yes please.” Mags responded.
Calla Lily nodded.
“Good. You must know. You will be granted power by the Patron, but you must work for It and its extensions.”
“What Patron?”
“No one quite knows. They say it is a creature from far beyond our realm. Its will is inscrutable, but it gives us certain abilities if we follow the tenets.”
“Those are?”
“The Strong must rule, Order through subterfuge, Control from the shadows.”
“That vague.” Mags said. Nevale shrugged.
“It’s not so hard to figure out. Just understand that we must increase our power and control through subversive means. We are not to operate in the open. Some of us seek to use the power we gain for the good of the realm. Others do so for their own interests. But you don’t have to worry about that as an initiate.”
“Ok. Let’s go.”
“Very well.” Nevale brought her hands together.
Her sleeves overlapped, concealing her hands. She drew them apart, and she held a long wand in her hand. She spun around swinging the wand out from her, and all light in the room vanished. Mags and Calla Lily saw nothing but darkness. Then, two red dots lit up in the darkness.
The dots approached Calla Lily. He felt something crawl up his leg. He shook it, but whatever was touching him remained. A thought crept into his mind. Where? My right shoulder. Calla Lily thought to himself. The red dots crept up to his shoulder. Calla Lily felt a prick in his shoulder but felt no pain.
The eyes turned to Mags. Where? She felt in her mind. My left hip. She replied with a thought. The eyes moved to Mags’ hip, and she felt its legs touch her. She squirmed then felt a terrible sting seep into her hip.

Then Calla Lily and Mags saw through the darkness. They saw the other cultists working away and relaxing as they were before. Mags touched her pained hip. She looked at her skin and saw a tattoo of a black scorpion with red eyes. Calla Lily saw he had the same on his shoulder.
“Welcome to the Shadow Cult.” Nevale said.

Chapter 12: Wolnocc

Chapter Text

The party met in the courtyard as planned. They stood around the teleportation circle placed in the center. Katak, Nothos, and Vaven arrived along with the small force of promised Archaian troops. Vaven opened a small wooden chest and extracted a rune covered stick of chalk from it. She turned to Seraph
“Do you remember the sigils for Wolnocc’s circle?” Seraph smiled.
“I do.”
He gently took her hand and guided it, drawing an elaborate pattern of sigils to link the two cities together. As they finished the magical design, the enchanted chalk was completely used up. The circle glowed a bright white, forcing the bystanders to have to glare. Vaven looked at Seraph longlily
“It won’t be easy for you to come back. It’s a rather expensive ritual to complete. I hope I see you again regardless.”
“I’ll find a way. Thank ya for giving me somethin to look forward to.” Seraph kissed her hand and stepped into the glowing circle. The rest of the party followed suit, along with Nothos and the gifted troops. Katak called to Seraph.
“I’m sacrificing a lot by sending my heir along with you. I expect an alliance with your city after it is saved.”
“We will be grateful for your assistance Katak. Besides, you’re our best chance of uniting the realm against the coming Horde.” Seraph responded.
“You have to complete the ritual with the access code of your city’s circle.” Vaven called out.
“Our walls are strong.” Seraph said.

White light washed over them. As it faded away, the party was greeted with a new sight. The clear, blue sky over Archai was replaced with a dreary blanket covering the sky as far as they could see. A massive, stone wall of pure white surrounded elegantly constructed buildings of more familiar grey stone. The keep in the center, however, was made from the same whitestone as the wall. Aqueducts flowed downhill beyond the wall and water towers could be seen next to them with pipes that connected into them. Immediately before the party, the ground was laid with paved concrete. A low rumbling like thunder pounded from the distance.

An aging man with a simple crown, a diamond scepter, and gray robes stood before them. Alongside him stood a tall, built, and cheery young man, a pompous man dressed in purple finery, and a little girl with a bright smile and a little, silver tiara upon her head. The young man strode over to Seraph and boisterously shouted
“Howdy little Sara!!” He clapped his hand on Seraph’s back causing him to stumble forward. Mags, Calla Lily, Fus Roh, and Nothos snickered upon hearing his nickname.
“It’s been too long since I seen you little brother!” The man continued.
“Cough cough. Yea guess it has been Hunter.” Seraph responded feeling a bit embarrassed. The little girl rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Seraph’s waist.
“Welcome back big brother.” She said lovingly. Seraph hugged her back.
“Missed ya Elaine.” The older man approached and opened his arms up. The four came together for a group hug.
“I’m so glad you’re home and safe.” The old man said.
“Me too, Father. Me too.” Seraph replied. Hunter broke the group hug first.
“Now that yer here, you can help us break the siege!”
“About that, Father, what’s the situation?” Seraph’s father stepped back and stroked his graying beard as he searched his mind for every detail.
“The city has been under siege for three months. Our enemy is a warlord known as Zersto the Conqueror. He’s a paladin that has taken an oath to subjugate the entire Badlands.”
“And on top of that he’s a vile tiefling.” The purple clad man interrupted. Seraph’s father glared at the man and said with a low but firm voice
“Yer king is speaking Prime Minister. It would be wise of you to not overstep your bounds.” The prime minister turned his head to the ground, avoiding the king’s glare. Seraph’s father continued
“He’s carved out vast amounts of territory to our west and taken many of the counties belonging to our vassals. The first couple months his forces surrounded our city, and we launched a series of counterattacks to drive him off. His army was massive and is still far too large for us to defeat. We estimate it’s around 20,000 strong still.
This past month was when the cannons started firing. At first they didn’t do much, but after sustained pressure, the first wall collapsed. They slaughtered thousands. Some of our civilians escaped behind the second wall, but that put a strain on our food and water supplies. Now they’ve broken through the second and the third walls.
Our situation is dire. We have enough food to feed the refugees and the rest of the city for now, but our granaries are getting assaulted by the Chaos Cult, damn idiots. People are beginning to starve and everyone is utterly demoralized. Nothin, not even powerful arcane spells could damage our walls!! We’re meetin with Zersto tomorrow to discuss terms. We might be able to settle a peace out of all this mess.”

Seraph tightly gripped his staff and shook his head. He took a swig of whisky then stepped forward
“Father, we can’t let this marauder bring our city low. Wolnocc has remained free for millennia, and the realm is counting on our assistance to fight the Horde! This ravager will despoil our city fer his own glory. His kind is an infection that must be cut out and removed from this world.”
“I cannot sentence our people to die just fer our pride! We’re outnumbered and outmatched. If I can save the people of the city I’ll do it, whatever the cost.” Seraph’s father replied.
Hunter chimed in
“What about Count Draven, father? If he and the people of Norden could come to our aid, we might be able to break the siege.”
“He’s tied up right now you know that. Besides, it’s beyond a longshot.”
“Yer forgettin somethin, Father.” Seraph said, standing tall arms spreading out.
“I brought the heroes of the battle of Klahm River and the son of the most powerful ruler in the Fair Fields.” The prime minister scoffed and chided
“You think we’re so desperate to rely on foreigners now? What defense can a few mercs muster that our glorious city could not?!”
“If yer so stupid to refuse help at the most desperate time in our history, you deserve to be the first to die when the walls fall.” Seraph hissed.
“Now son, that’s too fa-”
The prime minister interrupted with an incredibly frustrated tone.
“You want to make the garrison lose all hope, then bring your elf, lizard, bird ... and whatever the hell that is and tell em that’s what’ll save em.” With a plastered on smile, Nothos stepped forward and cooly interjected.
“My expertise is infiltration. Show me the way to the enemies camp, and I’ll get inside providing knowledge and perhaps taking down key targets. The sooner you direct me, the sooner you will be relieved of this elf.”
“In the name of yer king, calm the Hell down!” The king raised his voice only slightly, but the Wolnites were immediately silenced.
Hunter and the prime minister looked to the ground in shame. Seraph continued glaring at the minister. The king took a deep breath and continued
“Thank you, Nothos, ain’t it? You’ll be guided out of the city immediately. Seraph, Hunter, I appreciate yer confidence in our ability, but we will be meeting Zersto tomorrow to discuss peace.
Y’all will be meeting with me round twelve at the fourth gate. Hunter, why don’t you take our guests on a little tour of the city? It’s good to see you again son. I mean it.”

The king of Wolnocc dismissed everyone present and turned back to the keep with his attendants. Elaina hugged Seraph again and skipped off to join her father. The prime minister walked off with a sneer. Nothos turned to the party, a scowl had snuck its way onto his face. He gave an overdramatic bow and said
“It’s been so lovely meeting your family Seraph, but I must be off. I have my part to play. I’ll see all of you again when we win this thing.” Nothos walked off. Hunter clapped his hands and looked at the party excitedly,
“I can’t wait for you to see the place. We’ll take the rail carriage down to Wall Levi, that’s the fourth wall. You should get a good view of the city on the way.” Mags looked up at Hunter and tilted her head curiously,
“Rail carriage?”
“Yup! You heard right. We got a cart that slides down the hill along rails and a cable that holds it steady. Only one in the world far as I know.”
Mags smiled with a shine in her eyes. The party heard the king call from the distance
“Oh yea, y’all should go see Alec! She’s the leader of the Fellowship of the Realm and has been indispensable in keeping law and order in the city!”
Fus Roh looked at the party enthusiastically. They shook their heads calmly. Seraph put his hand on Fus Roh’s shoulder.
“You can see her on yer own time buddy.” Fus Roh nodded, slightly dejected.
Hunter and the party headed off to the rail carriage to begin their journey through the city.

The carriage was large enough to seat about a dozen people. It had glassless windows that allowed its passengers to see the city from nearly every angle. Its wheels sat on two parallel rail tracks that cut through the middle of the street and traveled downhill straight through the city. The cart was attached to a cable that ran down the middle of the rails.

The conductor took his place at the front of the cart and half a dozen men pushed the back of it until it began to slide down the hill. The conductor pulled back on a lever. The clamp on the cable squeezed just enough to cause friction to slow the cart from descending at perilous speed, but still allowed it to travel through the city swiftly with gravity as its horse.

As the carriage descended through the city, the buildings changed from finely cut stone to sturdy but less refined brick. Hunter pointed out the marvels of the city. Mags, Calllilli, and Fus Roh stuck their heads out of the windows and gaped at the city with awe. It was the largest, most beautiful city they had ever seen, and the walls surrounding each district were beyond their imaginations.

Seraph busied himself reading a book on summoning theory. Not all of the sights in the city were idyllic. The streets were overcrowded with refugees and many people were begging for food and shelter. The further the carriage traveled from the center of the city, the more wounded and starving people wandered the streets of Wolnocc.

As they traveled further down the city, the booming thunder in the distance became louder and louder. Hunter brought everyone’s attention to the positives of the view.
“So the aqueducts that flow down hill provide fresh water to houses and buildings all over the city. They even have plumbing! The sewers underneath help maintain that. Some of the real nice houses can afford heating.
As y’all can see, the streets are kept clean and paved very nicely with concrete which receives regular maintenance. And we have public bath houses, complete with heated water. Well spent tax money if ya ask me. Yup, sure is a grand city.”
“Not a lot of nonhumans here.” Fus Roh remarked.
“Yup. Wolnocc is almost entirely human. One of the oldest human cities in the realm in fact.” Hunter replied. Seraph spoke up
“I gotta half-elf friend here actually. Y’all should meet him tomorrow. He owns a joint called The People’s RePUBlic. I’ll be outside of it early in the mornin. I’ll make sure y’all get directions from my servants.”
“Sure!”
“Sounds fun!” Fus Roh and Mags replied. Calla Lily nodded.
Seraph chuckled to himself and took another swig. They had no idea the kind of eccentricity they were in for tomorrow. His smile faded as he remembered a missing detail from his meeting with his family. He crossed to the other side and sat next to Hunter. He asked in a low whisper
“Where’s Frederick?”
“Sigh. Early on, he formed a regiment of rangers to scout out and disrupt the enemy’s supply lines. Him and his squad haven’t reported back from their last mission fer two weeks.”
“Why didn’t Father say somethin?”
“He keeps sayin Fred’s gonna come back. I found out from Gibby.”
“Damn it.” Seraph took a long drink from his flask. Hunter glanced at it disapprovingly.
“That’ll poison ya body and rot ya mind.”
“I’ve seen enough sh*t to warrant it.” Seraph said dismissively and looked away. Hunter grabbed Seraph’s head and turned it to face his own and hissed
“I’ve seen my comrades die by the hundreds and watched civilians butchered in the streets as they tried to flee behind the next wall. I’ve seen plenty, and I ain’t destroyin myself.”
Seraph stared deep into his brothers eyes and said through gritted teeth
“Trust me brother, the future I seen is worse… least mine is.” He shook himself out of Hunter’s grip and returned to his original seat.
The rest of the party immediately looked away pretending to not have been listening intently to the whole conversation. Mags whistled a sea shanty.

Hunter put on a smile and boisterously proclaimed,
“Well, we’re here. Time to get off and see the glorious wall Levi.” The rail carriage came to a halt, and the party filed out and followed Hunter to the base of the wall.
The party’s necks strained to bend their heads back far enough to see the entirety of its height. The structure seemed to pierce the sky. It was more than double the height of Archai’s walls. It seemed to be made for giants rather than men, Fus Roh thought.
The thunderous noise pounded against their ears. They could hear the wall being pounded by powerful missiles. The ground shook with each strike. Hunter beamed.
“I’m glad y’all appreciate it. Sure is a mighty fine thing. Right, I’ll take y’all to the top so we can-” Hunter’s words were cut short by three cannonballs blasting through the wall.

The noise shocked the party’s ears. Rubble fell to the ground. The wall shook. A horrible groan rang out and then the wall collapsed with enormous chunks of debris falling over the party. Mags and Calla Lily dove out of the way before they could be crushed.
Fus Roh barely stepped out of the way before a tower fell upon him, but he several stones pummeled his back. Hunter tripped and stumbled trying to get out of the way.
Seraph’s eyes widened, and he charged in to Hunter. He raised his staff above their heads and shouted.
“Shield!” in the elvish tongue.

His silver disk formed as the wall fell upon them. Seraph knew his shield spell would be too weak to save them, but he was desperate enough to try. As the wreckage crashed into his magical barrier, he heard the whispers in his head “success”. His shield was enough and the rocks bounced off of it and onto the ground next to them.

The soldiers on the walls were not so lucky. They had been killed by their fall and smashed upon the fallen stones. The party collected themselves and observed the damage. A gap three bodies wide had been made in the wall. Hunter looked out beyond and the color flushed from his face as he yelled
“Blitzers! The Blitzers are coming!”
The party looked out to see a mass of screaming children charging towards them. There were hundreds of them armed with spears rushing for the gap with suicidal abandon. Many of them cried
“Blood Blood Blood!!!” as they ran.
Hunter called to the party
“We need to stop them from entering the walls till the engineers patch it up!”
A team of Wolnocc engineers were already arriving on the scene and hastily gathering up the rubble and plastering it together and to the still intact wall. Fus Roh stepped forward to block the way. Calla Lily joined him. Hunter stood alongside them with a Kythrilian steel greatsword drawn. Seraph flipped through his spell book to find the appropriate spell.
Mags stepped forward. She drew out her enchanted rod and swung it above her head three times quacking
“STOP!!!”
A wave of golden light burst from the rod out to the charging Horde of vicious children. Nearly all of the blitzers Mags could see were swayed by the magic’s charms and stopped immediately. For a brief moment, all was still. But the blitzers behind the ones in the front lines continued sprinting and began to trample the frozen children in front of them. Arrows rained from the walls down upon all of the children.
Mags winced at the sight. She had meant to prevent anyone from being killed. She turned away for she could not bear to see the children suffer or hear their dying screams.
The extra time was enough, and the engineers sealed the gap in the wall high enough to prevent the blitzers entry. They continued working to fix the wall as best as they could.
“Wow. We would’ve been screwed without y’all. Thanks for comin.” Hunter said to the party. He patted Seraph on the head.
“Thanks little brother.” Seraph rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide his smile.
“I have some business to attend to, but I’ll see ya later Hunter.” Seraph replied. Mags and Fus Roh chimed in that they did as well.
“Alright. Can’t wait to see y’all tomorrow.” Hunter said good naturedly. The party went their separate ways with Calla Lily and Mags pairing off together.

Chapter 13: A Night of Steel and Blood

Chapter Text

Night was falling upon Wolnocc, and the street lamps were being lit. Mags and Calla Lily, however, could see the dimming world clear as day. They searched for signs of the Shadow Cult. With the aid of Mags’ magnifying glass, they found glyphs of the black scorpion with red eyes. Its tail would point in different directions depending on where they found it. They intuitively knew what it meant. That’s where they had to go to find the cult.

Mags walked thoughtfully down the streets of Wolnocc. How could she end the bloodshed and suffering of the people in and out of the city? There’s no easy way to end a war. Except everyone keeps talking about this Zersto. What if he was taken out? Perfect! The Shadow Cult ought to be full of assassins. She smiled ruefully. Joining this cult was already paying off.

Calla Lily’s eyes darted around the streets. He saw the way the people of Wolnocc looked at them. He saw the fear on their faces and sometimes the anger. They were freaks. He walked closer to Mags. He would not let them harm her.

They discovered the hideout in the backroom of a tavern monitored by a bouncer. They showed their tattoos to the bouncer, and he let them in. They were greeted with stares from every member as they walked in. A well dressed man in spurred, leather boots sauntered over to them. He said with a chuckle
“Y’all not from around here huh?”
“Nope.” Quacked Mags.
“Name’s Mags. This Calla Lily. Calla Lily doesn’t talk. Name please.”
“Welven. What brings you here tonight?”
“Need help. Zersto needs to be killed. Wolnocc saved. Cult has assassins yes?” Mags chirped with a perky smile. Welven looked quite amused at the duck, like one does at a child who asks for a huge favor.
“Heh, that’s funny. You must be new. Only a high ranking member of the order can ask such a thing from us. But I got some jobs you can do fer our cell in this city.”
“Yes help. If promise to assassinate Zersto.” Welven was no longer amused. He stooped down to Mags and spoke in a low, harsh tone
“Listen. Yer in no position to bargain. I outrank you. You’ll do as I say. There ain’t no other option for you.” Calla Lily clamped Welven’s shoulder and brought his staff close to his face. In a gurgly, raspy voice he said
“Promise to help us. Or you get nothing.” Mags looked up at Calla Lily in utter confusion, and Welven looked as though he just relieved himself. He stood up straight and composed himself.
“Very well, but you first. Due to the war, the city is under tighter security. The local guards and the Fellowship have been cracking down on us and have taken down several of our agents. Now, I don’t care who wins this fight. Zersto will probably be easier to manipulate than those damn Grimlocks. But we need to ease off the pressure the police are putting on us. The captain of the guard is spearheading this whole thing. Kill him. That should give us enough freedom to focus on the Fellowship. Got it?”

Murdering the captain for doing his job of maintaining order in this city? Mags thought to herself. It didn’t sit right with her. But if killing one man could acquire the help needed to save the tens of thousands of this city, it would be worth it. Mags looked at Calla Lily and nodded.
“Ok.” They responded in unison.

Seraph found the sigil of his cult in an alleyway as before in Archai. He pulled up the hood of his robe and wrapped a scarf around his face to hide his identity. He did not want the cultists to recognize him as a member of the royal family.

Seraph made his way inside of the decaying single story house. He came into a crowded room filled with impoverished elves, halflings, and dwarves. He approached a one eyed halfling handing out provisions to the other members.
“Where’d ya get all the food?” The halfing turned to him and replied
“The granary of course. Weren’t ya there last mission?”
“No. And y’all better stop attackin the food stores you idiots or more people will starve.”
“They always give the rations to the humans and the rich first. Besides, more unrest might result in the people finally overthrowin their oppressors.”
“That won’t mean sh*t when the city is sacked by Zersto moron!”
“Who the f*ck are you to tell us what to do? Get the f*ck outta here.” Frustrated, Seraph stormed away and sulked in a corner.
How could he stop these fools from causing chaos at the worst time possible? An idea flashed in his head. He approached the halfling again.
“Look I’m sorry about all that. I lost some cousins to starvation last week.”
“I’m sorry to hear that man. Anything I can do for ya?”
“Yea, do ya know where the other hideouts are? My sister joined recently, but I can’t find her anywhere. I’m worried for her. I figure she might be at one of our locations ya know?”
“Yea man. Yea I can tell ya. You gotta city map?”
“Of course.” The halfing marked the locations of the various Chaos Cult hideouts. Seraph thanked him and walked off with a wicked grin on his face.

Fus Roh wandered the streets discreetly asking strangers where he could find the Fellowship of the Realm. Most people tried to avoid the huge, fully armored dragonborn approaching strangers at night. Fus Roh did not understand why people acted so frightened of him. Eventually, a patrol of men and women bearing the Fellowship’s sigil walked by. They saw Fus Roh struggling and took pity on him. One of the men approached Fus Roh and said
“Hey man, ya lookin fer the Fellowship of the Realm?”
“Yes! I’m a member and was hoping to meet Alec. I heard she’s our leader.”
“Oh yeah, well that she is. We’ll take ya to her.” As they walked off together back to the center of the city.
“Why were you walking down the streets out in the open earlier?”
“Well, due to the siege, a lot of the local guards have been taken up by the garrison. We’ve been takin care of local law enforcement fer a few months now.”
“But isn’t it illegal to be a part of a cult?”
“Not fer the Fellowship! Hell, our HQ is in the same district as courthouse and the White Keep. This city has been our capital per se for generations.”
“Impressive. Then I don’t have to worry about this.” Fus Roh scratched off the makeup covering his tattoo.

They entered the stone built headquarters of the Fellowship. It was a repurposed barracks that was now had local fauna decorating it rather than shields and spears. The members consisted mostly of humans with a few non humans amongst them. Most of the people inside were organizing food and water and figuring out how to best distribute them to the populace.

The patrol took Fus Roh to the end of the hall where an armored half-orc woman sat discussing the siege with her attendants. She was tall and sturdily built. Her face was stern and full of scars, but it did not look unkind. She spoke with a warm maternalness to her attendants. She saw Fus Roh approach and looked up with surprise. She called out
“Rygo? I didn’t know you’d be returning so soon.” Fus Roh chortled and replied
“No, I’m Fus Roh. Rygo is my big brother. It’s understandable. People in my clan used to mistake us for each other all the time.” Alec let out a slight chuckle.
“Well it’s great to meet another member of the family.” She stood up and walked over to Fus Roh and gave a hard clap on the back.
Naturally, it did not even stagger him. They strolled over to a table together and sat down to eat and drink. They had water, mixed vegetables and sheep. Fus Roh searched for alcohol but could not find any. He called out
“Where can we get some good ale around here eh?! Haha.” Alec gave him a disapproving look.
“We do our best not to take to drink in this city. It leads to immoral behavior.” Fus Roh looked at her dumbfounded. He shrugged.
“At least you don’t have anything against good food heh heh.” He went back to merrily enjoying his meal. After some more eating and small talk, Fus Roh became a bit more serious. He asked Alec
“So, where is Rygo? How is he?” Alec sat back and sighed. She looked away then looked back at Fus Roh
“He’s in the town of Norden. We thought it would be best for him to stay there for a time.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Can’t wait to hear it.” Alec sighed again.
“Well, Rygo joined the Fellowship in this city about three months before the siege. He was enthusiastic and a great warrior for our cause. But, he was a bit too enthusiastic. He took great pleasure in slaying his enemies. He enjoyed the fear in the eyes right before his hammer fell upon them.

He’d always be looking for someone to fight. Whether it would be rival cultists or brigands. When he couldn’t find a fight, he’d pick one. He was always restless between missions. He’d be irritable and had a short temper. He almost came to blows several times with our own members. When a mountain dwarf joined us, he quickly antagonized him into a duel. I barely stopped them from killing each other.
Rygo and I had a long talk, and we agreed he had a lot to figure out. He left for Norden to become a blacksmith and work on his anger issues as well as violent tendencies. Hopefully striking steel will help tide him over while he works on himself.”
Fus Roh sat back not knowing what to say. Rygo had always been a bit irritable, this is true, but this sounded rather extreme. Then again, after they came upon the bodies of their slain family, well he was always on the hunt for something to bury his hammer into. Fus Roh shook his head.
“I’m sure he still cares about the cause of justice. He just needs some time to relax.”
“I hope so.” Alec replied. One of the Fellowship members called out
“Hey Fus Roh, prince Seraph Grimlock himself wants you!” Fus Roh perked up and immediately headed over to the front door. Seraph was waiting for him there flask in hand.
“Yer group still hate the Chaos Cult Fus Roh?”
“Yea, I think so.” Seraph smiled and handed a scroll to Fus Roh.
“I gotta map that shows every location of where they’re hiding in the city. Here, thought you’d appreciate it.”
“Thanks Seraph! This will be excellent for ending the Chaos Cult menace in the city.” Fus Roh beamed.
“No problem.” Fus Roh ran over to Alec waving the map in his hand.
“Alec! I’ve got the location of every Chaos Cult hideout.” Her eyes lit up.
“With this knowledge we can crush the Chaos Cult’s presence in this city. Fus Roh, are you ready to bring order to Wolnocc and purge the city of its enemies?” Fus Roh pulled out his warhammer.
“Heh, heh let’s go.”

Mags and Calla Lily drew near the city guardhouse, a simple two story brick building. Mags chattered at Calla Lily
"You could speak entire time? Why not before? Why silent?” Calla Lily did not respond.
Mags pestered him all the way up to the door of the guardhouse.
“Halt! State your business.” One of the two guards at the door called out.
“Urgent message for the captain. Prince Seraph’s orders.” Mags chirped. The guards looked at each other.
“Alright then.” The guard responded. He took them inside and up the stairs to the captain’s quarters. A couple more guards were stationed there. They crossed their spears in front of the door.
“Let in please.” Mags asked politely.
“We don’t let strangers in to see the captain.” One of the guards replied.
“Not strangers, friends of Prince Seraph. Have message to give captain.”
“Yea? Prove it.” Mags thought of her most intimidating voice. She decided upon Katak’s.
“When you’re being executed for getting in our way, you’ll have your proof.” The guard stiffened. She opened the door for Mags.
“Leave please. Very secret message.” The guards left quickly. Mags and Calla Lily walked in. It was a simple room with a desk in front of a large window overlooking the city. On the wall there was a list of suspects and red string attaching them. Above them was a note saying ‘Shadow Cult?’ The captain’s back was turned to them.
“Now, what message did y’all have for me?” He asked.

Fus Roh marched down the streets of Wolnocc with a band of armed members of the Fellowship. Alec walked alongside him dressed in full plate armor, carrying a shield in her right hand, and a sword with golden light emanating from it in her left.
“Nice sword. What’s it do?” Fus Roh asked.
“Sometimes it blinds my enemies when I fight them. How about your hammer?” Alec replied.
“It blinds them too. They can’t see anymore when they’re crushed heh, heh.” Alec rolled her eyes.
The band arrived at a decaying house with an elf sitting in front of it. She stood up, with fear in her eyes and turned to the door. Fus Roh stretched out his hammer and said with firm authority
“Hold, scum.” The elf’s arm arm stopped right as her hand touched the door.
She could not move a muscle. One of the Fellowship members cut her down. Fus Roh walked up to the door and turned to Alec.
“Time to purge the wicked.” He turned to the door and kicked it down.

Calla Lily and Mags crept up to the captain of the guard. Confused as to why they had not answered. The captain turned around. He was met with a quarterstaff to the face. He staggered backwards, still conscious and drew his sword. By the time it was out, he had been run through with a rapier. With his mouth filling with blood, he called out
“Help!” It was his final breath before his head was severed from his body.
Mags cleaned her sword and placed the decapitated head in a sack. It would serve as evidence for that insolent Shadow Cultist. Footsteps pounded down the hall towards the room. Calla Lily turned to Mags
“We can’t lie ourselves out of this unless one of us takes the fall. I’ll run, play it off that I did it. I’ll be safer than you could.”
“Calla Lily-”
“No time Mags. Please, stay safe. Goodbye.” Calla Lily turned to the window, sprinted towards it and leapt out of the building, glass shattering all over him as he fell to the ground.
It didn’t matter. He could not feel the pain. As long as he could keep his friend safe, it didn’t matter what happened to him. Calla Lily rolled as he hit the ground, got up, and ran away.
Mags wasted no time. She stashed the sack containing the captain’s head in a corner behind a potted plant and returned to his body. She drew a dagger, stabbed herself in the stomach, and screamed right as Calla Lily jumped through the window and the guards busted into the room.
“What happened?!” One of the guards yelled at her.
“That man did this! I need a healer!” Mags squawked and pointed out to the window. The guards rushed over to the broken window and saw Calla Lily’s silhouette dashing away.
“Ring the bells! We’ve got an assassin on the loose! Ring the bells!” The guards ran out of the room.
Mags casually got up, retrieved the head and walked out of the building to return to the cult. The guards were far too busy to even notice her. She didn’t cut too deep. Just enough to be convincing. She could get healed back at the cult she figured. The bells rang throughout the city.

The Fellowship fell upon the Chaos Cult. They slaughtered them left and right. Fus Roh killed several cultists with little resistance. He breathed deep and blew out fire throughout the room setting it ablaze. It felt glorious. Finally he was fighting for a cause again with a family he could call his own. T
he halfling Seraph had met confronted Fus Roh. He stomped forward with his right foot and clenched his fists as though he were grabbing Fus Roh’s shoulders, and shouted
“Hold!”
Fus Roh felt a his body tense up. His muscles tightened and refused to move. But with a roar Fus Roh threw off this sensation and commanded his body to move again. His hammered glowed as he brought it down upon the halfling, killing him with a single blow. Fus Roh paused as he heard the city bells ring.
“Heh, heh the sound of victory.” That night, the sound of bells, cannons, and screams rang out throughout the city of Wolnocc.

Chapter 14: An Old Friend

Chapter Text

Mags limped her way through the streets of Wolnocc carrying her bloody bag beneath her cloak. She kept to the shadows, avoiding the squads of guards rushing through the streets looking for the killer or someone to blame. She crossed each street slowly and carefully. She was still bleeding out, but if she could stay conscious long enough to make it to the Shadow Cult, she could be healed there. Her thoughts focused on Calla Lily and his sacrifice.
Why do that? Could have escaped together. Why for me? Mags could not help but feel a bit guilty. Not for the captain of the guard, she had made her peace with that. She felt guilty Calla Lily’s service. What had she ever done for him? Mags hated receiving favors for free. She hoped she could return it someday. Being in debt to someone else did not suit her.

Mags stumbled into the Shadow Cult’s hideout. Her head was spinning, and she felt like throwing up. She dropped her murderous package and plopped down on the floor. Welven saw her and cooly called to one of the members
“She’s bleedin out. Get her a healin potion immediately.” He sauntered over to her blood stained sack and opened it up. With a grimace, he tossed it away.
“What wrong? Not seen dead face before?” Mags quacked tauntingly.
“Heh heh, smartass.” Welven replied
“Ya did good little duck. Don’t know where yer friend is, but that’s his problem. Yer no longer gonna be an initiate. Ya earned yourself a spot as a Knight of the Shadow. Excitin ain’t it?”
Mags did not care increasing in rank or power at the moment. They had made a deal. That’s what this whole ordeal was for.
“Zersto. Assassinate Zersto tomorrow, yes?” She said as fiercely as her squeaky voice could muster. Welven sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Alright. It’d be bad policy to go neggin on agreements with our own members. I’ll organize a team of assassins for tomorrow. Won’t be easy to pull off though as this is rather impromptu.”
Mags didn’t care. Even with the chance being slight, they could end a whole war in just one day. She unfurrowed her feathers and gave a big smile.
“Thank! If tap rod three times, that signal.” Lights began to dance around Mags’ head. Her whole body felt too heavy. She slumped down more and more. Her eyes slowly closed shut.
Finally, a cultist had arrived with a vial filled with a red fluid. She pressed it to Mags beak and poured it down her throat. Mags woke up suddenly feeling rejuvenated. She pressed her hand to her gut. The wound was completely healed without a trace of blood. Welven helped her up. He looked down at her said
“Are ya finally ready to become a Shadow Knight?”
“Yes.” Mags replied.
“Alright, would you rather be able to steal real good or lie real good?
“Lie please.”
“Very well. Come with me.” Welven lead Mags into a small, private room. It was barren save a circle of candles. He directed Mags to stand in the center of the circle, and he lit each candle. The light was dim, and her shadow was cast at many places and angles along the floor and walls.
Welven pulled out a small candle that he held in his hands. He brought it close to his mouth and chanted in a long forgotten and dark tongue. The candle burst into a bright red flame. The light it casted banished away all of Mags’ Shadows but one.
As Welven continued to chant a dark, poetic melody, his shadow detached itself from him. His shadow approached Mags. She trembled, but stood steadfast. Welven’s shadow reached out and clutched Mags’ shadow. It wrenched her shadow from her body and held it in front of her. It pressed her shadow directly onto her body, first her head, then down the rest of her frame. Mags looked at her arms as her shadow was pressed onto them. They were difficult to see and appeared translucent before her.
As soon as Welven’s shadow completed attaching Mags’ own shadow to her, Welven’s candle blew out with a flash as did all of the other candles. Then, it lit again but with a normal, small flame. The light revealed only Welven’s mouth. With a wide, toothy grin, he said
“Welcome, Knight of the Shadow.”

Fus Roh stepped outside of the burning building to feel the cool night breeze run through his scales. He took a deep breath. He liked this city. It is so orderly and clean. It felt as though it were made fresh just for him. He looked up at the night sky and reminisced about the stars.
As exciting and beautiful the cities of the realm could be, he missed how the stars would cover the whole sky in the Dragon Lands. He remembered making up shapes the stars made with his brother, Rygo. Fus Roh’s daydreaming was interrupted by a squad of city guards rushing past him. As he watched them run by, his eyes locked with one of the guards who promptly halted and exclaimed
“Oh my gods!! A dragon!” Her squadmates turned to see what her commotion was about and immediately stopped themselves.
One of them could not halt herself quickly enough and barreled into the others causing many of them to fall down. The sergeant arose from the ensuing pile of guards and pointed his spear at Fus Roh. Quivering he said,
“What are you doing out in the streets at night, dragon? Did, did you kill our captain?!”
The rest of the squad picked themselves up and tried to face the suspect but kept bumping into each other. Fus Roh simply responded with a baffled look on his face.
“This dragonborn is with me, Ratzul. Return to your duty.” Alec’s gruff voice called out as she approached the scene.
The sergeant, Ratzul, nodded and ordered his troops back into formation. They sped down the streets as they did before.

Alec came upon Fus Roh’s side and rested her left hand upon his shoulder. In a proud, motherly tone, she said
“You’ve done well tonight Fus Roh. Thanks to you, the Chaos Cult’s presence in this city will be squashed, and disorder will no longer take the lives of our civilians for sometime. I now know, that we can survive this siege, at least internally.” She turned to face Fus Roh. A small, yet meaningful, smile crept up her face.
“Rygo would be so proud of his little brother right now.”
Fus Roh had no words. The thought of his brother, who he had not seen for so long, would be looking down at him with a smile full of pride and approval was too much for Fus Roh to bear. His eyes welled up with tears, and he closed them to try prevent them from flooding out but to no avail. He bowed his head and Alec met his forehead with her own.
They stood in the streets of Wolnocc, eyes closed, and heads touching for several minutes. It felt like mere seconds. When they broke their embrace, they saw the rest of their Fellowship team had gathered around them. Alec took a step back, clapped her hands onto Fus Roh’s shoulders and announced to the surrounding members
“This dragonborn is a hero of the people and shall be honored appropriately.” She looked Fus Roh in the eyes and said
“Fus Roh, you have earned your place in the next ranking of our Fellowship. As long as an ally is beside you, your foes find it much more difficult to harm you. You will now be recognized as a Hero of the People.”
The rest of the Fellowship members gathered around and placed their hands upon Fus Roh. Together they chanted
“Protect the Innocent. Seek Peace. Uphold the Law.” Fus Roh’s tattoo glowed a rainbow of colors.
His body filled with a sense of power, and his mind was filled with purpose. Alec looked warmly upon Fus Roh and said
“Come. Let’s get some rest.” And they returned to their headquarters to sleep through the night.
Seraph tapped his fingers on his staff as he waited for Fus Roh and Mags outside of the People’s RePUBlic. What was taking them so long?! The sun had just risen, but that was no excuse. Seraph whipped out his flask, unscrewed the cap, and threw the remaining whisky down his throat. Just a few drops.
“Damnit!” Seraph had drank all of it last night. He couldn’t sleep. Despite the good omens the stars gave him last night, an enemy would fail and an ally would succeed, he couldn’t help but feel that something would go terribly wrong today. Why couldn’t he stop sweating?!
Seraph took out his spellbook to distract himself. He was so close to figuring out how to summon a demon if he could just get the symbols right. He took out a piece of enchanted chalk and began drawing on the concrete sidewalk.
“Good morning Seraph!” Fus Roh called as he joyfully strolled up to his friend.
“Thank you for your help last night. Because of you we crushed the Chaos Cult, and they will bother this city no longer.” Fus Roh loudly proclaimed.
Seraph winced at the volume Fus Roh gave away his deed. He gritted his teeth and hissed.
“Don’t mention it.”
“Oh, ok.” Fus Roh said good naturedly, not picking up on the bile Seraph had spoken with.

Mags waddled down the street until she saw the pair talking to each other. She took in her surroundings. The tavern was the best kept building in the neighborhood. It was the only one that did not look filthy or in disrepair which was surprising given this was a nonhuman area of the city. The tavern had a very large sign with its name painted in gold letters on a green backdrop.
Just under the name a strange mask was depicted. The mask had a twisted mouth that smiled far too high on one side and way too low on the other. Its slanted eyes were similarly arranged. A lot of people were shuffling into the establishment for such an early hour. Even so, they weren’t paying very much attention. Mags decided to try out her new, shadowy look and snuck up on Seraph and Fus Roh.

Seraph casually looked to his side and saw Mags suddenly standing there.
“Gods! Mags where the hell did you come from?” Seraph said as he jumped back.
Mags simply smiled and giggled to herself.
“Where’s Calla Lily?” Fus Roh asked her.
Mags shrugged in response. Seraph was tired of waiting.
“Come on y’all. It’s time to meet ‘im.” Seraph motioned the other two inside.

When the party entered they saw the same well dressed, handsome half-elf man clad in fashionable garments of gold and green and sporting an amulet of the mask seen on the front of the tavern serving people at five different locations at once. Two of him was seating people, two more were taking orders, and one was juggling ingredients into a co*cktail.
As the party walked in, the half-elves turned and stared at them. The one juggling the co*cktails caught all his ingredients into his cup, set it down, and yelled out
“Well if it ain’t Seraph Grimlock you son of a bitch!!” A patron choked on his drink at the remark. Seraph smiled and called back
“Damn right it is Glorfindel! You little sh*t!” The two burst out laughing.
In an instant, the four other half-elves slid over to the co*cktail juggler and disappeared as they reached him. Glorfindel hopped over the bar and sauntered over to Seraph to give him a big hug which he returned enthusiastically. Mags and Fus Roh looked at each other in surprise to see Seraph so jolly. Glorfindel broke the embrace first.
“Whatcha doin back in the city? Come to see yer old friend before it all goes to sh*t?”
The dire straits of Wolnocc jumped back into the forefront of Seraph’s mind. The smile vanished from his face. He solemnly replied to Glorfindel
“About that. Can we sit down? We need to talk about the situation.” Still smiling, but with less bombast Glorfindel responded
“Yea sure Seraph. I gotta good booth right over here.” He directed the party to a reserved table crafted out of fine mahogany.
Seraph and Glorfindel sat alongside each other with Mags and Fus Roh across from them. Eager to impress a friend of Seraph’s, Fus Roh gave a big smile and enthusiastically jutted out his hand across the table to vigorously shake hands with Glorfindel.
“Pleased to meet you Glorfindel. My name is Fus Roh. I have sworn an oath of vengeance against the mountain dwarves. I’m a dragonborn, as you can see, and I hail from the-”
“Stick to fightin ‘stead of talkin 'buddy. Hope ya don’t trip as easily on the battlefield as ya do in conversation haha.”
Fus Roh nervously chuckled. Seraph barely managed a grin as he stared at the table. Mags quietly observed. Glorfindel swung his attention over to Mags.
“And who might you be little ducky?”
“Mags.” She chirped politely. Glorfindel squinted his eyes and peered real closely at the feathery girl.
“Yer lookin real shady. I bet yer the kinda person who does some real illegal sh*t.”
Mags looked around nervously. Did he know something? Glorfindel threw his head back and laughed.
“I’m just f*ckin with ya! Y’all seem alright.” He turned to see Seraph’s approving chuckle or smile, but instead saw him sullenly staring into space.

Damn it sucks to see him so down. Glorfindel thought to himself. He’s so full of uncertainty and fear. Is he thinking about the siege? How at any moment the walls may come down, we’re all killed? Or is it the meaningless of life he likes to talk about?
He’s got a point about that. We all die. Why does anything we do matter? Ah f*ck now he’s got me all depressed. Calm down Glorfindel, remember what Olidammara says, “Misery, temperance, and solemnity are poisons to the soul.” I know exactly what’ll cheer us up.
Glorfindel plastered a smile onto his face and left the table. He returned with a tray full of glasses of beer. He boisterously announced

“Before we talk, y’all gotta enjoy my own personal brand of beer. Specially made by yours truly.” He gave a cheeky wink to Seraph.
A small smile crept up Seraph’s face. He happily took a pint of beer in his hand and started drinking away. Fus Roh joined in, excited to celebrate his victory from the night before. Mags let her mug sit in front of her. It dulls the senses. Glorfindel joined the others in merrily drinking.
“So where did ya meet these clowns?” He asked Seraph.
“Well that’s a long story.” Seraph, Mags, and Fus Roh preceded to tell it.
“Damn, that Xenobia sounds like a real pain in the ass.”
“I know!” Seraph replied.
“And you had the tattoo on yer neck?! Haha yer definitely the smarter one of the two of you Mags.”
“Heh heh, yes it was not my proudest moment. But I did bring justice to many evil doers.”
“And you turned into a f*cking chicken!! HAHAHA by the gods I wish I had seen that sh*t.”
“And ya woulda seen what Katak did after. Damn.”
“What I don’t get though is what the hell was going on with that Calla Lily guy?”
“No one knows!!”
“Heh heh, it’s true. I’m still not sure what he has been thinking this entire time.”
Mags remained silent. She observed this friend of Seraph’s. He was loud and rude, but he seemed to have a good heart deep down. Although he had joked earlier, she could tell he was suspicious of her. She’d have to be careful around him.
Seraph turned to Glorfindel with a more serious, but not somber, expression.
“Now that yer all caught up about the Horde and the siege, I want you to join us Glorfindel. We could really use someone of yer skills on the team. And, it’d be nice to be travelin with an old friend again.”
“Hell yea! I’ve been waiting for something to do in this boring town. It’s way more stable than Center City, but people here really don’t know how to party. I already prayed to Olidammara for some combat spells today. Never know what’ll happen during a siege. Just let me get my armor on, and I’ll be good to go.” Glorfindel rushed over into the back room behind the bar.
Fus Roh happily remarked.
“I like him. He is funny and filled with enthusiasm.”
“Yea.” Seraph responded.
The prince looked off to the jocular bartender and said with a wistful smile.
“He’s a good friend.”
Glorfindel returned clad in elvish crafted half-plate armor and a shield with the mask depicted on it. He looked at the party expectantly
“What are we waitin fer?”

The party met up with the royal entourage at the fourth wall’s southern gate. Seraph’s father, Hunter, and the prime minister awaited them along with their score of bodyguards. Upon seeing Glorfindel walk up the prime minister snarked
“And our glorious prince brings yet another foreigner to save our helpless city.”
“I’m a citizen ya self-important idiot!” Glorfindel retorted with an extra emphasis on his Wolnite accent.
“Can’t believe yer party chose you.” He muttered to himself. With a stern expression, the king cleared his throat loud enough for the entire escort to hear.
“It’s time we left for the negotiations. We’ll be meeting Zersto at the ruins of Alzey. Let’s go.”
Ruins? Seraph thought to himself. That proud town must have refused to surrender. He took a swig of Glorfindel’s signature beer.

Chapter 15: Zersto

Chapter Text

The party walked out the southern gate of the fourth wall and headed for the rendezvous with the aggressive conqueror. For the first time since entering the city, Mags and Fus Roh did not hear the thunder of the cannons. They were replaced with the graceful songs of birds and the crackle of still burning fires. The entourage walked through what remained of Wolnocc’s fifth, sixth, and seventh districts. Buildings lay in heaps of rubble. Corpses were strewn throughout the streets. The smell of rotting and burned flesh permeated the air.

Mags spotted a few fearful pairs of eyes hiding amongst the wreckage. She decided to ignore them. It would be best to not blow their cover. Random assortments of Zersto’s warriors sifted through the remains of the districts searching for what little value remained to be picked from their husks. Upon seeing the entourage they would silently avoid them. They were not looking for a fight.
After about an hour of walking, the party crossed beyond the ruins of the seventh wall out into the Bad Lands. The dreary, gray sky complemented the dull brown grass of the Western Plains well. Hawks soared, prairie dogs yipped, and cattle grazed alongside deer. The land was devoid of timber as it had been as long as its history has been written.

A couple more hours later, the party came upon the demolished town of Alzey. The smoke had long dissipated, but the burnt smell remained. Blackened stone lay scattered for miles. The largest heaps of rubble stood barely higher than Fus Roh’s head. The only remaining beauty of the landscape was the lake the town sat beside.
Zersto’s flags fluttered in the old town square. As the party marched through, the breeze wafted the putrid smell of burnt fat into their nostrils. Their feet seeped into viscous grease pervading throughout the streets. They passed by piles of skulls stacked higher than any of the stone remains.
Finally, the entourage made it to Zersto the Conqueror. They recognized him as soon as they saw him. Zersto stood at the front of nearly twenty half-plated and well armed bodyguards. His lieutenants were placed nearby amongst them. Zersto’s stature was impressive, especially for a tiefling. He towered over the party with the exception of Fus Roh. His broad shoulders supported his breastplate as though it were a tunic.
His horns were like a rams’ that curled up. He was dressed in a suit of plate armor painted black with red streaks running down the middle. His face was concealed by a red and black mask that evoked a demonic visage. His hands rested on a large iron shield. A flail emanating a black radiance was strapped to his side. His banners sported a red fist punching down on a black background.
Glorfindel rolled his eyes and muttered to himself.
“Subtle.”
Fus Roh sized Zersto up. He was strong, this was clear. His armor was well forged Kythrilian steel, even better than his own. The flail was clearly enchanted, but with what? Fus Roh could tell by the way he carried himself, Zersto was a formidable warrior.
“Finally, a challenge.” He whispered to himself with a smile.
Seraph scanned the opposing force. Well equipped bodyguards, the lieutenant next to him is a mountain dwarf wearing Kythrilian plate armor with a symbol of Moradin plastered onto it and armed with a pike. Clearly a cleric. A half-elf in dark purple robes stood behind them. A caster. Not sure if a wizard or sorcerer.
The last lieutenant was to the left. He wore a cloak and a large medallion depicting a lightning bolt. Leader of the Blitzers perhaps? His cloak hid what else he was wearing.
Mags’ eyes darted around looking for the Shadow Cult’s assassins. She couldn’t see any, but perhaps that was a good thing. Nonetheless, her little feathers trembled.

Zersto put his hand up and stepped forward as soon as the royal entourage had come within twenty feet. He spoke with a booming, boasting voice and gestured powerfully with his hands
“I am Zersto the Great. I have brought you to this once proud town so that you may witness the devastation wrought upon my enemies. I am the tamer of the Western Plains, the mounter of the Cove, taker of the Timberlands, and leveler of cities. The Shani, Blare, and Wearg bow before me, and you will too if you are wise.
Surrounding you, is what remains of those too proud to kneel in the face of defeat. You have already lost. Your walls are pulled down, your armies beaten, and…” Zersto waved his hand.
Two of his bodyguards brought forward a lifeless body and threw it on the ground.
“Your prince is dead.”

The king gasped in shock and despair. Hunter turned his face to cry. Seraph recognized the face of his older brother, Frederick. He had been cruelly tortured before his death. Seraph felt his stomach churn, his heart leapt into his throat, his eyes moistened.
He forced his heart back down, held back his tears, and ordered his gut to be quiet. The prince said with a mocking arrogance but with a slight tinge of bitterness.
“You fool. You threw away the only leverage you had.” Glorfindel laughed alongside Seraph.

Without missing a beat from Seraph’s taunt, Zersto continued.
“I have all the leverage I need. Your city is my hostage. Your lives are forfeit if you do not submit. Surrender now, old man, and the lives of you and your people will be spared. Do not, and you will suffer. I will tear down your remaining walls, I will set fire to your homes, I will turn my armies loose on the city, and no lamentations will do justice to the horror they will endure.”
Mags’ body quivered. She shook uncontrollably at the thought of what would happen to the people should the city fall, what Zersto would do to them. He continued.
“Their bodies shall burn. They shall be crushed, stabbed, and beaten. Mothers shall wail as their babies are torn from their arms and dashed upon the rocks. I will-”

Mags subtly tapped her rod three times. Seemingly out of nowhere, crossbow bolts tore through Zersto’s forces. Screams of pain were silenced as soon as they were uttered. In a shocking instant, every one of Zersto’s bodyguards fell dead.
With bolts sticking out of him like a pincushion, Zersto remained standing. His armor protected him from the bolts piercing his body, but a few had managed to wound him. His armored lieutenant was protected by her steel plating as well. The cloaked lieutenant had used two of the bodyguards as body shields, and the caster had protected himself with a magical shield.

Everyone looked around in bewilderment with the exception of Mags who gawked in shock and horror at the failure. Realizing the situation, Zersto whistled loudly. Two groups of warriors sprang out from behind the piles of rubble and attacked the royal entourage’s flanks.
“Hold them off!” Hunter yelled as he unsheathed his greatsword and charged at the incoming foes.
The king’s bodyguards engaged the ambushers. Seraph murmured with a quiet fury just loud enough for the rest of the party to hear.
“Let’s end this. Now.”
Mags ran forward with her enchanted rod. She swung it above her head three times and shouted
“Flee!!”

A wave of golden light burst out from the end of the rod. Zersto, his dwarven lieutenant, and his human lieutenant stood their ground, but the half-elf turned and ran. Mags immediately ran behind a broken stone staircase and hid behind it. Glorfindel turned to his side and spoke to the air as though someone were standing right next to him
“Olidammara, please give me the power to f*ck these fools up.”
His amulet glowed a golden light and an illusory duplicate of him stepped out from his body and ran towards Zersto and his dwarven lieutenant. Once it reached them, it yelled out
“Olidammara, could ya give me a little help with some spiritual guardians? Oh and make em hot as hell.” The duplicate’s amulet glowed gold as Glorfindel’s did, and three beautiful battle angels appeared armed with swords of light.
They stabbed and slashed Zersto and his lieutenant and blood trickled from their bodies. Glorfindel whistled and a golden bolt manifested in front of him. Glorfindel raised the pitch of his whistle. The bolt flew at the dwarven lieutenant piercing her leg causing her to stumble. Glorfindel smirked, but it faded when she straightened herself.
The other lieutenant threw off his cloak revealing six pistols strapped to his torso. He pulled out a gun and fired it at Glorfindel’s duplicate and dropped the pistol. The bullet flew straight through, harming no one. Zersto furiously shouted
“You idiot! It’s a fake! The real one’s over there!”
He pointed his flail at Glorfindel. The gunman immediately adjusted and fired at Glorfindel and dropped the gun immediately upon firing. The shot pierced Glorfindel’s side.
“Damn it!” He yelped.
With a surge of energy, the gunman pulled out two more pistols and fired. Seraph blocked one with his magical shield, but the second exploded with magical red energy upon hitting the stone staircase. The shrapnel tore through both Seraph and Mags.

Fus Roh drew his hammer and charged Zersto. He would end the tyrant and all of the violence with a few swings of his hammer. Zersto was already wounded. Fus Roh knew he could finish him. As he drew within nearly striking distance, a wave of terror and doubt crashed into him.
This man looks like a demon and must fight like one. Could he really overcome him? Fus Roh almost hesitated, but steeled his nerves and pressed on. Filled with passion and self-righteousness he roared
“I shall fell you foul despot!!”
His hammer glowed white and burst with power as he struck Zersto. Both times his blows landed upon his foe’s shield. Both times Zersto stood his ground.
A chuckle escaped the conqueror’s mask. He swung heavily down on Fus Roh’s shield. Black energy exploded from it. Crack!! Fus Roh roared in pain. He could not move his shield to protect himself from the next blow which connected with his chin.
Fus Roh flew off his feet. His head smacked against the ground. He perceived nothing.

Mags screamed. Seraph instinctively shouted “NO!!” and ran towards Fus Roh’s unconscious body. Glorfindel hastily prayed. If he could cast a healing spell right now, then Fus Roh would-
Shnk! The dwarven woman dug her pike into Fus Roh’s scaly neck. Blood gushed forth from it. Seraph rushed towards the body chanting in Elvish
“With the power of the weave and my knowledge of its workings, my step shall be quick as lightning and crack like thunder: Thunderstep!”
He drew a web of lighting between his hands and threw it onto his left foot. The wizard grabbed Fus Roh as he stomped on the ground with his electrified foot. With a thunderous boom, Seraph and the dragonborn several yards behind the rest of the party.
“Run!!” He shouted. The party complied and turned to join their friend and fallen comrade.
Zersto took the opportunity and retreated with his lieutenants. He swore to himself to make the city pay for their betrayal.

Seraph could not carry Fus Roh very far. The dragonborn was incredibly heavy, and Seraph was just as weak. He dragged Fus Roh behind a pile of skulls. All it took was one look at him. He was dead. Glorfindel and Mags caught up to him. Seraph urgently asked Glorfindel.
“You can bring him back right? Y’all clerics have a spell for this don’t ya?”
“Well yea, but I didn’t ask for it this mornin and I need a diamond in order to-?”
“You WHAT?! No no no no no! Fus Roh get up you big dumbass! Get up!”
Seraph slapped Fus Roh’s face several times. It was completely inert. Blood still flowed from his neck and ebony energy began to flow into it. Seraph shook his head and thought of a new plan.
“It’s alright. It’s alright. As long as we preserve his body, we can gather the right materials and resurrect him.”

As soon as Seraph finished his sentence, Fus Roh’s eyes were covered in a black film and a growl emitted from his mouth. His face turned to Seraph and began to lunge at him. A sword through its skull stopped it immediately.
Seraph and Glorfindel turned to see a trembling Mags. Mags’ eyes were completely widened. She laughed uncontrollably and covered her mouth immediately. She turned and ran from Fus Roh leaving her sword behind.

Hunter and his guards had fought off the ambushers. He stood amongst the dead panting heavily with his sword loosely hanging from his hand. The prime minister stood agaped, unable to process the sequence of events. Wolnocc’s king sat on a rock, his diamond scepter lying on the ground beside him and his face buried in his hands. He wailed
“That’s it! Wolnocc is doomed. The end of our glorious city is here.”
Seraph stomped up to the demoralized group and angrily rebuked them.
“It ain’t over! We ain’t doomed! We’re still here. We’re still fightin. Wolnocc has never fallen because it’s leaders never gave up and always found a way to win. We will! Or we’ll die to the last man!”
As Seraph finished his little speech, he remembered the good omen from the stars. Of course it would show up now; he thought to himself. The remaining guards stood up a bit straighter, and Hunter managed a weak smile on his face. After much hesitation, Seraph’s father lifted himself off of his pity rock.
The entourage slowly made their way back to the city. They had not fallen into total despair but were severely demoralized. Before they even entered the gates, the familiar thunder of the cannons started up again.

Mags could not stop thinking of the moment her sword ran through Fus Roh’s head. She had just killed her friend. She tried to tell herself she didn’t. That he was already killed and had become an undead, but she couldn’t convince herself. She turned her mind to a new subject. How to make the fire jelly.
She ran through her head a list of ingredients and their combinations. She calculated how to mix them together, and the techniques to combine them into a single substance. She fixed her mind upon it till they returned to the People’s RePUBlic.

Seraph ran the battle through his head again and again. They could’ve won. If he hadn’t gotten so emotional when Fus Roh fell and just finished the fight, Zersto could have been defeated and it’d all be over. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
He needed to focus on solutions not feelings. How could he gain the edge on Zersto the next time they met? The demon summoning spell, of course! Seraph pulled out his spellbook and got back to work.

Glorfindel hated to see Seraph so angry and miserable. He was such a fun guy earlier then this sh*t happened. Glorfindel couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible. Why didn’t he ask for a resurrection spell?! If he prepares combat every day, he should do that. He also would have to have brought some of his diamonds and would he remember that?
Next time he had a chance, he’d make sure he would be able to save the person. He prayed to Olidammara for a resurrection spell. Then he took a long drought of his personal beer and offered some to Seraph who drank it heartily.

After what remained of the party returned to Glorfindel’s tavern, there was silence for nearly an hour. Mags broke it.
“Glorfindel, want to make a nice meal for everyone. Could give lemongrass and powdered sugar for ingredients?”
Mags chirped with her signature politeness. Glorfindel shrugged
“Sure, why not? I’ll grab you some from the cabinet.”
“Thank.” Mags said with a smile.
As soon as she got her ingredients, she skipped off.
“Huh, don’t know why she didn’t just make it here.” Glorfindel said to no one in particular.
Glorfindel observed his friend burying himself in his work. Seraph was trying not to show it, but Glorfindel knew he still wasn’t over Fus Roh’s death. How could he be when it just happened? Glorfindel didn’t move on from his wife’s death for years. Maybe he still wasn’t over it. Regardless, what Seraph needed was someone to vent to about it. He sure knew that’s what he wanted when Caroline was murdered.
“So Seraph that was some crazy sh*t huh?”
Seraph worked at his spellbook silently. Glorfindel continued
“I wasn’t expectin that kind of adventure when I showed up. I ain’t complainin just must be a lot to take in ya know?”
Seraph continued working.
“Ahem, I mean to lose someone you’ve been workin with fer awhile now must be perty tough. Especially when-” Seraph exploded.
“Will you shut up Glorfindel?! I’m working on a solution damnit! I don’t have time to be dwellin on him!”
Glorfindel sat back, stunned. For one of the few times of his life, he didn’t know what to say.
“Wellllll, what can I do for ya?”
“Get out of my face!! … Sigh, just stay here with me while I work… please? And could you get me a real strong drink? I really need one.” Glorfindel smiled. Finally, something he could do to help his friend.
“You got it.”

Chapter 16: Alec’s Bane

Chapter Text

Mags’ skip turned to a trot which turned to a determined stomp as she approached the Shadow Cult hideout. She stormed into the backroom and with the angriest, most intimidating voice she could naturally muster she hissed
“What was that?! Didn’t kill him. Now friend is dead because of you!”

Welven had been waiting for her. With a face stern as stone he responded
“We did our best. We didn’t have much time to plan, there were a lot of bodies in the way, and Zersto had the best armor I’ve ever seen. There’s only so much our bolts could do. We tried.”
Mags furrowed her feathers and stomped her foot. It wasn’t good enough. He failed to uphold his end of the bargain, he wouldn’t even apologize?! All he had were excuses. She said menacingly
“You still owe. Didn’t do it.”
Four Shadow cultists armed to the teeth with crossbows and blades walked up behind Welven and stared Mags down.
“Mags. The Shadow Cult don’t owe ya anythin. Now, did ya come here just to holler or with business?”
Mags fluffed her feathers out and smoothed them back down. She wasn’t going to get anywhere with this. At least she got a good scream at someone who was responsible. Now she needed to put her mind to another task. Something had to go right today. She pulled out a scroll and hung it in front of Welven.
“Figured how to make sticky, flammable goo. Call it fire jelly. Will sell for a price.”
Welven’s eyes widened as well as his smile at the news.
“That’s excellent. You’ll be paid five hundred pieces of gold in exchange. It’ll also work perfectly with yer next mission.”
“Next mission?”
“Yes. Now that the captain of the guard is gone, the next step to gaining our influence over the city is to get rid of the king himself, Mason Grimlock. He’s been tryin to cull our ‘corrupting’ presence in the city fer some time. Yer assignment is to kill him.”
Mags stepped back in shock. Kill Seraph’s father? It would destroy him. Who knows what it would do to the city’s morale. There had to be another way.
“Need kill? Could ruin reputation. Real good at forgeries.” Mags said with a forced smile. Welven frowned in response.
“He’s far too dangerous alive. He needs to be eliminated entirely.”
“Sounds risky. Need someone else gone? One that little kenku can handle?” Welven tapped his mouth thoughtfully.
“Well, there is Alec. She’s the leader of the Fellowship of the Realm. She’s been spearheadin the effort to expel us from the city. Very well, kill her. That oughta be more in yer league.
“Why kill everyone not like? Other ways to stop enemies.”
“Don’t question my judgement again, bird. I’m still in charge here. Perhaps if you make it to the next tier in the Shadow Cult you can order me around haha.”

Mags clenched her fists. After all she’d done for the cult, he disrespects her so blatantly?! The armed cultists were still there. She could escape them, but they made their point. If she made enemies with the Shadow Cult, someday, somehow they would kill her, probably in her sleep.
This was a f*cking mess. The cult was supposed to help her save the city, and the realm not turn her into their pawn. Fine then. Just like with selling, you often don’t get what you want for a long time and you need to keep trying till you get the right opportunity. If there’s anything she was good at; Mags thought to herself, it was jumping on an opportunity.
Mags remorsefully contemplated her mission. She didn’t know Alec, but she was probably an all right person. But she couldn’t kill Seraph’s own father, and refusing the Shadow Cult wasn’t an option. The choice was clear. Regrettable, but clear.
“Ok. Alec. And…” She looked up with a steely determination in her eyes
“I have a plan.”

“May speak to Alec please? Need speak with her. Real urgent.”
The Fellowship guards stationed in front of Alec’s office looked at each other. What mischief could this cute little black duck possibly be up to? Even if she was, what harm could she do? One of them nodded to Mags and opened the door.
“Thank!” Mags waddled in.
In her armor as always, Alec turned to her guest. Her face was filled with sorrow. Mags’ cute appearance was able to summon the smallest of smiles to her face. She spoke warmly but with sadness
“And who might you be, little one?”
“Mags. Know Fus Roh?”
“For too short of time. Yes.”
“Before public funeral, friends of Fus Roh coming together to mourn. Want join?” Alec looked out her window for a few moments. Without turning around she said
“Yes. I’d like that.”
“Good.”
Mags turned around and led Alec down the stairs. She couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. The woman seemed sweet. But things were already in motion. Mags couldn’t back out now. As they were about to walk out of the building, Alec paused.
“Hope you and the others don’t mind. I’ll be bringing a few guards with me. The city can be dangerous for someone like me at night.”
“Ok.” Mags replied.

What else could she say? No point in trying to convince her not to. That’d be suspicious. Four Fellowship members joined Alec. The small entourage left the Fellowship’s headquarters and walked down the streets of Wolnocc. The sun had almost set, and its light was fading from the earth.
Mags led them down to the third district of the city. By the time they had made their way into the district, the darkness of night had settled in. The street lamps were lit though illuminating most of the street, Suddenly, Mags took a sharp turn down an alley. Without time to think, Alec and her friends followed them. They were halfway through it when the only lamp lighting up the alley went out.

“It’s a trap!!” Alec yelled.
Crossbow bolts flew through the air and shadowy figures dropped into the alleyway with them. Swords clashed and Alec barreled her way through with her shield raised high and her sword slashing anything in her way. She ran into the streets with two of her guards behind her. They were grievously wounded, and she was not doing well herself.
Her eyes darted around searching for an escape route. Only some of the street lamps were lit. With a scream, another of her guards fell, with three bolts in his back and a sword hanging over his lifeless body.
Alec charged down the lit streets hoping to escape her pursuers. She beckoned her remaining friend to follow her, and they ran down the streets being harried by bolts and daggers along the way. They followed wherever the lamps lead, turning corners and running down long stretches before turning again. All the while Alec shouted desperately
“Raise the alarm!! Ring the bells! Assassins!”

The bells rang and guards ran from their posts to the source of the commotion, but none could make it before Alec and her guard had moved on to the next street. Seraph and Glorfindel heard the bells from the tavern. They looked at each other.
“What the hell ya think is goin on Seraph?”
“I don’t know. Let’s find out.” They rushed out of the tavern together.
Three bolts stuck into Alec’s body. One in her left shoulder, and two in her back. She thanked the gods none were in her legs. She barely felt the pain. She could only think of escape. Eventually, the lamps lead to a cul de sac with an old abandoned house at the end of it.
Alec turned to see her guard struggling to keep up. She was about to collapse. Alec picked her up and with an extra surge of strength busted into the old house. If they could board the door, they could hold themselves up long enough for the guards to rescue them.
Alec carried her guard over to a barely illuminated table. She set her down. It wasn’t a comfortable spot, but at least she could lay there. Only after she laid her friend down did she notice her feet. They felt stuck in an incredibly sticky goo. She pulled a foot out of it with much effort, but she stepped in more of it. Alec scratched her head. What could this be?
She drew her sword so that its shining light may show her. As its light shone she saw the entire room slathered with a black, jelly like substance. At the door she had just busted in, Mags was standing just outside with a lit match. Alec’s eyes widened.
“Sorry.” Mags said as she dropped the match.

A plume of flame consumed Alec and her wounded comrade. She screamed in horrible agony as the fire burned her every inch of her flesh. Mags stepped away from the abandoned house, away from the fire, away from the screams. She thought Alec’s pain would be over in an instant as with Seraph’s fireballs. She shuddered and winced at every second of the half-orcs prolonged agony. What sort of weapon had she created?
Before she could ponder that, a troop of guards approached.
“What’s going on?!” They asked Mags.
“Alec is dying in the fire.” She said matter of factly.

The guards could only stand and watch in horror. Then Seraph and Glorfindel came upon the scene. Mags jumped back. They weren’t supposed to be here. Not when she was pulling off a hit! The guards explained the situation to Seraph and Glorfindel. Glorfindel grabbed Seraph’s arm and said firmly
“We gotta save her man.”
Seraph nodded. But it would be a death sentence to charge into the flames. He took out a piece of enchanted chalk, and wrote the sigil of the balgura on the street. He then chanted
“With the power of the weave and my knowledge of its workings, I summon you Balgura from the Abyss to serve my will!” Silver light erupted from the sigil and took the shape of a balgura.
The light dissipated and in its place was a demon resembling an enormous red furred gorilla. Seraph called to the demon and said
“What is yer name wretched creature?”
With an unsettling deep and echoing voice, the creature growled back
“Absol.”
“Absol, fetch for me the half-orc, Alec from the flames of that building. I know yer kind can survive it.”
“Urgggh.”
Absol tried to fight against Seraph’s command, but his enchantment was far too strong. The balgura turned and leapt into the burning building. After a few seconds, it leapt back out and set down the charred, disfigured corpse of Alec. Mags sighed in relief. The fire had done its job.
Glorfindel stooped down to the lifeless body of Alec and pulled out five beautiful diamonds from his pocket. He bowed his head, closed his eyes, and prayed
“Hey Olidammara. I know this only works if she’s been dead for less than a minute so I sure hope that’s the case, but could you please, please help me save her? Thank you.”
Glorfindel crushed the diamonds in his hands and pressed the dust to Alec’s chest. Her body glowed with a golden light and her eyes opened. She stood up with a gasp of shock followed by a groan of pain. Glorfindel clapped his hands and laughed with delight.
One of the guards stooped down and asked Alec
“Who did this to you ma’am?”

Alec gathered her senses and turned to Mags with a hateful glare. She was about to speak when four Shadow Cult assassins charged out from the shadows to finish her off. The guards held them back, but one broke through. The masked assassin swung at Alec.
Seraph knew he would miss. The stars’ omen had just returned to his mind. The cultist failed to strike Alec and was apprehended. The rest of the assassins fled, realizing they would not succeed.
Now that she was safe at last, Alec said with a hoarse and raspy voice
“She did this. It was Mags.” She coughed in pain as soon as she got the words out.
Glorfindel looked at Mags with shock and disappointment. Seraph shook his head. Mags collapsed to the ground. It was all over. She was caught. The guards took her away without a struggle.

Chapter 17: The Trial of Mags

Chapter Text

Seraph marched up to the White Keep’s war room. He was told his father would be there. He was indeed, along with Hunter and several members of Wolnocc’s Parliament. They all stood around the battle map with somber expressions. With the exception of Hunter, who was nearly bouncing with excitement. Mason noticed Seraph enter the room first. With a cool, even tone, he said
“Ah, glad yer here Seraph. We just got a letter from Count Draven of Norden tellin us that if we helped him with a raidin problem, he’d be happy to send his troops to lift the siege.”
“We decided to send you! You’d be the best fer the job little brother!” Hunter interrupted enthusiastically. Mason Grimlock shook his head and smiled.
“What do ya say son?”
“Of course. I’d do anything to save our city.” Seraph responded with little thought or patience.
“On that note Father, may I speak to ya alone?” Seraph knew he would have an easier time convincing his father without the obstructive members of parliament.
“Sure. Y’all are dismissed.” Everyone shuffled out of the room until Seraph was alone with his father. Seraph wasted no time once the door was shut.
“When’s the trial?”
“Trial?”
“The one fer Mags. When’s it scheduled?”
“Bout three days from now? Gallows should be cleared by then. Why? Want to watch?”
Seraph ignored his father’s comments. He looked at the ground thoughtfully. Norden was two days away. By the time they get back, it would be too late to save her. Mags may have slipped up and caused the city a hassle, but she had been reliable in battle and should be in the future. She was far more clever than the silly little kenku he had taken her for.
If it weren’t for the combined efforts of him and Glorfindel, she would have gotten away with her crime. Such an asset like that could prove to be of great use in the future, especially after securing her loyalty. Seraph turned to his father.
“Move it to tomorrow.”
“Excuse me?”
“Move it to tomorrow at noon. I know that’s clear. I already checked.”
“Seraph, it won’t make a difference when the trial is. She’s going to be found guilty and executed.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’ll be the judge. And Alec’s testimony is beyond damnin.”
“Ya haven’t heard all the testimonies and arguments yet. An unscrupulous judge would have already come to a verdict, sure, but you wouldn’t.” The king ground his teeth.
“No. But what good would forwarding the trial be?”
“If she ain’t found guilty, she’ll be essential fer me to solve Norden’s problem and secure assistance.”
“Can you not handle it on yer own?”
“Heh, you know me father. I don’t like to take chances.” Mason sighed.
“Alright. We’ll do it tomorrow. Guess it can’t hurt.”
“Thank ya father. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

Seraph turned around with a smug smile on his face. He could always get his father to cave in with his logic. He stopped as his hand touched the door. All elation from his success had just vanished and was replaced with fear and unease. Why?! He could get Mags out just fine.
But he didn’t know what the omens were for tomorrow yet. What if they were of no use? Sometimes they’re utterly neutral and give no insight to his fortunes. Seraph tapped his fingers against the door. He turned around and called out to his father
“Hey, father?” He said with a slight hesitation in his speech.
“Yea son?”
“Uh, ever since I started studyin divination I… well I’ve had all these crushin visions and worries bout the future. I don’t even know if they’re real or not.” Seraph could not meet his father’s eyes as he spoke.
“Oh, that’s normal.”
“What?”
“Yup. That’s what happens to divination wizards son. Lots of Grimlocks have had to deal with it.” He patted his son on the back.
“Just part of yer duty as the future guide to the king. You’ll be crucial fer when Hunter rules.”
“Every Grimlock? There’s gotta be a way to get rid of it. Or at least reduce it.”
“It’s alright son. Just bear it. Every Grimlock has. So will you.”

Seraph stepped away from his father. He hid the shock and disappointment that threatened to show on his face. He buried it deep as he traversed the halls of the White Keep. He drowned it beneath a flood of beer.

A volley of cannon fire seemed to announce the noon hour. It was a dreary reminder for a cold, dreary day. Hunter and several parliament members sat in the left aisle of the Wolnocc Courthouse. Alec and the prime minister sat in the right aisle along with several other lords and ladies of parliament. In the middle of the courthouse, Glorfindel broke away from his friend, Seraph.
“I don’t care how skilled she is Seraph. I ain’t gonna defend her. I trusted that little duck, and she turns out to be a murderer.”
“You don’t know that.” Seraph hissed.
“I sure believe it. And I’m gonna say what I believe.”
Glorfindel stomped over to the right aisle in a huff. Seraph angrily shook his head and sat down in the left. Glorfindel was always too shortsighted to think two steps ahead. An executed Mags would gain them nothing. A living Mags that owed them would be incredibly valuable.
Mags was brought in heavy chains to a small podium in the center of the courtroom. For most accused, it would make them look ridiculous, but it was the perfect size for her. The prime minister led the right aisle in jeering her. They threw such insults as
“Outsider!!”
“Murderer!!”
“Assassin!!”
Glorfindel sat with his arms crossed and a look of utter disappointment with Mags. Alec simply glared at her with hatred and bitterness. Mags didn’t bother to look to her right. The left aisle stayed silent.
Seraph laid out his deck of divining cards and flipped two of them. The lord. The lady. Good fortune twice. Seraph let out a sigh of relief.

A scribe took his place by the side of the judge’s seat, where the king resided, and unfurled a large scroll. The scribe said
“Lords and ladies of the court. Mags, of whose origin is unknown, is brought before you today under five counts of murder. Her victims are as follows: Relt of Wolnocc, Andrew of Wolnocc, Darle of Wolnocc, Vam of Wolnocc, and Alec of Wolnocc. Alec was magically brought back to life by the efforts of Glorfindel of Wolnocc. Would anyone like to speak in the defense of the accused?”

Hunter stood up. Seraph leaned back with an air of confidence. Hunter would do well. With firmness and aplomb, Hunter addressed the court
“Lords, ladies with my own eyes I have seen the service this young lady has done for our city. The first day she arrived, she turned back a Horde of blitzers when our wall was breached. If not for quick and decisive action, we may have lost district four and thousands of our people that day. I don’t need to tell y’all how devastating such a loss would be. Yet she prevented it.
She also stood and fought Zersto and his lieutenants at the skirmish of Alzey. She risked her life to save our people. I do not believe such a noble woman would commit such a crime. I wasn’t there, but I have faith in our friendly guest that she has the best interest of Wolnocc in mind. Instead of accusing one who should be hailed as a hero, we should find the real criminals who assaulted the esteemed leader of the Fellowship of the Realm, Alec. Thank you.”

The left aisle clapped uproariously. Mason Grimlock nodded. Glorfindel stood
“With all honors and respect to our crown prince, he didn’t see sh*t. I saw the fire. I saw Alec’s corpse dragged out of the roastin building. I saw Mags standin there. And I heard Alec say that it was her who was responsible. She did this. I thought I liked her, but she’s a tricky one. And she ought to be dealt with accordinly.” The right aisle applauded.
Mags nodded. She understood why Glorfindel was upset with her. And Alec had every right to be. She couldn’t blame them for wanting her dead and wouldn’t be surprised if she’d be executed. Still, might as well try. She spoke with a pleading innocence
“Wrong place wrong time. Walking with Alec. Attacked from the shadows. Ran away. Saw fire. Rushed to it. Could not save Alec. Said sorry. Accused after. Do not deserve. Please find innocent.”
There was no applause, but many nodded. The king stroked his chin contemplatively. Alec stood. Her body was still covered with burns. Many parts of her skin were raw or peeling off. She spoke hoarsely and with much effort.
“I… saw her before the fire was lit… She dropped a match, and I burned… She wanted me dead… She wanted all of us dead.” There was no applause, but solemnity fell upon the courtroom.

Seraph stood up with a supreme feeling of confidence. He was going to end this.
“I know that Alec thought she saw Mags lighting the house on fire. However, I received the full report of what happened. Alec also said she ran through several streets of Wolnocc, disoriented by fluctuations in the light from the street lamps and being harried from bolts and daggers along the way. With the intense fear and emotions running high, it would be understandable if Alec made a mistake in what she saw. She saw none of her assailants, and Mags was the only member of her party that survived unscathed. I know Mags, if there’s anythin she’s good at, it’s survivin. Of course Alec would want to assign the blame to someone, anyone fer the terrible crime wrought upon her and her friends. She reported that Mags was wearing a hood and cloak when she saw her at the doorway. In the dead of night, how could Alec make out precisely that the hooded figure was Mags, and not some other possible assassin roughly her size?
Furthermore, if the court finds her guilty and she is executed what do we gain? Yet another dead body in a city of corpses. I have seen the future, and as the royal diviner, we do not win this war without her. She will be instrumental in its success. If y’all care about the survival of our people, she will walk free from this courtroom today.”
Both aisles were stunned into silence. They turned to see the king’s verdict. Mason peered at the little duck and then looked to his son and thought carefully on what he had said. Finally, he gave his verdict.
“The court finds her not guilty. She is dismissed.”
The right aisle broke out into a furious pandemonium. The left cheered and hollered. Seraph harried Mags out of the courtroom before things could get out of hand. He turned to her with a smile.
“How you like that? Hope yer grateful Mags.”
“Yup! Thank!” Mags said with a forced smile. Of course she was grateful, but she had no intention of allowing Seraph to hold it over her. Glorfindel joined them. With an icy stare, he said to Mags
“Don’t think I won’t remember what you did.”
“Ok.” Mags said sadly.
Great. Now she was in debt to one member of her party, and the other hated her. Mags resigned herself to her condition. It was better than being dead, she guessed.

Seraph directed the others to the royal stables to fetch steeds for the journey to Norden. On their way, they were hailed by a short woman with frizzy hair and large spectacles.
“Wait! I have something for you!” She panted.
The party stopped and waited for her to finish catching her breath which took some time. Finally, the woman threw her head up and with a wild smile, presented a hand crossbow with a rotating canister at the bottom.
“I finished designing this last night when I heard the kenku liked using them. It’s a multi-shot crossbow. You can fire it three times before having to reload it. Takes a while though. I’m so glad you were released!” Mags co*cked her head curiously
“Because you thought I was innocent?” She chirped.
“No! You couldn’t use my design if you were executed!”
Seraph and Glorfindel chuckled at the excitable woman. Mags graciously accepted the weapon, and they headed off to the stables.

The three acquired horses and headed out to Norden immediately. They rode quickly through the southern gate of the fourth wall. They galloped through heavy rain down the lightly forested road to the town. Pressed for time, the party was silent along the way.
They arrived at night. Several of Zersto’s banners could be seen amongst torches in an encampment to the west of the town’s walls. The small party rode in to the northern gate with little trouble and without being spotted by the enemy. They went to the Hammered Woodcutter to spend the night. The tavern was quiet with little of interest, but Mags noticed a few of the patrons sitting in the corners were covered in red sores and boils.
The party paid for lodging and took a few drinks. Mags stuck to juice. A thud brought their attention to a patron sitting to their left. A large, brawny golden dragonborn had just sat next to them. His shirt was filthy and his face covered with scars and ash. He ordered a strong drink of whisky and stared at his blackened hands with a proud scowl. Glorfindel leaned over and peered at the stranger. His eyes widened as he said
“Fus Roh?” The dragonborn perked up at the sound of the name. He turned to see the three travelers and laughed heartily at their confusion.
“Hahaha. No. My name is Rygo. Fus Roh is my brother! Do you know him?”
“...Yeah.” Glorfindel said hesitatingly.
“Wonderful! Where is he now? I’d love to know how he is.”
Rygo could tell the stranger who had talked to him was from Wolnocc by his accent. Perhaps that’s where he saw his brother. Rygo was filled with excitement. He hoped to be reunited with Fus Roh soon. He’d finally have a chance to apologize for their last interaction. He wished they did not have to part after such a nasty argument.
Glorfindel paused for a moment. Should he tell him? Had he looked back at Mags and Seraph, he would have seen them emphatically mouthing no. Glorfindel could not hold it in, and the words flowed out like vomit.
“Ya know how Zersto the Conqueror is attackin Wolnocc?”
“Yea.”
“Well, Fus Roh was killed by him in battle.”
“WHAT?!!”
Rygo slammed the bar creating a deep crack that spread throughout the structure. He turned his head to a table and lit it aflame with his breath. Rygo stomped off his stool to take out his fury on the town. When suddenly, a transfixing pattern of multi-colored swirls manifested in front of him, and he fell into a stupor. Rygo fell forward face first on the floor and was dragged away by the patrons of the bar.
Seraph released his concentration on his spell once Rygo had been vacated from the premises. He turned to see how Mags and Glorfindel were doing putting out the fire. They looked like a pair of idiots, but they successfully smothered it with their cloaks. Seraph let out an exasperated sigh. This had been a long two days.

Chapter 18: Blood and Honor

Chapter Text

Mags did not rest that night. Alec’s screams haunted her. Her vengeful glare seemed to follow Mags in every dream. She sat up in her cot shaking anxiously. Her feathers jutted out making her appear much larger than normal. She might have looked fearsome if not for her eyes giving away the terror she felt.
Would Alec seek revenge? No. She seems too honorable for that. Not like Mags. But what was Mags to do? You can’t get things done by being honorable. Not if you’re just some kenku with no titles, wealth or connections. You have to work your way up any way you can, and that’ll get your feathers dirty.
But did she have to do it that way? Did she have to kill Alec and her friends so coldly? It was supposed to be quick and painless. A gruesome deed that had to be done. But the pain she went through, and the anger she had when she came back. Mags had never considered how her victims felt. They never had a chance to tell her how opposed they were to her killing them.
What would Fus Roh think of her had he seen what she did? Mags winced at the thought of her friend looking at with bile and anger. She would deserve it.
Glorfindel hates her now, and they had just met. I would too if that’s what I saw; Mags thought to herself. But, she survived. Thanks to Seraph of course, but she wouldn’t let him own her for it. You don’t get to make mistakes and live. Not without friends. You don’t get to have friends if you go around killing everyone. And, Mags gave out a deep sigh as she forced herself to complete the thought, you don’t get to kill people without knowing their pain. The consequences.
Mags dressed herself and fiddled with her new crossbow. She looked to the corner where she had thrown a simple sack. She waddled over to it and opened it up. Her reflection stared back at her from the fire jelly. A horrible weapon, but still useful. Mags strapped the bag to her side and headed downstairs. She still had a life to live and a job to do.

Glorfindel stared blankly at his shot of whisky. Fus Roh’s death had really left a dark shadow cast over the party. He hardly knew him, but the dragonborn’s boisterous obliviousness was endearing. In a way, Glorfindel missed him already. He was fun to play off of. And that poor Rygo fella. So excited at the memory of his brother and rightfully pissed at the news of his murder. Glorfindel closed his eyes. The long buried anger crawled its way back up. Glorfindel kept it down, but it still managed to whisper in his head. You coward! Avenge her! They’re out there!
Glorfindel silenced his anger and drove it back into the depths of his gut. He couldn’t do right by his wife. But he would for this new dragonborn. Glorfindel turned to his right and said to his friend.
“Hey Seraph, we should go find that blacksmith dragonborn, Rygo right? Anyway, he oughta get the chance to take down Zersto with us don’t ya think? Ain’t right fer him to just stew alone.”
Seraph did not respond. He was busy deciphering the leaves at the bottom of his tea. Two of the leaves looked somewhat like birds. Good luck, possibly a good journey. Another resembled an axe. Problems overcome. Seraph gave a satisfied nod and downed a shot of whisky.
Annoyed, Glorfindel turned his gaze to find something else to catch his attention. He heard the sound of plodding footsteps coming down the stairs. He turned to see Mags approaching them and immediately looked away from her. Mags sat next to the other two. An uncomfortable silence settled upon the three.
“Let’s go see Count Draven.” Seraph finally said after finishing his fifth shot of whisky. He got off his stool and shuffled out of the tavern with the other two close behind.

As the party tread upon the dewy grass of Norden, they came upon a pandemonious scene. A mob of forty some townsfolk gathered around a hastily constructed scaffold shouting at a bulky bound and hooded figure. The woman standing next to the figure held a wooden slab and was covered with red boils and sores. Nearly every member of the mob was similarly afflicted. Some struggled to stand amidst the pain. Many coughed up blood intermittently. The woman on the platform announced with a hoarse but commanding voice
“The perpetrator has for far too long threatened the safety of our community. When he first arrived, drunken brawls and terrifying threats followed.”
The woman wretched, hacked, and coughed up a small puddle of blood. Without even bothering to clean her face, she continued
“For three months we thought he had at last become committed to change, but last night, he nearly burned down the Hammered Woodcutter along with several of our people inside. Rygo, you have been given too many chances, and we must be rid of you.”
She pulled off the hood, and the mob jeered. Rygo merely sneered silently.
“We gotta do somethin to help ‘im.” Glorfindel loudly said to himself. Without acknowledging his friend, Seraph stepped forward and called out to the woman.
“How do y’all intend on riddin yerselves of him.” The woman looked at Seraph confusedly but responded
“Why, execution of course. We haven’t decided upon the method yet though.”
“How about ya exile him instead?” Seraph replied.
“What? No! He must be punished!”
“Y’all wanna git rid of him. We got use for him. He can help us fight Zersto at Wolnocc and do us all a favor. Whether he lives or dies in battle, he’ll be far away from you.”
The woman paused just before retorting and began to consider. The crowd agreeably amongst themselves. Several of them nodded at the woman upon the platform who in turn nodded and replied to Seraph.
“You can have him. Just keep him far away from here.” She pushed Rygo down the steps of the scaffold to the party. Mags promptly cut the dragonborn loose. Despite the rope burns on his wrists, Rygo didn’t seem to mind them.
“Thank you.” He curtly said to the three.
“So…” Seraph began
“Ya wanna help us kill Zersto?” Rygo nodded.
“I look forward to burying my hammerhead into his skull.”
“Be real tough. Great warrior.” Mags chimed in trying to warn the eager dragonborn.
“He’s a soft skin. He will fall like every other.” Rygo replied.

Seraph drew a small smile. Another ally against Zersto would be welcome, and a powerful fighter at that. Mags co*cked her head with a curious expression on her face. This dragonborn was certainly exuberant like Fus Roh, but filled with far more rage. Understandably so, and thankfully he had no issues with her. Glorfindel offered his hand. He’d make sure Rygo would achieve the closure he never did. Rygo returned the gesture and shook firmly. He stared into Glorfindel’s eyes with an intensity that nearly caused the half-elf to quiver. Rygo released his grip and said to the party.
“Let’s go. My weapons and armor are back at the forge.”
“The famed prodigal prince of Wolnocc.” A smooth, sturdy voice cut in. The party turned around to see a man lavishly dressed in black and icy blue. His smile had a warmth mixed with hungry eagerness. He carried a black book covered with red streaks that looked like blood.
“I was about to step in myself, but you handled the situation well. You are exactly what I need to save my town.”
Seraph returned the compliment with a polite bow and replied
“Count Draven, it is a pleasure to meet you.” The two shook hands and began walking together. The rest of the party shuffled behind awkwardly.
“What holds back yer forces? Is it the siege outside?”
“Oh not at all. We would have swept them away a long time ago had it not been for our real foe.” Draven gestured to the ailing townspeople, and the corpses being brought of their homes onto the grass.
“Plague has demolished my people. They call it the Red Death. Not even our healers can save them, only ease their pain before they die… my wife and daughter have it too. I don’t know how much longer they have.” Draven looked away and covered his face, but the observant eyes of Mags and Glorfindel could see tears streaming down his face. Seraph nodded in acknowledgement but did not respond. Draven wiped his face and continued
“I would do anything to save them.”
“But what can be done?” Seraph replied.
“I have been studying disease meticulously. It’s ability to resist magical healing suggested that it comes from a source more powerful. Recently, I have discovered that it is being spread by demons.”
“Demons?!”
“Indeed. They come at night to spread the illness throughout the town. We’ve tried to stop them, but they are too numerous and powerful. I’ve traced their source to a cave an hour’s travel by horse. I believe it is there we can put an end to their subterfuge and perhaps, save my family and my people.”
“Let’s head off immediately. We can solve this matter by sundown.”

Seraph turned to the rest of the party to see if they agreed to come along. Rygo nodded enthusiastically. If he could help someone save their own clan, he would gladly do so that they would not suffer his pain. The demons would be good practice for Zersto as well. Mags gave Seraph a feathery thumb up. It would be nice to do something that wouldn’t hurt innocents and actually save a few. Glorfindel mouthed ‘yes’. Protecting the innocent was always a cause worth fighting for him.
The party, along with Draven, followed Rygo to his forge Rygo equipped an old, rusting suit of armor covered in dents and holes. He grabbed his battered shield which had a golden claw plastered onto it. He finished with strapping three javelins to his back to arm himself along with his forge hammer.
Draven then provided everyone with fresh horses, and they rode east. In about half an hour, the entourage rode into the forest. Streams of light broke through the densely populated pine trees’ leaves. Trees and groves seemed to repeat several times, but Draven knew how to discern his way through. Everyone followed closely behind.

Suddenly, five ruffians armed to the teeth stepped out from behind a pair of trees in front of the party. The leader stepped forward with a rotting smile and said with a raspy voice
“We’ll be takin’ those horses off ya, love.”
Rygo looked over to Seraph who looked back. Rygo’s face twisted into a wicked grin. Seraph smirked then turned to the ringleader.
“With the power of the weave and my knowledge of its workings, your wounds shall further your pain: Toll the Dead.” He chanted as he cast the spell.
The bandit leader’s rotting gums burst with blood and pus. His weakened jaw cracked as his mouth split wide open. He barely released a blood curdling scream before he died.

At this show of power the four other bandits immediately turned and fled. Two of them dropped their weapons as they desperately ran and screamed in fear. Rygo let out a joyous laugh as he chased down two of the bandits and crushed their skulls with his hammer. Seraph chased them down as well casting Toll the Dead causing a bandit’s curved spine wrench itself into being severed. The other’s bruised eye imploded, and they fell to the ground in shock as their life leaked away.
Mags tilted her head in confusion. Why bother killing them? Glorfindel looked away in discomfort. Rygo’s glee made his stomach turn. Draven attentively observed the short combat as though studying Rygo and Seraph’s skill.

Rygo returned to the party laughing heartily to himself as he cleaned the blood from his hammer. Seraph chuckled a little, but then stopped in confusion. Standing between them, and the rest of the party, was the beggar from Archai. Everyone blinked and looked around in confusion, trying to find the origin of his appearance.
The raggedy elder’s face crinkled as he bombastically shouted to the party in his raspy voice
“I am so excited for what you will soon discover… and the decisions you’ll make.” He turned to Seraph and Rygo. His expression became more serious and like a lecturing professor he told them
“Just remember, what makes a hero is not the enemies they defeat or the evil they slay, but how they change the world for the better.”
Seraph scoffed, rolled his eyes, and took a swig of his whisky. He wasn’t trying to be a ‘hero’. He just wanted to save his city. Rygo chuckled haughtily and retorted
“Of course it is. There has been no hero who has not defeated powerful evil.” As he uttered his counter, Rygo thought of all the mighty dragonborn whose songs were sung throughout his life with his clan. Everyone one of them he recalled was a great warrior.
Glorfindel tsked. Who was this old weirdo to lecture them about morality?
Mags co*cked her head quizzically. Could she be a hero with after what she’d done? Did she even want to be one? Sounds like a burden. One that would get in the way. Still, would be nice to make the world a better place.
Draven looked at the ground contemplatively. He whispered to himself
“That is precisely what I’ll do. I am willing.”
The wrinkled beggar scanned the party for all of their responses. He drew a deep breath then snapped his fingers and smiled as he exhaled.
“Very interesting. I’ll see you soon.” When everyone else blinked, the stranger was gone from their sights.
“Who the f*ck was that?!” Glorfindel exclaimed as he prepared a tall glass of ale.
“Still don’t know. Let’s move on. Get that cryptic f*cker out of our minds.” Seraph responded. The party continued their trek through the forest.
Not long after their strange encounter, Draven stopped the entourage upon seeing a cave up ahead with an opening just large enough for Rygo. In front of the moss covered cave, sat two marble lion statues placed upon a pedestal each.
“This is where the source of the demon infiltration lies. None of my scouts or soldiers have returned from it. Are you ready?” Draven said to Seraph.
“Let’s move forward cautiously. Avoid confrontation if we can.” Seraph replied while eyeing the two lion statues.
The party tied their horses’ reins to a sturdy tree and walked forward to the cave. As they approached the cave, the statues’ eyes suddenly began to shine like fire and emerald claws jutted out from their stone paws. The statues stood up with all of the limber of a natural feline and leapt down. They stood between the party and the cave. In whispery and echoing voices they spoke in unison.
“Only those of blue blood may enter at their own peril.”
The party hesitated. Seraph caught on to their challenge. He remembered the birds in the tea leaves and confidently stepped forward to reply
“A noble requires his servants. May I take mine in?” The statues immediately responded
“You may with two. No more.” Seraph looked back at Draven and waved him over.
“Come on. We must enter with our aides behind us.”
Begrudgingly, Rygo, Mags, and Glorfindel tailed behind Seraph and Draven. Rygo muttered to himself vicious curses. Glorfindel muttered to himself, “Damn privileged asses.” Mags distracted herself by staring at the shining eyes of the statues as she waddled her way inside the mouth of the cave.

As the party stepped inside, the light from outside the cave faded into darkness. A red glow of unknown origin permeated the chamber, revealing the earthy walls and where they led. A yellow haze wafted the stench of death and decay into the party’s nostrils. Each step taken was saturated in a heavy unseen moisture. The cracks in the walls seemed to depict distorted figures and tortured souls. The images could just as easily be interpreted as pure accident. Screams and wails could be heard in the distance like the echoes of a whisper. No one complained, but the discomfort of all present was obvious. Glorfindel and Seraph shared long swigs of whisky and ale.

The party descended for several minutes until the cavern opened up into a wide space with two diverging paths to the right and left. The party walked down the left tunnel until they saw in the distance five giant ape-like demons resting in front of a large doorway. With a few exchanged glances, the party decided to try the other path. At the end of the second tunnel they saw a doorway just large enough for Rygo to fit through. The barrier was a massive pit that stretched nearly twenty five feet from the party’s side to the door’s.
“Wanna jump it?” Glorfindel asked Rygo sarcastically.
“No need for that. We’ll just shimmy down and up.” Seraph cut in unraveling a large coil of rope from his bag. The rest caught on immediately and assisted in tying the rope to the stalagmite closest to the pit. They threw the rest of the rope into the pit. They heard a thud in a couple of seconds followed by thousands of hisses. The party looked into the pit to see snakes littering the floor of the pit and piling on top of each other. All of them seemed to be quite unfriendly.
“This’ll be easy.” Seraph shrugged. He pointed his staff at the pit of snakes and chanted
“With the power of the weave and my knowledge of its workings, I will sear the flesh of my enemies: Firebolt.” A shard of silvery fire shot out of Seraph’s staff and connected with one of the snakes. The creature burst into flame and was reduced to ash in an instant. Seraph looked at the rest of the party.
“Now I just gotta do that a bunch more times.” Seraph took a swig of whisky and apathetically continued his chore. Glorfindel came up alongside him. Glorfindel casually prayed to his god
“Olidramma, please help me lighten the load of my buddy. I just need a sacred flame from ya.” Glorfindel’s amulet glowed and golden flame burst from it into the snakes, killing a few more. Seraph and Glorfindel continued their arduous task until every snake was left in ash or lifeless on the floor. The party then climbed down the rope. Once everyone was at the bottom, Seraph stretched out the remaining rope.
“Should be long enough.” He muttered to himself. He cut the rope hanging down the wall and handed the rest to Rygo.
“Tie this around yer javelin and stick it to the ceilin.” Rygo nodded and took the rope. He launched one of his javelins into the roof of the cavern with the rope attached to it. It was a good, powerful throw, and the javelin embedded itself deep within the rock. The party began to climb out of the pit.

Suddenly, a deep, booming roar approached from behind them. The five hastily shimmied their way up the rope as the roar became louder and harsher. They had all made it to the top when Mags turned around to see a balgura charging straight towards them. The creature foamed at the mouth, and its eyes sought blood. Rygo turned around and drew his hammer. The balgura sprinted to the edge of the pit and leapt across it with a mighty bound, but before its feet met the ground, its face met Rygo’s glowing hammer.
White light burst as the demon plunged into the pit. It’s body hit the floor with a loud crack. Glorfindel and Seraph returned to the pit and preceded to cast Toll the Dead and Sacred Flame on the wounded balgura to finish it off. The creature died with spiteful eyes as their light faded. Roars were heard in the distance and fast approaching. The party slipped through the doorway quickly. They did not want to bother with what was coming for them.

On the other side of the entryway, the party descended down a path that lead deeper into the cavern. After a few minutes, they found themselves on a ledge across from another with a deep chasm between the two. The pit seemed to have no end and faded into opaque darkness. Connecting the ledges, was a rocky walkway just wide enough for two people to travel side by side. In the middle of the walkway, stood a grotesque beast.

Its appearance was that of a brown and red lizard, with the mouth of a shark, standing upon two legs. Its leathery skin was covered in boils oozing yellow pus that gave off a stench so rank that the entire party’s stomachs contorted and threatened to dispel the contents within. The creature greeted them with a vulgar grin. It croaked
“Answer my questions well foolish travelers, and you will pass me unharmed.”
“Let’s answer the hezrou’s questions. These bastards can be tough.” Seraph advised his companions. The others could probably defeat the demon but there would not be much he could do. Seraph had studied enough about fiends to know spells are often ineffective against them. Of course one could get lucky, but Seraph saw this as far too early to test his luck.
Rygo confidently strode up to the bulky reptile.
“What’s your question you ugly piece of sh*t?” He taunted. Seraph smacked his head with his palm. Glorfindel offered him a drink which he gladly took.
The hezrou’s toothy grin widened. The creature through its head back and let out a gurgled croak as mucous dripped from its mouth. The flap of wings and piglike grunts followed. Three black and purple distortions of humanoid and vulture rose from the chasm and flew above the party. Grunts and snorts came from behind the doorway and masses of green creatures that resembled obscene crosses of pigs and dogs began to fill the vacant ledge behind the bridge.
“Vrocks and dretches.” Draven announced to the party.
“The dretches are rather weak, but their numbers can overwhelm us.”
“Now, arrogant mortal, are you ready for your question?” The hezrou asked Rygo.
“Ask it.” Rygo responded firmly.
“Red scaled dragons breathe fire. What do copper dragons breathe?”
Rygo stepped back and squinted his eyes. He shook his head aimlessly. He growled in frustration. Finally he said
“I don’t know!”
The hezrou’s smile faded. It asked with incredible disappointment
“Really?! That was a warm up! How could you not know that?!”
Rygo shrugged. He never paid much attention to the dragons and dragonborn outside of his clan.

Annoyed with the lackluster performance, the hezrou roared and Rygo and charged him. Glorfindel stepped forward and hastily prayed as he wove a net of golden light from his amulet
“Olidammara, send this f*cker back to the hole he crawled from!” Glorfindel cast the net over the hezrou. It roared in agony as it tried to break free, but to no avail. The net shrunk and squeezed the hezrou down until it was removed from sight.
The vrocks descended upon the party, and the dretches grunted and howled as they rushed for the bridge. Rygo drew a javelin and threw it at a vrock diving at him. The projectile pierced its skin, and the grotesque creature careened into the bridge. Rygo rushed it with his hammer to finish it off. The vrock swung up a claw that caught Rygo’s face as he brought his glowing hammer down upon it. The vrock was slain, and Rygo was left with a slash across his face. He wiped off his face. Not too much blood, easily healed. Rygo chuckled and ran across the bridge.
Seraph turned to the Horde of dretches and created a fireball. Fire, even magically produced, won’t do much against demons, he thought to himself. Even so, the dretches might be weak enough for it to work. Seraph chucked the fireball at the abominations. Its explosion cast several dretches into the pit and many more squealed in agony as they roasted alive. The dretches behind them began to climb over the corpses of their fallen kind.
The two remaining vrocks swooped down at Mags, Glorfindel, and Draven. They emitted an agonizing screech so loud and piercing that the three nearly collapsed in pain. Mags could not resist the urge to crawl into a ball and quack in distress. Seeing an opportunity, one of the vrocks dove at the little kenku with beak open and talons poised for striking.
Draven held forth his hands and chanted rhythmically in the sylvan tongue of the feywild. His eyes glowed a deep blue and two shards of blue energy leapt from his hands and collided with the attacking vrock, slowing it down just long enough for Mags to collect herself and roll out of its way.
The other vrock attempted to strike Glorfindel, but he blocked its beak and talons with his shield. Glorfindel whistled his spiritual bolt into being and sent it through the vrock’s chest. The creature screamed in pain and was about to swing its talons again when Glorfindel sent his bolt through its chest three more times. The lifeless demon plummeted into the darkness.
Mags stood up and fired her new crossbow. One shot missed, but the other two pierced the last vrock’s wings. The demon struggled to maintain its flight as it slowly lowered further and further into the chasm. The three immediately turned and ran across the bridge to join Rygo.
Seraph had been running back since he threw his fireball. However, the dretches were far quicker than him and had nearly caught him. Seraph cursed to himself and cast another fireball at the brutes. Several of the monsters were cleared, but still more came.

As soon as Seraph crossed over to the other ledge, Rygo slammed his shining hammer into the stone bridge sending a crack through it that caused the structure to crumble and bring all of the pursuing demons with it.
Glorfindel chastised Rygo.
“Great job dumbass. Now we can’t get back!”
“It’ll be fine.” Seraph intervened.
“We still got rope. We could use Mags’ crossbow or even yer bolt to make a way across.”
Glorfindel shrugged and took a shot of whisky. Seraph did as well.
“Can’t wait for some more sh*t to happen as we go deeper.”
Glorfindel sarcastically commented. The party traveled down a descending path that wound around a pillar that reeked of rotting bodies. Eventually, the path opened up into an open area. Nothing was distinct about its rocky walls, hanging stalactites, or protruding stalagmites. Draven pointed out an opening at the end of the room. Everyone walked towards it.

Chapter 19: Cavern of the Abyss

Chapter Text

Rygo suddenly stopped. He drew his hammer, bared his teeth, and expelled a low, furious growl. He saw a tall tiefling clad in black armor standing before him. Rygo knew who he was. Zersto faced Rygo and laughed at him mockingly.
“Have you come to die like your pathetic brother?”

Rygo wasted no words and charged his foe. He swung his glowing hammer with all of his might upon Zersto, but it bounced off his foe’s armor. All of the force of the blow meant for his enemy impacted Rygo instead, and he fell to the ground. Zersto laughed. Rygo sprung up and swung again with the same result.

Glorfindel watched with absolute confusion as he saw Rygo attack nothing. He turned to Seraph to exchange looks, but something caught his eye. Glorfindel adjusted his attention and saw her. Caroline. She stood before him with a hand on her arm and gently gazing at him. She looked as beautiful as he remembered her. Glorfindel’s eyes watered. His face broke out into a huge smile, and his feet carried him to his beloved wife. She fell into his arms. Caroline and Glorfindel stared into each other’s eyes. No words were exchanged. None were needed. They kissed. Glorfindel’s knees buckled. His arms grew weak. His body was sapped of energy. He didn’t care. He was reunited with Caroline.

Mags froze. Her eyes could not wander from the image before her. Charred, covered with blisters and raw flesh, Alec stared at Mags. It was a look marked by agony, betrayal, and hatred. Mags’ gut wrenched at the sight of her. She desperately wanted to turn away, to say she was sorry, to explain herself, but her body refused to answer her requests. Mags’ feathery hand gripped the handle of her rapier. Perhaps that would make it better. The guilt would go away. She’d no longer be tortured by what she had done.
Alec would probably like that. Everyone would. Glorfindel, Seraph, even Rygo. They’d all be happier. Mags let go. She was familiar with physical pain. That didn’t bother her. This other sort of pain was much worse though. It lingered and no magic could fix it. But Mags didn’t want to die. There’s too much to do. People to trick, things to steal, cities to save, and… friends to make.
She missed Calla Lily. She missed Fus Roh. She missed Xenobia. They were great friends. And there will be more. Mags stepped through the image of Alec. And it faded away like smoke.

Seraph saw his brother, Hunter, before him. Blood poured from his head. He crawled to Seraph weakly and with great groans of pain.
“Brother! Why couldn’t you save us? Why weren’t you good enough?”
Hunter was joined by Mason, Frederick, and Elaina. All of them suffering slow deaths calling out to the prodigal prince. Seraph took a long swig of whisky. Illusions. Some powerful demon is behind this. The party must be close to the source. Seraph walked through the illusions of his family without looking down at them. Though he would never admit that his stomach turned and his throat filled with congestion at the sight of them. Seraph looked to his right and saw Draven on his knees crying. The count whimpered to himself
“I’m sorry Caroline. I’m sorry Ilese. I wasn’t strong enough.”

Seraph gently put his hand upon Draven’s shoulder. The collapsed man looked up to a calm, assuring face looking back at him. Seraph nodded and offered some whisky. Draven mildly pushed it away, sniffled, and said
“Dulls the senses. And we have a job to do.”
Seraph offered his hand and Draven took it. Draven pulled himself up.
“I don’t know what you saw. But I won’t let my vision come to pass.”
“Neither will I.” Seraph replied.
They walked together to gather a shocked Mags who was pacing about. The small kenku jumped back and her feathers flared out. Upon seeing her companions though, she calmed down and her feathers retracted to a fluffier state.
The three went to Rygo who had exhausted himself fighting the specter of his sworn foe. A collective look from them was all that it took. Rygo knew it wasn’t true. No matter how much he loathed the image before him and desired to destroy it, it was not real. Rygo looked away. His pride wounded by his show of folly. He got up and joined his cohorts.
Finally, the party gathered around Glorfindel, still embracing and kissing nothing. Seraph stood beside his friend. With a somber but firm tone, he whispered
“She’s gone.”

Tears flowed from Glorfindel’s eyes. He didn’t want to believe it. The light of his life was not allowed to fade and be gone forever. How could he go on? He told himself every day that he had moved on. Glorfindel couldn’t deceive himself any longer. But the voice of his good friend called to him, and Seraph was right. He always was. Glorfindel was happy he found Olidammara. He was happy they were on this quest. His life had purpose. Purpose until he could see Caroline again. Glorfindel closed his eyes, released his embrace, and buried his head into Seraph’s shoulder.
He collected himself quickly to save from embarrassment in front of the rest of the party. But he knew deep down he needed that release. Without a word, the party left the room. Their memories traveled with them.
The other side opened up into a large expanse with stalagmites larger than Rygo jutting out throughout the area. The space was split in two with a river of black liquid creeping through its way across. Off to the right on the party’s side, two balgura and six dretches lolled about. On the other side of the river, a demon, in the form of a blue beetle the size of a horse, arranged vials filled with red liquid in a cabinet carved into the wall over two stories tall. A hezrou with its arms crossed stood in front of it.

Mags snuck behind a stalagmite near the balguras and dretches. This was the perfect time to use her fire jelly, she figured. She scooped up two large jars of fire jelly from her bag, set them down, wrapped a piece of cloth dipped in the substance around a loaded crossbow bolt, and lit a match.
Seraph began drawing a summoning circle on the ground. Rygo chose a balgura as a target and slapped his face to ready himself for the fight. Draven began chanting in the sylvan tongue, and his eyes shone with blue.
Glorfindel’s mimic stood forward and shouted at the beetle-like demon.
“Yer terror over the city of Norden ends! The Red Death dies with you in this hole!”
The demon turned around revealing a long stinger protruding from its face. Its wings fluttered, producing a nauseating droning sound as it flew towards Glorfindel’s image. The hezrou alongside it judged the length of the river and decided to hide behind a stalagmite.
Draven launched two blue bolts into the creature, knocking it back a few feet. Rygo roared into battle. Mags threw her jars of fire jelly at the group of dretches. The jars shattered and spilled the gooey substance all over them. Seraph completed his summoning, chanting in elvish
“Rise out of the Abyss, Absol, and serve your master in battle.”
Seraph’s indentured balgura burst out of the summoning circle amidst a cascade of silver light. Absol roared and growled as he crawled from his abode onto the jagged ground. He turned to Seraph and growled
“What is your bidding?”
“First of all, kill the balgura the dragonborn ain’t fightin.”
Absol closed his eyes, shook his head, moaned, and howled as it tried to rebel against Seraph’s command. All the same, Absol turned to its opposing demon and charged at it.
The dretches slipped and tripped as they tried to get past one another and fight through the fire jelly to get to the small bird who had drenched them. Their squeals and howls expressed their futility.
The two opposing balguras rushed towards Rygo and Absol and threw their bodies recklessly at their foes. Rygo parried his opponent’s first blow with his shield, but the second it him square in the chest. He staggered back in pain. Absol was pounded on by the other balgura, but not knocked to the ground.
Glorfindel’s illusion walked across the black river to the beetle demon. The infernal creature stopped in confusion long enough for the mimic to come up to it. The mimic spoke as it held tightly onto its amulet
“Olidammara, protect me from this ugly sh*t.”
Golden light flowed from the mimics amulet and took the form of a giant beautiful woman carrying a large spear. The angelic woman drove its golden spear into the demon who screamed in pain.
Draven peppered the demon with two more bolts of force. Mags loosed her flaming crossbow into the dretches, and they erupted in flame. They carried on though greatly wounded. Seraph yelled to Mags
“Fire ain’t so effective against demons! But this’ll finish ‘em.”
Seraph launched a fireball at the group of dretches and disintegrated what was left of them. Seraph leaned on his staff as he sat down. The use of so many powerful spells in such a short time had exhausted him.
Rygo continued to bash his opposing balgura which pounded on him in return. With each strike, Rygo channeled the power of his oath into his hammer. The magical energy infused in the hammer blasted the balgura and drained its strength quicker than it could subdue the dragonborn.
Absol struggled with its opponent. They were evenly matched, but Absol managed to sweep its enemy’s feet with its enormous arms. Absol pinned the prone balgura and dug its teeth into the disadvantaged demon’s shoulder.
Glorfindel fired a sacred flame at the flying demon, but it ducked out of the way. The spiritual guardian the mimic produced struck the demon once again as it flew past. The fiend was wounded, but managed to continue its approach to Draven. Mags fired three bolts that sunk into the demon’s body. It continued on. Seraph casted Toll the Dead on the abomination, but it resisted the horror of the bell.
Finally, it reached Draven. The horrendous buzzing of its wings nearly forced him to double over and vomit, but he remained standing. The demon thrust its stinger at the count. Draven deftly sidestepped the attack and blasted the fiend’s head with a blue bolt of force, shouting
“Die wretched creature!”
The counterattack splattered the demon’s brains across the ground. Draven turned to the party and cooly informed them
“You have to be careful with a chasme’s stinger. They’ll suck the life out of you. Not even magic will help recover. Only time.” Draven drew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped off brainmatter from his suit.
Rygo finished off his opponent, but the last strike had no magic empowering it. He had exhausted the power of his oath.
Absol walked away from the corpse of the other balgura. Absol approached Seraph and asked
“Now that I have completed your task, may I be released?”
Seraph chuckled and shook his head.
“Yer service lasts until yer body on this plane is destroyed or an hour passes. Has either occurred?”
“No.” Absol growled.
“Exactly. Now, I need a way across that black stream. Break off some stalagmites and make a bridge across it for me and my companions.” Absol tried to break free of its bond through force of will but failed again. The demon set about its task grumbling the whole time. Rygo decided to help to speed up the process.
Seraph smugly drank a shot of whisky. He felt no pity for the balgura. It was a creature of rage and violence. It was incapable of feeling sympathy for any other creature and deserved none itself.
Absol and Rygo managed to create a path of rocks reaching three quarters of the way across the river. The rocks began to slowly dissolve in the acidic liquid. Seraph did not want to take any chances with the group not being able to make it across.
“Absol. Throw yerself in the river to complete the path.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Lay yer body down on the river at the end of the rocks so we may walk across yer back.”
“Damn you.” Absol slowly made its way to the river. It hesitated, but had no choice in the matter. It obeyed its master’s command. The acidic fluid muffled its screams of agony.

The party walked across the stones and dissolving balgura to the other side. The remaining hezrou leapt out to try to ambush them, but they were ready for it. In a matter of seconds, its ribs were broken, its body was pincushioned, its flesh was burned, and its skull was crushed.
Everyone started to congratulate each other when a raised hand from Draven silenced the party.
“We have found the source of the plague. But the source of the demons lies deeper still. My people will only be safe once their entrance is closed.”
Draven pointed out an opening in the wall. The party went through it and continued their descent down the cavern. The distant screams grew louder and harsher. The red haze pervading halls grew thicker, forcing the party’s breathing to be labored. After some time, the path opened up into a spacious room. A pattern of lines were carved into the wall opposite of the party. Underneath the lines, were the letters of the alphabet carved onto stones sticking out of the wall.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
The party approached the wall and inspected the strange sight. Seraph spoke up first.
“It’s clearly a riddle. We gotta figure out what letters fill in the blanks. Fer example.”
Seraph strolled up to the stone with the letter A on it and pushed it into the wall. The stone sank into the wall, and the letter A appeared in two of the spaces on the wall.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ A _ _ _ A _
B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
“Interestin.” Seraph remarked to himself. Mags cheerfully hopped up to the wall and pushed in the letter E.
_ _ E _ E _ _ _
_ E _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ A _ _ _ A _
B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
“This is a common one.” Glorfindel said as he pushed in the letter T.
T _ E _ E _ _ _
_ E _ T _ _ _ _
T _ A _ _ _ A _
B C D F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S U V W X Y Z
Rygo excitedly ran to the wall and pushed in the letter W before anyone could tell him to stop and think.
T _ E _ E _ _ _
W E _ T _ _ W _
T _ A _ _ _ A _
B C D F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S U V X Y Z
Draven stroked his chin, then sauntered up to the wall and pressed in the letter O.
T_ E _ E _ O _
W E _ T _ O W _
T O A _ _ _ A _
B C D F G H I J K L M N P Q R S U V X Y Z
“I got it.” After a swig of his flask, Seraph walked up to the wall and pressed in a series of letters.
T H E D E M O N
W E N T D O W N
T O A R C H A I
B G J K L P Q S U V X Y Z
Suddenly, the pounding of enormous hooves caught the party’s attention. They turned to their right and saw a cloud of flame and smoke approach them. Out of cloud stepped a hooved giant with skin red as blood. Horns protruded from its cheeks and huge, brown, bat-like wings stretched out from its back. The demon towered over the party three times any of their size. It carried a whip of fire and a sword of lightning. A vrock stood perched on each of its shoulders. It stomped towards the party.
“Balor.” Draven said to himself in horror.
Everyone backed up to the wall and held their weapons forward. No one wanted to make the first move against the terrifying creature.

The balor stopped twenty feet in front of the party. It put its whip and sword behind its back and pulled out a golden fiddle and its bow. The demon immediately began playing a fiery tempo. It’s fingers rapidly moved up and down the fiddle with tongues of flame flying out as it played. The bow sliding against the strings elicited a screeching and impressive array of notes. The vrocks provided haunting yet enchanting background vocals. After a couple of verses the demon lifted its bow and nodded to the party.
Suddenly, instruments of all kinds manifested around the party. Utterly baffled, the party hesitated before scrambling to grab an instrument and conjure a tune to rival the balor’s. Glorfindel grabbed a lute, Seraph a bass. Rygo got behind a set of drums. Mags cycled through a range of vocalists she had heard before deciding upon Xenobia’s. Draven grabbed a triangle.
The party improvised a melody that was somber and melancholy. But throughout the song Mags crafted lyrics about perseverance and future triumph. Seraph thought of the axe he saw in the tea leaves as the party inexplicably managed to pull together an impressive string of verses.

The balor stepped back in shock. Then with a snort it fired up its tune again adding motifs from several genres and improvising seemingly impossible measures. The party was dumbfounded by the inhuman abilities of the demon’s fiddling. It completed its next set of verses and pointed its bow at the party as though to say “Beat that.”
The party’s nerves had been exacerbated by the balor’s performance. Rygo couldn’t keep a beat, Mags was off pitch, and Seraph and Glorfindel fought over the melody. Draven did great with the triangle though. As a whole, their next set of verses floundered, and the party bowed their heads in shame.

The balor laughed mockingly. It switched its melody and tempo into being smooth and swinging. The demon danced to its own assured victory and clapped its hooves together on the final beat.
The party did not give up though, and they continued their song. The tempo picked up, the key changed to major, and the lyrics of perseverance were backed by triumphant instrumentals. The lyrics became that of inspiration and victory. The party united in such an exquisite harmony that it would swell up the heart of anyone who witnessed it with emotion and delight.
The balor’s jaw dropped in shock. It could not believe the upset that occurred before its eyes. Even so, the demon bowed to the party and placed its golden fiddle and bow on the ground before them. The demon turned and walked into the cloud of smoke and fire and disappeared.
The party looked at each other with bewilderment. No one, not even Draven understood what had just took place. The wall with the letters suddenly opened up before them. They decided to take the golden fiddle and move on.

The following chamber was made of two rings of stone connected by eight narrow walkways just wide enough for one person to stand on. A seemingly endless pit filled the void between the rings and walkways. The party quickly split up and positioned themselves on a walkway each.
The outer ring the party was situated on was as narrow as the walkways connected to it. The inner ring consisted of a large platform. In the center of the platform a chaotic pool of energy pulsated and bubbled over. An array of colors shot out from the pool or poured out like lava.
Standing near the pool was an enormous abomination surrounded by three balgura. The demon’s stature was as great as a bear’s. It possessed claws for appendages with human like arms jutting out the side. Its head bore a twisted resemblance to both a goat and dog. It stood on birdlike talons, and spikes poked out of its shoulders and face. The glabrezu saw its approaching foes and shouted at the party
“You mortals are strong for having made it so far, but Orcus will have his way.”
Rygo responded by charging down the walkway at the demons. Seraph shouted at him.
“Knock off the ape lookin ones!”

Rygo obliged and hurtled his body straight into the nearest balgura. The hulking demon was caught completely off guard and was launched off the platform howling as it fell into the void. Rygo turned to another balgura and shoved himself into it. His enemy pushed back but lost its balance and slipped. Rygo seized the opportunity to shove the demon off the edge to its death.
The remaining balgura flew into a rage over the death of its fallen comrades and threw itself at Rygo. It pushed and shoved Rygo, trying to give him the same fate he had bequeathed its brethren. Rygo stood firm, his back foot on the edge of the platform but refusing to budge. He pivoted and let the balgura’s momentum carry itself over the edge and plummet into the pit.

Seraph chuckled to himself about the astounding success and cast mirror image to protect himself. He knew there was not much he could do offensively against the remaining demon at this point.

Glorfindel summoned his spiritual bolt and sent it flying at the glabrezu with a whistle. It dug into the demon’s side but failed to wound it mortally.
The glabrezu watched in shock and frustration as its lieutenants were simply tossed into the pit. It bared its teeth and howled with a horrible fury. Then Glorfindel’s bolt pierced its flesh. The demon turned its attention to the half-elf and uttered a single word. A word that was ancient and powerful, that few beings know. The mere utterance was enough to manipulate its target with no chance of resistance. The word of power forced Glorfindel into a dazed state. He was powerless to prevent the glabrezu from rushing up to him, squeezing its pincers around him, and lifting him over the ravine. It grinned spitefully at the party as it dangled its captive, and they shouted in distress for his release. The demon loosed its grip, and Glorfindel fell.

Rygo pulled out his last javelin and desperately hurled it at Glorfindel’s plunging body to try to pin him to the wall by his clothes. He missed badly.

Mags aimed her crossbow at Glorfindel. A thought flashed through her mind. She could let him die. If she missed, no one would blame her. She’d have one less enemy to stab her in the back someday. Mags shook her feathery head and fired. Miss. Fire. The second bolt pierced Glorfindel’s shoulder and the stone behind it. His body jerked. He was falling briefly enough for his spine to not be broken. He was too heavy for the small crossbow bolt, and it slipped out of the wall and Glorfindel plummeted further. It was only ten feet before he hit a ledge. Glorfindel yelled out in pain, but he was alive.
Mags leapt in the air with joy then screamed with horror as she saw the glabrezu flying towards her. It had cast a spell allowing granting itself flight so long as the demon could maintain its mental focus on the spell. Draven’s blue bolts whizzed by the demon but failed to connect.

Enraged, the glabrezu snatched Mags with one of its pincers and began to lift her off the ground. Suddenly, it screamed in agony and released its grip. The demon clutched its left eye with its humanoid hands, trying to numb the pain. Mags’ final crossbow bolt lodged in its socket. Its concentration on the spell had been broken, and the glabrezu hurtled into the pit cursing in rage that a duck had slain it.
Mags collapsed in shock. She curled into a ball and covered her face with her wings. A hand gently lay on her shoulder. She looked up to see Rygo smiling down at her.

“You did good little one. You are one of the bravest warriors I’ve seen.”
Mags wiped tiny streams of water from her eyes. She smiled at the large golden scaled dragonborn. Mags shot up and gave him a happy quack. Rygo chuckled. They walked to the inner ring.
The party wasted no time pulling out rope and retrieving Glorfindel. Rygo laid his hands upon his companion and healed his wounds. Glorfindel clasped his hand on Rygo’s shoulder and said
“Thanks fer tryin.” He looked over to Mags. He sighed and then chuckled while shaking his head.
“Thanks Mags. I’m glad you were here.”
Mags grinned excitedly and hopped from side to side. Glorfindel stood up and Seraph gave him a quick tight hug. They broke out and toasted a drink together.
“To not dyin in a f*ckin hole.” They said to each other.
Draven pulled out his black and red book and strolled over to the party. His voice quivered with anticipation as he said to the party
“I’m so grateful the realm has heroes like you to defend it. Now…” He turned to Seraph with an eager grin.
“Let’s deal with this once and for all.” Seraph nodded in agreement. Draven opened up his book and showed Seraph its contents. The script was in a language Seraph could not read, but he recognized it as that of devils and demons. Symbols were drawn sporadically all over the pages and on the margins. Draven pointed to three of the symbols.
“Draw these around the energy source and repeat after me.” Seraph complied.

Draven began to chant in the language of fiends. An ancient, unnerving tongue unlike any found in the material plane. Images of death and destitution were conjured up in the minds of Mags, Rygo, and Glorfindel. Their stomachs turned, their throats swelled, and their hearts beat rapidly. Seraph repeated after Draven and followed his seemingly erratic motions of waving hands and stomping feet.
Their chanting grew louder, wilder, and faster. The energy pool bubbled and spurt with plumes of color shooting up. The ground shook. The very air seemed to tremble. Suddenly, with a booming roar like thunder, a form burst out from the energy pool. It reeked of death. Shrieks of pain accompanied it. A feeling of eternal dread wafted over the mortals bearing witness to the indescribable shape of the enormous demon lord before them.
“Orcus!!” Draven called.
“I summon you with a proposal. Grant me your boon and never return your demons to the material plane. In exchange, I offer my immortal soul.”
A warped, vociferous voice replied from Orcus’ unfathomable form
“So be it.”
The multitude of colors springing from the energy pool surrounded Draven. They swirled around him, making him impossible to be seen by the party. Draven screamed in pain. The colors retreated, gathered back together and disappeared. Draven’s canines had been transformed into fangs. His skin turned deathly pale. His eyes were now an icy blue. He turned to Seraph and bowed.
“With my vampiric gift, I will save my people and rescue yours. Hold out for a few more days. I promise this war will be won.”
Seraph accepted the count’s pledge. The rest of the party were too exhausted to even know how to react. The day had been long and tiring. They all went to sleep, trusting their changed ally would not betray them in their sleep.

Chapter 20: Return to the City of Walls

Chapter Text

The party awoke to a transformed cavern. The red haze was gone. Putrid smells and grating sounds no longer permeated the room. Seraph and Glorfindel both cast simple spells that brought light to illuminate the area. Seraph’s manifested as a silvery sphere. Glorfindel’s appeared as a golden torch.

It immediately became obvious to everyone that Draven was not among them. The party quickly concluded that he had left while they were asleep.
The party traveled out of the cave the way they came in. They walked up the winding paths and crossed the ravines with the combined length of their ropes paired with excellent throws by Rygo or skilled shots by Mags. They exited the cave with little trouble.

Upon exiting the cave, the party was greeted with a blanket of light, cheerful chirping of birds, and a clear blue sky. Seraph sighed softly to himself. These were all wonderful omens of a good day and safe journey. The four strolled over to where they had stashed their horses to retrieve them. They stopped in surprise at the sight before them.

Four bandits lay on the ground hog tied and gagged. Casually leaning against one of the horses behind them, with a long strand of grass sticking out of his mouth, stood the beggar. He spat the grass out and greeted the party with a disturbingly large smile. He theatrically announced to the party in his high and raspy voice

“Ah, the conquering heroes have returned. In your absence, these villains thought they might help themselves to your noble steeds. I have restrained them so that you may slay these fiends at your leisure.”
Seraph shook his head with an annoyed expression on his face as he walked past the bound thieves.
“I don’t give a sh*t about these fools. Ain’t no point killin ‘em.”
Rygo came up alongside Seraph and curtly told the beggar
“No sport in it.”
“There ain’t a need to kill these bandits. They can’t harm us, and they suffered enough I reckon.” Glorfindel replied with his own two coppers worth of thought. Mags nodded in agreement. The half-elf gave his feathery companion a look of surprise at her lack of bloodthirst.
The beggar rolled his eyes and responded sarcastically
“Good to see you’re all so merciful.” He continued with a chiding tone
“But you don’t seem so concerned with the greater consequences of your actions, and what they mean for the world around you.”
“Now hold on!” Glorfindel indignantly replied.
“We saved the town of Norden! And now Wolnocc has a fighting chance.”
“This is true. But what about after? Do you think your new friend will simply stop after his promise is fulfilled? Vampires are not known for keeping to themselves.”
“What would you have done?! We had no better option. Should we have let a whole city die instead?!”
“Don’t argue with him Glorfindel. He ain’t worth our time.” Seraph cut in with a bitter growl.
He took a shot of whisky and handed it to Glorfindel who partook gratefully. It calmed both of their nerves. Seraph spurred his horse forward. Everyone had mounted, and they needed to return to Wolnocc as soon as they could. Getting away from the preacher was an added benefit. What right did he have to judge them? Seraph thought. They had a city to save. HIS city to save. There was no time to worry about all of the possible consequences that arise from each action taken and decision made. What mattered was the result. Wolnocc stands, and the people within are alive.
Glorfindel struggled with himself. Of course it mattered what could arise from their actions but what other choice did they really have? Besides, Draven seemed to be an honorable fellow. Maybe, no, that stranger was definitely wrong about him. The count would do his duty and that was all. They had made the right choice.
Mags pondered to herself. Saving the city is like saving the realm. If they succeed in it, does it really matter how they do it? Mags thought back to her assassination attempt of Alec. That was for the city and the realm. But it was so terrible and felt so awful. Every time Mags thought of that night and the following events she shuddered. So it does matter, she concluded. But how else to achieve goals? Seems to be no other way with Alec or Draven. Mags shook her head chastising herself. She created fire jelly and crafted many ways to sell her forgeries. She could figure out other solutions. Better solutions. Mags smiled and leaned forward on her horse with a determination and confidence she had been missing for sometime.
Rygo did not contemplate such things. They did not matter to him. He was one step closer to Zersto. One step closer to avenging his brother. A fire burned within Rygo. He stoked its flames and let it consume all it touched. Rygo needed that fire. He needed it to scorch everyone responsible for his pain.

The party easily slipped past the disorganized siege of Norden to enter the town’s eastern gate. All was as it was before. People worked, disease ridden bodies lay strewn along the streets, and the sick tried to keep to themselves. Seraph rode up to the town crier and asked
“Where is Count Draven?”
“Oh, well he came in last night and went straight to his family in the manor I believe. Hasn’t been out since.”
Seraph nodded. It was understandable for Draven to go to his family first. He would fulfill his promise in time.
“Oh, I did here there was a letter sent here for you.” The crier climbed down from his post and handed Seraph a bound scroll. He opened it and read
From the Tail of the Crown
I have successfully infiltrated the enemy camp and am well within their ranks. I am confident now that I eliminate a key target without being discovered. I leave the decision in your hands. I could remove Zersto’s bodyguards one by one leaving him far more vulnerable. Or you may choose the gunman, whom I have discovered to be the leader of the Blitzers. If I kill the dwarven cleric, I will deprive them of their architect and repairer of the cannons as well as Zersto’s closest friend. Or I could assassinate the mage who leads the fledgling caster corps of Zersto’s army. Return this letter with your answer at the bottom. Good luck, Seraph.

Seraph made his decision quickly. The gunman was the most competent fighter amongst Zersto’s lieutenants and removing the leader of the Blitzers would be crucial for limiting their capability. Seraph wrote his decision on the letter and returned it to the crier to send to Nothos.
Seraph reminded the party that the city was still under constant assault, and they did not have a moment to lose. They sped out of the city and rode with great speed back to Wolnocc. On the way, Seraph studied the clouds and searched for divining symbols in them. He saw a dragon and an eagle. These were excellent indicators of future success. Seraph was able to breathe more calmly after his divining, but was no less convinced that the party must reach Wolnocc swiftly. They arrived at the southern city walls at midday two days after they had left Norden.
The watchmen rushed along the outer wall shouting conflicting orders to one another. The city bells rang desperately. The thunder of the cannons was noticeably absent. At the sight of their prince, the guards immediately opened the gates for the party. They rushed in and rode straight for the White Keep. When they arrived at the first district they saw Seraph’s father and little sister, Elaina.
The king was pacing back and forth with a deeply furrowed brow and muttering to himself all sorts of catastrophes that were about to befall them. Elaina saw Seraph first and rushed over to him and wrapped her tiny arms around his leg. She looked up at him with a big smile and cheerfully said
“Yer alive big brother! We were so worried.” Seraph chuckled and picked up his little sister and gave her a hug. She squealed with delight at being lifted.
Mason Grimlock’s face lit up at the sight of his son. He rushed over to Seraph and with a shaking voice said
“Oh good yer back son! Come inside to the keep! We’ll be safe there!”
He hastily turned around but stopped when the prince replied
“What’s going on?”
“Oh it’s absolutely dreadful! They’ve broken through the fourth wall and are slaughtering everyone in the district! Hunter is out there. I’m afraid he’s been lost. We need to retreat to the safety of the keep immediately. Who knows how far they’ll get.” Seraph turned his horse around, and the rest of the party followed suit.
“What are you doing son?”
“I’m going out there. I need to save Hunter and stop their advance.”
“Get back here!! I’ve lost two sons to this war already! I’m not losing you!” Seraph wheeled around.
“That’s not yer decision to make! I came back fer one reason. To save this city and my family. And I’m gonna do it! If I die then fine! What else do I have to live for?”

Seraph stormed off as he shouted back to his father, leaving him crestfallen as he watched his son march off to a potential untimely death.
As the party reached the third wall, they saw waves of soldiers rushing up the ramparts and civilians desperately running from the wall with all they could carry. Screams of terrified people mixed with the cries of children as the mob tried to move forward held back by its own size. A command from the ramparts managed to ring out above the crowd’s pandemonium.
“Close the gate!!!” Metal grates slammed into the ground and huge wooden doors swung shut. Families called to their loved ones as they were cut off. A mass of civilians had been cut in two. Many were on this inside of the wall, but most had been shut out on the other side. Alec stood in the back of the crowd that had made it inside. Her armor was banged up and blood soaked. She tried to calm the people down with little success.

The party dismounted and met the commanding officer at the top of the wall.
“What’s the situation?” Seraph asked her.
“The enemy blasted through the fourth wall and have been making steady progress to this one. We’ve been evacuating as many civilians as we can, but the enemy’s just too close.” She pointed to the crowd of civilians on the outside of the gate, and the party saw an approaching group of Zersto’s thugs with the purple robed mage at their head.
“Prince Hunter tried to hold them off, but got bogged down in district four’s marketplace. We don’t have the soldiers to spare to save him.” She said lowering her head in shame.
“I’m sorry m’lord.”

Seraph nodded and assessed the situation. Losing either the mass of people or Hunter would be devastating to the city’s morale. He would not want to have to bear the suffering and grief it would cause him to see the dead he could have saved, especially his brother. But there was not enough time to address both. He turned to his companions
“We need to split up. I can get my brother out of danger. Y’all can save the civilians from Zersto’s troops.”
“Hell yea.” Glorfindel responded. Mags and Rygo nodded in agreement. Seraph turned to the captain.
“Anyway we can get out there?”
“Of course sire! There’s a door next to the gatehouse just big enough for one person to go through at a time. Y’all won’t be able to bring yer horses though.”
“That’s alright. Let’s go.”

The party slipped out of the side door and into the fourth district. Seraph separated himself and cast phantom steed. His shadowy horse rose from beneath him, and Seraph rode off at twice the speed an ordinary horse could muster.
Mags, Rygo, and Glorfindel rushed over to the crowd to confront the mage and his accompanying troops. The mage had rushed forward with five heavily armed bodyguards alongside him. A score of foot soldiers trailed behind. The mage chanted and drew deep purple flames from an amulet that gathered together in a growing sphere. He looked up at the terrified mass of people with a sinister grin. Suddenly, he was interrupted by a high pitched, squeaky voice
“Stop fiend! Or face our wrath!” He looked over to see a black feathered duck had just yelled at him. On her left was a bulky gold scaled dragonborn wearing worn and beaten armor. On her right stood a proud looking half-elf priest of Olidammara. The mage laughed.
“This was meant for these poor, pathetic souls, but I guess I can treat you to the taste of flame first.” The mage lofted the fireball at the trio.

It grew larger than any fireball Mags had ever seen. She dove and rolled forward before the sphere made contact with the ground and exploded in a blaze. She avoided its flames entirely and emerged unscathed.
Glorfindel was not so fortunate. He was unprepared for the attack and was hit head on by the spell’s destructive power. The burning pain and force of the spell knocked him to the ground unconscious.
Rygo managed to run out of the way of most of the blast. What flames did reach him hurt, but did little to bother him. His kind could handle heat far more than most mortal creatures. He turned to Mags, and with a co*cky smile, he said
“Watch this.” Rygo charged towards the mage with a roar swinging his hammer above his head. The mage half-elf mage created a purple shield in front of him preparing for Rygo’s attack. Just what he was looking for. Rygo shouted with all of the passion of his oath
“Quick Step!” And he vanished with a trail of mist where he had just stood.

Suddenly, he reappeared behind the mage his hammer raised and glowing. The mage merely had the chance to give a shocked look at his attacker before the blow connected with his skull. The mage flew to the ground killed instantly.
By this time, Mags had hidden herself amongst the crowd and climbed on a bystanders shoulders with her crossbow leveled at her target. The bodyguard did not even know to raise his shield as three bolts pierced his body. Chest, throat, forehead. The man collapsed dead. Two of the remaining bodyguards dropped their weapons and surrendered. The other two continued to fight. Rygo and Mags dispatched them quickly. Seeing the destruction of the mage and the bodyguards, the footsoldiers catching up turned and fled.
Rygo and Mags returned to Glorfindel’s unconscious body. Rygo laid his hands upon his fallen comrade and healed his wounds enough for Glorfindel to sit back up. Glorfindel shook his head, clasped his hands, and began to pray to his god
“Olidammara, please grant my hands with yer power so I can cure my wounds.”
Golden light began to shine from Glorfindel’s hands, and he placed them all over his burnt body. The burns melted away, replaced with fresh skin. Rygo offered his hand to Glorfindel, but the half-elf simply shot up with a new spring in his step.
“I shoulda used my mimic.” He chastised himself. Glorfindel looked at Rygo and said with a cheeky smile.
“Rygo, yer a few knives short of a full set, but yer alright. Thanks for helpin me out buddy.”
“Heh, heh. You’re all a fun bunch and excellent fighters too. I’m pleased to go into battle with all of you.” Rygo responded and addressed both Glorfindel and Mags with his compliment.
Mags gave a big smile and turned her attention to the frightened crowd. She waved over the other two, and the trio calmed and organized the mass of civilians as the gates opened to let them in.

Seraph sped down the streets of the fourth district rounding corner after corner. Houses burned, bodies lay strewn about the streets, people were being grabbed and killed as they fled. Seraph pressed on. He didn’t have time to save them all. One goal was on his mind. He needed to save his brother. Even so, opposing thoughts crept in.
Could he actually save him? What if he was already dead? Would it be so bad if he died? After all, Seraph would become the new crown prince. He’d be one step closer to real power in this city, and he would do a much better job than Hunter ever could.
Seraph tried to dismiss such thoughts. Hunter was his brother. Yet they nagged him and clouded his mind.

Seraph rounded the final corner to reach the marketplace. The situation was dire indeed. Hunter stood surrounded by his fallen bodyguard with the last of their number leaning on his sword for support. Hunter’s legs shook, and his arms weakly held his greatsword aloft. Blood matted several weak points in his armor. Four of Zersto’s guards were closing in on Wolnocc’s prince.
Seraph needed to act quickly. He could not cast fireball without risking his brother. The previous doubt in his mind had been dashed upon the sight of Hunter fighting on despite being beaten. His brother was kind and brave. Seraph would not fail to protect him. Seraph casted hypnotic pattern on Zersto’s troops. The image of the dragon in the clouds flashed in his mind as two of his enemies fell into a stupor.
One of the enemy soldiers who retained her senses elected to assault Wolnocc’s crown prince hoping to land a mortal blow. She cut down Hunter’s last bodyguard who threw himself in her way. The other conscious adversary went to his comrades and began to shake them out of their trance.
Seraph clenched his fists and his brow furrowed. He didn’t have time to take down each enemy soldier one by one. He mustered his shadowy steed forward and rushed for his brother’s hand calling

“Hunter!! Reach for me!” Hunter turned to see his incoming brother, as did his assailants.
One who had just escaped Seraph’s hypnosis ran forward and swung his axe at the legs of the strange, dark horse. When his axe made contact, the illusory steed immediately dissipated and Seraph fell forward and hit the ground hard. His body rolled over to his brother’s side who was struggling to hold back a mighty blow from one of his opponents. Hunter staggered and his four adversaries threatened to launch a final assault at once to finish him.
Seraph grabbed his brother’s ankle and shouted in Elvish
“Thunderstep!!”

A mighty boom launched the four assailants several feet and onto their backs. Seraph and Hunter appeared thirty yards away from where they were. Hunter picked his little brother up and without a word they started running for the third wall. Though Hunter was wounded, their headstart and knowledge of the city made losing their pursuers trivial. But they still had to make it to the gates. They rounded corner after corner and switched streets many times. They bobbed and weaved throughout the district.
After rounding a corner, they suddenly found themselves facing one of Zersto’s lieutenants a mere thirty feet from them. The gunman reached for his pistols. Seraph cast hold person, and the gunman’s body froze. If Hunter, wounded though he was, could just muster the strength to finish him before he broke out of Seraph’s spell they could…
An arrow ran straight through the lieutenant’s skull. Seraph followed the angle of the shot to the roof of a building. Nothos gave a salute from his perch and slipped out of sight. Seraph breathed a sigh of relief. He knew they would make it to the wall now.

The brothers made it back without further incidence. The gates were opened immediately for the two princes who were welcomed in with uproarious cheers from the soldiers atop the battlements and the refugees gathered together. Glorfindel, Mags, and Rygo rushed over to Seraph and Hunter. The five exchanged hugs and pats on the back. Hunter pulled back and gawked at Rygo for a few seconds before saying
“Fus Roh? I thought you were dead!”
The dragonborn laughed heartily
“Oh no. I’m his brother Rygo. The stronger and handsomer one as you can see.” Rygo laughed along with everyone else in response to his reply. But his merriment died quickly and his face grew stern and focused at the thought of his murdered brother.
Seraph shot an elbow to Glorfindel’s rib and teased
“Come on Glorfindel, heal my brother already. Can’t ya see he’s wounded?”
Glorfindel gave a long bombastic bow and replied with a faux flattering tone
“Oh of course thine prestigious majesty. It would be my honor to do this gracious service that thou hast ordered of me. Why would not a man of such noble import as thyself command of me the exercise of my powers rather than call upon my aid as a friend?” Getting the point, Seraph rolled his eyes and asked Glorfindel between chuckles
“Alright Glorfindel. Could ya please heal Hunter?” Glorfindel raised his head with a smile and said
“Absolutely my friend.”
“Thanks pal.”
Shortly after the crown prince had been healed, a call rang from the ramparts.
“Sires! We’ve got incoming!”

Chapter 21: Our Walls are Strong

Chapter Text

Seraph and Hunter exchanged a look and immediately ran to the top of wall with the rest of the party close behind. When they arrived, the soldier whom had called them pointed out toward the occupied district. Masses of clanking armor and glittering weapons filled the streets. As far as the eye could see, columns of soldiers marched towards the walls of Wolnocc. Debris was cleared from the streets, ladders were carried, and enormous siege towers rolled to the walls. Hunter turned to his brother and said
“I’ll defend the wall between towers Bertolt and Reiner. Y’all can defend this section with less men and women right?”
“Yeah.” Hunter threw his arm on Seraph’s shoulder and locked eyes with him.
“Stay safe little Sara.” Hunter gathered a score of troops and traveled with them to their section of the wall. The party was left with only ten soldiers covering their hundred yard stretch of the wall. The soldiers began to quake and sweat at the sight of the oncoming assault, the sound of horns blaring, and the chants reverberating from the ground below
“Kill!! Kill!! Kill!!”
The party glanced at each other, silently acknowledging the problem of morale.
“Someone oughta make a speech.” Glorfindel commented.
“I ain’t one fer speeches.” Seraph replied.
“I am.” Rygo chimed in. The dragonborn pounded his shield against the battlements until the attention of all of the defending soldiers turned to him. He bellowed with utmost confidence
“Soldiers of Wolnocc!! Today you defend your city and your people from invaders! Invaders who threaten to slaughter your families and plunder your homes! You will not let that happen, and we will fight with you until the last of us fall! There is no retreat, there is no surrender, there is only the fight! Now let’s fight!”
“Let’s fight!” The squad of soldiers replied in unison. They could not help but smile as their spirits and resolved were raised. Seraph turned to his ally and said
“Good sh*t.”
“Thanks. Heh, heh, mother always said I could work a crowd.”
Glorfindel rolled his eyes. Was he running for parliament or something?
Mags paid no attention to the pre-battle theatrics. She was busy laying her jars of fire jelly in tight, secure places and setting up lit torches within arm’s reach. She put five crossbow bolts wrapped in cloth alongside the jars of fire jelly in preparation.
Arrows began to fly from the towers and from the ground below. The battle had begun.
“Get down!!” Seraph shouted as the party and their company ducked behind the battlements.

A soldier was scraped by a random missile, but the volley did no real damage to the defenders. Seraph responded with launching silvery firebolts into the approaching mass. Glorfindel whistled his spiritual bolt into appearing and sent it after them as well. Mags decided to conserve her bolts for when it counted. The mass continued to approach the wall, and the siege towers inched closer.
After several rounds of exchanged missile fire, the ladders reached the wall. Along the entire stretch wood clunked against stone and enemy troops began to scale upwards. Seraph shouted orders to the party
“Rygo! Take a pair of soldiers and defend the left flank. Glorfindel! Take four with you to the right flank! Mags and I will hold the center with the rest of them!”
Rygo and Glorfindel executed their assignments instantly. Rygo rushed over to the placed ladders and pushed them off sending several enemies plummeting to the earth with them.
Glorfindel prayed to his god and summoned the beautiful gigantic spirit armed with a spear. The spirit swung her weapon at the scaling assaulters, knocking them off their ladders and falling to their deaths. She then impaled those who managed to near the top.
Seraph continued to cast firebolt. He directed his fire at those in the front of the ladders sending their corpses in a straight path into their allies below. He directed his accompanying soldiers to shove the now lightened ladders off of the wall.
Mags opened her jars of fire jelly and poured them down the ladders in front of her soaking rungs and enemy troops. She took her torches at hand and lit the jelly ablaze sending fire down the ladders. Scaling enemies leapt for the ground to escape the flames. The ladders crumbled under the stress of weight and weakening supports.
The siege towers moved closer.
Every time Rygo pushed off a ladder, another replaced it. He knew he couldn’t keep up and bared his shield forward in preparation for the assault. As soon as enemy troops scaled the walls, Rygo charged them and pounded them into the ground with his hammer. Some of his victims he launched off the battlements and into the district below. His accompanying troops finished off the wounded troops lying on the floor of the wall. Zersto’s troops tried to fight back against Rygo’s onslaught but to no avail.
Rygo’s plate armor was too strong, his defensive footwork and use of his shield was impeccable, and his allies standing next to him allowed for the boons of the Fellowship of the Realm to flow through Rygo and empower his defense. One enemy soldier managed to score a blow with his spear in the joints of Rygo’s armor. His face lit up with delight at his success, but he had only succeeded in pissing the dragonborn off. His death was luckily short.
Glorfindel’s guardian spirit’s time was short, and she disappeared from the battle in minutes. Glorfindel summoned his battle angels as a replacement, and they harried every enemy that dared to scale the wall. Glorfindel sent his bolt through the confused and distracted assaulters who managed to reach the top. His accompanying soldiers slashed and stabbed their disordered enemies to great effect.
Only a few managed to place their feet on the wall, and when they did immediately tried to attack the lightly armored half-elf who seemed to be the cause of their difficulties. Each time they swung their weapon through an illusion that the real Glorfindel was standing a few feet behind. By the time they recognized their mistake, the attackers were set upon by an angel and killed where they stood.
Seraph continued his firebolt strategy and hesitated to use the remaining power within him to cast powerful spells. He cast shield a couple of times to defend himself attacks of enemies who had managed to reach the top. His guard quickly cut them down to protect their prince. For one of the ladders, Seraph cast hold on the leading scaler, who promptly held everyone behind them up.

Their allies grew impatient though and simply cast the paralyzed holdup off the ladder and continued to move upward. As the center became threatened with being overwhelmed, Seraph summoned the strength from within him to cast fireball and send it at the base of the ladders, demolishing several of them and the surrounding enemy troops.
Mags continued her strategy of burning the ladders with her fire jelly. After some time, her jars began to run low. Mags made a snap decision to save some of them for the siege towers and switched to her crossbow. She perched herself at the top of a ladder and launched three bolts straight into the frontrunner. The enemy soldier didn’t have time to express their surprise that a duck with a crossbow was attacking them before they were sent careening into their allies below them.
Mags hopped from ladder to ladder continuing her attacks. She deftly dodged the missiles launched back at her and jumped over the swings of enemies who managed to get close enough. When she ran low on bolts, Mags drew her rapier and jumped from side to side stabbing and slashing the leaders while avoiding responding blows.
The siege towers moved closer.
Seraph quickly analyzed the situation, and concluded that the furthest left siege tower of the three was the closest and had to be dealt with before it reached the wall and tipped the balance. Seraph decided to draw on his reserves and took out his enchanted chalk. As Mags protected the center, he drew out his summoning circle and called Absol from the Abyss. The balgura rose from the circle howling and screaming, but it could not resist its master’s call. Seraph pointed at the left siege tower and ordered his servant
“Launch yerself onto that structure and kill everyone atop it and inside.” As always, Absol tried to resist but failed.
The demon turned to their task and backed up as far as they could on the wall. They ran forward with their fists pounding the ground, and they leapt just as they reached the edge of the wall. It was a long distance of nearly forty feet, but the balgura’s athleticism came through. Absol latched onto the battlements of the siege tower and pulled themself onto the platform. The terrified troops screamed at the sight of the humongous demon before them and some jumped from their tower as it pummeled those who remained. The siege tower slowed as troops from below ran up to try to deal with the situation.
Mags noted the success of Seraph’s efforts and hatched a plan of her own. She gathered up her fire jelly jars and quickly waddled over to Rygo who had cowed several enemy troops into surrendering. She got his attention and held up her jars.
“Throw at tower please.” Rygo smiled and laid down his hammer to oblige. He grabbed Mags’ jars one by one and hurled them at the middle siege tower. Four of them connected and slathered the structure with the gooey substance. Mags then ran over to Seraph shouted
“Firebolt please!!” Seraph nodded and shot a firebolt at the siege tower. The structure was ablaze in seconds, and it halted almost immediately following the attack. The flames spread all along the wooden siege weapon. Enemy troops fled as best they could from the burning death trap.
Glorfindel continued to hold the line with his angels and accompanying soldiers as the final siege tower reached the wall. The plank fell down upon the battlements, and enemy troops rushed out of the tower but were immediately slowed by the angels.
A mage at the top of the tower focused their attention on Seraph and cast a spell attempting to force him to call for a surrender. Seraph resisted the urge with ease. He shut the whisper of surrender out of his head like one swats a fly. While he did so, he felt a singe on the bottom of his foot where his Chaos Cult tattoo lay.
Mags retorted with swinging her rod around her head three times. Golden light shot out from it to every enemy soldier standing in the siege tower and on the walls. Mags screamed
“Surrender!!”
Scores of enemy troops threw down their weapons at the call. The rest gave up as well upon seeing their comrades lose their will to fight. The remaining mass on the ground fell back. Their morale had been crushed and their assault repelled. The battle was over. Overcome with elation, the soldiers of Wolnocc cheered for their victory
“Our Walls are strong!! Our Walls are strong!! Our Walls are strong!!”
Seraph, Mags, Glorfindel, and Rygo came together and exchanged quick hugs, bumps, and bragged about their individual performances. A few minutes into the celebration, Hunter arrived with the few that remained in his entourage. Although wounded, the crown prince stood tall and proud and inspired more cheers from the soldiers. Seraph and Hunter ran to each other and embraced one another.
“I’m so glad you made it little brother.”
“I couldn’t let ya have all the glory ha ha… I’m glad you made it too Hunter.”
The brothers broke their embrace and gathered the party along with the defenders of Wolnocc. After handing their prisoners over to the city guard, the entourage walked together to the People’s RePUBlic to celebrate their victory.

Chapter 22: Finishing the Fight

Chapter Text

There were no further assaults over the course of the next few weeks. Each day, the thunder of the cannons grew quieter, and every night screams could be heard from Zersto’s camp. Rumors abounded over what was occurring during those haunting nights. Some said the plague got to them. Others said it was elite assassins from Norden. The more religious claimed it was the gods’ punishing the enemy for their misdeeds. There were whispers that it was demons sowing chaos. The cannons grew quieter until no sound came from them at all. The screams continued each night.
Several days after the assault, the royal family met to discuss the developments of the siege since. Seraph and Hunter stood across from each other standing over a map of the city laid out on a large stone table. Their father watched from off to the side with a stern expression.

“Seems yer policies worked brother.” Hunter said enthusiastically.
“Like I said, using the transportation circle to receive food from Archai and send them aqueduct and sewer designs would be crucial for feedin the refugees.” Seraph replied. He proudly took a sip from a glass of whisky.
“I’m surprised the Archains held up their end.” Seraph’s father coldly interjected.
“Katak’s a trustworthy fella if ya respect him. It probably helped that many of our refugees agreed to serve in his army in exchange fer full stomachs and shelter. Helped us with the housin problem too actually.” Seraph respectfully countered.
“Speakin of that, Parliament ain’t been too thrilled about sharin their homes with the refugees.” Hunter added.
“It’s about time they pulled their weight!” Seraph retorted.
“It’ll be temporary. The siege will end soon and we can get people back to their homes.”
“Zersto’s forces are diminishing every day. His troops are deserting in droves.” Seraph wiped away several representative icons from the table.
“Norden’s nightly raids have done well fer us.” Hunter added.
“Indeed. The time will soon be right fer a counterattack.” Seraph sipped his whisky.
“When I receive the right omens, you and I will lead the royal guard and my companions into an assault of Zersto’s camp. We’ll drive him from our city fer good.”
“After the stunt you pulled! Absolutely not!!” The king intervened.
“That stunt saved Hunter’s life!” Seraph retorted. He stomped over to his father.
“Guys.” Hunter tried to calm them down.
“I almost lost both of you that day! I ain’t takin that chance again! I want you to be safe!”
“You say you care so much about me when you don’t give a damn about what the ‘gift’ of divination does to me every day!”
“Seraph!”
“After three years of abandonin yer family, all you have to show for it is ungratefulness and spite?!”
“Father!”
“I came back better than I ever was with you!”
“Yer nothin without yer family!!”
Hunter stepped between the two, forcing them apart.
“STOP IT!!! You two love each other! Don’t talk to each other like this!” Tears streamed down Hunter’s face.
“Please.”
“I don’t need you. I never did.” Seraph growled.
He turned around and stormed out of the room not bothering to wait for his father’s reply. Water welled up in his eyes. Seraph forced it back in. His stomach twisted and groaned. He silenced it with the rest of his whisky. It was the last time he would see his father.

Mags wrung her feathery hands as she waddled to the Shadow Cult’s hideout. Why had they summoned her? Would Welven be angry at her? Before stepping in, she flattened out her puffed up feathers. She had to stand up to him. Mags walked inside.
“Well if it ain’t my favorite duck?” Welven said through grinding teeth.
“Draggin yerself back in here after yer failure? That’s rather bold of you.”
“Not fault!” Mags angrily quacked.
“Seraph and Glorfindel got in way. Could not plan for them. You didn’t.”
Welven’s forced smile turned to a scowl. He hissed
“You failed nonetheless. Now you owe us.”
Mags sighed. She knew there was no getting around Welven making demands of her. She just had to make it until she was out of Wolnocc.
“What want?” She asked.
“Kill the king. Mason Grimlock has been a thorn for too long, and the crown prince, Hunter, will be far easier to puppet.”
“No.” Mags firmly quacked.
“What?” Welven was too shocked by her defiance to even be angry.
“Not kill. Do something else. Force exile.”
Welven’s face turned from stunned to intrigued. He collected himself before asking
“How would you do it?”
“Who most undesirable people in Wolnocc?” Mags questioned in response.
“Probably tieflings. Especially foreign ones.” He replied after some thought.
“Forge diary entry. King talk about sleeping with tiefling spy from Center City. Threaten to share if not leave throne.”
“You really think people will believe that?”
“Don’t need to. Just make king think people will.” Mags said with a devious smile.
“Hmm you’re onto somethin. The king can’t risk any more volatility with disease, hunger, and homelessness so high. Might actually work. You can forge his handwriting right?”
“Of course.”

Glorfindel personally served up his signature drink to his longtime customer, Alton. The construction worker slammed it down his throat then slammed his glass down on the bar.
“Damn Glorfindel! How do ya keep the good sh*t comin when there’s a siege and everythin?”
“Savvy business practice.” Glorfindel answered with a wink and a smile.
“Still, I’d think Prince Seraph would take some of it from ya, seein as he’s runnin the rations and all.”
“Naw, the prince and I are good friends. I wouldn’t let him.”
“But don’t ya have to do what he says?”
“I pay my taxes. That’s more than enough. Seraph and I have an understandin, he does favors fer me, I do them fer him. There ain’t that orderin around and sh*t.”
“Ha ha ha. You sound like one of them Chaos cultists runnin around. You join them or somethin?”
“No. And I never would nor any other cult. Whatever they say, they always expect somethin out of you. They put you under their thumb in exchange fer power. I ain’t ever lettin anyone order me around even fer power or wealth. That’s why my god is Olidammara. He just lets me live as I am, and we chat and have a good time together. It’s good sh*t man.”
“Thank ya fer the sermon preacher, haha.”
“Long as yer payin, I’ll preach all day.” Glorfindel replied with a chuckle.

Rygo walked down the long hall of Wolnocc’s heroes. The lamps were inconsistently lit, creating a dark and somber atmosphere. Alongside his path lay the sarcophagi of celebrated figures of Wolnocc from throughout the ages. At the end of the hall, Rygo entered a small room reserved for the few foreigners Wolnocc had honored in its history. He breathed fire on the torches in the room illuminating the glass casket containing his brother, Fus Roh. Rygo slowly walked over to the casket. He put one hand on the glass, stared at his deceased brother’s face, and began to speak to the corpse
“I… I… I’m sorry. Heh, took me a long time to say that.” Rygo continued choking up between words.
“I’m sorry for what I said to you. You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. This wouldn’t have happened had I not let you go.” Rygo’s eyes welled up.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough. I just get angry so easily and you know that, you know what upsets me and… it’s not an excuse. It’s my fault.” The tears flowed.
“I, I can’t promise to be better for you. I just can’t. But I can promise you one thing.” Rygo stopped crying. His face turned from heavy loss to determined fury.
“I will kill everyone last one of them, for you.” A voice called out from the end of the hall.
“Prince Seraph is beginning the divination for the assault.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Rygo replied. He looked at his brother again. His entire armament was still on him. Rygo began to loosen his breastplate.

Seraph pulled out the sheep’s liver. With bloody hands, he turned it over and studied it intricately. Glorfindel, Mags, and the royal guard watched, anxious with anticipation. Seraph lowered the sheep liver and let out a heavy sigh. The audience’s chests fell. Suddenly, Seraph lifted his face up and joyously proclaimed
“It’s a good omen! We ride for final victory!” The small crowd cheered.
Rygo arrived stomping in a rush. He panted
“Did I miss it?”
Seraph looked Rygo up and down.
“Yer fine. Ya look like the spittin image of Fus Roh in his armor. Got his hammer there too.”
“Uh yea heh, heh.” Rygo laughed nervously.
“No one was using it so I thought…”
“Can’t wait to see ya kill Zersto with it.” Seraph interrupted with a smile.
The party mounted warhorses and were about to set off when a soldier ran over to Seraph. He said
“Sorry yer highness, but I gotta escort ya to the palace by order of the king.” The soldier turned to the royal guard and said to them
“Y’all are supposed to help me.” The guards shifted on their mounts uncomfortably.
Seraph turned to them and said in a stately voice
“Today, I’m gonna make history. Y’all can be a part of it if you choose. None of you will successfully keep me from my destiny. What is y’alls destiny?! Will ya cower in the keep or will ya boldly drive the invader from our city?! Will you fight with me?!”
“We will!” The guards replied.
“Then let us fight!” The guards cheered. Seraph turned to Rygo and said
“How’s that fer a f*ckin speech?”
“Not bad.” Rygo replied with a grin.

The party rode off. They rode through the city gates. They rode through the streets of Wolnocc. They rode through the rubble of the walls. They rode into the countryside. They rode to the camp of Zersto’s army. They rode through the camp slaying surprised enemy troops left and right. They rode on when the royal guards were tangled up in the melee. They rode straight to Zersto’s tent.

Zersto stood in front of his tent looking desperately for a horse. Despite being unarmored, his horns and bulky frame made him instantly recognizable. He looked back and saw the approaching party. Upon seeing Seraph, his fear turned to rage. He turned around and called his bodyguards and dwarven lieutenant to his aid. Five bodyguards joined him. A ring black gemstone ring on his left hand glowed with darkness as his armor manifested itself upon him. Zersto yelled out
“Seraph!! You’re mine!” He drew his flail and charged.

Mags and Glorfindel dismounted and hid behind tents on the right and left side respectively. Glorfindel sent his mimic out with Seraph and Rygo who continued their approach. Seraph cast mage armor in preparation for his foe. Upon seeing Zersto charge, he tried to turn his horse to ride out of his range, but the horse froze with fear.
Zersto’s flail slammed into Seraph’s steed, and the weapon burst with black energy. Seraph’s horse fell from under him. He got back up immediately and managed to dodge two of Zersto’s swings. He knew he could not avoid a third. Seraph stabbed his staff into the ground and casted shield in preparation for Zersto’s assault.
Zersto bashed his flail against Seraph’s magical shield, yelling furiously during each attack. Seraph winced and struggled to withstand each blow but held firm. Zersto’s fourth blow impacted Seraph’s shield with enormous force. Seraph was knocked back and stumbled. His staff broke in two.

Zersto walked forward to land a finishing blow when Rygo rode in and smashed Zersto head on with his hammer. The conqueror staggered. Rygo dismounted so that he may best his hated enemy on foot. He roared as he rushed at Zersto
“For my brother!!”
Zersto’s bodyguards ran to join the fray, but they were diverted when Glorfindel’s mimic summoned the battle angels upon them. Glorfindel’s bolt and Mags’ crossbow added to their confusion. A bodyguard fell to the ground with a bolt protruding from the side of her neck.

Seraph tried to recompose himself and cast hold on Zersto but was banished to a pocket dimension by Zersto’s dwarven lieutenant. He could not affect nor be affected by the battle so long as he was there.
Rygo and Zersto fought one another fiercely. They pounded one another with their weapons back and forth. Each blocked the other’s strikes with their shields. It was a slugging match.
Zersto faltered first. After sustaining so many powerful blows, his shield carrying arm grew tired. He failed to raise his shield high enough to prevent a smite from Fus Roh uppercutting into his chin.

Rygo knocked his opponent to the ground. He stepped on his chest and stared down with him with all the rage and hatred that had built up in his life. Rygo raised his head high above his head.
The dwarven lieutenant began to charge Rygo with her pike. Mags noticed the situation and fired her crossbow at the dwarf. The piercing bolts wounded the dwarf and knocked her off of her concentration on Seraph’s banishment.

Seraph reappeared and surmised the situation. He saw the lieutenant dangerously close to Rygo and casted hold on her. She failed to resist and was paralyzed by Seraph’s spell.
Rygo brought his hammer down upon Zersto with all the might he could muster. The conqueror’s helmet caved in. Zersto was no more.

With a scream, the dwarven lieutenant broke from Seraph’s spell and rushed over to Zersto’s body. She pulled out a handful of diamonds and crushed them into her hands and prayed. She was about to reach her friend’s body when a silvery dart struck her hands and dissipated all of the resurrecting magic from them. Seraph had counterspelled her.

A fireball, some bolts, and a few angels later finished off the bodyguards. At the conclusion of the battle, Rygo laughed uproariously and stripped Zersto’s body of valuables. He put on the ring and observed its armor equipping powers.

“The color suits me.” He remarked and set about stripping the amulet that powered Zersto’s flail and attaching it to his hammer. With fiendish glee, Rygo mounted his horse and rode into the middle of the camp. An idea had hatched in his mind. Amidst the fighting between Zersto’s troops and the royal guards, Rygo bellowed at them with a mighty roar
“It’s OVER!!!” The fighting began to slow and then stop as the combatants noticed Rygo wearing Zersto’s armor. Rygo continued to bellow
“Zersto is dead, and I killed him!! I have taken up the mantle of warlord. Submit to my command, and I will make you all wealthy as we plunder the Dragon Lands!!” Rygo spoke with forcefulness and supreme confidence. Zersto’s former troops looked at one another, trying to discern what to do. A few dropped their weapons and kneeled to Rygo. Then more, then more, until nearly everyone in the vicinity, except the royal guards, kneeled before their new warlord.

Seraph and the rest of the party caught up to see the astounding spectacle.
“Huh, congratulations. Looks like ya got yerself an army.” Seraph said to Rygo. With pomp and presence, Rygo rode throughout the camp calling on Zersto’s former troops to join him. 5,000 warriors would join him that day.
As Rygo recruited members into his war party, one of the surrendering soldiers approached the party. They were puzzled by the unarmed man striding so confidently towards them. Seraph called out to the stranger
“Don’t come closer. We’ll get to ya.”
The soldier replied with a familiar laugh. He removed his helmet and tore off his beard. Seraph and Mags recognized him immediately.
“Nothos!” Mags chirped happily.
“In the flesh.” Nothos said with a smirk. He walked up to Seraph and shook his hand.
“Congrats on saving your city Seraph. I’m sure you’ve made your family proud.”
“I ain’t so sure about that. Father’s probably pretty pissed with me right now.” Seraph scoffed.
“Well the people are proud. And these troops feared you more than anyone. Zersto was constantly complaining about you foiling his evil schemes.” They laughed together. Nothos glanced over at Glorfindel. After sizing him up, he said
“Who’s this bougie boy?” Nothos teased.
“Who ya callin boy ya runt?” Glorfindel sassily replied. Only the most observant could see Nothos wince.
“You. A friend of Seraph’s and Mags’ is a friend of mine. You may call me Nothos.”
“Think I’ll call ya runt.” Glorfindel chuckled. Mags squinted her eyes harshly at Glorfindel.
“Alright, I’ll go easy on ya. Name’s Glorfindel, Nothos.”
“Pleasure.” Nothos held his hand forward with exaggerated nobility. Glorfindel made a sarcastic face as he took it. Nothos waved his hand in the general direction of Rygo.
“Who’s the big loud one? Looks like an angry Fus Roh.”
“His brother, Rygo.” Seraph replied.
“Well that explains it.” Nothos’ face grew somber.
“Shame what happened to him. Glad he’s avenged.”
“Yea.” Mags looked down with a little sadness.
“Wait a second, where the hell is Calla Lily?”
“Haha, we gotta lotta catchin up to do with you.” Seraph replied.

The three chatted with Nothos and told him of their adventure in the demon dungeon. None of them mentioned Draven transforming into a vampire. The sound of regal brass horns interrupted their tale. Hunter rode into the camp dressed in purple with a crown on his head. His entourage carried the banners of Wolnocc. He rode up to the party and dismounted before Seraph with the grace of a king. He held the diamond scepter in his hand. He came in close to Seraph and whispered in his ear
“Father has abdicated the throne and exiled himself. He didn’t tell me why. He wanted me to give somethin to ya.” Hunter stepped back and struck a regal pose with the scepter.
Seraph could not hide his shock. Thoughts and emotions swirled in his head. Father was gone? That’s good. But that’s terrible! Why? Where did he go? Does it matter? Of course it does!
Seraph’s thoughts were interrupted by Hunter announcing to the surrounding people.
“My father, Mason Grimlock, has graciously given the throne to me. In his place, I thank ya Seraph, for drivin the enemy from our lands and savin our glorious city. In honor of yer triumph, in the name of my father, I grant you the title of Crown Prince and bestow the diamond scepter which has been passed down the family line fer milennia.” With all of the pomp and magnificence of a monarch, Hunter handed the diamond scepter to Seraph. For once, Seraph did not know what to do or say. A question slipped out of his mouth
“What now?”
“Now…” Hunter replied
“We rebuild.”

Chapter 23: Consolidation and Tribunal

Chapter Text

The rebuilding began immediately. Hunter lead organization and mobilization of the people of Wolnocc to reclaim their homes and to rebuild what was destroyed. Pockets of invaders leftover from Zersto’s army were found and removed from their petty strongholds. Some joined Rygo. Some surrendered themselves to the city. Others were executed. Captured members of Zersto’s army were put to work in rebuilding the city and its walls. The people sneered and looked down upon their old adversaries, but they were grateful for the cheap labor.
Rygo’s new army of around 5,000 was put to the rebuilding effort under his command. In exchange for their work and promises of nonviolence towards the people, they were allowed to keep their weapons and were provided decent rations and lodging. Rygo explained to his men that fall was passing and winter was arriving. They would not be able to campaign during that time with harsh weather and scarce supplies. Therefore, they needed to have sufficient shelter to pass the season in. Wolnocc was the perfect place. Earning their food and lodging was a worthy sacrifice. He promised they would march in the spring to the Dragon Lands and earn their weight in gold. There were grumbles from Rygo’s camp, but they fell in line behind their warlord.

While Hunter was the public figure leading Wolnocc, Seraph organized the rebuilding behind the scenes. He made deals with local towns and counties for materials and labor. He designed work schedules and rationing to optimize the reconstruction. During this tumultuous period, the Parliament sought to gain more legislative and bureaucratic power. They argued their collective minds would be more efficient at handling the rebuilding effort than the crown would. Seraph shut their arguments down with his firmness and more sensible plans. He held many private meetings with Hunter in which he insisted his brother not give any of his power and authority to the parliament. The king was convinced along the reasoning that his younger brother had been right about so much. Seraph would serve as the unofficial head bureaucrat and chief advisor to the king.

Months passed and winter with it. News had spread throughout the realm of Wolnocc’s miraculous victory. The elation that such a glorious symbol of civilization stood strong became mixed with the concern that a significant number of the roving band assaulting it were determined to continue their ambitions of conquest under a dragonborn who had taken up the mantle of warlord. With the combination of these developments, nobles and statesmen from across the realm were motivated to visit Wolnocc to pay homage to its saviors and learn the plans of the new warlord. Wolnocc was happy to invite them in. A week of celebration and schmoozing was scheduled. As the rich and powerful from all over Tesalach filtered in, the party dealt with matters pertaining to them.
Rygo sat in a large oaken chair atop a stage. Around him stood eight of his most trusted guards. Armed as they were under Zersto. In place of the red fist that once covered there shields, was the golden claw of a dragon. He towered over the woman before him. In a relaxed, authoritative voice, he asked
“What brings you to my presence, Elair, govenor of Lebus?” The woman showed no fear to the face of the imposing dragonborn, but she would be lying if she said she felt none.
“My town has sent me to know your intentions with us.” She answered steadfastly.
“We surrendered before the might of Zersto’s forces and swore an oath of fealty to him. Now you take up the conqueror's mantle. Due you lay claim to our town?”
“I do.” Rygo replied with supreme confidence.
“All lands laid claim by Zersto have passed to me as I am his successor.”
“We swore to his name, not yours.”
“You swore to his power.” Rygo leaned forward and stroked his hammer.
“And I am not without my own.”
Elair’s head drooped. She looked from side to side then finally directly back at Rygo.
“What do you want from us?” She asked,
“What was asked of you before.” Rygo sat back in his chair and took a scroll from one of his guards. He unfurled it and read aloud
“5,000 sheep. 1,000 cattle. 3,000 donkeys. 400 men and women of fighting age.” Rygo rolled the scroll back up and handed it to his attendant.
“Your town easily met this demand. It can do so again.” Elair bowed.
“In exchange for peace, I will deliver these goods to your camp in three weeks.”
“Good. You are dismissed Elair.”
When Elair left the room, Rygo flopped in his chair to a more comfortable position. His attendant turned to him and said
“Nice job reciting the demands sir.” Rygo looked over and explained matter of factly
“Yea, I didn’t want her to know I couldn’t read heh, heh. Now bring in the next one.”
A timid man walked into the room. His countenance revealed his anxiousness and his body trembled at the sight of the warlord. Rygo opened the negotiations as he did before
“What brings you to my presence, Ivok, mayor of Fulda?” Ivok stuttered then collected himself. He took a few deep breaths and spoke while avoiding Rygo’s eyes
“My people would like to know if you claim our village as Zersto did.”
“I do.”
Ivok wrung his hands and said with a shaky voice.
“In that case, I have been sent to tell you that we do not consider ourselves under your domain. You have no authority over us.”
“You’re joking… right?”
“N n n n no I’m not!”
Rygo stood up tall in front of his chair. He bellowed angrily
“You dare challenge me?!”
“I- I- I-”
“You have a final chance to submit or your will see your homes burned and your people enslaved.”
“Ok! You win. You have us.”
Rygo sat back in his chair and smiled.
“I expect your tribute of grain before the end of the month. Now go!” Ivok rushed out of the room. Rygo turned to his attendant and said
“Just one more today. I’m bored of these meetings.”
A sturdy man with pepper and salt hair walked into the room. Rygo greeted him
“What brings you to my presence, Edar, representative of Overath?”
“I have been chosen to declare, on behalf of my village, our independence.” Edar boldly replied.
“Heh, heh, heh. You’re not serious.”
“I am!” Edar declared indignantly. Rygo rose.
“Why?”
“Because we will not be subject to anyone but ourselves… and last time, Zersto took sixteen of our men to fight in his army. Our village is little over a hundred.”
“You have women of fighting age to give.”
“There number is only twelve!!”
“I will accept it.”
“We won’t give it!”
Rygo stepped down each step slowly and deliberately. He walked up to Ebar and glared down at him. Rygo stood over two heads higher than the representative.
“Give it up. Your village cannot resist me.”
“No.”
Rygo seized Ebar’s throat and hoisted him up in the air. Rygo squeezed, turning the man’s face purple as he struggled for air.
“Last chance.”
“N n never.” Ebar forced out of his mouth. Rygo dropped him.
“Take him to the city dungeon. Tell them he is a criminal, and I sent you. They’ll put him away.” As Ebar was dragged off, Rygo smirked and mocked him.
“My representatives will collect your tribute. You accomplished nothing by resisting.”

After Ebar was removed from Rygo’s presence, the dragonborn turned to his associates and said with a peppy enthusiasm
“Time to go visit the sick houses. Got to look good for the people heh, heh.” Rgyo and his guards marched off to the “ill” district. Seraph had overseen the quarantining of those afflicted by the Red Death and other diseases. The spread had slowed at the cost of the sick dying even faster.

Rygo enjoyed visiting the sick houses. The sight of him healing people was great for his image. Many of the people of Wolnocc were wary of him and his troops. After the siege, they resented the same men and women who killed so many of their friends and family be housed peacefully within their walls. Rygo’s gestures were difficult to smear, however, and drew much praise from the lower class.
Rygo went to one of the several story apartment buildings housing hundreds of the ill and infirm. Rygo sat in a chair and had them brought to him one by one. He could heal most diseases, but the Red Death was beyond his abilities. He laid his hands on the diseased and he healed them of their illness as he would heal people of their wounds.

After a few people were healed, a mountain dwarf was brought before him. The woman bled from every orifice. Her walk was slow and pain accompanied each step. Rygo looked down on the woman whose people destroyed his clan. He saw in her every hunt and every purge the dwarves launched against his people. Fire burned in his belly. His lips pulled back, threatening to become a sneer. A growl tickled his throat begging to be released. Rygo held his body back, stood up, and flatly said
“I can heal no more today. I will be back tomorrow.” Rygo and his attendants left the sick house. Once they left the district, Rygo threw his head back and released the fire from within him.
“Damnit!!” He cursed. He wanted to kill her. He knew it would hurt his cause, but he wanted to so badly. Rygo stomped back off to his quarters cursing all the way there.

Mags anxiously waddled to the Shadow Cult hideout. She always hated having to see Welven. She had hoped after her last job went so well that he would leave her alone for good. She could not wait to get out of the city. Everywhere Mags looked she saw people who despised her. She could hear them mutter “murderer” under their breaths. Sometimes they were louder. A few people quacked at her mockingly and aggressively. She didn’t know why, but those people scared her the most. She stuck to the shadows as much as she could. She would take the alleyways and hide from people likely to heckle her. Mags hooped her nightmare would soon end.
She entered the hideout and saw Welven. He looked irritated. Mags’ feathers fluffed up. What could it be now?
“Yes Welven?” She quacked nervously.
Clenching his jaw, Welven spoke through his teeth.
“It seems someone high up has noticed you. You are to report to Center City to… become a third tier member of our organization.”

Mags lifted her head in amazement. She was rising up? Finally she wouldn’t have to answer to Welven anymore. Mags happily hopped from side to side. She excitedly waddled out of the hideout before Welven could say anymore. She ran out to the streets and danced and chirped all about. She swung her magical rod all around as she hopped to and fro.
Suddenly, the rod bounced off a brick wall. Mags stopped. She looked about and realized she had wound up in an alleyway. Mags shrugged and began to walk out to the street when she felt a presence behind her. Mags instinctively ducked as a quarterstaff narrowly missed her head. Mags bobbed and weaved as fists and feet jutted out next to her, barely missing her body. Mags scanned the area for a quick escape. She saw a hole in the wall of a building near the ground she might be able to squeeze into. Mags darted for the hole wiggled her way into it. She fell onto the floor, and picked herself back up to take in her surroundings.

Mags saw several people staring at her. They did not look with fear or anger but with excitement and wonder. Mags saw in the corner of the room was a poorly sketched version of her (complete with bow) and a rod that vaguely resembled the one she carried with her. Mags blinked in confusion. The gathering of people crowded around her. They began to excitedly say
“The Bird! The Bird! The Bird has graced us with her presence!”
Mags was very confused and a bit frightened. She backed herself against the wall and reached for her crossbow. What did these strange people want from her?
“Oh great bird, who saved us from the Blitzers with your rod of command, please share your wisdom with us.” One of the people said.
Mags blinked several times.
“What?” Was all she could think to say.
“It was you, who saved us when there was no hope from the Blitzers. With a single word, you commanded them to stop. Your power and wisdom is known throughout the city.”
Mags felt uncomfortable. She was not used to this kind of attention and did not like the idea of a cult following her around and exposing her to everyone. She looked around for an exit. The expectant eyes of the cultists peered ever more intensely at her. Mags nervously responded
“Uh, uh, be nice!” She scampered past the cultists, up the stairs behind them, and out the door. Mags shook her head in bewilderment. A promotion, an assault, and a cult all in one day. Mags was too exhausted to think about it. She went to the White Keep to rest in her room.

“And I call this one, Saviors of Wolnocc! First taste is free. Tell me what y’all think.” Glorfindel poured out a shot of his new drink for three of his customers. They threw back their glasses and slammed them back down.
“Damn Glorfindel! You always make the good sh*t!” One of them remarked. The others agreed. Glorfindel gave a big smile and said with a wink
“Now if y’all want some more of that good sh*t yer gonna hafta pay homage to yer hero.” Glorfindel gave a bow amidst the customers playful jeers. When Glorfindel lifted his head, the smile wiped from his face. A new man sat at the bar. A familiar man. The man politely asked
“May I have one of those please?”
Not from around here, Glorfindel thought. The man lacked the distinct Wolnoccan accent. Glorfindel poured his drink slowly as he stared intensely at the newcomer. Glorfindel recognized him, but could not remember from where.
“Where ya from stranger? And what brings ya to my humble establishment?”
“I hail from Center City. I heard business was booming here. I wanted to see what all of the buzz was about.”
Center City. The haze was starting to become clearer.
“You came here recently right? Woulda picked up the accent otherwise.”
“Uh, yea. I arrived here about three years ago.”
“Why’d ya leave?”
“I had to get out of there. It reminded me too much of my past.”
“And what was that?”
“Let’s just say, I made a mistake. I was in a bad way and… some people’s lives were ruined because of me.”
Glorfindel dropped his glass. It suddenly hit him. The man was one of the thugs who broke into his home nearly ten years ago. He was one of the men who killed his wife. Glorfindel wheeled around with a plastered smile on his face.
“Sorry about that. Been sippin too much of my own drink. Fraid I’ll hafta close early today.
“Oh.” The man said with great disappointment.
“I’m closin up shop! I want y’all outta here in ten minutes!!” Glorfindel announced to his patrons. There were many grumbles, but everyone respected Glorfindel’s wishes. As the customers filed out, Glorfindel watched the man closely. He placed his mimic behind the counter and gave a quick prayer to Olidammara to change his clothes so that he could blend in with the crowd. With his prayer granted, Glorfindel slipped in amongst them and followed the man closely as he left the tavern. Glorfindel trailed him down the streets of Wolnocc always keeping a fair distance between them.
Glorfindel’s fists clenched. His jaw was locked in place. His ears stood up on end. Glorfindel thought of all the ways he would make this man pay. He’d make sure this man felt the pain he did when he lost Caroline. But no amount of physical pain could do that. It would have to do though. A cruel smile crept up his face. He had only dreamed of revenge. Now he could have it.
The man stepped into his small, one story home. Glorfindel peaked through the window. He saw the man roll out a rug and kneel down before several shrines. The man burnt incense and began to pray
“Gods and goddesses who have guided me so well these past years. I seek your guidance and comfort again. My guilt returns. Is it a sign I have not yet atoned? Or am I forgiven by you and must forgive myself?”
You’ll never atone. Glorfindel thought to himself. He went to the door into the house and set about picking the lock. It was a very useful skill for when he forgot his keys. Glorfindel popped the lock and opened the door slightly.
He took a deep breath. He contemplated. This man seemed pious and repentant for his actions. Did he really want to kill this him? Yes. Did he want to torture him? Not really, what good would that do? Did he want him to acknowledge what he did? Absolutely. Glorfindel turned back at the door with a steely expression.
The door swung open with a crash. The praying man looked to the source of the noise to see a glamorous half-elf man with eyes glowing gold. The half-elf shouted in a voice like thunder
“Do you know what you did?!”
“I-I-I” The man stammered in fear at the sight of this man. He raised his hands in surrender but his muscles tensed before they could reach above his head. He could not move any of his body except his lips. He was paralyzed.
Glorfindel over to the man holding his golden strings aloft that held his victim in place. He stood directly in front of the man and reminded him of his sins.
“Ten years ago, you broke into my home, beat me unconscious, and murdered my wife. Why shouldn’t I kill you where you stand?”
Tears came to the man’s eyes. He said softly
“I don’t know. I’ve hated myself for years after that day. Maybe this is what I deserve. But you should know, it wasn’t me.”
Glorfindel’s eyebrows raised. This man truly regretted his actions, and he seemed to be telling the truth of him not being the one to do it.
“Who?! Where is he?!”
“I don’t know! It was Chale but we all split up a long time ago. Last time I heard he was in some village in the Bad Lands called Alzey. But I don’t know.”
Glorfindel released him. He turned around, and with his back turned to the man he said
“If what you say is true, you ain’t the one who will need to die fer their sins.”
Glorfindel walked out of the house. He couldn’t bring himself to kill the man. He was too remorseful and not guilty enough. Glorfindel hated the anger that welled up inside him. He headed for the White Keep. Spending time with Seraph ought to distract him from all of this.

Chapter 24: Tick Tock

Chapter Text

Seraph stooped over the diamond scepter. He sipped from his glass of whisky with one hand, furiously wrote notes down with the other, and his eyes analyzed ever angle and shard of the scepter. Finally, he pulled his gaze away from the staff and poured over his notes. Seraph’s eyes moved from side to side at a lightning pace as they struggled to keep up with his mind. His eyes widened and his mouth stretched into a smile. He reached for the staff.

His friend, Glorfindel, interrupted by entering the room with a loud thud of the door. Seraph did not mind. It was always good to see his old friend. He snatched the diamond scepter from its hold and excitedly strolled over to his pal. Glorfindel was shaking. Seraph did not notice.
“Glorfindel! Just in time, I got so much to tell ya.” The half-elf was taken aback by the prince’s enthusiasm and stumbled over what he was going to say
“Well, uh, I kinda got somethin to tell ya too.”
“First!” Seraph energetically waved his hand to the side.
“I gotta tell ya about my projects! I’ve been workin on them for months!” Without waiting for a response, Seraph continued.
“Ya see this here scepter my father used to have? Well I did some diggin in the city records and meticulously studied its arcane properties, and guess what?! It’s a wizard’s staff! One of the most powerful I ever encountered! Normally, castin powerful spells all over the place in a single day takes a lot outta ya right? Well this pretty little thing can restore a wizard’s vitality and energy to cast spells again in a matter of seconds! Now it probably only works once every day or so but that’s somethin special ain’t it?!”
Glorfindel was completely thrown off of his prior train of thought. His mind was thrown into disarray, and all he knew to respond with was
“Yea that’s somethin alright.”
“I know! And I been workin on some new spells. So, I’m sure ya heard of dimension door, the one where you make a portal where you are and another one within like a few hundred feet and walk through it? Well I figured it out.” Seraph said with a proud smile.
“I also got blight down in my spell book. Next time we fight demons, I’ll have somethin to kick their asses with they won’t be so damn resistant to.”
“That’s great Seraph.”
“Ain’t it?! Now I haven’t quite figured out arcane eye or wall of force but lemme tell ya buddy, once I do hohoho, I’ll be one of the most powerful wizards you ever seen.”

Seraph was overcome with joy and excitement. After so much time of wandering and purposelessness, he had a dearth of projects he could pour his intellect and passion into. For so long life whirled around him, and he could never pin it down. At home he had the commands of his father and the expectations of being a prince. At Heka he had endless projects and papers drowning him in stress. On his own he had to contend with his abilities and the unpredictability of omens they would bring as well as the many nightmares of future doom. Up until recently, he had a war to win and a party of ridiculous characters to look after and keep in line. Finally, he could decide where he worked, when he did, and how much. He had greater control of his divination than ever before. He was his own master and life bent to his will at last.
Seraph beamed as he handed Glorfidnel a glass of liquor. They toasted their glasses together and drank. After a long sip, Seraph calmed down enough to ask Glorfindel
“So, what did ya wanna tell me about again?” Glorfindel stared back in confusion for a moment then remembered what had happened earlier. He recollected his thoughts and began to speak
“Well somethin real crazy happened today. I…” A royal attendant ran into the room frantically waving a parchment in the air.
“Sire! We’ve just received a threat and it’s addressed to you!” Seraph turned to Glorfindel.
“Hold that thought. Official prince sh*t I gotta deal with.” Glorfindel nodded his head. At least this was proving to be a worthy distraction from what happened earlier.
Seraph took the parchment and read over it.

Greetings, Seraph of Wolnocc. I heard rumors of your role in the decimation of our organization in your city. I am always pleased to believe in rumors. I applaud your cleverness, but I would like to demonstrate for you what real chaos looks like. This afternoon, I will launch an attack on your city from one of 5 lovely houses. To stop me, you need to find out which one before it’s too late. Tick Tock.

The situation: There are 5 houses of different colors. In each house lives a person of a different race. Each of the 5 owners drink a certain type of beverage, smoke a type of drug, and keep a type of pet. No owners have the same pet, smoke the same drug, or drink the same beverage. Now, who owns the fish? Some Hints:

The human lives in the red house
The dwarf keeps dogs as pets
The elf drinks tea
The green house is on the left of the white house
The green house's owner drinks coffee
The person who smokes cannabis rears birds
The owner of the yellow house smokes tobacco
The person living in the center house drinks milk
The halfling lives in the first house
The man who smokes divinorum lives next to the one who keeps cats
The person who keeps horses lives next to the man who smokes tobacco
The owner who smokes opium drinks beer
The orc smokes datura
The halfling lives next to the blue house
The person who smokes divinorum has a neighbor who drinks water

At the bottom of the parchment, was an orange vortex.
Seraph rushed over to his desk and scrambled for pen paper. He called out to his servant
“Bring me the Address and Census books of Wolnocc! I need to know where these houses are!” The servant rushed out of the room immediately to fulfill the prince’s command. Seraph immediately set about writing the information down on a separate sheet of paper and drawing a matrix to understand the problem.
Glorfindel came to his side with a large glass of whisky that had been sitting on a nearby table. Glorfindel had seen Seraph work furiously at a project before. He knew the best he could do for his friend was to stay by his side and fill his glass without asking too many questions. There was one Glorfindel could not resist though
“The hell is goin on?”
“Some terrorist gave me a riddle. I’m solvin it.” Seraph curtly replied.
He drained the glass of whisky Glorfindel had filled and continued to work. Seraph wracked his brain and processed the riddle in silence for several minutes. The riddle was not particularly difficult for him, but it was time consuming and that was the last thing he had. Sweat poured down the wizard’s face as his hand swiped left and right all over the page writing out every detail and new discovery to help solve the riddle.

As his mind raced against time, his thoughts raced too. Who was this cultist to show up and dictate to him? The arrogance of this terrorist to attempt to direct and prod him as though he were a horse in a bridle. Seraph would show this prick who they were dealing with. He had saved Wolnocc from an infamous warlord. Some idiot with parchment and ink should not be wasting so much of his time.
Finally, Seraph finished and turned his attention to the address book. He flipped through the pages rapidly until he found what he was looking for. He turned to Glorfindel and said the answer
“The orc’s green house is on the corner of 8th and Main Street! Let’s go!!”
The two friends rushed out of the room. Seraph summoned his shadowy steed and he mounted it with his partner. They rode with great haste down the streets to stop the terrorist before they could enact whatever they had planned.

As they approached the corner of 8th and Main, the pair saw a short, stocky, hooded figure with a long braided, brown beard poking out. The hood rose, revealing a dwarf with a nasty scar cutting across his face and a wicked smile beneath his beard. Still a hundred yards away, Seraph and Glorfindel sped towards the dwarf so that their spells may reach the suspect.

The dwarf chanted in its native tongue, stomped his right foot, and chopped down with his right hand as his eyes followed its path. A wall of flame twenty feet high burst out from the dwarf’s hand and ran through several buildings setting them ablaze. The dwarf repeated his action to his left and the neighborhoods on either side of him began to burn.
Civilians screamed and many rushed out of their homes immediately. Many were unable to make it.
“Bastard!!” Seraph cried as he sped closer to the dwarf. Before he could get in range of casting a spell upon the terrorist, the dwarf and cast dimension door and walked through it. The portal closed and Seraph and Glorfindel stopped in the middle of the street, surrounded by burning buildings.
Glorfindel dismounted from Seraph’s magical horse and rushed over to the survivors. He started healing burn victims wherever he could find them.
Seraph was at a loss for words or ideas. How did this happen? Everything was fine. Now suddenly, his city was being set on fire. Why did he not cast dimension door to get closer and stop the dwarf? How could he have known what the dwarf was capable of?

The arrival of a familiar acquaintance cut off his thoughts. Seraph saw the stranger standing in front of him. The odd man looked upon the scene somberly.
“What are ya doin here?” Seraph let slip out from his mind. Without turning to him the stranger replied
“I couldn’t let your people suffer when it wasn’t even your fault. You did the best you could.”
“What are you talkin about?!” Seraph retorted in a huff.
“I got this!”
“No you don’t!” The stranger yelled as he turned to Seraph. The stranger sighed and said with a calm sadness.
“You need help Seraph.” The stranger chanted in a language Seraph did not recognize. It seemed far older than he had encountered in his studies. The movements and gesticulations of the stranger were strange as well. They were like water flowing from side to side. The stranger lifted up in the air, far above the buildings and the flames. The stranger waved his hands forward, and huge gusts of wind blew over the flames extinguishing many of them.
Seraph marveled at the stranger’s power, but he had no intention of having someone else solve his problem. He summoned Absol from the Abyss. The demon rose out with screams and howls. It turned to Seraph and asked him with great exasperation
“What do you want from me now?!”
“Save people.” Absol raised its eyebrows incredulously.
“From the burnin buildings.”
Absol looked to the flaming structures and sighed. Of course it had to involve pain. Absol did not even bother to resist. With a thousand mumbled curses, the demon turned to the houses still beset by fire and leapt into them to rescue the people inside. Absol brought out several people who had been burned or were choking on the heavy smoke. Seraph healed as many as he could with his life transference spell.
After Glorfindel and Seraph saved everyone they could, the prince dismissed his demonic slave. The pair sat down exhausted by the day. Glorfindel looked around for the stranger but could not see him anywhere. He turned to his knowledgeable friend and asked
“Seriously, who the f*ck is that guy?!”
“Definitely a wizard.” Seraph took a swig from his personal flask.
“Or a god.”

The next day a great feast was held in the White Keep. A parade had been scheduled before, but the aftermath of the attack on mainstreet still needed to be cleaned up and dealt with. Families were being moved into temporary housing why their old homes were repaired. Funerals were held throughout the city, and Wolnocc collectively mourned those who were lost in the smoke and flames. The visiting nobility were not keen on spending their time in the Jewel of the Northwest sulking about over commoners they did not know. They demanded entertainment and distraction to envelop them as they negotiated and gossiped with one another.

Wolnocc was not particularly known for its cuisines, but the mutton dishes the cooks prepared were of great variety and excellent quality. Many of the nobles complained about how dry the amusem*nt was in the city. Getting drunk was frowned upon by most, and it was so difficult to find a bawdy play in town. However, the foreign dignitaries all agreed upon the beauty of the Royal Chamber Choir’s singing. Although some did wish their exquisite melodies did not have to accompany morality plays on justice and virtue.
The party sat alongside each other and the royal family as the guests of honor. Glorfindel and Seraph joked and laughed together. Mags played with Princess Elaina who was wildly amused by Mags’ many impressions. Rygo looked upon the scene with a hungry grin, eager to be paid homage for his power. Hunter did his best looking the part of a graceful king.
Throughout the night, the visiting nobles stopped by the party and congratulated them on their successful saving of the city. Polite condolences were shared with the Grimlocks over the loss of their father followed by prodigious flattering over how lucky Wolnocc was to have such a kind king and a capable prince by his side. They would then turn to Rygo and ask him what his intentions were with his new army.
“We’ll march straight to the Dragon Lands.”
“Oh, you do not intend on carving out your own territory in the Northwest?”
“Nope. There’s more plunder to be had where we’re heading. Surely you’ve heard of dragons’ hoards and the wealth of mountain dwarves.”
“Well I suppose so. Then the Fair Fields has nothing to fear from you, nor the Northeast of the Bad Lands?”
“Not at all.”
“Hmmm interesting.”
Rygo did not tire of the repeated questioning. He reveled in the fear and respect the many heads of state gave him. If he was such a threat to them, he would be a worthy foe to the Kythrilian dwarves.
Word circulated around about the dragonborn’s plans. Many expressed great relief that he was taking his potentially destabilizing force elsewhere. Others were unsure about how truthful the dragonborn was being.

Two monarchs stumbled into each other and fought all the way up to Rygo’s place at the table. The black haired dwarf and red haired woman shot daggers at one another with hateful looks once they reached the dragonborn. They turned and shouted over one another
“We want an alliance!!”
Rygo sat back comfortably in his chair and took a long draught of ale. He set it back down and said with boisterous mirth.
“Ho ho ho,now who is it that seeks my friendship?”
“Queen Hakod of the Dadites.” The red haired woman replied.
“Banrim of Ambrilland.” The dwarf answered sourly. He was quite upset about getting his name out second.
“Well I don’t see why I can’t be allies with both of you.” Rygo said cheerily.
The two rivals looked at each other in disbelief at the dragonborn’s cluelessness.
“We’re at war with one another over the same lands!” They replied in unison.
“And from what we’ve heard, your passing straight through it.” The dwarf added.
“Well, well, well, that is unfortunate… for you.” Rygo smiled. He immensely enjoyed holding the leverage in the conversation.
“Tell you what. Both of you allow me to pass through your disputed lands, and if I come across your armies in battle, I’ll decide who I will fight for.”
The monarchs looked at each with even more disbelief than before. This was the worst deal either had ever been proposed.
“Of course if you refuse, I’ll just march through your lands anyway. But then I’ll kill, loot, and conquer indiscriminately. You know what my warriors are capable of. You won’t like the results.”
The woman and dwarf walked off and intensely whispered to each other. They came back and said
“Is there nothing we could offer you to join our cause?”
“Nope! Heh, heh, I like the idea of allowing fate to decide.”
Crestfallen, the two monarchs conceded to the odd arrangement. They both left more anxious than before. Rygo drank from his ale again. It felt good to be a warlord.

Later in the night, Katak approached the party’s table. He sauntered up with great poise and looked upon Seraph with immense pride that his investment had paid off so well. He gave a small, but respectful, bow to the royal family. He rose with a paternal smile and stood tall over his proteges. Glorfindel leaned over to Seraph and whispered loudly
“Who’s this pompous jerk.” Seraph stifled a chuckle.
Katak glared at the upstart half-elf, who responded to his menacing look with a mocking smile. Katak replaced his scowl with a pleasant smile as he turned to Seraph.
“Well done Seraph Grimlock. You became a knight of Archai and now you are the Savior of Wolnocc.”
“In large part thanks to you.” Seraph politely added.
“Indeed. I trust your gratitude will be expressed with further loyalty.”
“Loyalty?!” Rygo guffawed.
“Don’t tell me you answer to this lowly king.”
“What did you say?” Katak put his fist on the table and leaned in close to the golden warlord.
“I heard you have a city, and an army of a mere 2,000. Don’t think you can intimidate me, lowly king.” A smile crept up Katak’s face. He pulled back and gave a menacing chuckle.
“Your arrogance does not become you dragonborn. In the time you have gathered bandits and butcherers, my army has grown to over 7,000. The kingdom of Mar is firmly under my control and York buckles under the weight of my power. I have carved out an empire that will soon cover all of the Fair Fields. Your brother was far wiser than you. He knew when to defer to one more powerful than himself.”
“So the war is goin well?” Seraph cut in.
“Yes. We’ve capitalized greatly off of the victory at Klahm River. But our progress has been slowed this spring. The serfs of Parlington have been in revolt. Their profits are being massively hurt. Without their wealth, our advancement will be severely hampered.”
“I see. What would you like our help with this year?”
“There’s the revolt obviously. The contest in Center City for the princess’s hand is coming to a head. I could use your help in securing it. Of course if you all were to go into the Dragon Lands and retrieve the Omnishield, we’d win the war and drive off the barbarian Horde in no time.”
“Well why don’t we do all three.” Seraph replied.
“We can stop at Parlington, go to Center City, then snatch the Omnishield after.”
“I am planning on going to the Dragon Lands anyway.” Rygo chimed in.
“Very well.” Katak responded rather pleased with the plan.
“Nothos will accompany you. You can see him flirting with some of the nobility over there.” He said with disappointment.
“Just make sure you wake him up from his stupor. Don’t worry about being rough about it. He needs all the discipline he can get.” Katak gave one last dirty look at Rygo then walked off. Glorfindel whistled and mused
“Woo wee. What a prick. That was fun Rygo, watchin you and him spar haha.”
“He’s a valuable ally.” Seraph said sternly.
“He’ll be vital in saving the realm.” Seraph said as he sipped from his glass of whisky. But perhaps not necessary to secure Center City’s assistance. He thought to himself as he reflected upon the contest for the princess’ hand. Anyone eligible royal could potentially marry her.

Towards the end of the night’s festivities, a final guest approached the party’s table. A dwarf walked up to them with a wicked smile on his face and a magnificent helm upon his head. The helm was studded with a plethora of precious gems. Emeralds, diamonds, rubies, opals, and sapphires all covered the wondrous item.
The party was dazzled by the magnificence of the brilliant helm, but Glorfindel was unimpressed. His attention was caught by the braiding of the dwarf’s beard. He was sure he had seen it before.
“Greetings Hunter, king of Wolnocc and Seraph prince of this glorious city. I am Dorn of the Sairene kingdom.” The dwarf bowed pompously before the brothers.
“Yer the terrorist that set fire to the city yesterday.” Glorfindel growled.
“Whatever do you mean?” Dorn replied with mock surprise.
Seraph peered closer at the dwarf. The face was different, but the attitude was all too familiar.
“Yer lucky I don’t have ya dragged out and beaten to death right now.”
“Seraph what the hell?!” Hunter looked at his brother with shock he would threaten a foreign dignitary so brazenly.
“Well my lord, that certain would not be good for relations with my people.” Dorn replied with a smug smirk.
“But if you have an issue with me you’d like to discuss, I am more than willing to talk in private tonight so long as you come alone. I might even have a thing or two to teach you about OUR organization. I’ll be in the green house at the corner of 8th and Main street.” The dwarf said with a wink. He walked off, leaving Seraph and Glorfindel to stew together.
“Seraph why did ya say that to him?” Hunter asked with great confusion.
“Ya weren’t there Hunter. That guy is responsible for the attack yesterday. It ain’t worth it to go to war with his kingdom though. We don’t have the people to waste, but I’ll be damn sure to confront him tonight.”
“Glad not noble. Too many aggressive conversations.” Mags mused.

Seraph stomped down the streets of Wolnocc. He tightly clutched his diamond scepter and pounded it onto the pavement with each stride. What good had joining the Chaos Cult ever done him? He gained such a small amount of power in exchange for a massive pain in the ass. First he had to stop them from ruining his city’s chance of surviving the siege and now he has to deal with some psychopath who murdered his citizens for fun. Why couldn’t fate just let him win? He had put in all of his effort, all of his intellect, every last bit of his abilities into securing his home, title, and life. Yet no matter how high he climbed, fate seemed determined to strike him back down. Despite his frustration with the situation, if there was something to gain from the upcoming conversation, Seraph would participate in it. He needed every advantage he could get in this rigged game.
Seraph found the green house at the street corner. Like the buildings around it, the house was a crumbled ruin. The ceiling had caved in, and the walls were blackened by fire.

A shot of fear ran down Seraph’s spine. What if his fate was to meet a similar end? One where all was well then suddenly it all comes crashing down. Seraph shook his body vigorously. The omens for this day did not hint at any misfortune. Just another random attack of fear that had plagued him since his journey with divination began. Seraph stepped inside.
Dorn awaited Seraph’s arrival atop a charred table. Its three legs struggled to support his weight. Dorn smiled upon Seraph’s entrance.
“So glad you came.”
“The hell do you want?”
“Tsk tsk, so rude. I only came here to teach you the ways of chaos.”
“I thought yer cult was about freedom! Not about wanton slaughter!!”
Dorn laughed sinisterly.
“It is about freedom. Personal freedom. And with the power and freedom I have, I can burn, kill, and destroy as I please hehehe.”
Seraph’s grip tightened around his scepter to the point of his skin breaking. Blood seeped out of his hand. He desperately wanted to end this miserable dwarf’s life. But his power was clearly at least enough to match his. It would be too risky of a fight, and a powerful caster as Dorn could easily escape.
“Just tell me what ya hinted at earlier.”
“Of course, my young pupil. As I said, the chaos you spread within our own ranks is nothing short of impressive. But, it will be quite difficult for you to rise up within the cult that way… unless.” Seraph rolled his eyes.
“Unless you kill a high ranking member and steal his power of course.” Seraph stepped back in surprise.
“I can do that?”
“Hehehe. The magic empowering our organization is a bit different from others. If you kill someone of a higher rank in the Chaos Cult than you, you can potentially take their power and the resulting abilities.”
“So why don’t I just kill you?”
“Hehehe that would be difficult without your friends. But if you want to challenge me so badly, you can find me in the city of Af Peter.”
“Nah. Too outta the way fer me. You ain’t worth it.”
“Hm, fine. There are more of us throughout the realm. You might be able to find Cur in Center City if they haven’t gotten to him yet.”
“Cur?”
“Oh yes, nasty serial killer. Center City’s best have tried to take him down. If you’re lucky, it might be you who does it.”
“Thanks ya sick bastard. Do me a favor and go choke on an orc sausage and die.”
Seraph turned and left to the sound of Dorn’s cackling. He admitted to himself he got some utility out of the cult, but he hated every moment he had to put up with their insanity.

Chapter 25: Glorfindel’s Test

Chapter Text

A week after the feast, the city’s illustrious guests had left, Rygo’s army had been gathered and supplied, and all of the organization needed for the journey through the Midwest of the Badlands was finalized. Diamond scepter in hand, Seraph exchanged farewells with his family.
“Goodbye Elaina. You’ve grown up so much. You’ve grown as wise and intelligent as the ancestor you were named after.”
“And affectionate too.” The little princess said as she squeezed her older brother around the waist.
“Will you come back Seraph?” She asked with the highest pitch and biggest eyes she could muster. Seraph chuckled and rubbed her head.
“Of course. I gotta teach you some spells still. And… I couldn’t stand being without you too long.” Elaina smiled widely. Seraph turned to Hunter and embraced him.
“I’m so proud of you little brother.” Hunter said softly.
“Yer more sure of yerself and dedicated to us all than I coulda ever imagined.”
“And you’ve managed to not set the city on fire since you been rulin it.” They laughed.
“You know that’s because of you brother. With yer instructions, the walls will be rebuilt and the army will be reorganized in no time. We’ll be able to meet up with ya to take on the barbarians in just a couple of months.”
“You’ll do great Hunter. Yer a more inspirin leader than I could ever be. You’ll make father proud.” Hunter’s eyes welled up.
“Yea.” He said with a sniffle.
“I love ya brother. Make sure ya come back home.” They embraced once more.
“I love ya too. Don’t worry brother. I will.” Seraph broke their embrace and mounted his royal steed. He rode off with his horse with the rest of the party at the head of Rygo’s army. They began their journey to Parlington.

A few hours into the trip, Nothos caught up to them on his jet black steed. He greeted the party with a smile
“Off on another adventure together. Hahaha, I’ll admit, when I first met you guys, I didn’t think you’d last. Now you’re some of the most competent and powerful individuals in the realm.”
“Been real crazy.” Mags chirped.
“Glad we made it.” She said to Nothos and Seraph with a smile.
“Not all of us did. But the cream rises to the top.” Seraph replied.
Rygo looked down with a somber expression. Nothos tapped him on the arm.
“How’s it going big guy? Don’t think I’ve gotten the chance to meet you.”
“Heh, just fine. Name’s Rygo. I’ve heard of you Nothos.”
“Oh? All good things I presume.”
“Heh, heh well Mags told me your pretty nice and clever. You like disguises a lot.”
“Oh yes they’re very fun. Especially the looks on people’s faces when I reveal myself.” Nothos replied with a smirk.
“I also heard you like flirting with people too.”
“Oh that’s very fun as well. Don’t your hopes up though big guy. I’ve got my eyes set on someone pretty special already.”
“Oh yeah? Who?”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk, just like your brother. So quick to assume that I would give you such personal information. You have to earn my trust first.”
“And how’s that?”
“Are you any good at cooking?”
“Uh no.”
“Shame. If you had prepared me a delicious meal, perhaps I would have told all. Guess you won’t earn my trust then.” Nothos chuckled to himself and Rygo puzzled over why being able to make a meal was so important.
“So why ya with us anyway?” Glorfindel asked with a hint of bitterness.
“You never know when even powerful warriors like you need protection. More importantly, you and your warlord friend are unknown quantities, and if there’s one thing my father and I agree on, it’s that we don’t like unknowns.”
“Ah, so yer that prick’s spy.”
“And son. Let’s not forget that detail. We all have our roles for the people we serve. You provide the fun for example.”
“Heh, that I do. What kind of drink do ya like?”
“Whatever you do. I’m trying to get in your good graces.”
“In that case, I hope you can handle what I’ve got prepared for us tonight.”
“We’ll see if I can.”

Nothos could not handle the spiced rum Glorfindel had prepared. With spices and sugar from Delos, Glorfindel had mixed a brew so delicious and potent that few could handle it. Nothos passed out rather quickly. Mags declined and went to bed early. Rygo lasted the longest, but was reduced to a pile of blubbering scales clutching a bottle within a couple of hours. Glorfindel and Seraph were the only ones left late into the night. They exchanged jokes and stories and reminisced about the old days.
“So.” Glorfindel set his rum down with replaced his jovial demeanor with a serious tone.
“Last week I encountered somethin I hoped I never would.”
“Someone part of the temperance movement?” Seraph joked.
“No. My past.”
“Heh, I hate the idea of confrontin my future.”
“This is serious. I met one of the men responsible for killin Caroline.”
“sh*t. What’d ya do?”
“Nothin. I let him go.”
“Why?”
“I dunno. Couldn’t bring myself to kill him. He just, felt so bad about it, and he wasn’t fakin his remorse neither. Plus, he wasn’t the one who did it.”
“Yea?”
“Like he was one of them. But turns out this guy Chale did it. ‘Pparently he’s in Alzey right now or somethin.”
“Alzey? That’s on the way to Parlington actually.”
“No sh*t.”
“Yea. Turns out you’ll get yer revenge after all.”
“Yea.” Glorfindel turned over and looked up at the night sky. He felt relieved. Not so much because of his new found chance for vengeance, but because he finally got the story off his chest. His mind floated to another topic.
“What’s that princess’ name? The one from Center City everyone’s goin for?”
“Cassia.” Glorfindel rolled over and looked Seraph in the eye.
‘Thinkin of gettin her yerself?”
“Hahaha. Maybe. She’s the heir to the most prosperous city in all of Tesalach. One of the most powerful kingdoms too. They got themselves a professional army of 10,000 or so.”
“Ah who gives a sh*t about that? What about her? What’s she like?”
“Well everyone says she is beautiful. And she’s got a wit sharp as Kythrillian steel.”
“That’s what I like to hear. I bet she ain’t like the other princesses.”
“How’s that?”
“Bet she ain’t all stuck up and actin all spoiled and sh*t.”
“Hahaha, thinkin of goin fer her yerself?”
“Why not?” Seraph didn’t answer. He knew a commoner like Glorfindel had no real chance with marrying a royal. Even if the matchmaking was framed as a competition.
“I know what yer thinkin. A girl with good sense about her don’t care about any of that. All I need is a chance with her one on one. I’ll win her over with my charm.”
“Yer assumin a lotta things about this woman without even meetin her.”
“I gotta good feelin about it. That’s all ya need in life. A good feelin and the confidence to act on it.”
“Preach on preacher.” The two friends drank and laughed the night away.

For a week, the party traveled with Rygo’s army trailing behind. Their southeastern path was beset by forests and rolling hills. The beaten path laid out by empires long forgotten passed by several villages and towns, but the party pressed on visiting few of them. The army was well supplied, and the party was content to sleep outside just as the warriors did. Seraph prepared their shelter every night as he had on the journey to Mar. Although the Bad Lands are not known for their beauty, spring brought much life to the region through which the party traveled. Sheep flocked, flowers bloomed, and the landscape, while not exquisite, was teeming with life.

One day, the sound of clattering and yells could be heard over the hills the party was walking alongside. They rode up ahead of the army to investigate the noise. Upon coming to the top of the hill, they saw the rival banners of the Dadites and the Ambrillands clashing against one another in the slopes below. The opposing armies of human and dwarf appeared to be rather even in their struggle. It was quite unclear who would reign victorious in the contest.
“What would you do, Seraph?” Rygo asked.
“What do ya mean?”
“Which army would you choose to side with?”
“Well let’s think about this practically. Ya want to cross through their disputed territory and the forces that might oppose ya are down there. You could just let them weaken each other, but if one of them turns it around and wins, they might get pissed at ya for not joinin them. How long have yer troops gone without out some loot?”
“Uh, I guess they haven’t had any since the siege.”
“Yea, yer gonna wanna get them some before they start pillagin the countryside and pissin off everyone around ya. Now, I do see the Dadites are a bit far away from their camp. Ya could head down and loot it. Minimal risk, and it looks like yer takin the Ambrilland’s side cause it will help them to eliminate the Dadites supplies.”
“Huh, very interesting.” Rygo stroked his scaly chin.
“Thanks Seraph, I’ll head down with my army immediately.”
“So you don’t plan on sweeping aside either army?” Nothos chimed in.
“As I’ve said before, I plan on taking my army to the Dragonlands. While it would be fun to engage in some battle and a bit of slaughter, it would get in my way. Right Seraph?”
“Indeed.” Seraph smiled to himself. He had the king of Wolnocc ruling by his instructions, a warlord taking his advice, and the party following his lead. The realm was in good hands. With a few more alliances, the barbarian invasion would surely be repulsed.

Rygo gathered his army of looters, thieves, and murderers. He riled them up with promises of loot and treasure waiting to be taken. They eagerly followed him down the hill and into the Dadite camp where they pilfered crates filled with food and drink. They took every scrap of jewelry and clothing they could get their hands on. Every idol or token of a god was snatched from its place. The men and women who had followed the army and made up much of the camp fled for their lives leaving many of their valuables behind. Rygo’s troops gorged themselves with their spoils.
Upon seeing their camp being looted, several of the Dadites rushed from the battlefield to the campsite in order to save their possessions. They were scattered, disorganized, and easily cut down by the looters. Morale was sapped from the Dadite ranks, and their battle with the Ambrillands turned into a rout. By the time the battle had ended, Rygo had ordered his army out of the camp with all of the plunder they could carry. The commander of Ambrilland’s army never had the chance to thank the warlord for his help.

Rygo’s troops were quite pleased with their score and merrily marched for the next few days, stopping often to relish in the food and liquor they had recently acquired. Rygo celebrated amongst his ranks and got into a few rowdy brawls with upstarts who had gotten in themselves the foolish idea of challenging the warlord. The troops were filled with confidence and faith that they would go on to plunder all of the Dragon Lands, and the mighty dragonborn would lead them to their destiny of wealth and pleasure.

A few days later, the party camped in a forest near a small village. They were all quietly enjoying some stew and the warmth of the fire used to cook it when the sound of snapping twigs interrupted their meal. Mags, Glorfindel, Seraph, Rygo, and Nothos all turned around to see a slender, fair-faced dark elf with her hands raised.
“I mean no harm. If I wanted to sneak up on you, I could’ve.” She said with a calm, pleasant voice. Glorfindel smiled at the sight of her.
“Well why don’t ya come on over and introduce yerself like a proper person.” He said with a wink. Mags and Nothos scooted to the side to allow for their visitor to sit between them.
“Alright, I’m Velez.” The elf said as she sat down. She was dressed in a simple woven fur dyed green and brown. She set her bow and quiver on the ground beside her.
The party introduced themselves by name.
“You’re not ordinary travelers.” Velez said as soon as they were done.
“Why ya say that?” Glorfindel replied.
“A whole army trails behind you. Each of you are heavily armed. You walk like warriors, and you walk with purpose. What are you doing in these woods?”
“On our way to Parlington.” Seraph answered.
“We’ve been asked to help pacify the region. We’re on our way over.”
“So Alzey being straight in your path is by coincidence?”
“Not exactly.” Glorfindel slid closer to Velez and looked her straight in the eyes.
“I got business there. But what do you care?”
“I protect these lands. Alzey is one of the many villages I guard from monsters and marauders.”
“A drow protectin these lands?” Glorfindel asked with an eyebrow raised.
“Why not?!” Velez’s back stiffened.
“No disrespect, just surprised.”
“The people here trust me. And they don’t call me drow.” She said staring at the ground.
“Sorry.”
“What business do you have with Alzey?”
“None with the village. Just the man by the name of Chale.” Velez’s eyes widened.
“You know him.” Glorfindel peered closely at the elf. Velez averted her eyes from Glorfindel’s gaze.
“He’s here.” Glorfindel said to Seraph. The mirth on his face was swept away by stoic determination. He mounted his horse and began to ride away. Velez ran over to him with sweat streaming down her face.
“Wait! What do you want with him?”
“It’s between me and him. Doesn’t concern him.”
“Look, I don’t know his story. He’s only been in the village for a few years. But he has a family! Whatever happened between you two, it doesn’t just involve you anymore. It can’t!”
“Not my problem.” Glorfindel spurred his horse and rode off with speed.
Velez ran back to her spot and grabbed her bow. Seraph raised his hand.
“Don’t bother.” Velez shook as she stopped.
“He’s more powerful than you. I guarantee it. And nothin will stop him from this.”
“I have to do something! Chale is beloved in Alzey. His family loves him.”
“He killed Glorfindel’s wife.” Seraph said as he furrowed his brows.
“His past is catchin up to him. It’s Glorfindel’s choice what happens next.”
Velez grunted in indignation. She turned to pursue Glorfindel when the sound of clinking bottles drew her and the party’s attention away. The stranger strolled into the campsite merrily carrying a bag of booze. He handed out a bottle to everyone, including Velez. Mags pretended to drink from her bottle but spilled it out behind her. The stranger pulled the last bottle out of the bag and opened its top. With a chuckle he said,
“He’s right. It’s all up to him. We’ll just have to see what decision he makes.” The stranger through his alcohol into the fire, and it blazed with a golden light. Everyone looked into the stunning spectacle and to their surprise saw Glorfindel as clear as day.

Glorfindel rode into Alzey with great speed. By the time he reached the first hovel, he and his horse were rather tired. A raven haired woman, with a kind face, standing outside its door flagged him down. Glorfindel had his horse trot over.
“How do ya do miss?”
“Well, how about yourself?”
“I’ll be honest, a bit parched and hungry. I’ve been ridin mighty hard as of late.”
“Well why don’t you join my family for supper? We have plenty.”
“Thank ya kindly ma’am.” Glorfindel tied up his horse and followed the woman inside. The home was small and only had a single room. There was no table to eat upon. The woman sat Glorfindel down and gave him a bowl of fresh rabbit stew.
“Wait right here, I’ll get my family.” She walked over to the small window in the back and called out
“Hey! Come here and eat! We have a guest waiting for us!”
“Alright honey! We were just playing Crypts and Faeries!”
A squeal of laughter came from outside the hut. A sad smile crept up Glorfindel’s face. He had always wanted to have children. The door opened up to a cheery bald man with a squirrely little girl on his back.
“Alright you rascal. Time to sit still for our guest.” The child wriggled but her father tickled her into submission. She plopped her hands on her chair and swung her legs to expel her boundless energy. The bald man turned to his guest with a welcoming grin.
“I see you’ve met my wife Alair. This is my daughter Liz.” He held out his hand to Glorfindel
“And I’m Chale. What’s your name stranger?”
Glorfindel stared blankly back at the man but only for a moment. His mouth opened and his lips widened into a sickening grin. He whispered through his teeth
“I am Timoria.”
Chale’s hand shook with unease as he pulled it back. He forced a smile as he sat down. Alair set down bowls of hot stew for everyone, and they began to eat.
Glorfindel watched the small family as they enjoyed their meal. They smiled as they looked at each other. They laughed together. There was joy and love between them. Everything he could have had with Caroline. Glorfindel continued to smile as he ate with them. He smiled as he answered their questions with little nothings and white lies. He smiled as thought of what he could do to Chale. He smiled as he wanted to pound his fists onto the table and fly into a rage. He smiled as he wanted to collapse and cry. Glorfindel whispered a prayer to Olidammara.
“I’m gonna need a few favors comin up real soon Olidammara. You got me? Thanks.” Glorfindel smiled as he looked up and said to Chale
“Would mind steppin outside with me fer a moment? I got somethin I would like to confide in you alone.”
The laughter stopped. Chale looked at his wife for guidance. She smiled warmly and squeezed his hand. Chale turned to Glorfindel and said with a hint of nervousness in his voice
“Sure. Just a moment. Right?”
“Of course.”

The two stepped outside and circled around to the back of the hut. Chale walked a few steps further so that at a low speaking volume, they would be out of earshot of the others. Glorfindel judged the distance they stood away and determined Alair and Liz would be safe.
Glorfindel shoved Chale to the ground. The man fell face first into the ground. He scrambled to flip himself over and looked up in terror at the sight before him.

Glorfindel’s mimic stepped out from him and stood alongside him. Three copies stepped out from each of them. Their eyes were replaced with golden light. Wind rushed and howled around them. Grass flew uprooted from the ground. The door to the hut slammed open and closed. The many faces of Glorfindel looked down on Chale with grim condemnation. They spoke in unison with thunderous voices
“What you have, you took from me! You killed my wife, yet enjoy your own! Never forget what you did! Never forget what you stole! Never take for granted what you have!”
The images collapsed into each other and returned to the original. A door bordered by golden light to the woods opened up alongside the half-elf. The cleric turned and walked through it. The door closed, and all was as it was before.

Glorfindel arrived in the camp shortly thereafter. He was greeted by a sarcastic clap from Seraph, a bored look from Rygo, a co*cked head from Mags, an intrigued look from Nothos, a sigh of relief from Velez, and a smile from the stranger.
“The hell kinda greetin is this?” Glorfindel said with annoyance mixed with confusion.
“Oh we were just havin a hell of a time watchin yer adventure. Courtesy of this guy of course.” Seraph said with a teasing smirk as he pointed at the stranger.
“Wasn’t none of yer business.” Glorfindel said with a scowl.
“It wasn’t. But I am satisfied and impressed.” The stranger replied as he stood up.
“Good day to you all. I’ll see you later.” The stranger walked behind a tree and could not be seen coming out the other side. Velez walked up to Glorfindel. Without meeting his eyes, she said
“Thank you, for sparing his life.”
“Ain’t no big deal. He wasn’t worth it.” Glorfindel replied.
Velez nodded and walked off. Glorfindel plopped down on a log and cracked open a bottle of whisky. Seraph slid over and asked
“So why did ya spare him?” Glorfindel sighed.
“Killin him wouldn’t had done nothin for Caroline. No point taken him away from his family. No point at all.” Glorfindel drank from his bottle. The night passed away as any other, and the party moved on from Alzey the next day.

At some point in the many days the party journeyed, Nothos rode his horse up alongside Mags’. With a knowing simper upon his face, Nothos said to her
“Congratulations on your rise to the top tier of the Shadow Cult. You’ve certainly earned it with your hardwork and cunning.”
Mags turned her head and co*cked it to the side with a curious look on her face. Nothos rolled his eyes teasingly and brought his hand to his chest with feigned injury.
“You didn’t think I would be clever and skilled enough to be part of such an organisation?”
“No. Just not subtle enough.” Mags responded with a teasing smirk. Nothos laughed heartily.
“Oh Mags, I’ve always enjoyed your comebacks.” His smile faded into a more thoughtful expression. His eyes looked to the horizon for a moment. He turned to Mags and said with an unusual seriousness.
“I’ve been wondering for awhile now. Why didn’t you expose me back in Mar? It could have easily earned you favor with Olaphine and would have made your survival far more likely.”
“Never crossed mind.” Mags quickly chirped in response.
“But why? Did you not think it advantageous? Was there something you all knew that I didn’t?”
Mags faced forward and co*cked her head to the side. She had never thought about before. Why did she never consider betraying Nothos? Mags’ eyes blinked several times before coming up with an answer. She turned to Nothos.
“Cause you’re nice.” The half-elf did not appear satisfied.
“Wouldn’t want to do that. Trusted us. Trusted you. Good ally and possible friend. Funny and sarcastic, but good heart.”
“Good heart eh?” Nothos chuckled to himself in disbelief.
“It’s funny, I’m not used to people thinking like that. Certainly didn’t think someone as smart as you could.”
“Why not?”
“Because you survive in this world by using your abilities and others for as long as they are useful. Not by blindly trusting people. That’s how you get killed or manipulated.”
“Do you think that because of Katak?”
“Heh, somewhat. Father certainly played a big role in how I learned that lesson.”
“How so?”
“Oh it’s a long story. Boring really. Full of boo hoo and all that, not worth listening…” Nothos waved his hand around to emphasize the meaningless of it. He spoke as though it were a bad joke. He stopped when Mags laid a feathery hand on his shoulder. She peered deep into his eyes with her own.
“Tell please.” Nothos sighed.
“Alright then. I warned you. Stop me if you get bored.” He slipped off his horse to prepare himself for an expressive performance. Mags stopped her horse. Seraph looked back to see what the change in pace was for. Mags held up her hand to tell him to move along. Nothos began to tell his tale.

“You already know how I’m a bastard. Well I wasn’t the only one. Father had a habit of sleeping around, siring children from all sorts of people and never marrying despite the political advantages. Consequently, we were all equal in a sort of way. None of us were legitimate heirs. I’m not sure why Father was doing it, but I think he was looking to produce the best offspring he could by drawing from as wide a pool as possible.

So one day, father announces to us that he will pass on his title and inheritance to the child of his who proves themselves to be the most capable and worthy. By being the last offspring alive. Oh you should have seen how many of us were desperate for Father’s attention and approval. Or how many craved the power and authority he would bequeath us. I just wanted to survive.
I learned quickly not to rely on anyone. The sibling I had trusted to protect me tried to finish me off as soon as I was injured from a fight with one of our rivals. I lived. She didn’t. It didn’t matter how young or infirm us children of Katak were. There were always those willing to prey on the weak. I was 12 when the whole thing began.
It didn’t all happen at once. There were flashes and there were periods of calm. Those were the worst. Every moment was filled with tension and fear. Throughout all of it I learned. I learned to hide. I learned to scheme. I learned to manipulate. I learned to kill. I killed eight of my own siblings. Taking life is such a cold thing to me now.
After a few years, and many close calls, I survived. I was all that was left of Father’s progeny. He was so damn pleased with himself.” Nothos clutched the shortswords at his side. His teeth ground together.

“I swore to myself I’d kill him. That he would not get to grow old and die peacefully. That I would see the look in his eyes as I finally betrayed him. That I…” Nothos began to weep. The tears came subtly, then they streamed uncontrollably. Nothos tried to wipe them away and hold them in, but his arms were caught to his side by a tight, feathery embrace.
Mags wrapped her arms around him. She looked up at her friend in the eyes and said with deep sorrow and authenticity
“That’s awful.” Nothos tried to stammer out an excuse, a way to bring levity to the moment, but Mags’ deep black eyes drowned all efforts to do so. Nothos conceded. He returned Mags’ embrace.
“Thank you.”
“Welcome.” After a long minute passed, the two slowly released their embrace.
“It’s funny, I only told one other person before.” Mags smiled ruefully.
“The one you have eyes for?” Nothos rolled his eyes.
“Well yes. Can’t lie my way out of that one heh, heh.”
“Who?”
“Guess.”
“Vaven?”
“Oh no. She’s fun, but we never hit it off that way, you know?”
“Leon?” Mags said with over the top sarcasm as she elbowed Nothos’ ribs.
“HAHAHA. Oh I wish he would return my affections! No it’s not anyone from Archai.”
“Cassia?”
“There you go Mags, you clever bird.”
“Cause she’s pretty?”
“Well of course she’s beautiful, but it’s so much more than that. She kind, funny, devilishly clever. She’s a wonderful time to be around. I’d be a fool not to love her.”
“Of course my father just wants her for politics.” Nothos growled.
“Get her yourself.”
“Ha! It’s not so easy to cross my dad and live. Hell, he put a hit on Rygo just for disrespecting him.”
“Really?”
“Well for that and possessing a destabilizing army that won’t be used to help him win his war for the Fair Fields despite allying with Seraph. That kind of stuff pisses him off.”
“Huh. How much danger is Rygo in?”
“Not much at the moment. I’m the one supposed to be doing it. I’ll come up with an excuse as to why I couldn’t, but he won’t be so safe in Center City.”
“Thanks for letting me know.”
“Oh of course Mags. What are friends for other than juicy gossip.” Nothos said merrily as he remounted his horse. He rode off to catch up with the party.
Mags co*cked her head to the side and said thoughtfully.
“Huh, I haven’t had a conversation like that before.” Her head perked up and her feathers bristled. She just referred to herself in the 1st person? Strange. Mags mounted her horse and rode up to the party pondering the growth of her vocabulary for the rest of the day.

Chapter 26: Strikebreakers

Chapter Text

Three weeks into their journey, the party and their accompanying army turned south towards the Mirkazi. They came to the enormous stone bridge that crossed the river. The bridge was jointly owned by the wealthy Rijk family from Parlington and Center City. Seraph led the negotiations and explained to the halflings working on behalf of their family the reason for their arrival. The Rijks eagerly convinced the Center City officials to allow the party and their army to cross the bridge at no cost to them. The Rijk family paid for the undertaking and supplied the army with fresh grain and wine.
Within a few days after the crossing of the Mirkazi, the party and their army entered the lands of Parlington. They traveled past miles of outstretched cotton, tobacco and sugar cane fields. Humans, elves and a few dwarves worked the fields while orcs oversaw them. The overseers pushed the workers hard and punished anyone who complained about their conditions or tried to leave the plantation with harsh physical discipline. Far away from the fields stood the gorgeous manors of the halfling families that owned the plantation.

Mags turned her face away from the workers. Her stomach knotted at the thought of helping the Parlington owners, but she knew the alliance with Katak would allow for nothing else. The scene did little to catch Rygo’s attention. Glorfindel wondered to himself how the system came to be this way. He knew that many if not all of the workers in the fields of Parlington were in debt to the plantation owners. Clearly the overseers were there to make sure they worked off their debts. Seraph disliked the cruel conditions before him, but he was sure there was a reason for it.
The party was met by a halfling with a smug face wearing a fine suit and riding upon a fancilly bred pony. The halfling rode up to them and pulled a cigar out of his coat pocket. He greeted the party
“We’re so happy you’ve arrived. Would any of you care for one of the finest cigars of the Wolhbend family?”
“I will once you explain the beatins.” Seraph replied.
“Well, with the ongoing rebellion, we need to keep the farmers in check. A temporary problem with a temporary solution. Similar to Wolnocc’s martial law is it not?” The halfling waved his hand as he spoke as if swatting away Seraph’s concerns.
“Makes enough sense.” Seraph replied as he accepted the cigar.
“And I’m sure they’re here to ensure the farmers pay their debts and hold up their end of the bargain.” Glorfindel added as he accepted a cigar.
“Exactly.” The Wolhbend said with a smile.
“If you have any dragonborn working your fields, I’d like to purchase them off of you.” Rygo commented as he accepted a cigar.
“Oh they’re not for sale. They’re free people after all.” The Wolhbend replied with a pompous grin. He offered a cigar to Mags. Mags stared back at him. Her eyes pierced deeply as she slowly said with constrained spiteful tone
“I’m sure the Chaos Cult is real popular here.”
“Oh don’t even get me started on those vile anarchists.” The Wolhbend replied with a grimace as he placed the cigar back in his pocket.
“I’ll direct you all to Madame Zijriv. The rebellion’s leaders are concentrated at her family’s plantation.” The Wolhbend announced to the party. He took them through the many fields and past the many manors of Parlington’s elite.

After a few hours, they arrived at a field that had been emptied. Cotton seeds laid strewn across the barren ground. The ashes of their stalks still remained. A faint smell of burnt flesh was carried by the wind, but no bodies could be seen. A large brick warehouse stood tall as the only visible structure in the wasteland. Scores of armed orcs surrounded the building. Behind the ring of enforcers, a family of halflings reclined in finely crafted chairs with umbrellas standing over them providing shade.
On a platform in the most opulent seat sat an old halfling woman wrinkled with age and bitterness. She pursed her lips and peered intensely at the warehouse as though her disdain could set it aflame. She broke her gaze to look upon the approaching party. She waved her pearl studded cane at them impatiently, bidding them to come to her.
As they approached, she loudly griped to them
“Took you long enough! Trennius Huntman is driving me up the wall! She won’t shut up and her lackeys won’t give in. Some of my enforcers have even whispered about joining the other side can you believe it?!”
“Whose this Trennius ma’am?” Seraph asked her with genteel civility.
“She’s the leader of this whole revolt. They’re following a Chaos Cult leader. Can you believe that?! The rest of the leadership is in there too. But they’re a tough nut to crack.”
“Why are they revoltin?”
“Who the hell cares?! They’re ruining our profits and hampering the war effort. Now get in there and rid me of that stupid upstart!”
Seraph sipped from his whiskey, hiding his scowl. He motioned for the rest of the party to follow him towards the warehouse. As they reached the door, Madame Zijriv called out
“And don’t kill too many of the peons if you can. They’re still useful if we can get them under heel.”
Seraph took another sip of whiskey and turned to the others.
“Alright, I’m sure they got the door barred and are waitin for an assault. I’ve perfected a spell that can get me and one other in there.”
“Thanks to Olidammara’s blessings, I can too.” Glorfindel chimed in.
“Perfect. We go in there, find Trennius and take her down along with the leaders. Leave the rest.”
“Right.” Mags chirped. Rygo nodded.

Seraph took one more sip of whiskey. He took a long, slow sip to relish in the taste. If Trennius is high up in the Chaos Cult, she would be perfect for stealing power from. Seraph thought to himself. Victory shouldn’t be too difficult. Seraph had pulled from his bag of runes and seen his fortune. A personal success, and an enemy failure. With this future going up against a peasant’s revolt, their opponents wouldn’t stand a chance.

The party held hands as Seraph and Glorfindel opened up a pair of magical doorways. Seraph brought Mags through his and Glorfindel brought Rygo through the other. They arrived in the midst of a packed crowd and in the middle of a speech. The room was sultry and cramped with over a hundred bodies crammed together, and breathing heavily. The people’s eyes fixated towards the center of the building. Their faces expressed awe and focus as a commanding voice reverberated throughout.

Atop a large stack of tobacco, a human woman spoke. She was quite plain in her appearance, but her voice and passion were filled with authority and conviction. Next to her stood an unusually bulky elf with a large pitchfork resting in his left hand. He watched the woman with as much respect and awe as the crowd. Next to him, a man covered in deep blue runes scanned the vicinity.
When the party entered the warehouse they accidentally pushed aside some of the members of the crowd. The victims griped about how rude they were being and informed them there was plenty of space to listen in the back. The party came in about 50 feet away from Trennius’ stack of tobacco.
The rune covered man noticed the intruders, and prodded Trennius who stopped speaking mid sentence. She looked down upon the party and asked in a demanding voice
“Who are you?! What are you doing here?!”
“We’re here to take ya in. If ya come quietly that is.” Seraph replied.
“We don’t wanna kill none of y’all.” Glorfindel added.
“You work for our masters? We will not come quietly until they promise the proper treatment we deserve!”
“And what’s that?” Seraph humored her.
“Working less than the 16 hours a day they demand from us. Receiving wages that can be spent outside of their personal stores. Ceasing their beatings, and allowing us to create a committee to voice our grievances and negotiate conditions.”
Not too unreasonable. Seraph admitted to himself. But if the rabble could just get all uppity and violent and get what they wanted out of it, that would cause problems.
“Then you shoulda not been so violent about it!” Glorfindel responded before Seraph could reply.
“As if they would have listened otherwise!” Trennius replied.
“Enough of this! Rygo, take her.” Seraph ordered the dragonborn. A sinister grin crossed Rygo’s face. His black gem ring began to glow and his armor formed around him as he stepped towards the pile. The crowd began to move away as far as they could from the party. Mags began to pull out her Rod of Command.
“Over my dead body!” The elf roared as he charged down the pile towards Rygo. Glorfindel clapped his hands together and prayed
“Olidammara, could ya help me transform this brute into somethin more harmless?”

A beam of golden light shot out from his amulet towards the elf.
Trennius desperately weaved her hands to form a counterspell. She launched an orange ball of energy at Glorfindel’s beam, but Seraph’s silver dart met it on the way. Seraph had casted counterspell himself, and the rune marking success flashed in his mind. His silver dart burst the orange ball and Glorfindel’s beam carried on towards the elf.
The elf was struck head on and although he tried to resist its power, Glorfindel’s magic morphed him into a harmless newt. Rygo barreled past him.
“Take out the rune covered one next to her first!” Seraph shouted.

Mags sought to end the fight immediately. She swung the rod around her head three times and shouted “Surrender!” just before golden light burst out and filled the entire warehouse. Scores of rebels in the crowd immediately threw their hands up, but Trennius and her remaining ally did not.
The rune covered man set his feet in a power stance, breathed in deep, then shot his left hand forward pointing the index and middle finger. He shouted “Witch bolt!” A deep blue bolt of lighting shot out from his fingertips and arced over to Seraph.
Seraph tried to get out of the way but the bolt was too fast. It struck his side and shocked him. Seraph winced from the intense pain, but it did not incapacitate him. Sorcerer. Seraph thought to himself. Seraph looked up at the sorcerer with a hateful glare. He pointed his diamond staff forward and cast hold on the man. The rune’s prophesy of an enemy’s failure proved true. The sorcerer’s body froze in place unable to move a muscle.

Trennius directed her attention to the dragonborn charging up the tobacco pile. Her hands moved as an orator’s making a speech and she proclaimed with fiery passion
“With the flames of the revolution, your steel shall turn against you!”
Rygo’s armor glowed red with heat. His suit of steel began to roast its wearer on the inside. Rygo was no stranger to heat, and the pain normally would not have bothered him. But the steel began to melt and seep into his scaly skin and burn his flesh. Rygo immediately dissipated his armor to halt the process. He was exposed, but he continued to charge.
Rygo made it to the rune covered sorcerer and fell upon the easy target with his hammer. Two blows bursting with black light sent his victim careening into the ground. The sorcerer would never rise again.
The crowd cowered in fear at the display of power and fury from both sides. They had believed in their leaders’ ability to protect them, but saw their strength shattered before their eyes. None who had not already surrendered dared to rise against the party’s assault.
Seeing that she was completely outnumbered and outmatched, Trennius threw her hands up.
“I surrender! So long as you promise not to harm these people.” She said gesturing to the crowd of workers.
“Very well. If you answer my questions.” Seraph replied with a knowing smirk.
“What are they?” Trennius asked with nervous suspicion.
“Yer a member of the Chaos Cult right?” He said as he stepped forward.
“Yes.” Trennius answered hesitantly.
“And yer a powerful member of it. One of the leaders?” Seraph stepped forward again.
“Why are you asking this?” Trennius took a step back.
“It’s alright. I’ve learned enough.” Seraph began to draw silver energy from his diamond staff. His fingers wove and twisted the bundle of magic until his fingers began to wrinkle and the silver became mixed with black. Seraph chanted in the elvish tongue
“With the power of the weave and my knowledge of its workings, decay shall meet your mortal form: Blight!”
A silver and black beam shot out from Seraph’s staff and connected with Trennius’ body. She stumbled back in agony. She looked at her hand which withered and rotted before her eyes. She screamed in horror as her body quickly languished, but then it stopped. Although wrinkled and falling apart, Trennius remained alive.
She immediately cast dimension door to escape. Seraph’s counterspell flew at her in the midst of her casting, but she responded with her own counterspell that knocked Seraph’s away. She stepped through her opened portal, and it closed immediately behind her.
“Damnit!!” Seraph shouted.
“Who cares? We won.” Rygo nonchalantly said as he strolled back down from the pile.
“Shut up Rygo. You don’t understand.” Seraph stomped out of the warehouse.
“Huh, rude.” Rygo was completely unbothered by Seraph’s outburst. He knew the wizard had his back when he needed it.
The party returned to Madame Zijriv with the news and a newt in Glorfindel’s hands.
“Good.” Madame Zijriv responded with pride.
“That should break their will enough for them to surrender. With these serfs having fallen, the rest should fall in line shortly. The unification of the Fair Fields will be completed shortly, thanks to you.”
“Happy to uphold our end of the alliance.” Seraph replied politely, hiding his frustration. He clutched his staff and drained the rest of his whisky.
“Will you be staying with us to celebrate our victory? Tomorrow we can discuss how best to roll up the rest of our enemies’ armies.” Madame Zijriv asked the prince.
“Nah. We gotta make sure we get to the contest for the honor of marrying Princess Cassia so we can… help Katak secure an alliance with them. The City’s army and wealth would be invaluable to the unification of the Fair Fields and the drivin off of the Horde.”
“Very well.” Madame replied with a proud smile.
“You are as wise as you are clever Prince Seraph. I hope we have the opportunity to meet again.” Madame reached out her palm to Seraph.
“Likewise Madame.” Seraph met her palm with his.
The party returned to their army’s camp and mobilized them to continue the march to Center City. The aristocrats of Parlington supplied the army with enough provisions to last a month of marching. Nothos came up to Mags.
“How did the mission go?”
“Well, I guess.” Mags said as she looked at the ground and kicked a clump of dirt.
“Didn’t like it much.”
“Yea. It’s tough maintaining the order of the world.” Nothos’ eyes wandered as he spoke.
“Especially when it involves putting people down who are just trying to get by.”
“Hmmm. I’m always grateful for the assignments when they deserve it. Even so…” Nothos’ voice trailed off. After a brief pause, Nothos turned to Mags with an enthusiastic smile.
“I bet someday, we’ll be choosing what we do rather than others ordering us around.”
“You think so?” Mags replied skeptically. Such a thing was hard to imagine after all the times she had been pushed and pulled to carry out the whims of those with more power than her.
“Sure. Why not? We’re clever. We’re fantastically skilled. We certainly don’t need anyone to tell us what to do. All we need is the freedom to do what we want.”
“What do you want?” Mags chirped earnestly. Nothos opened his mouth to let out a witty response, but no words escaped. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. He looked down at Mags and smiled.
“I like you Mags. You’re such a clever and fascinating girl.”
“Thank!” Mags closed her eyes as mouth stretched into a huge smile.
“You’re very smart and nice.” She responded.
“Heh, glad someone thinks so.”
After four days of travel, the party could see the walls of Center City in the distance and the royal palace peeking above it. The party eagerly prepared for their last sleep before arriving entering the city. As always, the party slept in the magically constructed hut Seraph would create every night.
Mags was the last to go to sleep as she had gotten caught up in a conversation with Nothos. As she was about to fall asleep she felt a presence looming over her. Mags immediately rolled to the side. She drew her rapier and quacked as loud as she could.
“Help!!”
Seraph, Glorfindel, and Rygo woke up. Seraph cast mage armor, Rygo activated his own armor, and Glorfindel whistled his bolt into being. Although difficult to make out in the darkness, the party could see that the figure before them held a long staff. The figure appeared to be bald and androgynous. What little light shone on it revealed its skin was disturbingly discolored. Rygo began to rush the wretched creature and Glorfindel started to pray to his god.
Seraph stuck out his diamond staff in front of them. Mags sheathed her rapier.
“How the hell did you get in here Calla Lilyl?” Seraph asked with bewilderment and a hint of annoyance. Calla Lily continued to stare at Mags, and ignored Seraph’s question. Rygo and Glorfindel turned their heads towards Seraph with marked confusion on their faces.
“Ya know this creep?” Glorfindel asked incredulously.
“Old acquaintance.” Seraph responded.
Calla Lily began to dramatically sign his intents and purpose to Mags.
“Calla Lily, I know you can talk.” Mags interrupted with bemusem*nt mixed with impatience.
Calla Lily looked at Mags with surprise at her acquired speech pattern. He smiled.
“Fair enough.” He replied with his raspy voice.
“I was traveling by on a mission when I saw your army passing through these lands. I came by to give you a warning before entering the city.” He said to Mags.
“Mission fer whom?” Seraph asked.
“It’s best you don’t know.” Calla Lily replied with a wink to Mags.
“What’s the warning?” Mags asked her old partner.
“There’s a number of the rich and nobility throughout the realm that want to get ahold of your Rod of Command. The most aggressive one is currently staying in Center City. He hired me to take the rod from you by any means, Mags.”
“Why take the job?”
“So no one else could. I tried to let you know back in Wolnocc, but you ran away.”
“Well of course I did! You attacked me!”
“Good to see you don’t need my protection as much as I thought.” Calla Lily looked upon the small bird as a proud father looks upon their child. Mags shook her head with exasperation.
“Well who is this guy?”
“His name is Lestra Alton. You’ll recognize him buy the sparrow pin he likes to wear.”
“Thanks. You could have told me this without sneaking up on me or attacking me.”
A flash of guilt and confusion ran across Calla Lily’s face. He hadn’t really considered how to approach Mags or the party. He stared at the ground to avoid the kenku’s gaze.
“Well now you know. Good luck.” Calla Lily slunk off into the night.
“What a f*ckin weirdo.” Glorfindel scoffed.
“Yea. Don’t think he’ll give us any more trouble though.” Seraph added.
“It was nice of him to help. Just wish he did it differently.” Mags responded.
Rygo snored loudly. He had gotten bored and returned to bed when he realized they were not going to be fighting.

Chapter 27: Center City

Chapter Text

In the early morning, the party arrived at the Mirkazi River. The enormous Center City stood before them. An enormous bridge crossed the river and led directly to the southwestern city gate. The party and their army halted at the entrance to the bridge. The commanding officer of the bridge’s defenses traveled down one of the adjacent towers and approached the party with a few accompanying guards.
“Who are you, and what is your business in Center City?” She questioned them.
“Prince Seraph Grimlock of Wolnocc. These are my associates. We’re here to pay homage to the beautiful Princess Cassia and the magnificent King Tu’ong.” Seraph replied with all of the grace of nobility.
“Ah, welcome to Center City! The king has been expecting you.”
Seraph turned back to the rest of the party and smiled. When he turned to face the officer again however, a nervous expression had occupied her face.
“The king told me, and whoever else might greet you, that you must remove your army from the city.”
“What?” Rygo stepped forward with a scowl.
“The presence of a large army such as yours camped outside of the city will make the visiting nobility uneasy. The party will be an absolute disaster if the guests are worried about the possibility of an impending attack at any moment.” The officer said slowly.
Rygo growled and bared his teeth.
“I cannot abandon my entire army, and I will be beside my friends in the city. May I keep a portion of my forces here?” Rygo stomped forward as he asked. The officer stepped back.
“Um, 500 should be alright. The rest will have to be quite far from here.”
Rygo grunted and nodded. He turned to Seraph.
“How long do you expect us to be here?”
“A couple of weeks. A month at most.” Seraph responded.
“Alright. I’ll go talk to my troops.” Rygo plodded off to his army’s encampment.
“Rest of us can go in though right?” Seraph asked.
“Of course. As soon as the bulk of the dragonborn’s army has left the vicinity.” The officer replied.

Rygo rode a warhorse to the top of a small hill overlooking his army. He took a deep breath then bellowed out to his troops
“Warriors! An opportunity has arisen. My ally Seraph, shall be attempting to secure for us a massive army from Center City, to help us carve out the Dragon Lands. I will assist him in this endeavor. In the meantime, you have my permission and blessing to strike out into the wealthy Dragon Lands yourselves. The land is nearly empty of people, but filled with gold and loot. The dwarves have many towns and outposts swarming with their famed steel. Many dragon hoards are ripe for the taking. If any dragon refuses to join our cause to destroy the dwarves, you have my permission to plunder their homes. Who shall go out on this conquest? Who will remain and await for me to personally lead into the heart of the Dragon Lands?”
Cheers erupted throughout Rygo’s army. Hundreds of his warriors rushed forward to him to ask for permission to join the expedition. After a few hours, Rygo sorted out who would go and who would remain.

He sent the expeditionary force off, and they left with songs in their hearts and dreams of plunder in their minds. Around 400 of his army remained.
Rygo sighed with trepidation as he watched the bulk of his army march over the horizon. It had been a long time since Rygo had left the Dragon Lands, but he remembered that the dwarves were incredibly dangerous. The land even more so to the uninitiated. They would need his leadership before long. They could use the support of fresh troops as well. Rygo grunted thoughtfully and brought his hand underneath his jaw. Perhaps Center City’s famed army could serve as a powerful ally. Surely they had much to gain from an invasion into the Dragon Lands. Rygo grunted affirmatively and returned to the party with a determined step.

When he returned to the party, the officer nodded in satisfaction. As they crossed the bridge, Rygo caught up to Seraph and asked him
“How may I secure a military alliance with Center City?” Seraph looked at the warlord with confusion.
“Well, ya oughta talk to Keth about that. He’s the field marshal of the city’s army.”
“Where can I find him?” Seraph shrugged.
“I don’t know. He’s probably gonna be at the party in the palace.”
“Oh. Thank you Seraph.”
“Yup.” Rygo smiled confidently. He would make sure to rally support for his troops in the Dragon Lands campaign. The party entered the city gates shortly after the conversation’s conclusion.

The city stretched out before them beyond what they could see. Blue light covered the distant palace and its features, other than its many spires, were nearly impossible to discern. Each structure standing before the palace was shorter and shorter as they were constructed closer to the city wall.

Surrounding the party were many one story buildings. Some of which were little more than shacks while others moderately built houses and shops. The architecture of the buildings varied immensely. Some resembled Northwestern gnome styles, others were clearly Fair Fields halfling designs. The constructions were orcish, dwarvish, human, and many more from regions throughout the realm.
A buzz of a multitude of languages surrounded the visitors. Orcish, elvish, draconic, gnomish, of course the common tongue, swirled around them. For the languages that the various party members could understand, it was clear what the people of Center City’s intent was. To buy and sell.

All along the street vendors called out from their carts and tents. Shop owners advertised their goods through open windows looking out to the street. Anything that could be sold was offered by the multitude of traders. Food, furniture, armaments, animals, ornaments, fortune telling, enchanted items, and much much more.

All sorts of gods and faiths were evangelized by zealous believers roaming the streets. Many held forth the holy icons of their sect or signs proclaiming their message. Prophecies of all kinds were shouted in all tongues. Many prophecies and signs proclaimed the coming of the Horde from the east that would wipe out all civilization.

The street was filthy and unmaintained, but the pervading scent of perfumes and incense masked the smell of refuse. The vibrant colors throughout the street and the intricate patterns on rugs and clothing distracted from mucked up street and the many impoverished people.

Mags had been impressed by Wolnocc, but she had never seen a city so vast and lively. She walked down the street mesmerized by the fantastic sights around her and was nearly overwhelmed by the multitude of sounds and voices that she could copy. She merrily skipped down the street and repeated legions of words, phrases, and voices she heard.

Rygo’s eyes strained at the sight before him. So many people all gathered together. He had lived in a large city before. He had been amongst his tightly packed soldiers. But the variety of colors and sounds saturated his senses. His head grew dull and his mind numb. He followed closely behind Seraph and Glorfindel trying to focus on what was familiar and immediate to him.
Seraph glanced at each side of the street. It was certainly an exciting scene. There were even delicious smelling brews permeating the air. But the prince was far more interested in meeting the king. It was quite the honor to be greeted in person. A good first impression would be essential. Seraph put away his flask, straightened his back, and put a charming smile on his face.
Glorfindel inhaled deeply. The smells, the sounds, the sights. He was home. A current of vivacity ran up and down his spine. His head went high. His walk grew into a strut. He basked in the glory of the markets of Center City. But a hint of sadness snuck in. It slowly seeped throughout his body and consumed the warmth within him. He began to feel as empty as the day he lost Caroline. Glorfindel chugged a whole glass of brandy and wiped his mouth. The emptiness was filled, for a time.

The blare of horns blasted through the clamor of the market. The royal guard of Center City marched down the street towards the party. They wore the traditional red and black colors of Aima. The emblem of their homeland lay proudly painted on their shields. The company would have made an intimidating presence with their red tipped spears and grim faces if not for their king who markedly contrasted from them.

Riding atop a beautiful white horse, the human king of Center City, Tu'ong Nguyen, smiled broadly at his guests. He was glad in brilliant gold and noble navy blue. The head of a golden dragon woven into the garments' chest. He was a handsome man just beyond his prime. An insightful onlooker would notice there was little else to the head of state.
Next to him, on a simple riding horse, rode the greying chief adviser. Though his body appeared frail, his eyes pierced through the crowd as sharp and alert as any youth’s.
Seraph bowed in deference to the king. Glorfindel followed suit. Seraph looked back to see Mags and Rygo looking around aimlessly and motioned to them to bow down. Mags scrunched her face back in embarrassment and proceeded to kneel. Rygo shrugged and went along unenthusiastically.
“Rise prince of Wolnocc.” Tu’ong responded with a gracious and satisfied tone. Seraph complied and motioned for the others to rise as well. With a laugh, Tu’ong dismounted his steed and strode over to Seraph. He reached out his palm to Seraph. The prince reciprocated.
“It’s so fortunate that you arrived just in time for the grand contest. The current roster of suitors was growing a bit stale. It’ll be intriguing to see another real contender throw their lot in.”
Mags’ stomach clenched at the king discussing the marrying of his daughter as though it were a game.
“I don’t like to speak of the future till’ it’s the now. We’ll see if I join the fray or stand to the side as an amused observer.” Seraph replied.
“If yer daughter is as wonderful and beautiful as they say, you bet I’ll be competin fer her hand.” Glorfindel enthusiastically chimed in.
“Riiiight.” The king said as he glanced at Glorfindel. He clicked his tongue and turned back to Seraph with a beaming grin.
“Well I look forward to seeing you at the palace tonight. Make sure you and your friends are dressed their best. It is a masquerade afterall. A house has been prepared for all of you right outside the royal district. Once you retire for the night, you’ll be taken straight there.”
“Thank ya very much yer majesty.”
“My pleasure.”

The two royals bowed to each other. As the king walked back to his horse, an unfamiliar voice spoke within Mags’ mind.
“Go to the cemetery in the southeastern halfing neighborhood at 4 o’clock. Wait at the tomb of Genz for a man to approach you and say ‘you must descend to rise’. He’ll take you to the Shadow Cult.”
Mags blinked her eyes in surprise and looked around. She could not find the source of the voice, and the king was already leaving along with his accompaniment. She had three hours to kill. Mags decided to tour the city in the meantime. She turned to her friends, smiled and said
“Gonna explore! See y’all later.” She hopped and skipped away from the party.
“I got business to take care of.” Seraph muttered as he walked off.

Without a word, Glorfindel strode towards one of the many human neighborhoods of the city. The emptiness was returning, and he was determined to remove it.
Left alone, Rygo wandered the streets of Center City. He searched for a familiar comfort to ease the tension boiling in his stomach. He walked until the smell of cheap perfume filled his nostrils, and the heavily painted faces of beautiful women caught his eye. A lascivious grin crept up Rygo’s face. He sauntered over to the women and bellowed
“Which one of you thinks you can handle me? I am slayer of warlords. Subjugator of thousands. All who oppose me are crushed beneath my-”
“Me.” An orcish woman curtly replied.
“Heh, heh, alright.” Rygo replied as he offered her a small pouch of gold.

Rygo awoke in a haze. A blanket draped over his naked body. The woman he had lain with was gone. Rygo did not care. He sat up to take in his surroundings. His eyes widened at the sight of the strange old man from Wolnocc standing in the doorway.
“Even the great warlord must pay for his pleasure.” The stranger mocked.
Rygo rolled his eyes. “What do you want old man?”
“To let you know your evil does not go unseen. Despite your shallow attempts to appear noble, I know what you are. You are a disgrace to your clan.”
Rygo shot out of his bed and onto his feet. His armor formed around his body and his hammer materialized into his hand. He stomped towards the stranger. With a huff he shouted
“What did you say?!” Not even this oddball could be so foolish.
“Your clan would be ashamed of who you are and what you have done. Most of all, your brother.”
“You pathetic-” Rygo swung his hammer down at the stranger. Before it connected though, the stranger’s hand jutted forward onto Rygo’s forehead.

Suddenly, Rgyo was falling. Air blasted into his face and his limbs flailed around desperately searching for something to grip. There was nothing. Rygo was in a clear blue sky falling and falling, with no ground or anything in sight but the stranger calmly falling in front of him, just out of reach. Rygo did not yell or scream. He simply glared at the stranger with seething hatred.
The stranger stared back at the dragonborn with stern contempt.
“Oppressing the vulnerable, silencing dissent, taking pleasure in causing pain. All of this makes you feel rather powerful.” The stranger hissed at Rygo.
A flash of rainbow colored light enveloped the stranger expanding larger and larger until it dwarfed the dragonborn. The light burst revealing an enormous dragon of silver scales. Rygo’s mouth dropped open in awe and reverence at the sight. The dragon’s voice boomed as it spoke.
“You have no idea what power is. You are a petty monster. It’s time the world saw you for what you are.” The dragon tapped Rygo’s forehead with one of its talons.

Rygo’s forehead burned with agony. He roared as the pain spread throughout his body. Each scale felt as though it were being branded. Rygo looked at his hands and saw his golden scales burning red.
Rygo woke up with a start. He sat up and looked around. He was alone with nothing but a blanket draped over his legs. He looked down at his hands. His scales were red as blood. Rygo clenched his hands. The stranger had stripped him of the last of his heritage. But he failed. Rygo knew who he was. He knew his clan. He knew his brother. The stranger could never take that away.

Rygo stood up, and the blanket fell. He chuckled to himself. If he was going to be seen as a monster, he might as well look the part.
Rygo clothed himself in his armor and traveled to an upscale tailor. He chose for himself a black and golden cloak with tongues of fire embroidered in. His mask would evoke the infamous red dragon, Uskadur. As he looked into the mirror to see his new outfit, he saw a stripe of black scales running along his forehead where the stranger had touched. Rygo chuckled. It suited him. Now he looked like a real warlord. Now he would be a true terror to the dwarves. If any survived his wrath, they would pass down fear of him for generations to come.

Seraph probed the slums of Center City for a sign of the Chaos Cult’s hideout. The prince determined that such a divisive faction would have multiple cells in such a large city. The disaffected of the status quo would be most likely to come from the impoverished neighborhoods of the city.

After a brief period of searching, Seraph felt his tattoo singe his foot. As he continued down the same street, the tattoo burned greater. The pain was a nuisance, but Seraph numbed it with a couple shots of whiskey. In a few more paces, Seraph found a wall marked with a symbol of the Chaos Cult in an alleyway. Seraph reached his body through the sigil.
He entered a hectic room. On the walls were several maps of the city and the palace’s interior. Scattered around tables, wall space, and on the floor were sketches of various nobility native and foreign to the city. Masks and elaborate outfits were sloppily arranged in a designated corner. The room buzzed with frantic conversation and people rushing to and fro with weapons, papers, and outfits.
Seraph’s entrance went by unnoticed. He grabbed one of the cultists rushing around the room with a pile of papers smothering her entire face.
“Y’all plannin somethin fer the party tonight?”
“Oh absolutely!” The cultist responded with a cheery and enthusiastic smile.
“We’re going to spoil the wealthy and nobility’s precious party! We might even slay the princess if we’re lucky.”
“Why are we gonna do that?”
“To make them pay! They indulge themselves and throw lavish festivals for themselves in their castles while the people starve, suffer from disease, and soon get overrun by the Horde.”
“It won’t make a difference.”
“I guess, but it’ll be nice for them to have to pay a real price for their luxury don’t you think?”
“No. Y’all just throwin yer lives away fer nothin. What about Cur? Anyone know where he is?”
“Oh, everyone knows he’s hiding somewhere in the Undercity. Hopefully he stays down there. I hear Cur has been eating people to survive.”
Seraph took a swig of his whiskey. He thanked the woman for the information and exited the building the way he came. Seraph tapped his fingers on his staff as he thought. He’d need a map of the city to be able to find where the Undercity is and track Cur. Best place to get a hold of one would be the royal court’s files if he’d be allowed access. Seraph made his way to the palace.

As a visiting royal, Seraph was allowed into the palace with no issue. He made his way to the royal library where he saw a worn and wrinkled man at a desk filled with scrolls and maps at the center of the room. The elderly man’s eyes met Seraph’s as he entered the room. They were the same piercing eyes of the king’s advisor.
“I was wondering when you would arrive Seraph Grimlock.” The man stated flatly.
“You were expectin me?” Seraph said, trying to conceal his surprise.
“I had a dream of meeting you here just the other night. Such dreams of mine rarely lead me astray.”
Seraph scanned the man thoroughly. Who was this man to the king, really? He spotted a ring on the man’s left hand that possessed an icy blue gem.
“Nice ring. Spellcasting focus?”
“Indeed.”
“Trained in Heka?”
“As you.”
“When did ya graduate?”
“Seventeen years ago. Well before your time.”
“Divination?”
“Yes.”
Seraph’s shoulders loosened as he breathed a heavy sigh. Just another wizard.
“What’s yer name sir?”
“Aelius. No need for someone of your station to call me sir.”
“Just bein polite.” Seraph approached Aelius’ desk.
“Maps of the Undercity. Lookin fer somethin?”
“Yes in fact. I’ve been trying to track a serial killer known as Cur for weeks. I’ve narrowed him down to this sector, but I can’t seem to find him via scrying.”
“Don’t worry. I got a spell that could help with that.”
“Oh, you would take the time to help me?”
“Of course! Usin magic in the field has always been the best way to practice it, I’ve found. Why not do a little good with it as well?”
“Indeed.” Aelius said slowly as his eyes peered at Seraph. He stared for several seconds before standing up.
“Well let’s get on our way. I’ve heard you have been trained in divination as well. Any omens for today?”
“Well there’s a long day ahead of us. So I don’t know to what they’ll apply precisely, but I’ve studied the clouds and the tea leaves. There ought to be a rival’s failure and a personal success.”
“Sounds promising. Hopefully we won’t need it.”

The two wizards made their way to sector Aelius had determined Cur to be hiding in. Aelius guided Seraph to a stone mausoleum standing in the middle of a park. Aelius drew a key from his robes and unlocked the door to the building. He brought Seraph inside.
“There are many points of entry to the Undercity. It is a place festering in crime and violence so we try to limit access as much as we can. Of course, clever criminals and insurgents still find ways of getting down there.”
Aelius and Seraph walked past several rows of tombs until they reached the eighth on the left. There were twelve more to go. They lifted stone slab covering the coffin together revealing a staircase going deep underground.
“What’s the Undercity?” Seraph asked.
“It is the old city upon which the present one stands. There is a vast network of halls and staircases beneath us. Cur could be hiding anywhere down there.”
“I’ll find him.” Seraph said with pride. He began to chant in elvish and weave silver energy drawn from his staff. Seraph chanted
“With the power of the weave and my knowledge of its workings, my sight will reach far and beyond: Arcane Eye!” Seraph pressed the silver weave into his left eye. A silvery orb burst out with a small flash of light. Suddenly, it could no longer be seen. Seraph turned to Aelius and explained
“It’s still there. I can see through that eye and direct it to go anywhere I please. With the help of yer map, I’ll find Cur. And he’ll have no idea we’re comin.” Aelius nodded and handed Seraph his marked map of the Undercity.

Seraph’s magical eye flew down the stairs and traversed the halls of the Undercity. The eye saw clearly through the darkness and scanned every corner and crevice. Several minutes passed. After nearly an hour, Seraph’s eye finally came upon a living creature.
Seraph saw a scaly copper heap nestled amongst rags and bones. The scaly mass rose and fell erratically and shifted around. The dragonborn was beset by a nightmare. Seraph scanned the room and surrounding area. He compared the layout to Aelius’ map.
Seraph scrunched his eyes then opened them again. His vision returned to its physical restrictions. Seraph turned to Aelius and said
“I know where he is.”

The two rushed down the stairs. If they could catch Cur before he awoke, it would be an easy fight. The two wizards dressed themselves in mage armor. Seraph donned his silver cuirass and Aelius threw on an icy blue gambeson. Aelius drew pale blue light from his ring and tossed it into the air. It followed the pair and lit the way through the Undercity.
The Undercity consisted of stone walls, ceilings, and floors. There were cracks throughout and sewage from the city above seeped into the crevices and pooled in the holes. Mushy mixtures of carcasses, waste, and excrement pooled at low points in the floor. Few signs of life were present in the Undercity. Rats and moss were the only common sights. Seraph felt as though he were travelling through the corpse of a great beast long dead and rotting.

The duo reached Cur quickly, but the wretched man had already awakened. The copper dragonborn saw the two approaching, and surmised their ill intent. Cur slipped on a pair of leather gloves with long butcher knives extending from them and ran.

Seraph immediately cast hold on the dragonborn, but Cur continued to run unabated. Seraph looked at his staff and hands trying to determine what went wrong. Even if hold failed to restrain its target, it was always clear they had to put in a great effort to resist it.

Aelius stepped forward and chanted in the elvish language as he formed a large spear of ice. He launched the spear over Cur’s head. Just as it went past the dragonborn, the ice spear burst. Several pieces fell to the ground, slathering it with slippery ice. The rest became frigid air which enveloped Cur harshly subjecting him to intense cold.
The dragonborn winced in pain at the cold but continued his escape. He ran perfectly along the ice as though the ground had not changed. Cur broke out into a sprint and distanced himself from the two wizards by nearly two hundred feet. He began to round a corner in the hallway.

Seraph was determined not to let his quarry get away. He cast dimension door and appeared right in front of the dragonborn.
Aelius tried to catch up by running, but his frail body could not keep up.

Cur snarled at the prince and lunged forward with his makeshift claws. Seraph cast shield in response. Cur’s first swing barely broke through the shield. It wasn’t enough to reach the body of his target. The second swing, however, shattered the shield and sliced Seraph’s flesh.

Seraph staggered back in pain, but met Cur’s wild eyes with his own steely gaze. Seraph held his diamond staff forward and cast blight. The dragonborn fell on his knees at the force of the spell’s magic. He screamed in pain as his scales turned brittle and fell away. In a few seconds, Cur was reduced to a pile of hollow bones.

Seraph gasped for breath. He wasn’t expecting the brute to wound him so deeply. There would surely be healers in the royal court and throughout the city though. Seraph searched for Cur’s tattoo. He found it on the palm of the dragonborn’s left hand. Seraph instinctively pulled off his shoe and pressed his own Chaos tattoo to Cur’s.

Seraph’s foot burned deeply and the sensation travelled throughout his body. Instead of pain, though, Seraph felt invigorated. He finally understood the power Cur had been granted. No one could restrain him or limit his body’s movement. A wicked smile crept up Seraph’s face. With the power of the Chaos Cult and his growth in magic, what dark dreams could ever overcome him? Seraph stood tall. He was certain his nightmares would never come to pass.

Chapter 28: A Nest of Parasites

Chapter Text

Mags waited patiently at the tomb of Genz as she had been instructed. She sat on top of the stone coffin repeating all of the fun voices and phrases she had heard in the market that day. Her own happy chirps filtered in between the transitions of one voice to another. Suddenly, she noticed Aelius right next to her. She jumped up and squawked with surprise.
“Don’t care much for the sanctity of the dead do you?” The old man asked with a bemused look at Mags standing on top of Genz’s grave. Mags calmed down and gave a shrug.
“They’re dead. Who is there to give respect to?” She chirped.
“Hmm good. Holding anything sacred will hold you back in our business. You must descend in order to rise. Follow me Mags.” Aelius began to push the stone slab on the tomb aside. Mags hopped off and helped the elderly man with the cumbersome task. They pushed it off together. Mags peaked inside to see a long staircase going deep into the earth. She looked at Aelius and co*cked her head to the side.
“The headquarters of the Shadow Cult is in the Undercity. Congratulations Mags, you’ll get to meet our leader.”
Aelius stepped inside. Mags stepped in after him. They descended the staircase.
“Don’t worry about the slab. We have people who attend the graveyard. They’ll take care of it.” Mags did not respond. She was not concerned with the minor details. She was excited and nervous to meet the inner circle of the Shadow Cult.

The staircase wound around an enormous stone pillar that was once a tower. Several other towers held up the earth above them. Vast empty space was all that lay between the towers.
The two travelled deep underground for several minutes. Aelius did not ask a single question of Mags. He already knew all he needed to know. She remained silent. Mags was unsure of how she should conduct herself or precisely what the cult wanted of her. The less trouble she made, the safer she would be.

The two exited the staircase into the ruins of an ancient courtyard. Aelius guided Mags into the corpse of an abandoned keep. Inside the main hall of the ancient structure, hundreds of Shadow Cult members flitted about exchanging information, weapons, and missions. Aelius brought Mags to a ladder that went up to the second story of the rubbled keep.

They climbed up to the highest point of the once proud building’s remains. There were no chairs, no tables, and no banners. There was only emptiness and darkness. In the center of that darkness, stood a grotesque figure. It had the frame of a man, but only half the face of one. Like an ill-fitting mask, the left half of the handsome face of a high elf clung to its skull. Black fibres stretched out from bone and tugged the skin to force it to remain. The rest of the face was pure white, bone. This creature possessed no hair. It stretched forth its hand and said with a deep, breathy voice
“Hello Mags, I’m Vladik. Leader of the Shadow Cult.”
Mags’ feathers fluffed out uncontrollably at the sight of him. It wasn’t his ugliness that frightened her though. Mags felt deep inside her that this was a slimy, manipulative man who looked at her as an excellent new tool for his machinations. Mags held enough sway over her body to refrain from stepping back and fleeing. She forced her feathered hand to meet his. Vladik smiled.
Two familiar faces stepped out of the darkness. Nothos with his ever charming smirk, and Draven with his icy blue eyes and a look of eager hunger. Mags’ feathers began to fall back into place at the sight of Nothos, but their return to normalcy slowed at the presence of Draven.
“And you know us of course Mags.” Nothos said with a smile. Mags returned a smile.
“And I am Aelius. Court wizard of the king and head of the Center City cell. It is an honor to have you join our ranks Mags.”
“There’ll be time to formally induct her later. “ Vladik cut in.
“Now we must address securing the princesses’ hand.” Nothos’ smile faded.
“Integrating myself as Halor has worked magnificently. The only real competitor is your father, Katak. His unification of the Fair Fields will prove invaluable once you take the throne so we cannot simply do away with him until that is complete.”
“And when he turns his armies against the Horde.” Draven mentioned.
“I told you the barbarians are not as large a threat as the peasants will tell you.” Vladik countered bitterly.
“According to my sources they are quite the potential threat. I have been urging king Tu'ong Nguyen to prepare the army for the eventual clash.” Aelius added.
“You will do no such thing! The priority is securing marriage with Cassia. The last thing this city needs to worry about are some roving savages pillaging some sheep!” Vladik stared his dissenters down till they broke his gaze and lowered their heads. Mags and Nothos remained silent.
“That being said, the marriage should be easily secured. Undermine any potential contenders if you can. Make sure no idiot noble even tries to shame me at the party. Nothos, you have the duty of limiting your father however you can. Are we clear?”
“Yes.” The rest replied. Mags responded in kind after seeing them do so.
“Good. Now, some recent developments. Seraph Grimlock is now the crown prince of the powerful city Wolnocc. Mags, do you know what Seraph’s ambitions are?”
“Trying to gain allies to fight off the Horde. Right now we’re working with Katak to secure an alliance with Center City. Just wants to protect his family besides that.”
“Interesting. We’ll have to keep a close eye on him and limit his support of Katak. Furthermore, we’ve been losing contact with many of our agents in the Western Badlands. Draven, that’s your area, have you been able to find anything relating to the disappearances?”

Mags tucked her chin in and looked around nervously. Had Draven been spreading his vampirism? He seemed like a noble guy. Why would he be forcing his agents to be vampires? Was he that ambitious and selfish? Draven responded cooly
“The Red Death has hit my region hard. Many of the agents have succumbed to the disease. I haven’t found a pattern with the loss of the others.”
“Very well. Finally, reliable sources of mine have informed me recently that the Omnishield is indeed in the Dragon Lands. The precise location escapes our grasps, but it is near the Fiery Mountains. Legends have told of the immense power of that artifact. I don’t need to tell any of you the significance of acquiring it. On your way. And welcome Mags. In the future, you’ll be setting goals and making plans with us. You might even be put in charge of a province in the realm.”

Mags respectfully bowed to Vladik. The rest of the cult members bowed as well and split off. As Mags began to approach the ladder, she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She spun around to see Draven’s fangs jutting out of his closed smile.
“It’s so good to see you again Mags.” He said with too much warmth.
“You too.” Mags said with a forced smile. She began to turn around, but Draven pivoted so that she still faced him.
“Isn’t it so awful that Vladik doesn’t realize the danger of the Horde?” Draven loomed over her.
“Uh yea it is.” Mags tried to look around Draven for the ladder.
“We need to take action. I’ve been gathering up a powerful force of vampire spawn under my command. It’s not enough to save the realm though. I just know if you were to join me, your abilities would be enough for us to take the Shadow Cult and create an army great enough to defeat the Horde. We’d be equals of course.” Draven leaned in close.
“What do you say Mags?”
“Can I think about it?” Mags chirped back.
“Of course. See you tonight. I expect an answer by then.” Draven slipped past her and down the ladder. Mags shuddered and fluffed her feathers out.
She waddled over to Nothos.
“Hey Mags. Surprised to see me here?”
“Not really.” Mags couldn’t help but chuckle at Nothos’ mock shocked face.
“What?! Who would ever suspect me of being part of a secret society of assassins and saboteurs? You are either a genius or a mad duck.”
“How doing?”
“Ugh, he of all people knows I love Cassia. Makes me tell him everything. And he still wants to f*cking force her to marry him! I’ll f*cking kill him. I won’t let him do that to her.” Nothos spoke in a hushed tone, and Vladik had left the building. Even so, Mags looked around frantically to make sure no one could hear. After a quick scan, she turned to her friend and suggested matter of factly
“Well, why can’t he marry her officially and you date her?”
Nothos raised his finger and opened his mouth to speak but then closed it. His eyebrows shifted as he looked up searching for a response. He laughed
“Oh Mags, you come up with the silliest schemes. I love it. I’d never be so crafty to come up with that haha.” Mags smiled and hopped from side to side.
“So how are you doing Mags? Is the top tier of the Shadow Cult all you expected?”
“It alright. Still people telling me what to do.”
“Only one now. And if anything were to happen… but I get it. That’s the sh*tty part of this whole thing. Is that what’s bothering you? You seem… agitated.”
“Oh it’s nothing.”
“You’re a good liar Mags, but not with me. What’s wrong?”
“Well, Draven’s a vampire-”
“What?! For real?!”
“Yea. He’s been since Wolnocc. Didn’t think it was a problem, but now he wants me to join him.”
“That explains what happened to the missing agents. What did you say?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll think about it.”
“Careful Mags. If Draven is making other vampires, he’s a vampire lord. They can control those they turn, and from what I’ve heard, they become corrupted in the process of becoming a vampire or after. Draven was a good guy, but I don’t trust him now.”
“Thank. I’ll be careful. I know you’ve got my back.”
“Of course I do. And thanks Mags. I might’ve done something stupid. I’ll run your suggestion by Vladik. Maybe it’ll actually work haha.” Mags smiled widely at her friend.

Glorfindel’s steps were heavy as he traversed the human neighborhoods of the northwestern quarter of Center City. Dread and emptiness threatened to consume him. Every muscle within him screamed for the chance to turn and run. Glorfindel pressed on. What would he feel? How could he go back there? That was where she died, where he died so long ago. She would never let him leave. How could he visit her and then go off and cavort with another woman? Could he really say he still loved her? He was nothing without her. How could he betray her?
Glorfindel stopped in front of his old home. It was a simple human house in a simple neighborhood. Nothing was special about it except it being where he and Caroline lived together. Glorfindel released a happy sigh as he breathed in all the familiar smells. He could have sworn there was still a hint of her perfume lingering. Glorfindel thought of all the times they had laughed, cooked, sang together, and made love. His chest grew heavy at the realization these memories would never live again.
“I have to move on.” Glorfindel said aloud to himself.
“Everyone else has. Hell I’m sure you’ve forgotten about me by now wherever you are. In any case, I’m still alive. If I’m gonna be alive, I might as well live.” Glorfindel placed his hand against the front of the house. The wall felt like home. It reminded him of Caroline’s touch. Tears streamed down Glorfindel’s face. He wiped them away. He turned to leave. A few steps into his walk, Glorfindel turned around and said
“Ain’t nobody ever gonna replace ya darlin.” He turned back to the palace and made his way to the party.

The party assembled inside the palace just outside the banquet hall. The palace was laden with finery and magnificent decorations. Enormous tapestries depicting heroes and glorious battles throughout the ages hung between beautiful stained glass windows of gold, blue and red. Gem studded vases carried blooming flowers originating from across the realm. Golden candelabras lit the halls with diamond chandeliers dispelling darkness from above. The palace was constructed in a style derived from mixtures of Elvish and Human architecture just as the homes of the aristocracy and nobility were.
Mags arrived first dressed in a long black cloak and a birdlike mask which possessed a protruding mouthpiece resembling a beak. Rygo walked in with his newly tailored outfit. Mags’ eyes widened at the sight of the dragonborn. Her head tilted to the side as she chirped
“What happen?”
“Doesn’t matter. This is who I am now.” Rygo responded gruffly. Mags shrugged her shoulders and let it be. She knew better than to push Rygo for an answer.
Glorfindel approached the pair in a golden suit with a navy blue cape. He wore a mask of Olidammara with its twisted visage. Finally, Seraph arrived. His robes were red and purple and a lovely purple cape draped over his shoulder. His mask depicted a red hawk.
“Shall we?” Seraph said to the party as he pointed his diamond staff towards the banquet hall. The rest nodded and smiled. They walked into the hall side by side.
The party was greeted by a chorus of harps and violins as they stepped inside. The smell of roasted meat and expensive perfumes permeated the air. Gold and blue silk draped over oaken tables and marble pillars. The hall was filled with waltzing nobility and aristocracy dressed in their most luxurious garbs.
The upper class of the city consisted almost entirely of humans and elves. Half elves were scattered throughout the hall as well. They danced, gossipped, and politicked without a care for the world and its peoples outside of the palace walls. Each of them wore rings, necklaces, or headbands enchanted to make their appearances gorgeous and refined.
Beyond the partying gentry and nobility stood two golden dragon statues large as horses. Beyond these fearsome figures sat the king and his daughter, Princess Cassia.
Her jewelry sparkled but was mundane. Her dress was elegant but simple. Even so, her beauty radiated throughout the hall. Her face served as a beacon that all guests were drawn to. Only the most disciplined of the royal guard could restrain themselves from gazing at her in awe.
Seraph and Glorfindel were drawn to her. As though enchanted, they walked straight towards her ignoring everyone else. Rygo walked alongside them to appear as an equal on the courtly stage. Mags followed closely behind scanning the room for potential threats. She felt alien and separate from the rest of the party guests. They clothed themselves in luxury and displayed pompous arrogance with posture and diction. She could see their stares and hear their whispers.
“Aren’t those the Saviors of Wolnocc?”
“I heard they were Katak’s lackeys.”
“Strange that a duck would be among them.”
“Indeed. And a dragonborn warlord? The times we live in simply become more and more bizarre.”
“I’m amazed Prince Seraph hasn’t drank himself silly yet.”
“Oh yes. I hear he’s quite the drunkard.”
“Why did he bring a commoner with him? At least the bird and lizard make him seem interesting.”
“A paid flatterer for sure. So sad he requires a commoner to accompany him so.”
The affluent fools laughed amongst each other. Mags tucked in her wings and stretched her cloak over her feet. She was used to being viewed as an oddity, but it still hurt.

As the party drew near the royalty, Rygo bumped into a man entertaining a group of aristocrats with a rant about the realm’s history. The man spun around with a mischievous smile on his face and said with a raspy voice
“Hello Rygo, Mags, Glorfindel, and Seraph. Fancy meeting you all here.”
The four took a collective step back in shock. It was the same stranger from before who had first appeared as a beggar on the streets of Archai. He was dressed in a rainbow of colors and wore a cape depicting the many constellations. He giggled at the looks on the party’s faces. Glorfindel asked in an irritated tone
“Just who the hell are ya?”
“Hehehe. I go by many names. But my favorite one lately has been-”
The stranger twirled around and dramatically threw his cape back.
“Hassan!”
“Heh, Hassan eh?” Seraph replied flatly.
“While yer answerin questions. What are ya doin here? Why do ya keep followin us around?”
“To the second, I will not answer. But to the first, I’ll tell you this. I wanted you to know that the fear which has haunted you will come to pass. The future you have feared begins today.”

Seraph clutched his chest. His hands trembled. Sweat poured down his face. His throat tightened and his breath became constrained. Seraph rushed off. He walked swiftly in a random direction away from Hassan. Glorfindel followed after him. Rygo glared at Hassan who looked back with an unflinching smile. Rygo stomped off to find Keth. Mags looked up at Hassan.
“What’s wrong with Seraph?”
“Life is catching up to him. Only he can choose how to deal with it. Hopefully he will take the approach that will best help him.” Hassan’s eyes followed Seraph’s retreat as he spoke somberly.
“Can we help him?”
“Only if he wants to be helped. You have a kind heart Mags.” Mags looked at the floor.
“Sometimes.”
“Hm. Good luck in your quest. I hope you all can save the realm.” Hassan walked off leaving Mags alone.

She continued staring at the ground. How could Hassan say she had a kind heart? She had murdered members of the Fellowship so cruelly. She put down a rebellion of people who just wanted to be treated with dignity. Mags shook her head. She wasn’t kind, but she would do her best to save the realm. It’s the least she could do.
Mags looked for something to do. She spotted Nothos, Katak, and even Draven amongst the crowd but they were all busy chatting up other dignitaries. Mags waddled over to the dance floor. She was not the most experienced in waltz, but she found it easy to pick up. Mags danced several partners ignoring comments by intrigued aristocrats interested in her avian qualities. Whenever her partner asked about it, she simply stared deep into their eyes and quacked.
Rygo found Keth standing alone leaning against a pillar sipping champagne. His heavily scarred face was one of the few at the party not concealed by a mask. His suit displayed the blue and gold associated with Center City, but it also contained black highlights and black spears alongside the golden dragons. Rygo was surprised to see that the field marshall of Center City’s army was an orc, but it did not bother him. The commander sized up Rygo as the dragonborn approached him. Keth gave a pleased grunt.
“You aren’t like all the soft ones here.”
“No.” Rygo replied.
“And neither are you, Keth of Center City.”
“From Arago actually. Doesn’t matter though I suppose. You are?”
“Rygo, Savior of Wolnocc.”
“Huh, I’ve heard of your name. Defeated Zersto the Conqueror and took his place yea? I heard you had golden scales though.”
“That’s no longer the case. But it doesn’t matter. You’re the leader of the city’s army right?”
“I am.”
“How would you like the city to gain glory and wealth through conquest?”
Keth smiled broadly.
“I have never sweeter words spoken. I’ve been telling the king and his court for years that we have the greatest army in all of Tesalach, and we ought to use it. What did you have in mind?”
“I’m planning an excursion into the Dragon Lands. My goals there are clear, but I can use your help. You can keep all of the land and half of the plunder. So long as your mighty army joins mine in battle against the dwarves of Kythril.”
“Heh heh heh. I would love nothing more. I’ve been wanting to campaign in the Dragon Lands for some time. The only problem is King Nguyen would never go for it. He hasn’t listened to me before. He won’t now.”
“What if the man who marries his daughter asks for it?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I am not sure of the intention of my allies, but I have a feeling that at least one of them will try for the Princess’ hand. If they succeed, I’m sure they’ll push the king to help me.”
“If that happens, I’m all for it. King Tu'ong would have a good chance of listening. He doesn’t have a spine for anyone he sees as an equal. If that doesn’t happen though, speak with me again before the wedding.”
“Heh, heh, gladly.” Rygo replied.

Chapter 29: The Grand Game

Chapter Text

Seraph trembled as he leaned against a marble pillar. Fearful thoughts ran through his head. What’s happening? Why can’t I breathe? Is it what Hassan said? Did he do this? No. It can’t be. He spoke like a prophet. It was a warning. What is this then? Is it a curse?! Am I cursed?! Am I losing my mind?!
Glorfindel pressed a glass of wine into Seraph’s hand. Seraph emptied it with a single drink. The alcohol swirled down his body and smothered the revolt in his gut that threatened to expel the contents from within. The bedlam in his mind quieted. His thoughts grew numb. His head swung from side to side as he looked for his good friend. He placed his hand on Glorfindel’s shoulder.
“Thank ya. Could ya get some more?”
“Of course.” Glorfindel replied with a rare look of terror on his face. Seraph looked like he was about to collapse. His whole body shook violently and his breathing was quick and shallow. Seraph’s eyes looked out with abject panic unable to focus on anything.

Glorfindel ran to the table hosting platters of drink and food. He desperately searched for the strongest liquor available. He had cared for Seraph in his times of despair many times before, but it had been a long time since he saw his friend so gripped by fear. Glorfindel snatched a bottle of gin and rushed back to Seraph. He did not care how much spilled on the floor or his new suit. If there was one thing that could help his friend in crisis, it was liquor.

Seraph gratefully received the bottle and took a large swig. His mind grew dull but screeches of fear continued to pester him. The revolt in his gut had been repressed by the wine, but the gin excited it again. Seraph covered his mouth to prevent himself from spewing. He forced the acidic liquid back down. Why wasn’t this working?! Seraph tried to lash his thoughts together and bend them to his direction. Unless the curse is fear, my terror must be a mere reaction rather than the curse itself. Yet I feel so warped and twisted. My body feels like it’s tearing itself apart. I need to stop this. I need to find a way to-
Horns blared calling the guests attention to the King and Princess. King Tu'ong Nguyen stood up and held his hands in the air as though he were conducting the crowd. With a grandiose air, he spoke
“Lords, ladies, and all that lie betwixt, I thank you for attending this wonderful party. Your costumes are marvelous. They clearly demonstrate your charm and creativity. Soon, we will start the grand contest for my lovely daughter, Cassia's hand in marriage. Before the challenges begin, each suitor shall present a gift to my daughter to signify their commitment to wooing her and what they may provide for her as her lawfully wedded spouse. Come, come. Let’s form an orderly line now and get to it.”

Seraph straightened himself up with help from his staff and marched straight over to the line already forming in front of the Cassia. For the moment, the clamor of his mind was all but silent. He had a mission, and his mind focused on accomplishing it.

Glorfindel breathed a sigh of relief to see Seraph’s face turn from aghast to determined. He was wobbling a bit on his way to the Princess, but it could be much worse. Glorfindel snapped his fingers and sauntered behind Seraph with a wide smile on his face. He could not wait to see the look on the Princess’ face when she saw what he had prepared for her.

Scores of royalty, nobility, and gentry from across the realm lined up to present their gifts to the beautiful princess. Jewelry, gowns, and gold were the most common bestowed upon her. In return, she afforded a comment on their offerings. They were typically quite abundant with snark and at times disdain as well.
Wearing a golden crown, a white and black suit, and a phoenix mask, Katak kneeled before Cassia. He spoke magnanimously
“Princess Cassia, as the Emperor of the Fair Fields I have much to offer you. The vast acres of land and the abundance of crops they provide represent a mere morsel of what I can provide as your husband. You would be queen of not just Archai, but Mar, Logos and Parlington as well. To show you what such glorious kingdoms have to offer I present to you a gorgeous mare from Mar, a collection of proverbs from the sages of Logos, and a set of the finest cigars of Parlington.”

The fine steed trotted down the aisle towards the princess with servants carrying the other gifts in tow. The crowd gaped and awed at the sight. The guests gossiped amongst themselves about how magnificent these gifts were. Cassia raised her hand quieting the crowd’s murmurs. She replied
“Thank you for your presents Raj Katak. I must admit I am remiss to refer to you as the emperor of the Fair Fields when you failed to mention the nation of Hillton and the city of Aima as those under your banner. I believe it to be rather presumptuous of anyone to claim such a title as yours without these polities included in their territory.”

Many nobles snickered and chuckled at Cassia’s response. A scowl from Katak silenced them. Katak looked back at Cassia with furrowed eyebrows and flaring nostrils. He swallowed hard and bowed gracefully before her. He calmly stepped aside gritting his teeth as he awaited the ceremony’s end.
After a few guests, Seraph stood before Cassia. He pulled out a brick of Wolnocc’s whitestone used for their walls. He placed it on the floor before him.
“As my bride, Princess Cassia, you will live in greater security than any other suitor can provide. Our walls are the only that can boast resistance to the arcane arts.”
Seraph whispered an elven incantation. A bolt of silvery fire leapt from his diamond staff and collided with the whitestone. The stone absorbed the flame and briefly glowed the color of its assailant. There was no visible mark left by the flame.
“And they are all but impervious to the weapons that may be used against them.”
Seraph lifted his staff over his head and struck down upon the brick three times. He failed to even make a scratch.
“Join hands with me, and you’ll get to live in the safest city in the realm.”
Many clapped at the impressive demonstration. Katak silently glared at Seraph. A small smile crept up Cassia’s face. She said to Seraph
“Prince Seraph, you are known for your drunkenness as well as your wit. Your wit has constructed a splendid argument and display, but I fear your drunkenness has caused you to forget the failure of your walls to stand up against Zersto’s cannons. A new age of war has dawned upon the realm. Your city will not be immune to the weapons of tomorrow.”
Seraph clenched his hands around his staff. The Princess had a biting tongue alright. Even with the insult, her response was more charitable than the one she gave Katak. Seraph bowed his head and stepped aside. He was certainly being considered by the court of Center City.
Glorfindel stepped forward next. With a charming smile, he spoke
“Yer Majesty, I ain’t a noble or royalty.”
Laughter and jeers erupted amongst the elite guests.
“But I still got more class than these fools.” Glorfindel said without missing a beat. The laughter died down.
“What I got to offer ya is a life filled with beauty and wonder.”
Glorfindel presented a block of stone. He prayed to his god whilst moving his hands over the stone’s surface. Golden light showered out from his necklace onto his hands. The stone began to bend and fold along Glorfindel’s hands. He molded the stone and shaped it into a finely crafted dragon with shining blue eyes and glowing golden scales.
Oos and Ahs poured out of the nobles’ mouths despite themselves. Cassia’s jaw dropped slightly. But she began to laugh.
“It is indeed quite beautiful, but I hope you don’t expect to get much out of this.”
“All I hope to get darlin, is a smile from you.” Glorfindel said with a wink. He turned to take his place next to Seraph before he could see the Princess role her eyes.
Next came a high elf with golden skin and hair. He wore a red robe and a black mask depicting a scorpion. He presented a vial of shimmering water.
“Dear Princess, as the governor of the Lake of Life I offer you a sampling of its miraculous waters. If ever you are struck by plague, gods forbid, simply drink this. Any illness no matter how great shall trouble you no longer. Even a curse placed on you by magic will be dispelled if you drink the contents this vial. Join me at the Lake of Life and you will never grow sick or old.”
A warm smile came upon Cassia’s face.
“A wonderful gift indeed Halor of the Lake of Life. I humbly accept.”

So this will be the greatest rival. Seraph thought to himself as he observed Halor hand the vial to Cassia. It’s not sealed yet. Otherwise these formalities would be completely wasted. Seraph took another swig of gin to steele himself. His stomach protested but Seraph ignored it. So long as he could keep it together for the rest of the night, he didn’t care how his body punished him the next day curse or no curse.
When the vast line of suitors reached its end, the horns blared again.
“Let us begin the grand contest!” The King announced.
“Our suitors must complete two challenges if they are to be worthy of my daughter’s hand. First, a challenge of skill. Second, a challenge of fortitude. Finally, if more than one manage to pass both tests, then there shall be a head to head tournament of intellect. Good luck! May the best suitor win.”

As the suitors moved aside to allow the first challenge to be prepared, Mags walked up to the princess. Mags looked upon her with a sorrowful frown. She was as beautiful and intelligent as Nothos had bragged about her, but for all of her power she sat in her chair at the mercy of the men around her. Mags sighed. It reminded her of the Shadow Cult. She offered her condolences to Cassia.
“Sorry you have to do this.”
“Do you hope to gain my favor by showing sympathy?” Cassia replied with a frown. Mags shrugged.
“No. Just a friend of Nothos. Being stuck with one of these idiots would be hard. Maybe this will cheer you up. Mags handed Cassia one of her many forged paintings.
A smile escaped Cassia’s control. She leaned back in her chair and loosened her shoulders allowing her arms to dangle at her side. She said pleasantly and quietly
“Thanks. I’m not used to kindness without strings attached. I appreciate your gift.” Cassia straightened her back and resumed her neutral expression.
“It may not be pleasant, but this is my duty. It was the same for my ancestors and will be the same for me.” A smirk crept up Cassia’s face.
“But don’t think a single one of them will dare lay an unwelcome hand upon me.”
“Okay.” Mags chirped as she nodded her head. She may be stuck, but Cassia is strong and resolute. Mags thought to herself. Nothos made a good choice. She rejoined the guests still dancing. Mags did not care much of who won the contest. Whether Vladik, Seraph, or Katak married Cassia they would pressure King Tu'ong to help with the Horde. Nothos would insure Cassia would not be abused. It was bold of Seraph to defy Katak though. Mags thought. Hopefully it wouldn’t fracture their alliance.

Twelve gold rings were lined up in front of one another with target placed at the end. The suitors would organized into a line to await their turn. They were instructed to shoot an arrow through the twelve gold rings and into the target. The rings were barely large enough for the arrows to pass through so it would require an excellent shot. The suitors were provided a bow and arrow by attendants.

Scores of suitors attempted and failed. Most moped back to the bar to drown their disappointment. Some good naturedly shook it off and went back to dancing with a smile. A few angrily protested and had to be shamed by their peers into leaving the area. One noble slipped quietly away after hitting a man in the ass with a horrendous shot.

Katak strolled up to the designated firing spot. He held the ornate composite bow given to him like a seasoned veteran. He drew the arrow back and with a steely focus aimed. Katak loosed the arrow and watched with cool satisfaction as the arrow penetrated the target. His head was held high, but his eyes looked down at Seraph as the prince stepped up.

The same bow and arrow were bequeathed Seraph. Seraph took a deep breath and drew the arrow back. He had been trained in the art of archery but was never very skilled in it. His hands trembled as he took aim. His balance was off. The target and the rings seemed to bounce around and fade in and out. Sweat poured down his face. Why did a curse have to afflict him at this of all times? He was so close to reaching everything he could, of securing himself once and for all and now his body breaks down? Fate loves to play cruel tricks. Seraph closed his eyes. He could not bear seeing the failure. Suddenly,

Seraph remembered one of the omens for the day, personal success.” He smiled as he released the arrow. He hit the target with his eyes closed.
Seraph handed the bow back and walked off confidently. He headed to the bar for a victory drink, but was cut off by Katak. The king looked down at the prince with gritted teeth and seething rage. He said slowly and deliberately.
“What are you doing Seraph?”
“Winnin the Princess’ hand so you don’t hafta.” Seraph replied with a sarcastic smile.
“When I found you, you were a disgraced royal with no purpose and no hope. I gave you land to rule. I gave you a title to be proud of. I gave you a purpose to believe in. This is how you thank me?!” With each sentence, Katak stepped closer and closer to Seraph until his chest nearly touched Seraph’s face. Seraph looked Katak directly in the eyes and retorted.
“You didn’t make me Katak. I did. If yer wise, you’ll join me and my armies in defeatin the Horde.” Seraph walked off.
“You owe me a debt Seraph! I’ll make sure you pay it!” Katak called after him.
Seraph ignored the king. He didn’t need him anymore. He didn’t need anyone.

Halor leisurely walked up to the challenge as though he were bored. A beautiful ivory bow and arrow were handed to him. In what seemed an instant, he had loosed the arrow, and it connected with the target. He yawned as he left the challenge.
Glorfindel followed soon after. He was given an old hunting bow that seemed ready to crack under the slightest pressure. Glorfindel turned to the attendant and complained.
“Come on. Give me a real bow.”
“This is the equipment allotted you.” The attendant replied smugly.

Glorfindel rolled his eyes. f*cking blue bloods. He pulled his arrow back. The string snapped. The surrounding nobles laughed hysterically. Glorfindel stomped off to the dance floor. It was rigged. Of course it was. He expected that. But he hated those pompous sh*ts having an excuse to mock him. Fine. They wouldn’t let him win the princess their way; he’d just have to do it the old fashioned way. He just had to wait for the right moment to make his move.

Only five other suitors managed to pass the challenge. The rings and target were removed and replaced with a large metal dome resembling a pot. Four wooden poles manned by several servants stuck out the bottom of it. A brick oven was placed outside of it. The `remaining suitors were informed that the oven contained several heated rocks. The challenge would consist of the contestant having to be inside the metal dome and endure the heat of the rocks that would be put inside as well. They must endure the heat of the rocks and the suffocating nature of the dome for five minutes. For safety, a string with many bells hung down from the top of the dome. The contestant was to wrap it around their wrist or arm so that if they could endure the heat no longer, they’d ring the bells.
Seraph immediately acquired more liquor. The drinks would make him feel warmer but also reduce the pain he would be able to feel. He began drinking furiously.

Three suitors entered the dome and rang the bells within a minute. As a suitor approached the dome, the servants at the poles lifted it together so that the suitor could walk underneath the bottom. Still more servants swiftly shoveled stones out of the oven and around the inner perimeter of the dome. Once the preparations were made, the dome was set back down.

Katak stepped confidently inside. He lasted for several minutes until Seraph remembered the omen predicting an enemy’s failure. Immediately, Katak rang the bells and exited the dome with a face reddened with exhaustion and anger. He stormed off refusing to allow Seraph the chance to ridicule him for his defeat.

Halor went next. He stepped cooly into the dome. The servants hurried their efforts and set down the dome in record time. Seraph’s left eyebrow lifted up. Were there less stones laid down, or was the fourth bottle of wine getting to him? The dome lifted, and Haleor walked out with little effort and barely a hint of sweat.

Seraph leaned heavily on his staff to avoid wobbling as he stepped into the dome. He struggled to tie the string around his wrist. He gave up after the third attempt. Seraph felt like a baked pastry, but the heat was not what bothered him the most. Despite his efforts, the internal screams of fear persisted. Damn it! It won’t stop. Everythin’s about to collapse. I can make it! What if I don’t? What if this curse kills me?! It’d be a mercy from this sh*t. There has to be a way to get rid of it. There has to be a way! f*ck, the wine’s startin to come back.
The dome lifted just as Seraph was about to hurl. The sudden change in temperature distracted his body long enough. Then another distraction took over.
“Hey Seraph!” Rygo said as he clapped Seraph on the back nearly knocking the prince over.
“Congratulations on passing the challenge! Great job beating Katak! Heh, heh, he’s such an asshole. Can’t wait to see you win this thing.”
“Yea why’s that?” Seraph squeezed out as he caught his breath.
“With you as the prince of Center City, I know you’ll use their army to help me take the Dragon Lands! I’d be happy to help make that happen.”
“Thanks. I’ll hold ya to that.” Seraph rubbed his back vigorously. He chuckled to himself. He had no intention of wasting Center City’s army on a conquest of the Dragon Lands. But if Rygo was so insistent on throwing himself in the region, he might as well use the opportunity to acquire the Omnishield. If such a mission succeeded, sacrificing even a 10,000 strong army would be worth it.
The horns blared once again and King Tu’ong called out to the crowd.
“My lovely guests! I must call your attention to our final contestants competing for my daughter’s hand in marriage. I implore all of you to witness the head to head matchup between Prince Seraph of Wolnocc and Governor Halor of the Lake of Life.”
The crowd cheered and applauded enthusiastically. Tu’ong waited for the crescendo to pass and then continued with a beaming smile.
“The two shall battle it out in a contest of intellect. Whoever wins, shall marry my daughter and be joined into the royalty of Center City. And what better competition of the mind than the classic game of chess?”
A small marble table was placed in the center of the room. Pieces made of carved gemstone were placed upon an oaken board. Chairs with feather stuffed cushions were placed on either side. Seraph and Halor seated themselves on either side of the table. Halor looked his opponent up and down, studying every detail of him. Seraph cradled his head in his hands. The game began with Halor’s move.

Seraph’s hand shook as he moved his pieces. He sweat profusely as they game dragged on. He couldn’t think three steps ahead. He could barely think through one step. Halor took piece after piece. Seraph’s foot tapped relentlessly. He was getting trounced, but he could not think of what to do. In just a few moves, it was over. Seraph’s king had been taken.

Seraph collapsed into his chair and stared aimlessly at the board. Halor sat up with a self-satisfied, sickening grin. A blue carpet was rolled out for the king and princess. Tu’ong took Cassia by the hand and joyously announced as he began to walk down the carpet with her.
“Lords, ladies, and those who go by other titles, our winner is-”
“THE RED DEATH!!” A raucous voice called out as the doors to the banquet hall flung open.

Chapter 30: Another Chance

Chapter Text

A figure in a gaudy red suit and a white skull mask stepped forward. Several men and women dressed in twisted masks and rags rushed out from behind the figure dressed in red. They carried knives and hatchets and fell upon the elites closest to them. The nobility screamed in horror and tried to flee their pursuers. As its allies cut down the affluent guests, the figure in red circled its gloved hands around a fireball that grew larger and larger. It launched the ball of flame at the King and Princess. The fireball grew larger and larger as it approached them.

Seraph sprung into action. He turned to the king and princess and swung his staff up while chanting
“With the power of the weave and my knowledge of its workings, no harm shall pass my barrier: Wall of Force!”
A transparent dome lined with silver appeared over Cassia and Tu’ong. The fireball collided with the dome and burst upon it. The king and princess looked up with awe as they remained unharmed.

The rest of the party launched a counterattack on the assassins. Rygo donned his armor and swung his hammer down upon several cultists. Three of his fallen foes rose back up with their eyes consumed by darkness. Rygo unleashed his new servants on their former allies. Mags drew her crossbow and pelted the figure in red with three bolts to the chest. Glorfindel finished them with his own bolt to the throat.

The royal guard charged the swarm of assassins and cut them down with ease. Halor slinked away to safety. Nothos fired into the crowd of assailants. Katak ended the battle with a bolt of lightning that killed the remaining foes. Rygo released his control over his undead minions and they crumpled onto the floor. The encounter was over as quickly as it had started.
Seraph brought down the protective dome surrounding Tu’ong and Cassia. The king took his hand off of his beating chest and cleared his throat. He announced to the crowd.

“I have decided that the contest shall go on! Prince Seraph has proven himself to be more than worthy of a second chance. A week from now, we shall host a tournament of glorious jousts and epic duels. The main event of the tournament shall be the final contest for Cassia’s hand. These fine gentlemen or their representative shall battle until one is victorious and the other defeated. Gentlemen! Who shall fight for you?!”
“I shall fight for myself.” Halor replied with a raised fist. He squinted bitterly at Seraph.
“Rygo will be my champion.” Seraph said with a wide grin.
The crowd applauded uproariously. The aristocracy immediately returned to dancing, drinking, and gossiping about one another. There was little sympathy regarded for the deceased nobility being cleaned up by the servants.

Princess Cassia walked out onto a balcony fanning her face and taking deep breaths. Glorfindel saw this as the perfect opportunity to make his move. He followed after the princess. The moon basked the balcony in a pale light. The flowers lining the railing filled the air with their sweet smell. Glorfindel sighed as he looked upon her. She was so beautiful, intelligent, and unlike the haughty fools who made up the nobility. If Caroline were a princess, she’d be like Cassia. Glorfindel thought to himself. He strolled over to her and said gently.
“Mind if I join ya?”
Cassia started and stepped back a bit. She sighed in relief to see that it was just Glorfindel.
“No. You may be here with me.” She said politely. Cassia turned and leaned on the railing looking out to the city. Glorfindel walked up beside her and looked out to the city as well.
“You ever wanna get outta here? Leave all this pretentious bullsh*t behind?” Glorfindel asked. Cassia chuckled and looked down.
“Every day. I know this is where I’m meant to be, but … it is a burden sometimes.” Glorfindel turned to Cassia.
“You don’t hafta be here. There’s a whole world out there and nothin can stop you from explorin it.” Glorfindel gently took Cassia by the hand.
She looked up in surprise, but before she could speak they lifted off the ground together. She clung closely to Glorfindel, and her eyes flitted back and forth between him and the ground. He embraced her as they floated back down softly praying to Olidammara.
“All ya need is someone to show ya.” Glorfindel said with a wink. Cassia stepped back frantically smoothing out her dress.
“Th- thank you, but I must be returning to the party. Duties as a princess you know.”
As she walked off, Glorfindel gazed wistfully after her. Sadly there was not enough time for them to get to know each other, but he’d be hearing from her again. He was certain of it. Glorfindel walked back inside and found Rygo boisterously talking Seraph’s ear off about being his champion. Glorfindel chuckled to himself. Time to save Seraph again.

Mags returned to the dance floor. She hoped to partner with Nothos to enjoy another conversation with him. Before she could find him, however, a familiar silvery voice spoke to her from behind.
“May I have this dance?” She spun around to see Draven dressed in dark blue and wearing a mask depicting a bat.
He held out his hand to her. Nervously, she accepted it. The two danced around the room. Draven looked down at her with a toothy grin exposing his fangs. He leaned close to her as he spoke.
“I believe you have had ample time to consider my proposal, Mags.” It took all of Mags’ will to prevent her feathers from fluffing out.
“I’ve given it some thought. I’m a bit worried-”
“Worried? What’s there to worry about my dear friend? Undeath is not nearly as unpleasant as some will tell you.”
“I’d be under your control.”
“Of course not. We would be equals. I can make it so. I promise, Mags. You will be safe with me.” Draven smiled widely and pressed Mags against his chest. She shoved him away.
“No. I can work with you. I won’t join you. That’s that.” She quacked indignantly. Draven’s smile faded. Mags disappeared into the crowd of dancers. Her small body trembled. Draven didn’t seem amenable to being rejected. But what could she do? She needed a distraction.
Mags remembered Calla Lily saying the guy who wanted her Rod of Command would be attending. Lestra Alton with the sparrow pin. Mags began to scan the room for a smarmy noble with such apparel.
It was impossible to pick him out amongst the swarm of elites. Mags spotted Nothos, Katak, and even Draven amongst the crowd, but the rest of the guests seemed to blend together. Mags took out her Rod of Command and swung it around her head three times. Golden light sprung out across the room as Mags loudly quacked
“Friend!”
Several of the nobility turned their heads toward the kenku and stared with gold glowing eyes. The rest glanced over at the shouting bird but turned back to their conversation. Nothos smirked at Mags. Katak looked over at her, shrugged his shoulders, and chuckled to himself. Draven appeared to not notice. Mags addressed those who had succumbed to her enchantment.
“If any of you have a sparrow pin, come talk to me please.”
A pompous man laden with silk and jewelry approached Mags. He wore an arrogant smile and a pin depicting a sparrow on his suit. A small smile crept up Mags’ face.
“Lestra Alton?”
“Yes indeed. A pleasure to meet you Mags, knight of Archai. I’ve heard so much about you.” Lestra replied with a deep bow.
“I know. Walk and talk?”
“Of course. Nothing would please me more.”
Mags lead the noble outside to a balcony decorated by gorgeous flowers.
“Want this. Yes?” Mags asked as she held her rod out in front of Lestra.
“Oh absolutely. Much has been said of its wonderful power. I’ve been dying to have it.”
“Quite.” Mags chirped as they reached the stone rail.
Mags took a quick glance behind them. No one was around. Even the royal guards didn’t seem interested. Mags clobbered Lestra on the back of the head with her rod and pushed him over the balcony. The noble was too stunned to scream as he plummeted several stories down to the earth. Mags twirled around and waddled back to the party with a satisfied grin on her face. She heard a muffled thud as she stepped back inside.

Draven was waiting for her. He swooped in front of her and grabbed her arm. His smile was replaced with a scowl. He growled
“I didn’t want to have to do this, Mags.”
Before she could react, Draven locked eyes with her. Her big black eyes stared into Draven’s icy blue irises. She lost herself in them. She forgot her fear. She forgot what she wanted. Everything was in an unfamiliar haze. The only thing that seemed clear was Draven.
“What do you want?” She asked in a monotonous tone.
“Follow me.” Draven hissed. He threw his cape over his shoulder as he marched out of the party with Mags trailing behind him. On their way out, she walked right by Nothos without saying a word.

Chapter 31: A Bird in the Hand

Chapter Text

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Nothin can get through that thick skull of yers.” Glorfindel laughed as he teasingly knocked on Rygo’s head. Rgyo smiled proudly and proclaimed
“Heh, damn right. I’ve got the thickest skull you’ve ever seen.”
Glorfindel and Seraph guffawed in response. Seraph leaned on Glorfindel to keep from falling over from laughter. Glorfindel pressed his sides to numb the pain of his aching sides. Rygo scratched his head at their response. What was so funny about his skull being impervious? Even so, the ridiculous state of the pair elicited a chuckle from Rygo. Soon enough, he was laughing raucously alongside them.
“Guys.” A familiar voice cut in. The three continued to laugh.
“Guys!” The trio laughed unabated.
“Shut the f*ck up!!” The three abruptly ceased their laughter. They wiped away tears as they opened their eyes to see who was shouting at them.
“sh*t Nothos! Who pissed in yer champagne?” Glorfindel complained as he recognized the half-elf. Nothos shook his head with a scowl.
“Mags is gone. She just left with Draven. I don’t trust him around her. You’ve got to find where she is. She’s almost certainly in danger.”
“If you think it’s such a problem, why don’t you go after her yerself?” Seraph retorted.
“My father is demanding my presence for the night. Besides, I know what Draven is now. I can’t handle him on my own.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” Seraph replied.
Nothos marched up to Seraph and stared intensely into his eyes.
“Do you really want to take that chance?”
“If Mags is in danger, we need to check on her.” Rygo said worriedly.
Seraph sighed and shook his head.
“Glorfindel, I need a wake up call. I’m too f*ckin drunk for this sh*t.”
Glorfindel nodded his head and began to pray. Golden light spilled out of his amulet and swirled into Seraph’s mouth, nostrils, and ears. Seraph bent over and retched. Vomit spewed from his mouth onto the pristinely polished floor. Rygo and Nothos looked on in disgust.
Seraph coughed a bit and wiped his mouth as he stood back up. He took a sip of whisky to wash down the acidic aftertaste. He chuckled at the reactions of Rygo and Nothos. If only they had seen him in his college days, Seraph mused. They’d be as used to it as him. He turned back to Glorfindel.
“Thanks. I need to see those gems you got for revivin.”

Glorfindel handed his diamonds over. Seraph strolled over to the nearest chair and sat down. The others walked over as a pair of servants hurriedly cleaned up the puddle Seraph had made.
Seraph brought the crystals up to his face and stared intensely at them. The crystals would reveal where Mags was. The music and gossip of the party pounded against his skull. His hands shook. His stomach clenched and moaned in agony. Seraph tried to force the clamor out of his mind and focus on the diamonds. His fears returned instead.

How could he have been so stupid?! The curse descends on him and his first thought was to turn to alcohol? He needed a clear mind to solve it as he had every problem, but he drowned it in a river of wine. Hunter and his father would be laughing at him right now. Telling him how they had warned against the dangers of giving into drink. f*ckin self-righteous pricks. They never had to put up with this! Couldn’t even concentrate on a goddamn spell! Now he wouldn’t be able to find Mags, she would die, the party would fall apart, he’d be left alone, everyone would mock him for his failure, and he’d collapse into a disabled pile of misery with his mind gone and his body wasting away to atrophy.

Seraph smacked himself in the face and screamed. Get a hold of yer f*ckin self! He chastised himself internally. Focus!! One goddamn thing at a time. Find Mags! Yer gonna find Mags. Yer gonna find Mags. Yer gonna find Mags. Yer gonna find Mags.

Seraph whispered the phrase repeatedly for several minutes. After some time, he looked up with glazed eyes and spoke in a trance.
“I see her! She’s in a dark room, sitting on a chair. She’s all tied up. Draven’s standing over her. He’s talkin about turnin her! Oh sh*t. He’s lookin up. He’s lookin right at me. f*ck he knows I see him.” Seraph blinked furiously and said lucidly.
“He knows we’re comin.”
“Well sh*t, do ya know where they are?”
“Some fancy room with fine furniture and expensive vases. Probably wherever he’s stayin.”
“Where’s that?” Rygo asked earnestly.
“I don’t know. I gotta find Aelius.” The party searched for the wizard and found him performing palm readings for astonished nobles. Before Seraph got the chance, Rygo blurted out.
“Where’s Draven?” The old man looked at the dragonborn confusedly.
“He means where’s Count Draven of Norden stayin in the city?” Seraph said exasperatedly. Aelius looked scanned the concerned faces of the trio.
“Well… Let’s find out together.”
The four scoured Aelius’ office for the records on where the foreign dignitaries were staying. They quickly found what they were looking for.
“Just a few blocks north, good. Aelius, we need horses.” Seraph said.
“Sending a message to a servant at the stables now. She’ll have them for you at the door to the palace.”
“Excellent.”

Seraph, Glorfindel, and Rygo sprinted down to the bottom of the enormous palace. A halfling servant awaited them with their requested horses. The trio mounted their steeds and galloped furiously to Draven’s residence.

The pale light of the moon lit their way through the finely paved streets. The party passed several mansions housing the aristocracy of the city and their guests. In a few short minutes they stopped their horses in front of Draven’s. It was a beautiful two-story mansion like many of the others. No light or noise escaped the building. Had they not been given the precise address, the party would have easily mistaken the home to be completely devoid of life. The trio dismounted, climbed over the small fence, and walked up to the front door.

Rygo nervously stroked the handle of his hammer. He worried for Mags. The little kenku could take care of herself, but she seemed to be in real trouble this time. He didn’t want to lose her. She was funny and easy to be around. She reminded him of Fus Roh’s goofier side. She was resourceful and crafty. It would be a real shame to lose a friend like her.

Glorfindel sighed. Here they go, havin’ to pull Mags out of another mess. But she did save his life back in the demon cave. He could finally be even with her. Besides, she hadn’t gotten in too much trouble since Alec, and she really was a friendly duck. She was entertaining too. Not as much as himself, but definitely fun in a different sort of way. Maybe they could have a talk after this and actually get to know each other after this. A sort of clean slate.

Seraph’s eyes locked straight forward. Save Mags. As long as he focused on that, the other thoughts couldn’t occupy his head.
There has to be some way to get rid of the curse. Seraph thought to himself. Maybe the Lake of Life water? No guarantee. Besides, am I gonna get it especially if Rygo f*cks up and loses the tournament? Oh there’s no f*cking chance. The curse will consume me, and I’ll die alone and in agony. By the gods!! Focus! Save Mags. Don’t let her die or turn. Save Mags!!
“Do we sneak in or just bust down the door?” Glorfindel whispered to Seraph.
“We don’t have time for sneakin. Gotta get to her before Draven kills her or escapes with her.”
“What if he already ran away? You said he saw us comin.”
“We’ll find out when we search the place.” Rygo chimed in.
Glorfindel shrugged. It was a fair point.
“Rygo, you doin the honors?” Seraph asked the dragonborn.
“Heh, of course.”

Rygo’s foot slammed into the door. It flung open with a loud crack as the three poured into the room. Glorfindel uttered a quick prayer summoning a ball of golden light that lit up the room. Everything looked normal. The furniture was arranged in the current fashion and not a thing was out of place. The party stepped cautiously as they searched for a staircase.
Glorfindel thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He turned to a corner in the room and walked closer to a humanoid silhouette. It could be a statue. He figured. Glorfindel brought his light over to make sure. The light revealed a pale human, still as a corpse with icy blue eyes.

As Glorfindel’s lips moved to utter a call to his friends, the figure sprang to life and lunged at the half-elf with claw-like nails and fangs jutting out of its gaping mouth.
“sh*t!” Glorfindel yelped as he juked out of the way of the creature’s grapple.

Two more pale-fanged creatures charged Rygo from the left side of the room. A fourth leapt at Seraph from behind a couch.
Rygo turned to his assailants and slapped one across the face sending it crashing to the ground. The second attacker grabbed the collar of Rygo’s armor before he could resist. The icy- eyed monster sank its teeth into Rygo’s neck and drank the blood that poured from it. Rygo roared in pain and threw off the vampire. He held his hammer high above his head as he ran towards the creature screaming in a bloody rage.

Seraph’s attacker slipped right off of him and stumbled to the ground. The creature stood back up immediately and tried to grab his robes but its hands slid off of him as though he were made of butter. Seraph smirked and cast Hold on the vampire. The pale man froze in place and stared ineffectually at its would be victim. Seraph proceded to cast Firebolt and burn his paralyzed opponent.
Glorfindel summoned his mirror images as his attacker wheeled around to face him. The vampire looked back and forth between the four images of Glorfindel with marked confusion. The undead man swung a claw at one image which faded away. It turned to another and bit down. The image disappeared. Glorfindel countered with his bolt and a golden flame connecting with the creature’s chest. It staggered back, and with a hiss, lunged at the real Glorfindel.

Rygo swung his hammer down at the vampire whose mouth dripped with his blood. It rolled out of the way of one, two, and three strikes. Rygo held up his hammer for a fourth strike when his second fanged opponent jumped on his back and bit down on his scaly hide. Rygo dropped his shield and grabbed his assailant with his off hand. He swung the vampire onto the ground and his hammer followed with a powerful burst of light. Mere fractions of its skull remained.

The other vampire had gotten up and swung its claws at Rygo. Rygo caught its chest with his hammer as its claws scraped harmlessly off of his armor. It flew into the wall and Rygo charged his shoulder into its chest again forcing its rib cage to cave inwards. The vampire fell limp to the ground.

After several bolts of flame cooked the vampire’s flesh to very well-done, Seraph’s opponent finally escaped the grasp of his spell. It lunged towards him with open mouth and jutting fangs. It slammed into the wizard’s arcane shield breaking a few teeth in the process. Seraph chuckled as he brought the shield down and sent a final flame into the creature’s body that finally reduced it to ash. Too easy. He thought to himself.

Glorfindel held up his hands as his opponent lunged at him. He kept its mouth at bay but failed to keep its claws from digging into his chest. He felt its hands go deeper and deeper digging around for his heart. He screamed in pain as his bolt flew back around and impaled the monster’s skull. The light in its eyes faded, and it slumped to the ground. He hastily prayed to Olidammara for healing. After his wounds closed, he yelled
“What the hell was that?!”
“Vampire spawn.” Seraph replied.
“A vampire lord like Draven can turn other people into them. They ain’t as strong as him but a hell of a lot stronger than regular folks.”
“f*ck! He’ll be a pain in the ass to kill then.”
“Probably.” Seraph curtly replied.
“It won’t heal! My wounds won’t heal!” Rygo yelled frantically. Seraph came over and inspected the dragonborn.
“They ain’t bleedin anymore. But they won’t feel any better till tomorrow. That’s just what happens when a vampire bites ya. Don’t worry about turnin neither. Only a vampire lord can do that. Come on! We don’t got time to waste!”

The trio quickly found a staircase and rushed up to the second floor. They traveled down the hall warily keeping their eyes out for any hidden ambushers. Rygo spotted light coming out of the bottom of one of the doors in the hallway. He silently gestured to the other two, and they softly stepped over to the door. Seraph and Glorfindel stood on opposite sides of the door and Rygo stood directly in front of it. Rygo motioned with his fingers 1,2,3.

Rygo kicked down the door, and the three rushed in. The room was dimly lit and mostly barren. All that stood in the room was a chair right in the center with some loose rope sitting upon it. They started to walk around the room, and noticed they were stepping in some sort of sticky, viscous liquid. One of them began to look up, and the others followed suit. They all saw Draven hanging from the ceiling with a glaze eyed Mags held in one hand and a torch in the other. He smiled broadly.
“Hello.” Draven said as he dropped the torch.

Before the three could react, the room floor lit up in flames. They screamed in pain as the fire burned their flesh. Rygo desperately looked for a way out. He saw a window and charged through it and fell to the ground. Glorfindel shouted
“Olidammara get us outta here!” And drew a circle with golden light. He grabbed Seraph’s hand and pulled him through the portal and they appeared outside on the ground right next to where Rygo had fallen.
The trio rolled around on the ground extinguishing the flames. They groaned in agony until Rygo distracted their thoughts of pain with a shout.
“Look! He’s taking Mags up to the roof!”
The others looked up to see Draven crawling up the wall of the mansion to the roof with Mags clinging to his back. Glorfindel uttered a few prayers to heal Seraph and Rygo of their burns. Rygo laid his hands upon the others to do the same. After a few seconds, the three had recovered from the flames.
“I only got a few favors left to call on Olidammara fer.” Glorfindel informed the others.
“Shouldn’t need too many.” Seraph replied.
“Seems Draven’s decided to fight to the end. How you doin Rygo?”
“Still feeling weaker from the bites. I’m good to go otherwise. Don’t expect any healing from me.”
“All right then.” Seraph’s knees buckled. His strength fell away, and he began to collapse. He leaned on his staff for support. Glorfindel started to come over to help him, but Seraph held up his hand.
“I’ve been castin a lotta strong spells today. Takes a lot outta ya. Don’t worry, I can fix it.” What if it was the curse? Seraph banished the thought from his mind. It’s a perfectly rational explanation that he’s just exhausted from all of his spells.

Seraph cupped his hands on the top of his diamond staff, lifted it as high as he could, and slammed it to the ground. The staff lit up with arcane energy and gave off a rainbow colored glow. The magical energy flowed up and down the staff searching for an exit. Seraph absorbed the arcane energy as it flowed into his hands. It traveled throughout his body, and the prince was filled with vigor and strength. Seraph breathed in deeply and let out a satisfied sigh. He was ready to continue the fight.
“Alright y’all.” Seraph said addressing the other two.
“Draven’s clearly got Mags charmed and under his control. So she’s gonna be fightin against us.”
“What can we do?” Rygo asked worriedly.
“It’s simple. Draven’s gotta be willfully keepin his hold over Mags goin. So if we knock him off his concentration, Mags will be freed.”
“Heh, so if we hit him enough, he’ll lose control.”
“Basically. And another thing. As a vampire lord, it’ll take a lot to kill him. Causin damage involvin light or holy power will help a lot.”
“My angels will be excellent fer that.” Glorfindel responded.
“I’ve got some strikes for that too.” Rygo added.
“Great. With all that and havin recovered some of my spells, I think we’re about to kick ass boys.”

Glorfindel and Rygo chuckled in response. Seraph and Glorfindel cast mirror image and created three illusions of themselves. Glorfindel summoned his battle angels and created a portal to the roof. Seraph created one as well and pulled Rygo through it. The three appeared on top at the same time.
Draven stood across from them with Mags at his side. Three pale bodyguards with icy blue eyes stood alongside them protected by half plate and armed with a pike, axe, and greatsword. The pale moonlight reflected off of Draven’s wicked smile as he said
“Kill them.”
Mags whipped out her crossbow and fired three shots. Seraph’s mirror images disappeared as a bolt ran through each of them.
“Little sh*t.” Seraph muttered to himself.

The vampiric bodyguards charged forward and Rygo ran to meet them. Seraph launched a fireball at his oncoming foes. One of them dove out of the way, but the other two were caught up in the blast and howled in pain.
Glorfindel’s bolt flew through the fading flames straight at Draven. It sailed through his chest leaving a bloody hole. New flesh grew over the wound and Draven smiled arrogantly as he returned two blue bolts of arcane energy at Glorfindel. One flew by, but the other took out a mirror image.
As the bodyguard who avoided the fireball began to stand back up, Rygo brought his hammer down on its head with a burst of white light. The vampire’s skull shattered into a thousand pieces. Rygo turned to Draven and roared
“Draven!! You’re mine!” and charged him.

As he rushed towards the vampire lord, Mags sprung forward with her rapier drawn and stabbed Rygo in the shoulder. He growled in pain and slowed his advance. He swung his hammer down at Mags, but she rolled past him and struck the back of his knee. Rygo stumbled.

Mags searched for a weak point to land a killing blow when Seraph cast hold on her. She froze in place.

Draven grimaced and fired two bolts at Seraph. Seraph cast shield blocking one bolt successfully but the other cut through and blasted his shoulder. Seraph winced and gritted his teeth, but managed to maintain his hold over Mags. Draven hissed angrily and sprinted towards him.

Meanwhile, the singed bodyguards engaged with Glorfindel. One swung her axe towards him, but it went straight through an illusion. Glorfindel’s angels immediately stabbed and slashed her. The other thrust his pike at Glorfindel, but he deftly dodged the attack and responded with sending his bolt through the vampire’s back and a blast of holy light into his face.
The axe wielding vampire swung her axe barrelled through the strikes of Glorfindel’s angels to swing her axe down at him with a scream. Glorfindel spun out of the way and sent his bolt into her neck. She clung her throat as she fell to the ground gurgling her last words.

The pike wielding bodyguard recovered from the blows and thrust at Glorfindel again. He struck the final mirror image. The last thing he saw was the image fading away with a smirk and waving goodbye as the angles sliced and stabbed the vampire through the spine. He collapsed to the ground.

Rygo stood back up and swung his hammer at Draven as the vampire lord charged Seraph. Draven stuck out his arm and redirected Rygo’s blow away, and it swung harmlessly in the air. Seraph tried to block Draven with his shield, but the count spun around it and grabbed the wizard by the throat. Draven lifted Seraph up in the air with a furious hiss. Seraph clutched his throat to try to save himself from choking. His hold over Mags ceased, and she began reloading her crossbow.
Glorfindel looked over to see Draven crushing Seraph’s neck. He immediately drew Olidammara’s symbol in the air and shouted.
“Olidmmara, cleanse this foe with yer holy flame!”
A pillar of fire manifested from the sky and came down upon Draven. He howled in pain as Seraph croaked
“Misty step!” in elvish and vanished from his grasp in a cloud of mist.

Draven turned to Glorfindel and lunged towards him. He scraped Glorfindel with his claws and blasted him back with his bolts of force.
Glorfindel slid back, bleeding but not beaten. His angels harried Draven and his bolt flew through each of the count’s shoulders.
Draven hissed and began to prepare another attack when he heard Rygo stomping behind him. He barely sidestepped the dragonborn’s white light imbued blow.
Seraph began to prepare to cast blight upon Draven when he saw Mags aiming at him out of the corner of his eye. His silver arcane shield blocked the three bolts, but faded away as Mags charged him her sword. He dodged one strike but the second and third sliced each of his legs. He stumbled to the ground. Mags stood over him to run him through with her rapier. Seraph whacked his staff against the ground and shouted.
“Thunderwave!”

A boom like thunder reverberated from where Seraph struck the floor and a shockwave burst out. Mags got knocked back several feet onto her back. She flipped back up.
Draven caught Rygo’s face with an uppercut from his claw. He stumbled forward as a blast of holy light and a piercing bolt from Glorfindel connected with his backside. Draven spun around and fired off two bolts of his own. He swung his arm up to block a hammer blow from Rygo, but his arm cracked from the force. He grabbed Rygo’s head with his other arm and opened his mouth to bite down, but Glorfindel’s angels pierced his flesh with their holy weapons.
Draven stepped several steps back to the edge of the roof as he howled with pain. He saw Mags shake her head and turn towards him with a loathsome glare, completely free from his control. He scowled and turned around to face the streets. He vanished.
The party ran to the edge of the roof. They saw Draven disappear and reappear from shadow to shadow cast by the buildings along the street. With every reappearance, Draven had traveled nearly sixty feet.
Rygo furrowed his brow.
“He’s getting away.” He grumbled.
“No he ain’t.” Seraph said confidently as he grabbed Rygo’s arm. Rygo turned to him and nodded with an eager grin. Seraph analyzed Draven’s pattern of flight and calculated the distance he needed to cross. He could get them five hundred feet. No problem.

As Draven reappeared for the fifth time, he looked back to see the party still on the roof looking back at them. He turned his head back around to see Rygo and Seraph stepping out of silver framed doorway. Draven’s eyes widened as Rygo’s glowing hammer smashed into his chest. Draven’s body dissipated into a cloud of mist.
“What happened?!” Rygo shouted.
“That’s what happens when a vampire’s body is destroyed.” Seraph replied.
Glorfindel and Mags appeared alongside them.
“Is he dead?” Mags quacked bitterly.
“Nah. He can reform his body if he returns to his restin place. But he’s gotta do that before dawn or the sunlight will kill him.” Seraph explained.
The mist began to fly away from the party.
“Don’t worry! We’ll follow him!” Seraph shouted. He cast arcane eye and had his invisible specter follow the mist as it flew threw the streets. Seraph followed after it, and the party alongside him. Seraph’s senses were devoted to tracking the mist so the party guided his steps.

Draven’s mist ran through streets and windows. It tried to shake its pursuers by hiding in crates or buildings, but Seraph’s invisible eye always followed. Eventually, the mist flew through the city and travelled beyond the walls. The party pursued it at a brisk jog. The party tracked the mist a few miles from the city out to a local forest. The party saw the mist fly into the ground. When they ran up to the point of entry, they saw a small but assumedly deep hole in the ground.

The party immediately began to dig. Rygo dug into the earth with his shield. The others tore away with their hands. Mags and Seraph got exhausted rather quickly, Glorfindel lasted a little bit longer, but Rygo was unrelenting in his efforts. The sun began to rise as the party finally hit a solid object. They immediately scraped off the surrounding dirt and discovered a simple wooden coffin. Rygo tore the cover right off.

The party saw Draven’s body slowly reforming. The bones had grown back. The internal organs churned and squelshed. The muscles had just begun to develop. Deep red blood flowed over the bones and coagulated into pumping muscles and spindles of ligaments.
Rygo lifted his hammer to destroy the body once and for all, but Seraph interrupted him.
“Stop! Let the sun kill him.” An idea had just dawned upon the wizard prince. His face lit up with hope and excitement. Seraph took out an empty vial from his pack. He dipped it into the flowing blood and sealed the glass vessel after it had filled. He slipped the vial back into his bag.
Mags observed Seraph scoop up the blood and surmised it must have some value. She took out a vial of her own and scooped up some blood as well.

As the party watched Draven’s body slowly reform, the sun rose and its light crept closer and closer to the coffin. Draven’s flesh had finally fully reformed when the sunlight crawled up to his feet turning it to ash. Draven opened his eyes and screamed just as the sun erased his torso, and then the rest of his body that remained. Draven was no more.

The party drew a collective sigh of relief. Rygo wrapped an arm around Mags and pulled her in with a laugh. Glorfindel shrugged his shoulders and joined in. Seraph brought his arms in as well. They all laughed heartily together.
Seraph patted his hand against his pack making sure the vial of blood was still there. He smiled as its contents sloshed around reassuring him of their presence. Perhaps he could break the curse afterall.

Chapter 32: Fallout

Chapter Text

It took two days for Mags to compose herself after the ordeal. She kept herself locked in her palace guest room only allowing entrance for the servant delivering food and water.

She spent the first day curled up in a ball on her bed. Her feathers fluffed out, refusing to flatten out. Her eyes scanned the room for danger. They would not close for they needed to remain vigilant. Mags talked to herself incessantly about what had happened to try to understand what she had gone through. She constantly moved her feet and hands to ensure herself she was the one in control of them. Her body quivered throughout the day. Mags could still hear Draven’s promises and commands ringing in her ears. She talked louder to drown them out. At times she would feel his presence looming over her. She would freeze. Paralyzed by fear, not a muscle moved until she was sure he was gone.

The second day passed by much the same until the late afternoon. Mags hadn’t felt Draven’s foreboding presence in over an hour, and his voice grew fainter and fainter until it barely scratched around her mind. She sat up. Mags yawned deeply. She hadn’t slept in so long. But her mind continued to be flooded by thoughts. While the fear of Draven had diminished, Mags pondered her legacy.
She had almost died and become a slave of Draven’s. What would be left because of her? A trail of dead bodies. She had killed soldiers, city guards, Alec, revolters, and cultists for what? All she could survive and stop the Horde. And what if she did? Would all of those deaths be worth it? She had loosed a vampire on the world, created a horrifying weapon used on her own friends, and inspired a strange cult obsessed with her. All so that she could just wind up a thrall of Draven used as a tool to keep on killing.

Mags was tired of killing and being complicit in the destruction of others. Mags was tired of being used. So what if she didn’t have the power. She had to do something with her life that actually helped someone instead of adding more suffering to the realm. She had to get out from under people’s thumb. Katak, Vladik, even Seraph if he were ever to push her to do something she didn’t want to. Mags clenched her fists, sat up straight, and held her head high. She’d find a way to determine her own path.

The next day, Mags skipped merrily down the staircase to the Undercity. The vial of vampire blood jostled around in her bag. If Seraph wanted it, then it was certainly valuable. Probably a main ingredient in a potent healing potion. The Shadow Cult would be quite impressed with her. Bringing something so valuable from the traitor in their ranks would certainly earn her prestige. Perhaps enough make Vladik think twice about pushing her around. Plus the money would be useful. She could buy some forgeries to sell, and maybe help someone in need along the way.

When she reached the Shadow Cult’s hideout, she waddled right up to Nothos.
“Oh Mags. It’s so good to see you’re alright.” Nothos said with a relieved sigh.
“Not getting soft are you?” Mags teased with a wink. Nothos straightened himself up and replied with a smirk
“Of course not. I’d just miss your humor. Everyone else here is so serious and boring.”
They laughed together. As they recollected themselves, Mags drew a vial out of her bag.
“Guess what I got from Draven?”
“A dragon’s egg? His diary detailing his plans for world domination? A cup of sugar?”
“Hehe, close. THIS!” Mags proudly presented the vial of dark red blood.
“That’s… blood right?” Nothos said hesitantly.
“Yup!” Mags replied with a wide smile.
“Draven’s blood?”
“Yup!”
“Vampire blood?” Nothos said worryingly.
“Absolutely!” Mags beamed. Nothos forced a chuckle.
“Heh, heh, oh Mags you simply must get rid of it. The only thing vampire’s blood is good for is becoming a vampire.” Mags’ smile faded.
“But… Seraph took Draven’s blood first.”
“He did?!” Nothos stepped back in shock. Mags stared at the ground and shook her head.
“He wouldn’t do that. Not after he saw what happened to me.”
“Do you think he knows what to do with it?”
“Of course!!” Mags’ feathers fluffed as she quacked. Nearby cultists turned around and stared at the pair for a moment before moving on with their business.
“We have to stop him.” Mags whispered to Nothos.
“Do you know where he is?” Nothos asked.
“No.”
“Aelius might. He told me how they had worked on a mission together. He may know what Seraph has been up to. At the very least he has spells he could use to find him.”
“Let’s go.”
The two hastily made their way to the royal library and found Aelius there carefully studying a book on fortune telling. The white haired wizard looked up with a hint of curiosity as the pair entered breathless and sweaty. Mags didn’t wait to catch her breath to speak.
“Ae- Ae- Aelius. Have you seen Seraph the past two days?”
“Why yes. Why do you ask?”
“Did he ask for anything? Where did he go?”
“He asked me if I had any documents on undead monsters such as liches and vampires. Ashamedly, I admitted I didn’t but told him that Marquess Alzet Pontey had a personal library that may have some. Last night he asked to use the teleportation circle to return to Wolnocc. I obliged. Now why do you want to know all of this?”
Mags turned to Nothos with a dour face.
“It’s too late to stop him.”
“What?!” Aelius raised his voice rather irritated he was being ignored.
“What do you think he did?”
***
Seraph tore through his books and scribbled down notes furiously. Marquess Pontey’s selection on monsters, and the undead was indeed quite extensive. But he hadn’t found what he was searching for, not yet. Seraph downed a swig of whiskey. His stomach churned violently, but he ignored it.

He had to find the ritual. He had to! So much work, so much planning, so much diplomacy, and fighting, and studying, and suffering to save his city, the realm, everybody and himself and all of that to be taken away, cast aside, utterly destroyed by a damn curse that fate itself created to spite him?! He wouldn’t let fate win. No one will win but him. He has the blood of a vampire, the knowledge of centuries, the intellect to wield it, and the will to make it so. He not dwindle into a pathetic pile of paranoia and misery. He would work his out of this as he always had. NOTHING could stop him! Not even FATE itself!! No matter how much his hands shake, he will force them to be steady. No matter how his stomach wretched, he would force it still. No matter how much fear tried to consume him, to overwhelm him, to tell him that he couldn’t do it, he wasn’t smart enough, strong enough, man enough, he would cast it out and bend his mind in service to his will.

Seraph’s pointer finger slammed down on the page and his eyes widened. He had found it. A ritual to become a vampire lord using another’s blood. He rapidly copied every single detail down to the pen stroke of the page into his own notes. After the final flourish of his pen, Seraph sat up proud and relieved. He looked outside to see the sun rising. Seraph smiled. He had worked all night for this hope. He laid his head down and slept.

Seraph woke up with a start. He grabbed his left hand to stop it from tapping. He noticed his whole body quivering and wrapped his arms around himself and held tight. Seraph could not remember what he dreamed, but it was certainly a nightmare. He forced himself to stand and paced around the room. He snatched his refilled bottle of whisky on the way by and threw back a large gulp. His stomach rioted again, and he quelled it once more. Seraph looked outside again to the sun setting. He slammed the whisky down on a counter. He had wasted too much time.
Seraph grabbed his notes and walked briskly out of the room. Never mind that he hadn’t eaten for nearly twenty four hours, he wasn’t going to allow the curse anymore time to plague him. Seraph approached
Marquess Pontey in her lavish waiting room and said tersely but politely
“Thank ya fer lettin me read yer books.”
“Well thank you for letting me play this!” She replied warmly as she handed Seraph back the golden fiddle.
“Where ever did you acquire this marvelous instrument?”
“Demons.” Seraph replied matter of factly as he left the mansion.
“What a fascinating figure.” Marquess Pontey muttered to herself.
Seraph rode to the palace and marched straight to the royal library. He approached Aelius and curtly stated
“I need to go to Wolnocc.”
Aelius shrugged and immediately got to work constructing a teleportation circle. Seraph stood to the side. His fingers rapped the wall as he waited impatiently.
“What business do you have in Wolnocc that you need to get there so quickly?” Aelius asked.
“Urgent discussions with my brother, Hunter, about city management. Best to do it in person.”
“Makes sense.” Aelius mused.
A few seconds later, Aelius had finished.
“Send me to 1182 West Street in the third district.” Seraph requested.
“Not the palace?” Aelius asked with a raised eyebrow.’
“Got some stuff I gotta pick up first.”
“Very well.” Aelius activated the spell and Seraph appeared in front of The People’s RePUBlic.

Seraph teleported inside and unlocked the door from the inside. He lit the candles in the room and grabbed a candelabra to light his way as he descended down the cellar. Seraph walked past the rows of barrels and opened up the storage room. It was almost completely empty from the rationing days of the siege. Glorfindel had not restocked it knowing they would be gone for some time completing their quest to defeat The Horde. Seraph let out a satisfied smile. This would be the perfect place to work.
Seraph lit the torches and brought a table and chair down from upstairs. He plopped his extensive notes onto the table and a sunflower Glorfindel was growing for his new sunflower spirits. Seraph returned upstairs and walked out of the establishment. It was time to acquire more ingredients.
Seraph prowled the streets of Wolnocc until he happened upon a homeless man wrapped up in a blanket. Seraph stepped softly over to the man and gently shook his shoulder. The man threw his arms up and scooted back with widened eyes.
“Don’t kill me please!” He begged.
“Shhhhh. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” Seraph said as he held up a finger to his lips which smiled with anticipation.
“Wanna earn some money?” Seraph stretched out a handful of gold coins. The homeless man stared at them intensely. He nodded vigorously. Seraph chuckled.
“What’s yer name?”
“Uh, Igor.”
“Haha. What a perfect name fer yer new job.”
“What do I gotta do?”
“Follow me, and do as I say.”
Seraph traveled to the city prison with his new assistant. He had the new captain of the guard lead him down to where they kept the murderers and political prisoners.
“I want four of them. Doesn’t matter whom.”
“Of course yer highness.” The captain nodded.

Four prisoners were taken out of there cells. One of the inmates brought forward was Ebar, the man Rygo had imprisoned so long ago. Seraph let out a cruel chuckle and turned to the captain of the guard. He requested they be manacled and a long cord bind their chains together three times over. The four prisoners looked at each other with confusion and concern, but none of them spoke a word.
On the way back to the pub, Seraph purchased a shovel and a coffin from the coroner whose shop was always open just in case. He had Igor carry the empty wooden casket.
Seraph silently led the train of prisoners back to Glorfindel’s pub. As they entered the front door, Seraph turned around and cast hypnotic pattern. The four prisoners fell into a stupor. Seraph ordered Igor to bring the semi conscious bodies downstairs.

When they entered the basem*nt, Seraph showed his assistant the intricate set up for the ritual he had copied onto his notes. He walked the man through it and told him to get going immediately. Igor complied and started digging.

Seraph turned to his notes and poured over them. He made sure he possessed every ingredient needed, and meticulously studied each detail to insure he got it right and the conditions were fulfilled. He found a line mentioning that he must sacrifice something of great value to him. Seraph sighed and pulled off a ring and held in front of him.
In the center of the ring, lay a cut of Whitestone shaped as a falcon, the symbol of the Grimlock family. Hunter had given it to him when he announced him as the crown prince. Seraph smiled. For all of his nagging and soft heartedness, Hunter was so proud of him when he handed him that ring all those months ago. Seraph would not admit to anyone how much he cherished this gift from his brother. It was more than a symbol of his position. It was a token of love and respect. Seraph set the ring down with a quivering hand. He felt a presence behind him.
“Seraph-.” Hassan began to address Seraph from behind.
“I don’t wanna hear a damn thing from you.” Seraph replied without looking back.
“It’s not a curse! It’s-”
“Shut the hell up! I know what this and how to fix it!” Seraph turned around and shouted.
“Now piss off!!”

Hassan was nowhere to be seen. Seraph squinted his eyes in perplexion. It must have been over an hour because Igor was completing the set up. The prisoners had been chained to each of the support beams that held up the floor above. The cord had been cut and wrapped tightly around each of them. A trough of dirt ran out from each of them to the center of the floor into an intricately drawn circle with spirals and channels throughout it that all led to the epicenter. Off to the side, the coffin was laid in a hole just deep enough for the coffin to not poke up above the floor.
“Well done Igor.” Seraph said with a smile.

Igor responded with an eager nod. Seraph drew a knife from his robe and walked steadily over to Ebar. Just as he made it over, the man woke up out of his stupor. He saw the knife and with horror blurted
“What are you doing?! What did I d-”

Ebar’s ramblings were replaced with gurgles of blood as Seraph slit his throat. His blood poured down into the trough and seeped over to the symbol in the center. Igor looked on expressionless as Seraph slit the other prisoners’ throats one by one. As their blood oozed down the troughs, Seraph lay down the knife and pulled out his notes. He flipped through to the enchantment. It was written in an ancient elvish dialect. Seraph chanted as he held forth the sunflower
“In rejection of the sun and its life giving light, I cast the flower by its name away.” He tossed the flower into the blood at the center of the symbol, and it sank into the red liquid. Seraph held forth his ring.
“In rejection of that which I held dear in life, I cast my most beloved possession away.” Seraph tossed the ring where he had the flower. Seraph drew forth the vial of Draven’s blood and poured it out into the flowing blood of the prisoners while chanting
“In embracement of death that brings new life, I add the blood of the union between death and life, that I may be dead but never die.”
The bloody brew began to bubble. It coagulated together in the center. When it filled its hole, it began to rise. A pillar of blood formed rising higher and higher until it was up to Seraph’s mouth. He drank from it, and the blood flowed down his throat till there was none left. Seraph stooped down, picked up the still bloody knife and handed it to Igor.
“Now kill me, and bury me in the coffin.” Igor stared back at Seraph in shock. He slowly protested
“Why… You can’t really… I mean.”
“Do it Igor, and I will reward you with an eternity of life.” Seraph replied with a slight hiss in his voice.
Igor took the knife and reluctantly stabbed Seraph through the heart. Seraph collapsed. As the light in his eyes faded, all he could think of was that one way or the other, the curse would be over. Seraph closed his eyes and died.

Chapter 33: The Plans of Birds and Men

Chapter Text

“Oh no.” Aelius leaned back in his chair and stared blankly into the distance.
“Mags, do you have any idea why Seraph did this? What does he want? What’s he going to do?” Nothos asked urgently.

A thousand thoughts ran through her head. It could be for any number of things. Power, immortality, control over others, or just one more thing that would give him an edge. Seraph never told anyone his plans. He talked all the time with Glorfindel, but Mags knew Glorfindel wasn’t the type for schemes. Seraph always seemed content to view her as a reliable asset that owed him a favor. He was certainly a friend. Someone to share laughs and good times together. A staunch ally on the battlefield who’d put his neck out for her, and the rest of the team when needed. He even helped her escape execution.
But why would he become a vampire? After seeing what Draven had become, what he was willing to do. Surely someone as smart as Seraph would realize the transformation changed him. Mags certainly did. He claimed to still care about the others, but his words were cold and hollow. At the very least he knew what he had done to her. He saw it! Draven enslaved her, forced her to nearly kill her own friends and never gave a damn about what she wanted. No one in power ever did.

Now Seraph is taking that same power for himself. The ability to completely dominate a person’s body and will to suit what he wants. Seraph is no different than the others with power. He wants more control, more power over others to make them do what he desires regardless of what it costs them. He had to be stopped. If Mags was going to do any good in this world, she had to prevent opportunists from completely subjugating people to her will. Even if he was her friend.
“It doesn’t matter.” Mags replied flatly.
“We have to stop him from enslaving others and making them his thralls.”
“I just let him go. I didn’t even question him. Not really.” Aelius said with a guilt ridden tone.
“It’s the right goal but a difficult one.” Nothos replied.
“How are we going to defeat a powerful wizard with the strength of a vampire?”
“Same way we’re going to defeat the Horde, Nothos. Gather allies.” Mags answered firmly. Aelius shook himself out of his stupor.
“Yes. Yes of course. I’ll talk to King Tu’ong about it. He’ll trust my report and judgement.”
“We’ll need Vladik on our side too.” Nothos added.
“And your father.” Mags chimed in.
“Sigh. Yea, he’d be instrumental if he joined in.”
“Each of them that we get on board, we need to have them pressure the others and coordinate with them once they join our little coalition. Seraph is incredibly clever and powerful. We’ll probably only get one chance at this. And…” Mags swallowed hard.
“I don’t want to die.”
“You won’t Mags. We’ll win this.” Nothos assured her.
“I hope so. Let’s go talk to your dad.”
“I’ll join you all for convincing Vladik when you’re done.” Aelius said.
Mags and Nothos traveled to the mansion Katak was staying at where they found him stewing over his lunch and tightly grasping a mug of coffee. He looked up as they walked in the dining hall, and he immediately chided his son.
“Ah the Crown’s Tail, Master of Disguise, Prince of Spies, and the cream of my crop. For all of your time spent with the Savior’s of Wolnocc you could not discover and inform me of Seraph’s intentions to marry the princess?” Katak spoke each word with a vicious growl.
“Seraph is never open about his strategy. I could not have gleaned such information from him without seeming too prying and losing his trust entirely.” Nothos said weakly while looking down at the floor.
“He’s a drunkard! You could easily have intoxicated him and coaxed the information out of him then. If you weren’t so busy chasing skirts and pantaloons, you’d have done your duty and succeeded in your mission.” Katak responded with fatherly disappointment.
“We’ve learned something else about Seraph you’d like to know.” Mags interrupted.
“Oh?” Katak asked with a still bitter but more bemused tone.
“Yup! And it’s thanks to your son we know it! Seraph has transformed himself into a vampire.”
“Really?” Katak growled skeptically.
“Can you confirm this?” He asked Nothos.
“Absolutely. He left for Wolnocc to complete the transformation shortly after acquiring the blood of Count Draven of Norden. He was a vampire himself before Mags and company eliminated him.”
“Well, well, well, heh heh. That deadbeat bastard has crossed yet another line to gain power. No surprise.” Katak’s tone shifted to a far jollier one. He got up from his seat, walked over to Nothos, and gave him a strong pat on the back.
“Well done Prince of Spies. Once again, you prove to be the only child I need. And you Mags, your outstanding loyalty for bringing this to me about one of your own friends is greatly appreciated. Now. We need to work on exposing him before we take any public action.”
“Already working on it.” Mags replied with a wide smile.
“It’s true. We’re already getting Halor, King Tu’ong, and my allies in on it. I’ll let you know their takes on the situation and how you can coordinate with them.” Nothos added.
“Oh I’ll be talking to Halor and Tu’ong for certain. Your friends in low places will definitely be an added benefit though. This won’t be an easy task, but I relish in the chance to make that arrogant prick pay for his betrayal. You are dismissed. Well done.”
Nothos stiffened his lips and bowed to his father. Mags followed suit. The two exited the room and made their way to the Shadow Cult’s headquarters. Along the way, Mags noticed her friend’s clenched jaw and fidgeting fingers. She looked forward and continued on in silence. She figured he would speak when he was ready to.

Several minutes went by without the two speaking a word to each other until they entered the Undercity. As they began to descend the staircase, Nothos muttered harshly
“f*cking asshole.”
“Yea.” Mags simply replied.
“I do all of this for him! I spy for him. I kill for him. And he just taunts and criticizes me in return. f*ck! When can I be free of him?!”
“Why not take care of it now?” Mags asked plainly.
“I’m not ready. He’s stronger than he looks, he knows how to create an empire and run it much better than me, and it’s not like I would even be a better person taking his place.”
Nothos muttered and complained in response. Mags stopped. She looked Nothos directly in the eyes and said firmly.
“Why do you think that?” Nothos smiled.
“So curious. I might tell ya later. Right now we gotta get Vladik on board.” Mags turned away unsatisfied but not upset. She resumed walking.
When the pair made it to the hideout, Aelius was waiting for them alongside Vladik. The disfigured leader raised his hand to halt them as they entered his presence.
“Aelius has already informed me of the situation.” He said with a bored tone.
“And what are you going to do about it?” Nothos asked concernedly.
“Nothing yet. There’s not much to be concerned about it really.”
“What?! He’s a vampire!” Nothos exclaimed.
“Draven caused a massive dent in our organisation that will take years to recover from. Not to mention the chaos from his now untethered minions still running around. It’ll be even worse with Seraph.”
“Calla Lily is sweeping the remnants as we speak. Seraph will not be foolish to go making vampires haphazardly. He will keep it contained.”
“Seraph is an ambitious man. Delaying may spell the end for us.” Aelius chimed in.
“We need time to consolidate. After I marry Princess Cassia, we will be able to leverage the full might of Center City against Seraph or any other threat.”
“What if you lose?” Mags chirped.
“Excuse me?”
“What if you lose to Rygo, and Seraph marries Cassia?”
“Ha, that belligerent beast stands no chance to-”
“Rygo is one of the greatest warriors of the realm. Neither Draven nor Zersto stood a chance against him. He certainly could defeat you.”
“Why you-”
“And if he does, Seraph will have the grand army of Center City backing him. As well as the largest city in Tesalach to draw from for his vampiric corps.”
Vladik grew silent.
“King Tu’ong would probably not like to see his daughter married to vampire.” Mags continued.
“Oh no. I can confirm that would greatly upset him.” Aelius interjected.
“Taking him out alongside Tu’ong would be a great way to guarantee you secure Cassia’s hand in marriage.”
“Even with Tu’ong, it would be an incredibly difficult assassination to pull off.” Vladik said skeptically.
“We’ve already convinced Katak Rhalom to join us. I’m sure you’ve heard of his power?” Mags asked.
“Oh fine. But only in the absurd case I lose. Nothos, I want you to serve as a liaison between your father and I. Aelius, get to informing and convincing Tu’ong of our course of action. Mags, you are bold to speak up to me. The coming week will determine if risking your life doing so was worth it. Dismissed.”

The group separated to complete their respective tasks. Mags walked off with Nothos. Once they were out of earshot of the other members, Mags tugged on Nothos’ sleeve and asked
“Why do you think you aren’t a better person than your father?”
“Heh, I knew you wouldn’t let that go, Mags. Isn’t it obvious? I’m more of a killer than a statesman.” Nothos said feigning mirth as he spoke. Mags was unconvinced. She plopped down and looked up at Nothos’ face. She watched to see how he would react.
“Huh, well do you enjoy killing?” Mags asked in a guiding tone.
“No. But I don’t feel remorse anymore.” Nothos said flatly. He looked away from Mags and stared at the ground as he spoke. “I don’t feel much of anything when I do.”
“Then you’re a lot better than Rygo.”
“Haha. That’s a pretty low bar. Besides, I’m not comparing myself to him.” Nothos’ hands fidgeted nervously.
“Did you ever force your children into a murder contest with each other?”
“No, but I did kill many of my siblings during it.” There was a pause.
“Did you do it for power?”
“No Mags, I did it to survive. What are you getting at?” Nothos snapped.
“You’ve killed. It’s true. But you don’t enjoy it. You do it so you can survive another day, and survive your father. You wouldn’t have to if he wasn’t around anymore.” Mags stared directly at Nothos as she spoke forcing him to lock eyes with her.
“Heh, not many other ways to solve problems.”
“I think so. Killing sometimes is easier, but it rarely makes things better. I’ve killed many people I didn’t have to. I don’t want to anymore.” Mags put her hand on Nothos’ knee.
“You don’t have to either.”
“Do you really think someone like me, people like us could just stop?” Nothos tried to retort but relented, accepting Mags’ gesture.
“Yea. It won’t be easy, but we can make choices every chance we get to not kill. And try to make the world better. I know you care Nothos. Even as you smile and laugh everything off. You want to make the world better.” She responded, nestling her head into Nothos’ shoulder.
“Hm, you got me Mags. I want to bring the realm together. Not as brutally as my father, but I admire the idea of having us work together rather than fighting race against race, city against city, kingdom against kingdom. Vladik doesn’t give a damn about the realm. He just wants to get as much power as he can. Seraph is too selfish. My father is too vicious. We need leaders of a different sort to guide Tesalach to a brighter future.” Nothos said wistfully.
Mags beamed and gave Nothos a quick hug. He happily returned the gesture. Mags looked up at Nothos with her big dark eyes and said
“On a lighter note, I’ve been wondering. How did you and Cassia meet?” Nothos’ eyes lit up. He threw his head back and let out a gleeful laugh.

“Oh that’s a story. I was disguised as a palace guard on one of my missions. I’d often make snarky remarks about palace life and the pompous nobles who frequented the place. She appreciated my humor and would share some of her own comments. We hit it off pretty quickly.
It wasn’t too long before we were sneaking around to private places to talk to each other. I revealed my identity early on too. She was someone I could trust even when I wasn’t used to that. We’d talk about our favorite books, plays, and heroes. She was kind, playful, and wicked smart. That woman knows how to run things.
I’d visit all the time I could after my mission. I don’t remember the time we declared our love for each other. I don’t know if we ever actually did. It’s like we always knew.”

“I like that.” Mags chirped with a smile. She elbowed Nothos and said teasingly
“Why didn’t you run away together?”
“Ha. She offered to actually. Despite her frequent insistence on her duty to her people she was more than willing to elope with me. Guess she figured her father would never disinherit her.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“My father would literally kill me.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
“Yea. Speaking of which, we gotta go tell him the good news.”
The two got up from where they had sat down and walked to Katak’s mansion.

Chapter 34: Seraph’s Triumph

Chapter Text

Seraph awoke. He could see nothing in the pitch black that surrounded him. The air was incredibly stuffy, but it did not interfere with his breathing. He was not breathing. His arms were packed tightly against the thin wood walls at his side.

Seraph smiled. He felt strong, invigorated. This pathetic tomb could not possibly contain him. Seraph thrust his arms upward splintering wood and throwing dirt aside. The top of the casket flew off and Seraph saw the cellar’s ceiling in the dim light. Seraph rose and stretched out his arms in triumph.
“Y- y- yer majesty?” Igor stammered nervously.
Seraph turned to his loyal assistant. He suddenly realized how hungry he felt. His stomach ached and groaned for nourishment, for his blood. Seraph salivated and licked his lips as he stared intensely at Igor.
“Would you like to live forever? No illness, no pain.” He asked alluringly.
“Y- y- yes.” Igor replied.
“Then accept yer reward.”

Seraph opened his mouth wide as he lunged at the man. Igor screamed as Seraph grabbed of hold of him. It was music to his ears. He sank his teeth into his assistant’s neck and drank the flowing elixir that poured out from the man’s flesh. Seraph drank deeply and vigorously consuming every drop with glee.
He drank until there was none left to leave Igor’s body. Seraph wiped off his face and licked his fingers for each morsel he could salvage. The hunger persisted, but not as fiercely as before. Seraph dragged Igor into the hole the man had dug and covered his body with dirt.

Seraph leaned against the wall and began to laugh. He had finally done it. He had faced his curse and dispelled it. No longer would be plagued by it, or disease, or even decay. All it took was a few criminals and a willing subject. Such a small price to pay.

But what now? His vampirism would complicate things a bit. Direct sunlight limiting him would certainly be a problem. It would be a challenge to maintain his new diet. But he and the party engaged in battles all the time. Bottling and storing blood ought not to pose a huge challenge.

But what about Hunter and Elaina? It wouldn’t do for him to be the sole immortal member of the Grimlock family. It would be sad to see them gone. Whither away with nothing to save them when there was a cure to their mortality all along. It wouldn’t be right to turn Elaina now. She’s still a child and deserves to have that full experience. An eternity trapped in the body of preteen would be a torment rather than a blessing. But now is the perfect time for Hunter. He’s the ruler of the city and in the prime of his life. With the two of them side by side they could guide Wolnocc into a glorious future. And with Center City united with them, the whole realm could be brought under a single peaceful rule. In addition, draining Hunter may be able to satisfy the persistent hunger.
Seraph rushed out of the cellar and the tavern and into the streets. He ran with such ease and a speed greater than any man he had seen. The brush of the wind in his face made him feel so alive. Seraph had to contain himself from yelping with joy. He defeated fate and now was stronger and better than ever before. Soon, Hunter would enjoy this gift too.

Seraph turned himself invisible as he approached the palace. It would be simplest to find his brother while he was sleeping and bite him then. Seraph knew all of the schematics of the courtyard, the palace, and the patrol patterns of the guards down to the most meticulous detail. He snuck past the guards easily and made his way inside.

As he slunk his way towards Hunter’s bedchamber, his stomach began to groan again. He tried to silence it, but his unruly gut refused to obey. Every guard he saw caused him to salivate. He had to willfully draw his gaze away from them to keep moving. Then his eyes caught sight of a particularly juicy neck illuminated by the moonlight.

Seraph couldn’t contain himself any longer. Just a sip might be enough to quiet his hunger. A dead body would certainly raise suspicion. Seraph crept up behind the guard. The man was oblivious to the prince’s approach. Seraph grabbed the guard’s head and should and bit down into his neck. He took two gulps and then slunk back into the shadows.

The man clutched his neck and screamed for help. He limped down the halls calling to his fellow guards that he had been attacked. The entire palace went into full alert. Torches were lit, guards rushed through the halls, and bells were rung alerting everyone to the presence of an intruder.

Seraph turned himself invisible again and furiously wiped the blood off of his face. Hunter arrived on the scene in his pajamas, surrounded by several royal guards. Perhaps it was best he hadn’t succeeded in getting into Hunter’s room, Seraph thought to himself. Had he failed in turning him, things could have gotten messy.
“What’s goin on here?!” Hunter shouted, astonished and concerned.
The wounded guard approached his king.
“I was attacked by somebody, but I didn’t see them yer majesty.”
“May I see the wound?” Hunter asked politely. The guard obliged. Hunter’s face grew pale, and he turned to his guards.
“Get Gilbatrax in here. She might be able to know what the hell did this to him.”
Seraph’s eyes widened. Gilbatrax was a well learned wizard herself. Seraph decided to reveal himself.
“Hey brother.”
“What the sh*t?! Oh Seraph, what are you doin here?”
“Had a weddin comin up I need to talk to you about. But I arrived late. Thought I’d sneak back into my room to not disturb anybody.”
“Well you picked a hell of a time to do it when there’s an assassin or somethin on the loose. It’s good to see ya brother.”
Hunter drew Seraph in for a big hug. For once, Seraph did not feel uncomfortably squeezed. Hunter drew away with a concerned look on his face.
“Hey Seraph, you alright? You look real pale, like, even more than usual.”
“Heh, heh, guess I haven’t been taken care of myself too much lately. Been too focused on my work.”
“Well you gotta go fer a ride with me tomorrow then. Get some sun and exercise.”
“We’ll see.”

A short woman with frizzy hair and large spectacles arrived on the scene. She bowed before the two royals and asked excitedly.
“What do you need from me yer majesties?”
“I’d like you to inspect this poor guard who was attacked just a few minutes ago. It’s a strange wound I ain’t seen before.” Hunter replied.
“Let’s see what he’s got.”
Gilbatrax inspected the guard’s bloody neck. Her eyes widened and she stepped back in shock.
“Yer majesty, I seen this before. I inspected the wounds of several of Zersto’s soldiers who had died mysteriously before our troops assaulted his camp. My research makes it quite clear. This here guard has been bit by a vampire.”
“Vampire?!” Hunter and several of the guards exclaimed.
“Yes. Luckily he won’t turn. He’d have to be drained and buried fer that to happen. But this means there’s at least one vampire loose in this palace and the city.”
“We should put the palace on lockdown. Send guards to Elaina immediately.” Seraph interjected with faux panic.
“Yer right brother. Alright y'all! I want this whole place swept and secure in five minutes. If we don’t find the intruder, search the streets. We can’t let this monster escape. I want guards protectin me, Princess Elaina, and Prince Seraph at all times.” Hunter turned to Seraph.
“Get some rest brother. You can talk to me about this weddin tomorrow.”
“Lookin forward to it.” Seraph smiled. As soon as Hunter left, he dropped his facade. Seraph marched off to his bedroom and lay in his bed pretending to sleep. The hunger persisted, but thankfully it was quieter now. What if Hunter grew suspicious? No, he would ever catch on. Gilbatrax? She doesn’t have a reason yet. But how would he figure out how to operate in the daylight? He can’t let anyone think anything is off or out of the ordinary, not now. Seraph’s hands shook. He clenched them to stop their unconscious movement. Seraph pondered and pondered what he would do. He’d figure it out. He always did.
Seraph awaited for morning to arrive before he enacted his plan. He opened his door with his head full of bed hair and looked out to see who was guarding his room. All that stood there was an unassuming guard approaching his thirties. The guard turned to the prince as the door opened.
“Good mornin yer majesty.”
“Good mornin. Yer the only guard assigned to me?”
“Yes sir.”
“Excellent. What’s yer name?”
“Mont.”
“Well Mont…” Seraph stared deeply into Mont’s eyes.
“Yer gonna answer directly to me fer awhile.” Mont gazed blankly back at Seraph. Then he nodded.
“Alright.”
“Wonderful. Now, I need you to go into town and pick up a few things fer me. By me a ring of radiant protection, an unenchanted silver ring, and an umbrella.”
Seraph handed Mont a bag filled with gold.
“Yes sir.” Mont responded vacantly. The guard made his way to the marketplace.

Seraph went back into his room and began writing down notes and drawing up schematics. It was quite common for articles of clothing to be enchanted to protect the wearer from some type of threat. As many spells and magical effects employed searing light to inflict damage, such clothes were sometimes enchanted to mitigate the effects of radiant damage. Seraph figured that maybe he could repurpose the enchantment to help protect him from the sun. He’d need the other ring to store the new enchantment.
A knock came at the door.
“Yes?” Seraph replied impatiently.
“Yer majesty, yer brother would like to go ridin with you now.”
“Tell him I just puked.”
“Oh, ok yer highness. Right away yer highness.”

Seraph tsked to himself. He didn’t have time for Hunter’s games. And who knows what being exposed so directly to the sun would do to him. Seraph returned to his work.
Had he gone too far? Was killing those people worth it? Had he traded one curse for another? Seraph pressed his quill into the parchment. He had taken care of it. No time for doubts. No time for second guessing. It was worth it, and the curse is gone. Is it really?
Mont entered the room before Seraph could scream in frustration. Seraph looked up.
“How the hell did you get back here so quickly?”
“It’s been two hours.” Mont flatly replied.
Seraph shook his head. He was never good at keeping track of time.
“Put them down on my desk. Keep holdin the umbrella of course.” Mont complied.
Seraph examined the two rings. Exactly what he needed. He got to work immediately.

It was not long before he had finished. Seraph nodded with satisfaction at his work. The newly enchanted ring should be adequate to protect him in the shade for a short time. The umbrella would provide that shade consistently. But the tournament at the Force Dome would certainly last for hours, and it may be accompanied by a horribly sunny day. He couldn’t look sick and weak in front of Tu’ong. He especially couldn’t risk being actually harmed by the light. He needed something to help guarantee there wouldn’t be too much sun.
Seraph skimmed through his notes. Of course! A scroll with the spell Control Weather etched into it. He could make the sky incredibly cloudy. That would certainly be enough. But the only place he could probably acquire such a rare scroll would be from the Great Library of Heka. He could get into the library easily enough. He was a student at the university afterall, but even for them the scroll would be in short supply. It would undoubtedly be expensive to obtain from them.
“Mont, stay here. I’m gonna have a chat with my brother.”
“Alright.”

Seraph strolled out of his bedroom towards Hunter’s personal quarters to coax the needed funds out of him. In the past, it would have been easier for Seraph to charm one of the guards of the royal treasury to allow him to take the gold directly, but they had been replaced with elves recently. Seraph had suggested it to Hunter himself. After all, those of elvish descent were far less susceptible to charming magic than other races.
Seraph made sure to enter the room slowly, dragging his feet behind him. He let his face sag and coughed violently as he entered. Hunter sat at a desk looking over some papers. He said without looking up.
“Good news brother, we found a vampire last night feedin on a pedestrian. We executed him this mornin by lettin the sun turn him to dust.” Hunter looked up from his papers and his vibrant expression turned to one of concern.
“Oh wow you really are sick Sara. Take a seat! You didn’t have to come all the way over here. You oughta be restin.”
“Oh but I did need to brother.” Seraph responded in a sickly, hoarse voice.
“There’s somethin very important I need yer help with.”
“Oh? What’s that brother?” Hunter replied eager to help.
“I plan on being wed soon to Princess Cassia of Center City. We will unite our houses and cities together.”
“Well that’s great!”
“But I need a dowry to seal the deal.”
“Oh of course brother. How much?”
“5,000 gold pieces.”
“Oh.” Hunter looked at the floor a little less sure of himself than before.
“Well, that’s a lotta money, and we could sure use that to fund the repairs of the city. Lotta people still need their homes rebuilt and that costs money, of course.”
“I understand Hunter. You are a good king. I promise, after the marriage is finalized, I will convince the king of Center City to pour even more funds into the rebuilding effort.”
“Really?! Why that’d be great! In that case, absolutely Seraph. I’ll write a check for ya.” Hunter enthusiastically pulled out a check and wrote out the requested sum. He stamped it with his royal seal and handed it to Seraph.
“Now make sure yer all rested up fer the big day.”
“I will brother.” Seraph said with a smile.
“By the way, you ought to come witness the tournament that is taking place in honor of the wedding. That way you will be in town for when the ceremony takes place.”
“Why sure! I’ll get Gilbatrax to send me and a team of servants and guards over in a couple days. I just gotta do some preparations.”
“Of course brother.”
Seraph left rather satisfied with the result. Everything was coming together. He returned to Mont and directed the guard to follow him with the umbrella out to the courtyard. Seraph produced a stick of enchanted chalk from his bag and drew an elaborate circle on the ground.
“Next stop Mont, Heka.” He said to the guard.

The two vanished from Wolnocc and appeared in the town of Heka. The town was just as Seraph had remembered it. Vendors on the street offered overpriced souvenirs related to the university to students and tourists from all over the realm. Students gossipped and chatted on their way to their classes or to pick up groceries and school supplies.
The University of Heka loomed over the simple community before it. It’s magnificent eight ivory towers rose above the very walls protecting the town. A silver arch stood over the entrance and welcomed students and visitors alike inside. The only comparable structure in size and magnificence the small was the Great Library of Heka whose three turquoise domes reflected the light of the sun beautifully to create a glowing effect around the building.

Seraph shivered as he took in the environment. He had many memories of this place, most of them bad. Seraph obscured his face with his staff and Mont’s umbrella as they walked to the library. He did not want anyone to recognize him. The last thing he wanted was to be confronted with his disgraceful departure from the university again.
As they walked up the steps laid before the library, Seraph looked up and saw the motto of the university sculpted into the entrance’s archway.
Knowledge is

Knowledge is power. Seraph thought to himself. The motto was meant to be finished with whatever the reader or speaker interpreted knowledge to be. Seraph had determined long ago his conclusion.

The library was incredibly spacious with shelves filled with books rising several stories high. Some were sealed by powerful wards. Clerks and attendants flew around the library fetching books and scrolls for visitors. Seraph and Mont walked up to a middle aged gnome serving as a clerk.
“May I help you?” The gnomish woman asked politely.
“Yes. I would like to purchase a scroll of ‘control weather’ from the library today.” Seraph replied.
“Well that is a rare and powerful scroll indeed. I’ll have to see your authorization.”
Seraph stared deeply into her eyes.
“Why don’t we just forgo that.” The gnomish woman nodded with a blank expression on her face.
“Sure.”
“The scroll?”
“Uh yes. It seems we have three in stock. The cost will be 7,500 gold pieces.”
“Why don’t ya just get it fer me?”
“I’m sorry sir, but I cannot access it without entering the proper value of money.”
“Fine. Here’s this check and…” Seraph pulled out the golden violin the party had acquired so long ago.
“This violin.”
“Ah yes. This ought to be enough. Now I must warn you, removing this scroll from its place in the library will put the guards on alert. They may ask you as well for your authorization.”
“Thanks fer the tip. I got it.”
“Very well.”
The clerk cast fly upon herself with her wand and launched off of her chair over to one of the many shelves. Seraph scanned the wide open room. There were several mages dressed in bright yellow robes that signified them as guards. It would be no small feet getting past them. He could not hope to charm all of them or to counter all of their spells. Seraph tapped his fingers impatiently. He was so close to making it work. Fate would not undercut him this time. He was prepared.
“Mont, wait for me outside.”
“Yes sir.” Mont complied.
The clerk returned with the scroll in hand and gave it to Seraph.
“Have an excellent day.” She said flatly.
Seraph nodded and tucked the scroll underneath his robes. He walked calmly towards the exit. A pair of guards looked and each other and began to approach him. One called out.
“Did you just purchase a scroll of control weather?”
Seraph kept walking.
“You need to show your authorization for that.” The guard said as the two picked up their pace.
Seraph kept walking. Some of the other guards noticed and began approaching Seraph as well. A few stood in front of the exit.
“Stop!” One called out.

Seraph kept walking. Three of the mages immediately cast hold on Seraph. It had no effect on him. Seraph bolted for the exit. Several of the guards cast hold on Seraph but to no avail. The guards in front of the exit tried to grab Seraph as he ran towards them. He slipped right past them.

Amid shouts of confusion and orders to halt, Seraph escaped the library and sprinted to Mont. He grabbed the man’s hand and cast dimension door. The two of them stepped through and came out in a random alleyway in the town. Seraph immediately drew a teleportation circle on the ground and transported them to his room in the palace of Center City.

When they arrived, Seraph yelled with triumph. He had done it! He had beaten the curse and worked his way around the troubles of vampirism. No one would suspect his transformation until it was far too late to stop him or go back on their deals. He had won. He defeated fate. Seraph was victorious.

Chapter 35: Rygo and Halor

Chapter Text

“Have you heard of the might of Halor?” A royal attendant asked Rygo as he sprinkled enchanted dust onto the dragonborn’s scales that made them shine.
“No. It won’t matter either when I put him on his back.” Rygo replied gruffly.
“They say he is a master of the blade and arcane. He’s defeated many nobles and heroes in duels such as these. I’ve heard he even took a frost giant down single handedly.” The attendant blushed as he gushed over Halor.
“Lucky for him this won’t be a duel to the death then. As for the giant, they’re far too slow.” Rygo responded dismissively.
“Oh? Have you faced a giant?” The attendant asked challengingly.
“No.” Rygo turned to the attendant and boasted.
“But I have fought demons.” The attendant nodded his head in admiration as he brushed Rygo’s scales.
Another attendant rushed in.
“Sir Rygo, a man who claims to be under your charge says he must see you at once. It’s urgent.”
“Let him in.”

A man scrambled into the room. His hair was disheveled, his clothes were torn, and he was covered in cuts and bruises. The man bent over and gasped for breath. Rygo walked over and pulled the man upright by the back of his shirt.
“What’s wrong with you?” Rygo asked irritably.
“So-so-sorry sir. It’s been a long journey, and I’ve been running for a long time.”
“Well what for?” The man caught his breath and swallowed.
“We went into the Dragon Lands just as you told us to sir. We pillaged a few villages and caravans on the way. It was great. Nobody really bothered us. There were some big ass creatures there, but with so many of us, we took down any of them that were stupid enough to cause us trouble.”
“So what’s the problem? Was it the dwarves?” A hint of fear escaped Rygo’s voice.
“No sir, it wasn’t dwarves. It was dragons! We traveled south and wound up in a swamp somehow. We got slowed down and spread out. It wasn’t long before this huge, gigantic, f*cking enormous black dragon with two heads came out and started killing us like we were dumbass sheep to be slaughtered.”
“A dragon? Why did it attack you?” Rygo had become concerned and perplexed at this point.
“I don’t know boss. The two heads just kept shouting ‘We are Zurakere! You have invaded our lands, and you must die puny humanoids!’ It was slaughtering our men by the hundreds. I escaped with about a hundred of our troops to get help from you.”
“Are they still with you?”
“No sir. We went through this rainforest where an enormous green dragon ambushed us and wiped out our entire company. Except for me. She pinned me down and told me ‘Tell your little master that I appreciate him sending me such a delightful meal. I hope he comes by with more’.”
“And what was her name?”
“Tolehor.”

Rygo slumped down in a nearby chair. He held his hand in his head. How could he have lost so many of his soldiers so suddenly? He knew the Dragon Lands was dangerous, but he did not remember any armies being consumed whole by it. Then again, he had never heard of an army successfully marching through the region. Unless it was the Kythrilian dwarves. They were far more capable than what he had sent out. Rygo closed his eyes and winced as he asked
“How many are left?”
“Not many sir. I’d wager just over a thousand if we’re lucky.”
Rygo sighed heavily. Before he could reflect further on the news, the rest of the party walked into the room.
“Well if it ain’t my champion.” Seraph strolled in and clapped a firm hand on Rygo’s shoulder. He smiled widely as he asked
“Ya ready for this buddy?” Rygo shook his head and met Seraph’s eyes.
“Yea. He doesn’t stand a chance.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Seraph laughed.
“I’m countin on you, but I got no worries you’ll win.”
“Do you know his fighting style?” Mags chirped with a tinge of nervousness.
“I’m not too worried about it. I’ll beat him either way, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to know.”
“Shock and awe. He’ll try to knock you down with his magic and then finish you with his blade. Don’t get discouraged by his use of the arcane. He doesn’t have much. If you can last through it, you’ll win.”
“Huh, thanks Mags. I guess that is good to know.” Rygo turned to Glorfindel to see what he would say. The half-elf shrugged.
“I don’t really care how ya do to be honest. But it’ll be fun to watch ya kick some ass.”
“Heh, heh. You always know how to make me laugh Glorfindel.”
“I look forward to watchin you win Rygo.” Seraph said with a smile.
“And I’ll be sure to commit Center City’s troops to the Dragon Lands once we join houses.” He finished with a wink. The party walked off. Mags stayed behind.
Rygo could hear Glorfindel tease Seraph in the distance.
“Damn Seraph. Can’t yer ugly ass managed to snag such a beautiful princess.”
“Try bein a royal. It sure would increase yer chances.” Seraph laughed in reply.
Mags turned to Rygo and said in a hushed tone.
“You should know Rygo, after this fight, you won’t be safe in Center City. Katak has a hit on you. I’d get out of here as soon as you can.” Mags turned to waddle off. Rygo put his hand on her shoulder before she could leave. She turned around slowly.
“Thank you Mags. You tried to protect my brother, and now you’re trying to protect me. You’ve been good to my family. I’ll make it up to you.”
“You already did. You saved me from Draven.” Mags chirped.
“Well, heh heh. That’s what partners do.” Mags smiled and skipped merrily away.

Rygo sank back into his chair. His army decimated, and now Katak wants him dead? How could he avenge his clan? How could he finally fulfill the promise him and Fus Roh made so many years ago? All of this fighting. All of this rage and violence for it to fall apart at the end.
Rygo stood up. The dwarves will pay. They must suffer for what they did. He had something Fus Roh and him never had after they left the Dragon Lands. He had a team. Mags had protected him. Seraph will provide a new, larger army. Glorfindel will support him as always. All he had to do was defeat Halor. Katak could be dealt with. He couldn’t be that powerful. But surviving the Dragon Lands and defeating the dwarves would require more than just an army. Didn’t Katak mention an Omnishield?
Rygo had heard rumors of it before. An artifact of immense power greater than armies or even dragons some said. Perhaps it could provide enough strength to destroy the Kythrilian dwarves once and for all. But that could be dealt with later. For now he had to defeat Halor. It would all come down to that. Rygo cracked his knuckles, neck, and back. A wicked smile crept up his face. He stomped out of the room and to the door opening up to the arena of the Force Dome stadium.

The stadium filled to the brim with expectant audience members chatting and betting excitedly about the upcoming contest. Blood sport was a common sight at the Force Dome, but a duel of such high stakes with such renowned warriors was a special treat. Ale and snacks were served to the voracious attendees made up of various races and classes.
Few complained about the dark, overcast sky, or the mist floating throughout the stadium. Some said it made the whole atmosphere surrounding the fight even cooler. The earthy arena was easily visible despite the dim light of the day due to the many torches and summoned magical lights surrounding it.
Mags and Nothos sat in the section of the commons. They chatted about the upcoming event.
“What do you think?” Nothos asked his companion with a quizzical smirk.
“It will work. If it doesn’t, we’re f*cked.” Mags replied gravely.
Nothos leaned back with his arms stretched out.
“It’s a good scheme. And a lot of that’s thanks to your clever little head. Not to mention gathering some of the most powerful people in the realm together against him. I heard Tu’ong was royally pissed when he found out.” Mags chuckled at the bad pun despite herself. Nothos looked at Mags with a more serious expression and said,
“Whatever happens, we’ll survive. We’re survivors.”
“Yea. But I hope we’ll be more than that someday.” Mags responded wistfully.
“I think you already are.” A raspy voice came out from behind the two.
Mags’ feathers bristled as she spun around with her hand crossbow drawn. Nothos jumped and drew his shortswords. They saw Calla Lily with his hands raised.
“Was it something I said?” He asked sheepishly.
Mags and Nothos breathed a sigh of relief and laughed uncomfortably to dispel the tension.
“Just don’t sneak up on us, okay?” Mags chirped.
“Oh, I should have thought of that.” Calla Lily looked away with shame.
“Come down and sit with us Master Assassin. No need to look so mopey.” Nothos waved Calla Lily over. The living corpse slipped down into the seat next to Mags.
“Have you thought about what we’ll do after today? To save the realm from the Horde?” Calla Lily asked the other two.
“Well Dad’s still got plan A. I don’t know if there’ll be enough time though.” Nothos responded glumly.
“Maybe not. But there is the Omnishield isn’t there?” Mags turned to Nothos as she asked.
“Yea it might be powerful enough if the legends about it are true. It’ll be hard to get to though.”
“Difficulty has never stopped us before.” Calla Lily responded.
“Hm, fair enough. If anyone can do it, it’ll be you guys. I’ll be tied down winning my father’s war though.” Nothos replied.
“I’ll be taking a stab at it myself.” Aelius said as he approached the three from Nothos’ side.
“Oh Mags, how can we talk about anything with all of these eavesdroppers?!” Nothos mockingly exclaimed.
“Are you coming with us?” Mags co*cked her head in surprise.
“Oh no. I don’t trust that Rygo character. He’s a bloodthirsty warlord.” Aelius replied.
“Hm, he’s not all bad. I’m sure he can come around. His brother was a pretty good person after all.” Mags countered.
“Whatever the case may be, I’ve got another group picked out. I trust them to do the right thing with the immense power of the artifact. Besides, having two parties searching for it should increase our odds of success.”
“I guess.”
“I’ll join you Mags.” Calla Lily said assuredly.
“It will be a wonderful opportunity to see how you’ve grown, and for me to live out my new found purpose.”
“What’s that?” The kenku asked.
“To protect people who can’t defend themselves.” He said proudly.
“I don’t need any protection.”
“You don’t, but I’m sure there will be vulnerable people in the Dragon Lands. Besides, that’s what we’re doing with saving Tesalach from the Horde. We could easily save ourselves if that’s all we cared about.”
“Why are you leaving Aelius? Won’t Vladik want you here to keep whispering into the king’s ear?” Nothos asked the old wizard. Aelius scoffed in response.
“I don’t care what orders he has for me. He’s refused to use Center City’s army to defend the realm against the Horde once he marries into the royalty. He thinks it isn’t enough of a threat for us to act so brazenly.”
“Humph. Selfish asshole.” Nothos remarked.
“It’s about time we took our positions.” Aelius said.

The rest nodded. Everyone walked off to other sections of the stadium. As Nothos got up to leave, he winked at Mags and said.
“See ya later, old friend.”
“I hope so.” Mags replied.

Hunter waved excitedly at Seraph who sat in the royal booth next to King Tu’ong and Glorfindel. Seraph politely waved back and showed a small smile. Still smiling, he leaned over to Tu’ong and said
“I can’t wait to be declared yer future son-in-law today.”
“We’ll see.” The king curtly replied with a flat expression.

Seraph took a sip of the fine wine served at the booth. Perhaps the king regretted his decision to have the contest come down to this? He did seem to prefer Halor before Seraph had saved his life. No matter. He had made a public declaration. Seraph determined to make sure he honored his vow.
“You alright Seraph? Lookin rather pale.” Glorfindel asked teasingly with a hint of concern.
“Never better. Just been workin on some new spells fer the past few days.” Seraph deflected.
“Well that doesn’t explain why ya haven’t been lookin me in the eye lately.”
“I said I’m fine. Why don’t you go flirt with a duch*ess or somethin.” Seraph replied rather irritated.

Glorfindel took a long sip of his wine. Something was up, but he knew better than to push Seraph on it. But he couldn’t help the nagging feeling that there was something major he wasn’t telling him. Glorfindel decided to ask his friend later that night after they both were hammered. He’d be much more amenable by then. Glorfindel changed the subject.
“What do ya think Rygo’s chances are?”
“Oh I don’t know, but I have the utmost confidence in his victory.”
“Saw it in one of yer visions?”
“Nah, just a good feelin.” Seraph had not bothered to consult the fates for his fortune of the day. He had defeated fate. He had no need for it any longer.

Golden horns draped with the banners of Center City sounded from the royal booth calling the crowd’s attention to the king. The people silenced themselves as they saw the ruler of Center City rise and address the crowd. Aided by the enchantment of a court bard, Tu’ong’s commanding and pleasant voice boomed throughout the stadium and was heard by all of the massive audience.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and those that lie betwixt, today you shall witness in the most glorious city in the realm, a truly monumental event. It shall determine the husband of my daughter and be recounted by the scholars and artists alike for ages to come. Noble and common, rich and poor, foreign and local, I welcome you to the Force Dome to witness HISTORY!!”

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Mages set to work casting spells in tandem to create a transparent wall of arcane power that separated the audience from the arena below.
Glorfindel leaned over and whispered to Seraph.
“Sure thinks highly of himself.” He said mockingly.
“Yes.” Seraph replied with a chuckle. The monarch of Center City’s job was to put on a good show for the world. Tu’ong was quite skilled in that. By their standards he was an excellent king.

Two gates on opposite ends of the arena opened. Out came Halor dressed in green painted armor with gold streaks. He sat atop a beautiful white horse. His shield bore the crest of the Lake of Life, a single drop of water. Halor flipped his golden hair back and waved elegantly at the crowd. They cheered in response, and he smiled smugly as he awaited his opponent.

Rygo rode slowly out of the gate wearing the black and red armor he had taken from his brother’s killer. The horse he rode had skin and fur that was dark as night. Rygo glared at Halor with all of the rage and hatred he bore for the Kythrilian dwarves. A small smile crept his face as he saw the elf shudder ever so slightly.

The two lowered their lances and began to charge. The crowd rose up in an uproar as their weapons clashed against their shields. Rygo fell from his horse to the ground. His horse ran on without him. Rygo staggered back to his feet as Halor charged him with his lance.

Rygo turned his head away then whipped it back and spit fire at the feet of Halor’s steed. The horse bucked wildly as it attempted to avoid the flames throwing its rider off to the ground. Rygo rushed Halor to finish him quickly. The elf drew a sword black as ebony and pointed it at Rygo. Halor shouted a couple words in elvish and two bolts of black energy shot out from the tip of the sword and connected with Rygo’s chest.
Rygo stumbled backwards and held his shield up reflexively to defend from further attack. When no follow attack came, Rygo peeked over his shield. His eyes widened as a bolt of black lightning leapt from Halor’s sword and ran straight through his body. He roared with pain and fell to the ground. The lightning shot out to the audience but bounced harmlessly off of the arcane force dome and ran back into the ground.
Halor ran towards Rygo and stabbed with his sword at the dragonborn’s throat. Rygo waited until Halor reached him then swept his legs underneath catching his opponent’s ankles and knocking him to the ground. The two stood back up. Rygo put his hands to his chest and his body glowed an ethereal white light as his strength returned to him.
Halor fired another pair of magical bolts at Rygo, but the dragonborn blocked them effortlessly. Rygo swung and connected with Halor’s shield. A strange mixture of black and white burst out from Rygo’s hammer and cracked the shield. Halor dropped it and switched to a half sword technique.
Rygo swung, but Halor deftly dodged. Rygo swung again, but Halor danced around him. Halor stabbed Rygo’s back shoulder before he could spin around and defend himself. Halor’s footwork was far better.
Halor smirked at his opponent's slowness. He laughed scornfully as he landed blow after blow against Rygo’s joints. Rygo tried to keep up with Halor’s spins and turns but to no avail. His blood dropped heavily to the ground.

After dodging another of Rygo’s attacks, Halor spun fancily and flourished his sword before launching a bolt of lightning from it straight into Rygo. Rygo fell to one knee. He breathed heavily as he struggled to muster the strength to stand up.
“Pathetic. I heard you and your brother were two of the greatest warriors in the realm. No wonder he fell. Just as you will today, foolish brute.” Halor mocked.
Rygo’s jaw clenched. How dare this arrogant fop insult his brother?! He could not let him win. He could not let Fus Roh down.

Halor raised his sword up to bring his pommel crashing down upon Rygo’s skull. But Rygo acted first. With a roar, the dragonborn swung his hammer against the elf’s knee. It bent inward with a crunch. Halor cried out with pain, but was shut up with a shield bash to his face. Rygo tackled Halor to the ground and raised his hammer to strike the finishing blow.
“I yield!” Halor cried out.
Rygo panted heavily as he stared down at his opponent. His chest rose and fell rapidly then slower and slower. He saw the widened eyes and quivering lip of Halor. Rygo grunted with annoyance at the elf’s cowardice and stood up with his hammer and shield raised in victory.

Chapter 36: A Public Ceremony

Chapter Text

The crowd erupted in applause and cheers for the spectacular end to the contest. Seraph clapped slowly with a smirk on his face. Mags nervously clenched her fists. Rygo laughed gleefully in reaction to the praise. Glorfindel mockingly chided Halor’s foolishness for accepting a duel against the dragonborn.

Several attendees rushed out of the gates of the arena. A few tended to Rygo and Halor and healed their wounds. Others brought out sets of a partially constructed stage and put them together. The rest laid out flowers around the arena and dressed the stage in decorative gold and blue silk.

King Tu’ong rose from his seat and nodded to Seraph. The two along with Cassia made their way down to the stage set up in the center of the arena.

Rygo and Halor were instructed to stand off to the side. The two glanced at one another and then looked away with disgust. Halor presumed a pouty glare at the ground. Rygo looked up triumphantly at the still cheering crowd.

Seraph strode his way to the stage. His hands shook and his stomach turned. Was he nervous? Of course he was. Finally, the culmination of all of his efforts had arrived. Rygo had proved loyal and able. He had played Katak long enough to save his city and regain proper standing in the realm’s noble society. He had survived countless battles that threatened his very life. He overcame a dark curse with his creativity and mastery of the arcane. Not even vampirism could hold him back.

Seraph looked around at the many faces in the crowd. Soon they would be applauding him for saving the realm. He looked back at Glorfindel. He’d make sure he shared in his immortality. Mags and Rygo could join if they so choose. His eyes wandered back to the stage. At last, he approached the destiny he had created himself.

The three royals walked up the steps to the center of the stage. King Tu’ong beamed as he smiled and waved to the crowd. Cassia set her eyes straight forward staring out blankly like a fresh corpse. Seraph held out his diamond staff and looked fondly upon it. Surely, his father would be proud of him now.

King Tu’ong raised one hand to quiet down the crowd. As their clamor shrank, Tu’ong stepped forward. He announced with a booming voice and an elated smile
“As promised, this contest of champions would determine the rightful suitor for my daughter, Cassia. I have seen all that I need to in order to come to my final decision.”
Tu’ong turned around and pointed his hand at Seraph.
“Prince Seraph Grimlock of Wolnocc, receive your just dues.”

Suddenly, a shimmering pale blue ring manifested just behind Seraph. Inside the ring was a dark void plane of existence. Seraph’s robes jolted back towards the ring as though they were being sucked into it. Seraph tried to react but was pulled into the void before he could. He screamed in surprise. The ring closed as soon as his whole body had disappeared into the void.
“WHAT?!” Glorfindel, Hunter, and Rygo shouted from where they stood in outrage, distress, and shock respectively.

The crowd gasped. Cassia froze in fear. Royal guards rushed down to the front row of the arena and drew loaded crossbows aimed at the stage. Various cloaked people in the audience drew crossbows of their own. Halor laughed and pointed his sword where Seraph had vanished. Aelius walked down the aisle to the arena mumbling in elvish. He flicked his hand, which bore a pale blue glowing ring, in a precise pattern. Calla Lily prepared a dart. Nothos notched an arrow in his bow. Mags drew her crossbow.

King Tu’ong stepped forward and declared with righteous fury.
“This foreign prince has betrayed my trust and all of the living! He is a monstrous vampire seeking to corrupt MY daughter and subjugate our glorious city to his whims! He will NOT triumph! We will nip his ascent to domination in the bud! For the sake of all of the living in all of Tesalach, Seraph Grimlock dies today!!”

Hunter screamed in agony. Rygo stepped back in shock unable to process what was happening. Glorfindel hastily created a mimic and sent it sprinting down towards the stage. If the mimic could touch Seraph when he reappeared, it could create a dimension door and take him to safety. Glorfindel didn’t care for whatever lies they said about his friend. He wasn’t going to let them kill him.
King Tu’ong led Cassia off of the stage.
“Wouldn’t want to get his vile blood all over you dear.” He whispered to her.
She shook her head and pushed her father away.
“At least you draw the line somewhere when marrying me off.” She hissed as she stormed off. Tu’ong let her go. Of course she would be upset by this ordeal.
Several seconds passed as everyone held their breath waiting for Seraph to reappear. Glorfindel’s mimic sprinted desperately towards the stage still making its way down the stadium.
Katak strode down into the arena. Dressed in his plate armor, Katak walked towards the stage with a scroll in his hand. He stopped and unfurled it. He shouted out.
“With the spell inscribed in this scroll, I will erase Seraph’s remains and cleanse Tesalach of his evil.”

Katak chanted, in the ancient tongue of dragons and dragonborn, the words written upon the scroll, and he raised an open palm to the sky. A beam of sunlight shone through the overcast sky and reached to his hand. The light amalgamated in Katak’s hand and grew larger and larger.
Glorfindel’s mimic ran up the stairs of the stage.
Aelius’ hand stopped. His lips ceased moving.
Seraph reappeared.
Scores of bolts and arrows launched into the wizard. Black lightning shot towards him. He created an arcane shield to protect him, but it could not stop all of the blows.
Glorfindel’s mimic dove for Seraph but fell through his misty remains.
“NOOOOOOO!!” Hunter screamed with tears flowing down his face as he collapsed.
Glorfindel fell back into his chair with his hands gripping his distraught face. How could he have failed to save him?

The pool of light that gathered in Katak’s hand stretched out in a beam towards Seraph’s misty body. It refracted throughout the water droplets making Seraph glow brightly with the light of the sun before disappearing completely. Seraph Grimlock was dead.

A sigh of relief was let out by all who took part. The crowd’s reaction was mixed. Some cried out in protest. Others cheered that justice had been served. Many murmured to one another, trying to understand what had happened and how to feel about it. Those near Hunter tried to console him, but the sobbing king would not let anyone near him. Glorfindel picked himself up and stormed out of the stadium. Rygo gaped slack jawed at the stage. He tried to process what had taken place before him.

Seraph was a vampire?! Of course people would fear him then. But now Center City’s army won’t join my campaign! Damn it! Everything is going wrong today! And Katak is just standing over there thinking he can put a hit on me and get away with it.

Rygo stepped towards the king of Archai and shouted.
“Katak you coward! I know you’ve put a bounty on my head! Are you so afraid of me you could not steele yourself to declare me your enemy publicly?! Heh heh, you should be! When I return from the Dragon Lands, you better hide yourself well from my wrath!”

King Tu’ong and Halor looked to Katak with mocking smiles. A fair portion of the crowd ooohed at the public indictment. Katak stiffened up, glared at Rygo, then walked calmly but deliberately out of the arena without replying.

Tu’ong and Halor laughed and went over to one another to discuss the upcoming wedding. Rygo grunted in satisfaction and began to walk up the aisle of the stadium. He saw Mags talking with Calla Lily, Nothos, and Aelius. Rygo approached them. Aelius got up and said with a polite nod.
“It’s time I got going. There are preparations to be made.”
“Me too.” Nothos said.
“Father will be wanting to discuss this whole fiasco.”
The two Shadow Cult members split off and left the party. Calla Lily turned to Rygo and stared curiously.
“You look different from before.” He said in his raspy voice.
“Uh yea heh, heh.” Rygo laughed awkwardly.
“Do I know you?”
“You met me outside of the city.”
“Oh yea! You knew Mags and ambushed her or somethin.”
“Sort of. And I knew your brother too.”
“Ah, yea. Treat him well? He always was a bit more sensitive than me heh, heh.”
“I didn’t interact with him much. But he was a good person. I share his mission in saving Tesalach from its impending threat.”
“Huh, sure why not? The more the better. We’re down one anyway.” Rygo slumped down into a chair next to Mags. He threw up his arms as he asked the kenku.
“The f*ck just happened? Did you have any idea Seraph was a vampire?”
“No. My head is still spinning about it. But it must have happened after Draven.”
“Yea? f*ck. It’s no wonder they killed him, but he was our biggest ally in this whole thing. We took a huge f*cking step back from this.”
“Yea, but we have other options. We could get the Omnishield?”
Rygo’s brows rose.
“You think so? I guess it would take the stuff of legend to turn things around now. I’ll try to figure things out myself, but I like the idea. Either way, we’re going to the Dragonlands right?”
“Definitely. What are you planning on doing?”
“Heh heh, I can’t tell ya everything. But I’ve got my own schemes.” Rygo tried to wink but blinked with a scrunched face instead.
“Sure thing Rygo.” Mags said skeptically. Rygo stood up and stretched his body.
“Well, I’m gonna go rest this whole thing off. How do you think Glorfindel is handling this whole thing?”
“Not well.” Mags replied.
“f*cking sh*t!!” Glorfindel yelled as he threw a bag of clothes to the side.
“Where the f*ck is it?!”

Glorfindel tore through his bags of clothes, brewing supplies, and jewelry. He launched every object at the wall with all of the rage and frustration he wished he could take out on the world. They killed him. They murdered him! His best friend. The smartest man he ever knew. They just killed him because of some bullsh*t claim he was a vampire.

Did they bother to ask Seraph about it? Did they ask HIM about it? He of all people would know. If Seraph had ever gone and done something so wild and crazy, he would have told him about it.
Some rumor got Seraph killed and what did Rygo do about it? NOTHING! What did Mags do? NOTHING! The f*ck is wrong with them?! He did everything he could to save Seraph. He sent his mimic, he was so f*cking close, and he could have done it if anyone, Anyone, tried to save him too.

f*ck this bullsh*t and f*ck them too! f*ck the city, f*ck Katak, f*ck Halor, f*ck whoever that wizard guy was, and f*ck Mags and Rygo for doing not a goddamn thing!
Glorfindel finally latched onto what he was looking for. A flask made of pure silver containing what remained of the first batch of whisky Glorfindel and Seraph ever made together. He and Seraph had promised to share it when either of them were on their deathbed. Glorfindel unscrewed the cap and threw the flask back. He coughed up and dry heaved horrendously after getting halfway through. It was too much, and his first batch was sh*t.

Glorfindel slumped down to the floor. The whisky hit him quickly. His head swiveled from side to side and the room spun around. Glorfindel focused on the flask to center himself. He rubbed the Grimlock crest on it fondly.
“I miss ya already.” Glorfindel said forlornly.
“Why’d ya let em getcha like that? Yer smarter than that?” Glorfindel sniffled.
“I- I can’t believe it. It can’t be true. We had so much more to do together. I was so happy when you came back. Now yer leavin again? Cmon man. Just- just- please. I missed ya so much. I don’t wanna miss ya again.”
The tears plopped on the floor. Glorfindel buried his face in his knees. He cried for hours.
After his tears were exhausted, Glorfindel lifted himself from his knees. He lifted the flask to his lips, but stopped as he spotted a letter on the floor. He picked it up and took a look.
Noble Adventurer
You’ve caught my attention. You’re skill and good will has impressed me. Please meet me at the Plastered Beggar’s tonight. I have a proposal you might be interested in.
Glorfindel smiled.
“At least somethin’s goin right today. Looks like Princess Cassia’s changed her mind.”

Glorfindel picked himself up and fixed his hair and clothes. His movements were a bit sloppy, but being tipsy would just aid him in his charm. Glorfindel left the palace and hired a carriage to take him to the aforementioned tavern.

The tavern was located in a low lit, rundown neighborhood. Glorfindel tsked to himself. Why would Cassia want to meet him in a sh*thole like this? He shrugged. No one would expect the princess to rendezvous with a lover here. All the better to avoid the scandal.

Glorfindel applied his finest cologne just before walking in. The tavern was lively, but he didn’t see Cassia. He saw a hand wave him over. Glorfindel approached, but groaned with disappointment when he saw who awaited him. At the table sat Alec, Trennius, and an elder man. Glorfindel could have sworn he had seen the man before but could not place where or when.
“What do y’all want?” He complained.
“You to join us.” Alec responded matter of factly.
“The realm is under incredible threat from an invasion of a barbarian Horde. We need to stop them.”
“Sure, heard that one before. Now answer me this, Alec. Why would I join you, and why should I think y’all have any chance of stoppin the Horde?”
“You’re a good man. Better than the company you keep. We’re going to succeed, Glorfindel, because we are going to get the Omnishield.”
“Huh, I guess yer better than those traitorous f*cks. But how the hell did you get here?” He asked Trennius.
“A mutual friend brought us together.” She replied.
“Huh sure. And what about you old timer? What’s yer thing?”
“Just trying to do my best to help.” Aelius replied.
Glorfindel looked them all over. He shrugged his shoulders, took a sip of his whisky, and said.
“Why the f*ck not?”

Mags walked trepidatiously into Katak’s flat. She had been invited for dinner by the king but not told precisely why. She matted down her fluffed feathers. Wouldn’t want Katak to know she was afraid. She hoped this had nothing to do with Rygo’s outburst earlier. Why did she tell him? Why did he go and shout it out for everyone to hear? Mags shook her head. Trouble always seemed to find her. Life just refused to give her a break.

Mags opened the large oak doors leading into the dining hall. A long table stretched out before her. At the far end sat Katak with two guards standing beside him. On her end was the only other chair and a plate with some food on it. As she stepped inside to sit down, two guards closed the door behind her. The feathers on the back of her neck fluffed up, but she smoothed them out immediately. Mags sat down.

It was worse than she thought. The room had no windows, no tapestries, statues, or furniture. There was nowhere to hide. And there was no way out, but the door behind her. If Katak decided to kill her, he could do it easily. She forced a cheery smile at the stolid king.
Katak spoke first.
“Wonderful job with the execution of Seraph.”
“Thanks.” Mags replied meekly.
“I must admit, I was rather relieved. Your plan went without a hitch. Seraph would have been a real thorn to our mission had he managed to escape or uncover the plot. You have done the realm a great service. And you have proven your loyalty.”
“Thank you sir.”
Katak rose from his seat and began to walk towards Mags with heavy steps.
“Which is why I have given you the chance to explain yourself. I was quite troubled by Rygo calling me out today on my labelling him as a target for assassination. It was terribly politically damaging to me and executing the plot would only further diminish my standing. So…” Katak walked closer to Mags. The floor thudded with every step. He loomed over her and put his hand down on the table as he asked.
“Who told Rygo? Only Nothos was told, but you and him talk frequently, and I know he is wont to run his mouth with anyone he thinks he can actually trust. I’m giving you a chance Mags. Don’t disappoint me.”
Mags kept her upper body still, but her legs shook violently. She kept eye contact with Katak despite the temptation to look away. She had to think of a good lie and fast.
“It was Hassan.”
Katak’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“Really?”
“Mhm!”
Katak straightened up and took his hand off of the table. He said as he walked back to his seat.
“Hassan has always been an unpredictable meddler. I’m surprised you are familiar with him. Very well Mags. I believe you. Your loyal service is appreciated. Now we must move on to saving the realm. I will handle the war, but my efforts may not be enough. Travel to the Dragon Lands to retrieve the Omnishield and bring it back to me. With its legendary power, we will surely defeat the Horde and unite Tesalach once and for all.”
“Yes sir.” Mags replied meekly and politely.
“Hahaha. Good. Now enjoy your dinner, Mags. You’ve earned it.” Katak said as he patted her on the back.

Chapter 37: The Journey Continues

Chapter Text

Part 2

“Are you sure about this?” Keth anxiously asked Rygo.
“Of course. What’s the matter, field marshal of Center City’s army?” Rygo leaned over the small round table into the orc general’s face. He growled with a toothy grin.
“Did you lose your nerve these last two weeks?” Keth straightened his back and turned away to hide his ashamed grimace.
“No. I’ve just had time to assess the situation fully. This will stain the city’s prestige.” He replied.
“That’s exactly why they’ll send you after me. And the glory you bring home from your conquests will be even more welcome because of it.”
“But you don’t even have a plan.”
“I don’t need a plan!” Rygo exclaimed as he raised his voice in the crowded bar.
“I didn’t need a plan to defeat Zersto. I didn’t need a plan to rally his troops behind me. I didn’t need a plan to defeat Halor. I perform best in the moment. That’s what Fus Roh and I have always done and we’ve made it this far.”
“Who?” Keth responded with a perplexed expression on his face.
Rygo’s eyes widened. He looked around the room to ascertain where he was. His brow furrowed as he remembered. Rygo finished his ale with a large gulp and slammed his tankard onto the table.
“Look. I’m doing it whether you agree or not. If you want glory and honor from your people, follow me into the Dragon Lands. If you’re a coward, stay here and sulk.”

Keth’s face twisted into a glower as he stood up in reaction to the insult. Rygo’s back was already turned to him though, and the dragonborn stomped off without even leaving a tip.
Quivering hatchling. Rygo thought to himself. What else to expect from a soft skin? He would get in line though. Despite his weakness, Keth is still a warrior. And a warrior never backs down. Oh Fus Roh why couldn’t you be here? I’m about to embark on the quest of our lives. I will finally fulfill the oath we swore so long ago. I will make the dwarves suffer for what they did to our clan. I will think of you as I wreak vengeance upon them. You inspired me brother. You gave me a reason to leave that dull, placid life of “finding peace”. Your death reminded me of my rage and where I promised to direct it. I wish it hadn’t come to that, but thank you.
Rygo walked down the streets back to his guest room in the palace. He laid down in his bed to rest for the upcoming wedding procession taking place the next day.

Mags skipped merrily as she and Calla Lily traversed the streets of the Under City on their way to the Shadow Cult lair. It was finally time for her to receive her dues. She would be elevated to the top tier of the Shadow Cult. She would finally be treated as an equal rather than pushed around by the senior members. She looked over at Calla Lily and giggled. What a funny coincidence it was that the same man who Shadow Cult alongside her would receive the same honor alongside her as well.

A small smile crept up Calla Lily’s decaying face in response. He looked down at her warmly, but a thought flashed in his mind. He brought his gaze straight ahead and said in a monotone voice.
“Shame what happened to Seraph.”
“Yea, I guess. But we had to do it.” Mags said looking at the ground as she spoke.
“We could have talked to him. We were his friends. Maybe we could…” Calla Lily’s voice trailed off as he stared contemplatively ahead.
"He wouldn’t have listened. He didn’t talk with us before he became a monster. Seraph was too far gone.” Mags replied firmly. She held back angry tears at Seraph’s callousness for going down Draven’s path after seeing what he had become, what he did to her.
Too far gone? Calla Lily thought to himself. He knew in his heart Seraph would not have been redeemed. But it unsettled him. What separated him from Seraph? Both were undead and killers. Calla Lily was nothing but a killer. It was the one thing he could do. Since Wolnocc, he had tried to only kill those who were cruel or dangerous to others. He had protected many individuals from the vampires loosed by Draven. But a heavy weight still hung around his neck. A great guilt from some horrible sin that he could not remember but felt he was far from atoning for. He asked his feathered friend.
“What makes someone worthy of redemption?”
Mags shrugged.
“I don’t know. Trying to get better I guess?”
Calla Lily pondered this. Before he had valued Mags and the realm’s people for their innocence. Now he saw both were anything but. But perhaps she was right. Perhaps.

Thoughts skipped around Mags’ mind as she skipped into the Shadow Cult’s hideout. Was she any good? Could she get any better? She had caused so much suffering. Alec rightfully still hated her. Hunter probably did too. At least he will when he finds out.

Mags pat the sack of gold strapped to her side she had collected since Archai. Maybe she wasn’t good, but she could help fund those who were. Was Calla Lily good? He was alright she guessed. She didn’t know much about him. Rygo? He shares Fus Roh’s optimism and boisterousness. He has a lot of anger, but probably a kind heart as well. She sighed. At least those around her could be decent people.

The pair entered the upper chamber of the Shadow Cult’s lair. In the center of the room stood a single torch upon a stand. It’s dim flame cast as multitude of shadows twisting and changing into contorted shapes and images each instant. Beneath the torch sat a simple stone chest with a thick slab atop. Vladik and Nothos stood at the edge of the torch’s light, their faces bathed in shadow.
“Come closer.” Vladik hissed in a soft, slithery voice.
Mags and Calla Lily stepped forward until Vladik held up his hand. They stopped a few paces before the chest.
“You have done well for us. Now you will receive the full power our patron has to offer. Don’t fight it.” Vladik ordered.

Mags and Calla Lily stiffened in preparation. Vladik drew his hand forward. With a flick of his wrist, Vladik threw a red powder into the torch, and the flame burst into a great fire that flared wildly about. Its light flooded the room bathing it all in a glow as red as blood. All darkness was banished from the room, and yet Mags and Callilli saw upon the wall to their right a small silhouette of a humanoid, no larger than a hand, rise up like one awaking from a deep sleep. Their eyes widened in amazement. Vladik said with a smile
“Even in the brightest light, there is shadow.”

Vladik and Nothos began to chant in an ancient, foreboding tongue. In rhythm of their haunting melody, the shadow reached down and pulled up another humanoid shaped silhouette. The two split up and gathered more, and more, and more until every surface was covered with them. The tiny shadows ran to the stone chest and gathered around the lid. Vladik and Nothos’ chanting reached a crescendo as the shadows attempted to push the slab up from the stone it rested upon.

Suddenly, the flame blew out, and Vladik and Nothos ceased their chorus. All in the room were engulfed in darkness. After a few seconds devoid of light or sound, a turquoise glow began to shine out of the stone chest. The lid was opened just enough for a sliver of light to escape. Then out of the chest slithered inky black streams of darkness. They slid out of the box and onto the floor. They stretched towards Mags and Calla Lily and began to wrap around their legs. They felt like heavy silk.
Mags flinched and held back a scream. She had come too far to ruin this ritual. Calla Lily closed his eyes. What pain could these dark tendrils truly inflict?

In a few breaths, Mags and Calla Lily were completely wrapped in the darkness. Mags held her breath. The fear of asphyxiation swarmed into her mind, but she reminded herself that they had no intention to kill her. Nothos certainly wouldn’t allow it. She put her trust in him. Calla Lily accepted his condition and calmly awaited what would follow.

The two felt a pinch where their tattoos had been placed. The inky darkness began to slide over to their tattoos. It felt as though an ooze was seeping into their skin. Mags shuddered but prevented herself from reflexively shaking it off. The darkness started slowly then seeped in faster and faster. After a few seconds, it was gone. The room looked as it had before.
Mags let out a sigh of relief. Calla Lily nodded. Vladik and Nothos approached them with open arms and wide smiles.
“Welcome to the top tier of the Shadow Cult.” Vladik proudly announced.
“The power of our patron now flows through you as it does us.”
Nothos embraced Mags and excitedly explained.
“It’s wonderful. Once everyday, you can turn invisible, or see things for what they really are beyond all illusion. But the best part…” Nothos let go of Mags and then walked over to the shadow cast by her. He walked out of the shadow cast by Vladik.
“You can step from shadow to shadow. It’s a very useful trick.” He said with a beaming smile.
Mags sighed with relief again.
“That’s nice. I was worried this was a weird way of killing me or making me your slave.” She said.
“Oh no. After all you’ve done for our organization? The two of you deserve nothing but the highest honor.” Vladik responded.
“Thank you.” Calla Lily replied simply.
“Now, on to your next mission.” Vladik donned a more serious, professional voice.
“More and more rumors filtering through our spies and information networks point to the location of the legendary Omnishield being located deep in the Dragon Lands near or within the Kythrillian dwarven kingdom. Find it and bring it back. Whether or not this Horde is as much of a threat as some people like to claim, possessing the Omnishield would do wonders for our organization. Spreading our influence throughout the realm will be child’s play with its power.” Vladik’s eyes lit up as he finished the briefing.
“Be careful though. Most of the legends of the Omnishield mention it being cursed somehow. So be careful so that it doesn’t harm you.” Nothos added. Vladik rolled his eyes.
“Well yes, with great power comes great risk so don’t be stupid. Oh, and if you find that treacherous roach, Aelius on your way, kill him. He left the city without orders or permission. He’s certainly seeking the Omnishield for himself.”
“Yes sir.” Mags and Calla Lily said together. It was an easy lie. Neither of them intended to punish Aelius for trying on his own.
Mags waddled over to Nothos. She handed her savings over to him and said.
“If you can get this to Aelius and whoever’s with him, please do. I want to help them however I can.” Nothos nodded in response.
“I will. I have contacts in the Dragon Lands that could help guide their way. This will motivate them to put in their full efforts.”
“Thank you.” Mags replied. They embraced one another.
“Stay safe Mags.” Nothos said as he clung onto her.
“I’m going to help my father wrap up the war in the Fair Fields. I’ll update you. Let me know you’re still alive, ok?”
“Of course.” She said.
They released each other. Mags and Calla Lily turned to leave when Vladik came up to the undead assassin.
“Oh one more thing Cal. I was looking over my relics, and then I saw this.” Vladik held out a purple bandana with a white eye embroidered in the center.
“I don’t know why, but it feels as though it belongs to you. Take it.” Calla Lily accepted it.
He stared down at the simple fabric. Nothing about seemed special yet it felt familiar.
“What’s it for?” Mags asked inquisitively.
Calla Lily continued to stare at the bandana. Mags’ question did not register until a few seconds after. He started and blinked several times before finally answering.
“I don’t know.”
Mags shrugged her shoulders.
“Come on. Rygo wants to meet us at the southern gate of the city soon. We’re almost late.”
Calla Lily nodded, and the two walked swiftly to their appointed meeting place.

They stood in front of the city gate as planned. After a few moments of waiting, they began to hear a pair of guards loudly gossiping.
“Oh I can hear the fanfare of the wedding procession from here! I can’t believe Djamila didn’t give me the day off! I wish I was there.”
“Ugh, I asked for duty today. I didn’t want to be anywhere near that bullsh*t!”
“WHAT?! Kwesi, you wanted to skip out on all the beautiful outfits, and music, and horses, and delicious food?!”
“You know I love some good crab cakes Akari, but it’s all celebrating Halor’s marriage to Cassia.”
“Oh you didn’t want him to win?”
“No! Something about him is just so… snobby. I was hoping for Katak. He had an air of earned confidence… relatively speaking.”
“I’m still bummed it isn’t Seraph. The man was a f*ckin genius!”
“Well he’d have been alright if he hadn’t been a vampire! That’s some spooky sh*t.”
“Yea, definitely added an air of mystery to him though.”
“That’s a hell of a spin on it haha. I’m glad they took him down. It was awesome! Best spectacle I’ve seen in a while.”
The city bells began to ring and an uproar could be heard in the distance. Calla Lily and Mags looked at each other in confusion. The guards paused and then resumed speaking. Akari began.
“Are those the emergency bells?”
“No those must be the wedding bells.”
“They’re being rung too fast. Don’t sound melodic at all. Are they the fire bells?”
“I don’t see any smoke. Maybe they’re the invasion bells.”
“That’s stupid. They sound more like ‘close the gates before someone escapes’ bells.”
“... no I think those are the invasion bells.”
“Well either way we should close the gate!”
“Right.”
As they finished their bickering, Calla Lily and Mags saw Rygo sprinting down the street towards them.
“What’s going on?!” Mags yelled with confusion and exasperation.
“I set the wedding procession on fire!” Rygo yelled back in response.
Rygo ran past a bewildered Mags and Calla Lily who took a quick glance at each other before following after the dragonborn. As the three ran out the city gate, Kwensi remarked.
“Ah sh*t. We should’ve closed the gate.”

Rygo, Mags, and Calla Lily quickly made their way across the bridge of the Mirkazi River before the guards, who were drunk off of celebrating the wedding, could marshal themselves in time to stop them. The three continued their flight until they encountered the encampment of Rygo’s remaining army a couple miles south of the city.
Upon seeing their warlord, the army packed up their supplies and tents and began to march to the southeast. A few horsem*n rode out to meet the trio and provided them with horses to ride. Rygo excitedly hoisted himself up while Mags and Calla Lily begrudgingly mounted their steeds and rode alongside him. One of the horsem*n rode up next to Rygo and asked him.
“Did the plan succeed? Is now the time?”
Between heavy breaths Rygo replied.
“... Yes… Now is the time… Onward… to wealth and glory!!”
The accompanying horsem*n cheered and repeated “To wealth and glory!!” as the entourage rode through the ranks. The troops joined in with the rallying cry and began singing merry tunes of what they would spend their riches on. When the trio reached the front of the army, Mags finally asked Rygo with pointed annoyance.
“What plan was that?!”
“I attacked the wedding procession to goad Center City into sending their grand army after me. When they catch up, I’ll meet with Keth, and we’ll join forces to plunge deeper into the Dragon Lands.” Rygo proudly explained.
“How many people did you kill?!” Mags exclaimed.
“No one important. I didn’t attack the princess’ float. I don’t know what happened to the people on and around the one I set on fire, though.” Rygo replied matter of factly.

How could he be so callous about people’s lives? Mags thought to herself. Her feathers fluffed with anger. She opened her mouth to berate him but then shut it abruptly. He didn’t see the consequences of his rash attack. She herself did not consider the pain she inflicted until she was forced to confront it. Maybe if he saw first hand he would understand. Maybe.
Calla Lily shook his head in disappointment.
“How do you know this will work?” He asked critically.
“Tsk, what am I a fortune teller? It’s a risk, but it’ll pay off.” Rygo replied.
“How will their army survive in the Dragon Lands? It is not a place to be taken lightly.”
“I know what my homeland is like!!” Rygo roared.
“If the dwarves can survive here, so can Center City’s finest. They’ll be instrumental in defeating the Horde and helping us make it through here. And I can do the talking with any dragons we meet. So don’t worry about it.”
With a scowl, Rygo steered his horse away back to the main force of the army leaving Calla Lily and Mags alone. Calla Lily shook his head again.
“His foolishness will cost him dearly someday.” He remarked.
“If his carelessness for people’s lives doesn’t first.” Mags responded with a sigh.
“Still, if his gamble pays off, it will be invaluable.”
“Even if not, he’s the greatest warrior I’ve ever seen. Hopefully we can use this long journey to have a good influence on him.”
“Heh, heh. First time I ever felt like I could be a good influence.” Calla Lily said with a wry smile.
“Yea, not too hard with him I guess.” Mags replied with a chuckle.
The two laughed and rode quietly together for the rest of the day occasionally pointing out the beauty of the green fields and the high rising hills surrounding them.

When night came and all but the watchmen had gone to sleep, Calla Lily pulled out the purple bandana with the white eye. He peered at it closely and ran the coarse cloth through his hands. It resonated deeply with him and felt oddly precious despite its apparent mundaneness. Subconsciously, Calla Lily wrapped the bandana around his head and tied it tight. It fit perfectly and somehow, right.
Suddenly, the darkness and crackling of campfires surrounding Calla Lily faded away. Light rushed in to take its place and the encampment was replaced with a beautiful garden filled with flowers in full bloom. Calla Lily was no longer sitting but standing instead. He scarcely began to take in his surroundings when he felt the light tap of a finger on his shoulder.

Calla Lily turned around to see a man. A man who although was plain faced possessed piercing eyes filled with passion. Calla Lily’s gaze was drawn into those intense, indomitable eyes. His knees buckled.
“Oh don’t hurt yourself my sweet flower.” The man said with a warm smile as he caught Calla Lily’s arm and stabilized him. Blood rushed to Calla Lily’s face. He looked down and saw the man held a lily in his other hand.
“For you, my love. I saw this beauty and thought of you, who looks so darling in that new bandana of yours.”
Calla Lily’s cheeks felt inflamed. He looked into the crystal placed in the center of the man’s circlet and saw in its reflection the face of a man whom beauty would rarely be associated with. He smiled all the more because of it.
“Thank you, Tulani.” Calla Lily said bashfully.
They kissed. Tulani’s lips were warm and soft. A rush of joy and vigor filled Calla Lily for the first time in what felt like a thousand years. When they pulled apart, Tulani said with intense passion.
“You’re welcome Ahriman. I can’t wait to change the world with you.”

Suddenly, everything faded back to the encampment. A fire stood before him, and he precariously neared the flames with gradual, automatic steps. He was yanked back and turned around to see Mags with eyes widened with concern.
“Calla Lily what were you doing?” She asked.
“My name… Is Ahriman.” He replied.

Chapter 38: Into the Dragonlands

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Ahriman collected his thoughts about his vision. He made it clear to Mags that he would tell her more when he was ready. For now, changing his name was all she needed to know.

What was it that he saw? Ahriman pondered. Was it a message? Was it a prophecy of the future? Or was it a memory? It all felt real and familiar. Every time Ahriman thought of Tulani a feeling of warmth and love washed over him, but it was tinged a sense of sadness and loss. He felt an urge to protect Tulani and could remember vague instances of doing so. But it also felt wrong somehow as though his loving desire was twisted into inflicting pain. Upon whom?

One thing was certain. His true name was Ahriman. Tulani was important to him. That man with the passion eyes is tied to his past somehow. Ahriman chose to lay it to the side to focus on the mission. Retrieve the Omnishield, stop the Horde.

With each step into the southeast, Rygo stood taller and prouder. After years of surviving, growing, and preparing, he was finally ready to fulfill his promise. His army may be small, but his will had never been mightier. He would rally dragons and dragonborn alike behind his cause. They would drive back the Kythrillian dwarves, take back their land, make them pay, and then they fight off the Horde saving the entire realm.

What a grand destiny awaited him. Before he had only hoped raid and raze dwarven settlements to the ground. To inflict a sliver of the suffering they had done unto him. But now he was poised to lead a revolution. A movement to snuff them out once and for all.

A day after passing the last village on the way to the dragon Tolehor’s domain, the party saw a true marker that they had crossed the threshold into the Dragon Lands. Atop a high hill, they saw a massive creature flying in the distance. Its coppery hide shone brilliantly in the sun. Its wings stretched further than ten men lying head to toe. It let out a powerful and majestic roar. Rygo took in a deep breath and said with a proud smile.
“Home.”
Beyond the distant dragon, Rygo saw the treeline of a dense rainforest up ahead. He turned around and called out to his army.
“Soon we will arrive at the lair of a powerful green dragon, Tolehor. Despite her strength, we are many. We will defeat her if it comes to that. I will negotiate with her to let us pass or even join our cause! Whatever happens, I will keep you safe.”
Rygo’s forces responded with an affirmative “Hurrah!” along with raised spears and shields. They were ready to follow their warlord wherever he led them.
When Rygo turned around, the copper dragon in the distance appeared, larger. The dragon’s head was now facing the party and their entourage. Slowly yet surely, its image became larger and closer.
Rygo’s troops immediately began to scramble into battle formations. The archers drew their bows, and the footmen readied their polearms. Yelps of terror and fear erupted throughout the ranks. Mags and Ahriman looked at Rygo to see how he would respond. The dragonborn lifted his arms into the air and shouted back to his army.
“Don’t shoot! I’ll handle this!”

The dragon drew nearer, and its size grew all the more apparent. Its head could easily snatch up and swallow a horse whole. Its frame cast a looming shadow over a fifth of Rygo’s army. The horns protruding out the back of its skull easily surpassed three meters. Its long, thick tail stretched out like a parade of coppery scales.

Rygo kneeled and bowed his head in respect to the approaching dragon. Mags and Ahriman followed his lead having never dealt with such a creature before. Mags’ feathers fluffed up. Her eyes darted around in search of the best escape route. Ahriman readied his staff for action. Rygo hoped no one would notice his tail nervously coiled around one of his legs.

Finally, the dragon landed upon its enormous claws. Its chest towered over the party. The dragon brought its mighty head down to face the trio. His eyes widened behind a pair of finely crafted glasses. He drew his head back and said in a polite and surprisingly high voice.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you all like that. Oh, I’ve completely forgotten my manners. My name is Wendel. Pleased to meet you.”
Wendel held out an open palm to the party. They let out a collective sigh of relief. Mags looked up at the dragon with her big eyes and put on a warm, friendly smile. Ahriman adjusted his stance to a relaxed position. Rygo stood up and called back to his troops.
“It’s alright! He’s friendly.” He turned back around and addressed Wendel with open arms and boisterous enthusiasm.
“Not at all! I’m so excited to see a fellow native from the Dragon Lands! I’m Rygo, last of Afsus’ Golden Clan...”
“You don’t, how do I say this, look like you’re part of the Golden clan.” Wendel nervously interrupted.
“I… was cursed and stripped of my heritage by a self-important moralist.” Rygo replied with deep bitterness and sadness.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine the pain that has caused.” Wendel said rather touched.
“It’s alright.” Rygo responded dismissively. He went on introducing the rest of the party.
“This is Mags, my feathery friend, and this is uhhhh.”
“Ahriman.” The undead assassin interjected.
“Right. And we’re pleased to meet you as well, Wendel.” Rygo added.
“Ah, wonderful. Who are all of those behind you?” Wendel asked as he pointed at the army.
“Those are my loyal troops!” Rygo proudly proclaimed.
“They have come with me to liberate our lands from the dwarves once and for all! We are gathering forces and allies to launch a grand offensive that will finally wipe them out.”
“Oh, so you all must be with Balcrath then?” Wendel replied.
“Balcrath?”
“An ancient blue dragon going around doing much of the same. He’s hailed as a prophet by his many followers.”
“Well no, but we seek the same as him. Would you join us, Wendel in eliminating the dwarven scourge that plagues our land and desecrates our home?”
“No.” Wendel quickly replied.
“Why not?!” Rygo reflexively shouted rather taken aback from the dragon’s response.
“Just over three hundred years ago, my dwarven friend, Saywa, made these lovely spectacles for me. It was a time of peace between the dragons and dwarves. Hostilities have risen again, sadly, but peace has been achieved before and it may again sometime in the future. I certainly don’t want to be a part of the erasure of the Kythrillian dwarves.”
“But after all they’ve done!! All our kind they’ve slaughtered mercilessly!! My entire clan, MY ENTIRE CLAN was murdered by them! How can you let them live knowing what they’ve done and what they will do?!” Rygo shouted back amongst angry tears pouring down his face. The very idea one of draconic kind could refuse such a mission seemed impossible to him.
“I’m very, very sorry for what happened to you and your family. Those responsible should pay dearly for their crimes. But all of the dwarves are not responsible for such sins just as all dragonborn are not responsible for what you do, Rygo. I would like to help you in one way though.”
“How?” Rygo responded with gritted teeth.
“You and your army are headed to Tolehor’s forest, yes?”
“That is true.”
“Well, if you know her, you know how dangerous she is. I could fly you, and your friends up here with you, right over her territory avoiding her completely. You’ll be much safer that way.”
Rygo looked back at his army. Maybe the safest thing to do was to leave them, for now. He could meet up with his forces pinned down by Zurakere and then take them back to Tolehor’s rainforest. By then, Keth will have brought Center City’s professional army into the Dragon Lands. With some coordination, it would be the perfect place to consolidate his forces. No dragon would risk themselves against such a mighty army. Tolehor may even be impressed and decide to join them.
Rygo turned his gaze to the friendly dragon, Wendel. The red scaled dragonborn nodded and said.
“I’ll take your offer. It will be an honor to ride on the back of an ancient dragon such as yourself.”
“I’d love to fly with you!!” Mags chirped excitedly while hopping from side to side.
Wendel smiled warmly at the kenku’s passionate expression of glee.
“I simply love it when people have that reaction.” He said fondly.
“Let’s go.” Ahriman said with a nod.
Rygo turned around and once more gave an announcement to his warriors.
“I will be scouting ahead and gathering allies. Wait here for me to return. If an army arrives with Center City’s banners, meet with their leader and unite with them. I will see you soon my loyal and brave soldiers!”
Rygo turned around before he could see the bewildered looks amongst the majority of his army. They whispered to one another if Rygo was serious and what to do. They watched with unease as Rygo, Mags, and Ahriman mounted Wendel’s back. It would be the last time they saw their warlord.
Wendel lifted each of the trio onto his back and instructed them to hold onto the spines. After they were secured, Wendel craned his neck back and asked the party.
“I would love to show you my lair. We can have tea and scones and get to know each other a bit more before I drop you off.”
“Yes!” Mags said excitedly.
“That would be nice.” Ahriman responded.
“Uh, sure.” Rygo said unenthusiastic about the detour.
“Wonderful!” Wendel happily replied.
The enormous copper dragon unfurled his massive wings. He brought his body close to the ground then launched up into the air with his powerful legs. His wings flapped quickly until he and his passengers ascended high into the air. Then they stiffened and Wendel glided over miles of his hilly territory.
Mags stuck out her arms out in imitation of Wendel’s wings. She was filled with excitement and joy. She was flying in the air on an enormous, friendly dragon. She loved the rush of the wind through her feathers. The sight of the land below was awe inspiring. She smiled wider than she had in months. Mags felt like she was on a grand adventure.
Ahriman stared out at the land before him. A rainforest to the east and grassy hills in every other direction up to the horizon. It was beautiful. A land untouched by civilization. Ahriman appreciated the simple beauty of nature.
Rygo’s frustration and glumness melted away into awe and exhilaration. He had been given the honor of riding upon an ancient dragon as it took flight over the world. Few dragonborn ever had the experience of flight. Rygo felt powerful and free and most importantly, like a dragonborn.

Wendel carried the party to the tallest hill in his domain. It possessed a gaping cave hole at its top. At the mouth of its entrance stood six copper dragonborn dressed in armor from many different towns and peoples. They carried weapons that were similarly of diverse origin.
When Wendel landed at the mouth of the cave, they greeted him with warm smiles and polite greetings. Wendel responded in kind with doting affection. He said to one of the dragonborn.
“Oliver, please go inside and enlist the others to help you make some fine scones and tea for our guests.”
“Right away your honor.” The dragonborn replied.
He promptly ran off to perform his duty. Wendel laid his belly to the floor, and the party slid down his side onto the ground. Wendel insisted he take them on a tour of his lair, and they obliged.

Wendel guided the three through an enormous hollowed out cave filled with shelves stuffed with scrolls and books. The sunlight of the day poured into the cave illuminating it well. There were dozens of chandeliers and lamps placed throughout the lair ready to replace the light of the sun when it inevitably went away for the evening.
Wendel led the party through the halls of books and scrolls while rambling on and on about their contents. There were histories, philosophy treatises, plays, novels, manuals, religious texts, magic textbooks, ecology books, biographies, and many many more. He boasted that he possessed the works of the great storyteller, Cahyo, the wise philosopher, Iselda, and the prolific historian, Nagesa.
Throughout the tour, the party saw copper dragonborn reading or going about chores maintaining the cleanliness of the cave. The only clothing they wore was jewelry as accessories. The dragonborn that noticed the party either shyly hid their faces or politely greeted the party and then went on their way.
“Ah here we are.” Wendel said as he plucked a book from one his shelves with his nails.
“My personal favorite of my entire collection!” He announced as he brought it down to the party. The cover depicted a flamboyant yuan ti pirate woman with a feathered hat and a dashing smile.
“The Littlest Pirate! It’s the story of the hero, Amber Zhou, of the 5th age. She brought peace and prosperity to many people and made all sorts of friends along the way. I…” Wendel looked away with a bit of embarrassment.
“Wrote it myself.”
“Awwww, was she your friend?” Mags replied while squishing her cheeks.
“Oh yes. And she was a wonderful friend indeed.” Wendel replied.
The dragon perked his head up and sniffed a couple times. His eyes widened.
“Ah! The scones are burning.” He rushed over to the caves kitchen.
The party giggled and chuckled amongst themselves at Wendel’s reaction. A few minutes later, they were all seated at a finely carved stone table. They were served tea and scones by the copper dragonborn. Wendel sipped his tea from a porcelain cup large enough to serve as a bath. He began the conversation.
“So. What are the two of you doing in the Dragon Lands? You aren’t a part of Rygo’s army are you?”
“No. We’re here to stop the Horde invading from the east. The entire realm may be destroyed if we don’t succeed.” Ahriman stoically replied.
“Oh that sounds rather serious.”
“Yes! We’re hoping to find the Omnishield and use its power to stop them.” Mags added.
“I’ve heard of that artifact’s great capacity, but I’ve also heard it takes a strong individual with an even stronger will to wield it.” Wendel replied.
“Well, what if we gave it to you, and you ate it?” Mags chirped.
“Ate it?!” Wendel replied stifling a laugh.
“Yea! Swallowed it whole. Then you could shoot magical beams from your stomach or something.”
Wendel laughed uproariously. He was so delighted by the silliness of the idea. His clan joined his mirth and laughed as well. Rygo couldn’t help but guffaw at the idea. But then he thought about it as though it might work. Ahriman simply chuckled.
“Oh that is a marvelous idea, but I don’t think it would work sadly. It is quite the important quest you all are on though. I am happy to aid in the way I can. However, I don’t want to risk my clan by potentially dying for your quest. Nor would I ask them to put their lives at risk.”
“That’s fair.” Mags replied.
“Speaking of…” Rygo interjected failing to mask his boredom and impatience.
“I would appreciate it if you took us over the rain forest before sundown.”
“Ah yes, of course. We may go now if you’d like.” Wendel replied.
“Please.” Rygo curtly responded.

The dishes were quickly picked up and the table cleaned. The party gathered onto Wendel’s back once more, and he promised his clan to return soon. Wendel walked up to the cave entrance and leapt from the top of the hill. Soon they were all flying over the canopy of trees of Tolehor’s domain.

Suddenly, a blue stream of light, shaped like an arrow, shot out from the forest floor. Before he could react, the missile connected with Wendel’s underbelly and pierced straight through his flesh. Wendel roared out in pain and clutched his wound. He fell to the ground, and the party screamed as they fell with him.

Chapter 39: The Sisters

Chapter Text

“Seester!”
Cerci called back to her sister. Cerci wiggled with anticipation. She had found them. Wendel and his screaming companions, an armored dragonborn, a duck, and a zombie. What strange and interesting figures. What would they be like? Did they like cooking too? Could they survive in these lands? What should be done with them in this vulnerable state?
Cerci looked back at Vanessa with a proud smile. She’d know what to do. She always did. She had always been driven. Ever since they lost their parents, Vanessa guided and directed her to safety and mischievous fun in the most dangerous region in the realm. Of course she did have some help from her special friend, and they both were taught a thing or two about survival from Tolehor. But Vanessa was special. She was certainly chosen for a grand destiny.

Vanessa joined her sister. She followed Cerci’s gaze and saw the crash landed party through the shrub. A wicked smile crept up her face. The Shadow had led her well. Finally, everything was in place to fulfill her grand destiny. These three poor fools would escort her to it. Of course, they could not suspect. Not that any of them would be clever enough to figure it out. Vanessa chuckled to herself at the thought of how fun it will be to play with them.
“Is it them?” Cerci asked Vanessa with a hushed whisper.
“It is.” Vanessa cooly replied.
“What should we do?” Cerci asked.
“We ought to make a good impression.” Vanessa responded insincerely.
With a wide, devious smile, she said.
“Let’s make them our friends.”
Cerci clapped her hands and giggled as she rubbed them together. She turned to the strangers and pushed herself through the bush. Vanessa shook her head and leisurely walked around.

Mags stood up, with some help from Ahriman, after Rygo finished healing her fractured bones. She looked worriedly at Wendel. The poor dragon lay on his side breathing heavily and weakly. His wound continued to seep blood. Mags looked to Rygo.
“It’s all I could do and still heal the rest of us.” The dragonborn said with a shrug.

The party turned their attention to the shaking and crackling of a nearby shrub. They drew their weapons, preparing for whatever danger may emerge. To their surprise, a small, young half-elf with wide eyes and big, curly hair stumbled out of the bush. She wore a simple dress made of haphazardly stitched furs and walked upon the ground barefoot.
Her round face and innocent smile were disarming. Rygo and Ahriman put away their weapons. Mags still held her crossbow, but she lowered it. The half-elf addressed the party enthusiastically.
“Hello strangers! Welcome to the forest of Dooooom. Hehe just kidding. It doesn’t have a name, but it is very dangerous for newcomers. I’m Cerci. Who are you?”
“I am Rygo, of Afsus’ Golden Clan.” He replied proudly.
“I am Ahriman.” He answered politely.
“Mags. Why did you approach us?” She asked with suspicion.
“We watched as you fell from the sky to the forest floor. We thought you could use some help.” The voice of a young woman playfully called out from behind Cerci.
The party looked over past Cerci to see the half-elf approach from the side of the bush. Her hair was finely brushed into a long, dark curtain hanging from her head. Her unblinking eyes reflected an unnatural pink violet. She wore a royal, blue silk dress, a circlet with a glowing green crystal, and a knowing smirk.
Mags furrowed her brow. That smile contained secrets. Whatever the number or nature of them, she resolved to keep a close eye on this strange, violet-eyed woman.
“My sister can heal your friend…” The young half-elf woman asserted as she strode towards the party.
Her eyes scanned the trio until they fell upon Rygo. She stepped up to the dragonborn, and looked up at him with big, innocent eyes.
“if you would like.” She gently said while biting the corner of her lip.
Rygo raised half his brow as he looked down at the half-elf. Why was she looking at him that way? He threw his hands up in the air and boisterously replied.
“Well of course we would! But we are not foolish enough to accept help from complete strangers. Who are you?”
The half-elf giggled in response. She said as she sauntered back to her sister.
“Nobody special. Just a girl surviving in the woods.” She turned and said dramatically.
“I’m Vanessa. You’ve already met my silly twin sister, Cerci.” Vanessa wrapped her arm around her sister and pulled her in closely. Cerci smiled even more widely than before at the party.
Mags stepped forward still gripping her crossbow and said firmly.
“That’s nice, but a few pleasantries aren’t enough for us to trust you.”
Vanessa raised an eyebrow as she looked down at the kenku who was just shorter than her. This one would be more difficult to convince. She’s either the smartest or the most stupid of them. Perhaps explaining to her just how hopeless the situation is without-
Cerci’s long ears twitched. She crouched low to the ground and scanned the surrounding trees with rapidly shifting eyes. Cerci sniffed a few times then announced to the party in a hushed voice.
“We’re surrounded.”
Everyone raised their weapons and took a battle stance. Vanessa rolled her eyes as she turned around to see what Cerci was looking at. Cerci raised her arms to enlarge her appearance and growled at the rainforest.

A minute of silence and tension passed by. No living creature could be seen beyond the party and their new acquaintances, but Cerci continued to stare intently into the foliage. A humanoid leg stepped out from behind one of the trees. Then another stepped out as well. Scores of feet began to protrude out from their cover around the party. Their owners soon followed.
Bronze skinned elves with coiled hair wrapped around their necks. They bore green tattoos depicting a dragon’s wing upon the left half of their faces. They armed themselves with bows and spears tipped with stone. They looked upon the party with a mixture of curiosity and a small dose of fear. They held their weapons prominently and stepped forward determinedly to portray confidence.
“What do you want?” Vanessa asked dismissively, in an elvish tongue, as though addressing a yowling cat.
One of the elves pointed at Wendel and replied.
“The dragon. Capturing him may please Tolehor.”
Vanessa held her hand forward and a ball of purple flame burst into existence in her palm. She laughed as a few of the elves stepped backwards.
“If you try, you’ll die where you stand, Sacniete. Would that please Tolehor?” She asked mockingly.
“Yea! And your screams will echo to the halls of the Patriarch as we rip your limbs apart!” Cerci chimed in enthusiastically.
“Cerci, shh, I got this.” Vanessa whispered to her sister.
“Oh right. Ok.” Cerci bobbed her head in agreement.
Rygo and Ahriman looked to Mags to glean from her what the two were saying. She shrugged. It was obvious what the elves wanted and that Vanessa was threatening them. Beyond that, it was impossible for the kenku to know.
Sacniete shook her head.
“Tolehor’s favor is not worth the wrath of the sisters.” She lowered her bow and her company followed suit.
Vanessa turned around and said to Mags with a smirk.
“How about now?”

Mags sighed and stepped to the side, clearing the way to Wendel for the sisters. Cerci skipped over to the enormous copper dragon, her hair bouncing as she went. Wendel rolled his head to the side and opened his eyes ever so slightly to see the little half-elf woman approach him. He smiled weakly. Her light-hearted demeanor won his trust that she would aid rather than harm him. He lifted his arm to reveal his wound.

Cerci touched the wound and nodded solemnly. Magic would be necessary to restore the dragon. She closed her eyes and called upon the spirits of the forest in the secret druidic tongue. Her chant flowed from her lips like a carefree poem, but the words contained threatening commands. She danced to the rhythm of her chant. Her body moved slowly as though water were flowing from arm to arm, head to feet. The wind began to howl. The critters of the forest chattered nervously. A faint scent of rot floated through the air.
Mold and fungus grew upon the dragon’s wound creating a moist, mushy sensation on his body. Wendel held his tongue from expressing his discomfort. The mold and fungus rapidly decayed and fell away. The wound was gone, and Wendel felt fully rejuvenated.
He rolled over onto his feet with a sigh of relief. He turned to Cerci and said.
“Thank you so much! I hope to have the opportunity to repay you! Perhaps some of my best tea or a book on horticulture?”
Cerci simply smiled and replied.
“No thank you.”
“Ah very well.” Wendel awkwardly replied. He turned to Mags, Rygo, and Ahriman.
“Tolehor clearly does not want me here. It’s not safe for me to transport you across the rest of the rainforest. I’m sorry. Good luck acquiring the Omnishield and saving the realm.”
“Thank you!” The trio replied as Wendel launched himself into the air and flew back to his lair.
“What’s the Omnishield?!” Vanessa eagerly asked the trio with piqued interest.
The trio exchanged uncomfortable looks with one another. Before any of them could decide how to respond, Sacniete spoke. She said with a bow.
“I apologize for our threatening presence earlier. Now that the conflict between us has passed, we would be honored to have you newcomers as guests to the Festival of the Eighth Moon.” She added with some trepidation.
“And we would be pleased if the sisters attended as well.”
Cerci translated for the trio as the elf spoke. Mags quickly relayed through the half-elf that they would love to. They could use the rest and shelter for the night. Rygo heartily agreed, and Ahriman shrugged his shoulders. Sacniete turned around and began to guide them through the rainforest. The party followed behind her with the rest of the elves accompanying them.

Vanessa scoffed and rolled her eyes as she joined them. What a trivial waste of time. Oh well. It may be fun. There will certainly be plenty of men drunk off wine and revelry to screw with. She laughed to herself at the thought.
But serious matters still remained. She needed to confirm these were the adventurers she sought and gain their trust that she may join them if it were so. The gross, decayed looking one was far too quiet to glean any information from. The duck was too untrusting. She’d have to earn her good graces. Perhaps flattery at some point. The dragonborn would be all too easy, but he’d have to do. She lightly brushed his arm with her fingers as she cozied up to him.
“You’re saving the entire realm? From what?! Do we have a chance to survive?!” She asked with faux astonishment.
“Heh, heh don’t worry too much about it. It’s just a barbarian horde in the hundreds of thousands. Possibly millions.” Rygo replied with a cheeky smile.
Vanessa gasped.
“Millions?!”
“Yes. But we’ll be able to defeat them once we get the Omnishield.”
“And what’s that?” Vanessa asked hungrily.
“A powerful artifact. Probably cursed.” Mags curtly interjected.
“Hm, perhaps such powerful items are dangerous to those unfamiliar with their true nature. Or to those lacking the will to withstand them.” Vanessa replied knowingly while stroking Rygo’s arm.
Rygo laughed confidently. Mags scoffed. Vanessa continued.
“I think such a threat demands our immediate attention. Wouldn’t you agree Cerci?”
“Yes Seester!” She replied.
“We would be delighted to aid you on your quest. I know the local languages of this land. I can help guide you, and you’ve seen a sampling of Cerci’s talents.” Vanessa added.
“Are you aware of the danger before us? Do you know what it takes to survive?” Ahriman asked concernedly.
Vanessa laughed in response.
“I have survived an ancient green dragon, her minions, and monsters beyond description.” She boasted.
“If we die, it is because we are weak. If we cannot survive, we do not deserve to.” Cerci chimed in.
Ahriman shuddered at the callousness of the young women. Rygo nodded approvingly. Mags hmmed concernedly. She asked Cerci.
“Why did you help us and Wendel then?”
“Was nice thing to do, no?” Cerci replied with a shrug.
Maybe they aren’t so heartless. At least not the curly haired one.
“We could use the help. Welcome to the party.” Mags proclaimed.
“Wonderful.” Vanessa said with a wide smile.

Nightfall had descended upon the travelers as they made their way through the rainforest. Sacniete suddenly brought the party to a halt. She cupped her hands and performed a tropical bird call towards the top of the tree in front of her. The call was repeated back to her and a lift made of wood and vines was lowered down to the forest floor. Sacniete directed the party to stand on the lift, and they were pulled up several meters above the ground to just below the trees branches.

Mags, Ahriman, Rygo, and Cerci gaped in awe at the scene before them. Walkways and tree houses illuminated by the colorful flames of torches and moonlight. Bountiful foods of fruits, bugs, and candied nuts filled baskets placed throughout the sprawling treetop village. Wines of mango, kiwi, and melon topped tables at every corner. Elves, dryads, satyrs, and tree nymphs danced together around great bonfires scattered throughout the community. A clearing of the tree leaves in the center of the village allowed the light of the full moon to shine down upon the dancers glistening them in a pale glow.

Sacniete smiled and unwrapped her hair from around her neck as did the elves alongside her. A jolly elf, quite hefty as their kind went, approached the party. Their hair was unwrapped and decorated with beautiful wildflowers of various colors. Their nose, ears, and lips were pierced with gold rings. They greeted the party.
“Welcome to the Quetal people’s Festival of the Eighth Moon! We are delighted to have you here. Please enjoy yourselves and commune with our people and the lovely fey that have blessed us with their presence. If you have any troubles, come to me, Dacey.”
Cerci’s eyes widened at the sight of the abundant food. She rushed over to the baskets without delay and began stuffing her mouth with bugs, fruit, and nuts. Vanessa rolled her eyes at her sister’s unsophisticated behavior. She sauntered over to a group of dancers with a mischievous smile. Ahriman bowed to Dacey and walked off to find a nice spot to observe the party from. Rygo went over to the baskets of wine and joyously partook. Mags finally put her crossbow away and joined Ahriman.
“What do you think of our new associates?” Mags asked her undead companion.
“They worry me.” He replied.
“*Sigh*. Me too.” Mags said solemnly.
“They’re young and reckless. I hope they don’t get themselves killed or worse.” Ahriman added with deep concern.
Mags tilted her head towards Ahriman with a confused look on her face.
“That’s what you’re worried about?”
Ahriman nodded.
“Of course. Their inexperience with the world emboldens them. They are much like children in that way.” He said of them in a doting manner.
“That’s not how I would describe them.” Mags said flatly as she turned to observe Vanessa’s interactions with the dancers.

Vanessa swiftly spotted a particularly drunk faun stepping and swaying clumsily around the fire. She danced closely to him, waiting until he took notice of her. Once the faun’s eyes locked upon Vanessa, she turned to dance with him. The faun’s face lit up with excitement and desire. Vanessa giggled and smiled.

Then she gave a wink and a wave to a handsome elf behind the faun who had taken notice of her. The faun squinted with confusion and looked around for who she might be waving at. By the time the faun had found the recipient of Vanessa’s flirtation, she was already gone and dancing with him.

Vanessa tightened her smile to hold back her laughter as the faun stomped over. The fuming faun and handsome elf quickly embroiled themselves in a heated argument over her. Vanessa slinked away as they began to push one another. She could no longer hold in her laughter once they came to blows.
She fell silent when she saw Mags and Ahriman whispering while looking in her direction. What could they be talking about? Do they suspect her already? Are they conspiring against her? Were they so foolish as to think she wouldn’t notice?
Vanessa walked swiftly over to Cerci and snatched her from a headfirst dive into a basket of delectable bugs.
“Let’s go hang out with our new friends.” She hissed into her sister’s ear.
Cerci responded with a “mmhmm” and a nod, for her mouth was too full to allow her to speak. The sisters made their way over to Mags and Ahriman.
“What are you two talking about?” Vanessa asked with a teasing tone.
Mags pondered how she should respond. Before she reached a conclusion, however, Ahriman spoke for them.
“We’ve been talking about you both.” He replied matter of factly.
I knew it! Vanessa thought to herself.
“Oh?” She responded coyly.
“I was mentioning how I am a bit concerned for you two, but Mags was quick to point out that she is quite confident in your capabilities to survive and more.” Ahriman said warmly.
“Thank!” Cerci said to Mags with a smile full of bugs.
“Yes… Thank you very much.” Vanessa said with a forced smile to Mags.
Mags hoped the sisters would not realize the slight fluffing of her feathers was due to the unease she felt around them.
“You are all quite capable, and the realm’s best hope for its survival. I fear for what may follow though.” A familiar voice called out from the party’s side.
“Hassan.” Mags and Ahriman said fondly.
“Who is this?” Vanessa asked with minor annoyance.
“Someone who shows up in our travels a lot. You get used to him.” Mags replied. She turned to Hassan.
“Sorry about throwing you under the cart with Katak. I figured you could handle him.”
“Oh don’t worry about it. There is little he could do to harm me.” Hassan assured her.
“I knew it.” She said with a smile.
“How about you, corpse groom? Figured out who you are?” He asked Ahriman.
“Figuring it out.” Ahriman simply replied.
“And what about you two? Will you stay the course or are you open to diversion?” Hassan said with an unusual grave intensity to Vanessa and Cerci.
“What are you implying old man?” Vanessa growled through gritted teeth.
“Nothing at all!” Hassan said as he crossed his eyes and gave a crazy smile.
Vanessa sneered at the strange man. Rygo drunkenly staggered over to the party and shouted.
“Hey guys! This wine is pretty good! I haven’t had this much fun since- You son of a bitch! What are you doing here!” Rygo roared at Hassan.
“Just popping in for a spell.” He replied with a smirk.
“Change me back! You stole my heritage!” Rygo shouted.
“Tsk, tsk, you haven’t learned. If you always focus on how you’re a victim, you’ll never realize how much you victimize others.” Hassan chided. He turned to the rest of the party and said with a wink.
“I look forward to seeing what you do.” As the last words left his lips, he vanished.
“f*cking asshole.” Rygo grumbled to himself as he stumbled off to find a place to lie down.
“It’s been a long day. I’m ready to rest as well.” Mags said and promptly went off to seek lodging.
“This party's boring anyway.” Vanessa added as she took Cerci off to do the same.
The party rested soundly through the night before the next day of their journey.

Chapter 40: Tolehor

Chapter Text

Mags woke up to the sound of heavy rain pounding the roof of the treehouse provided for her and the party. The sudden wake up alerted her other senses. For the first time since entering the jungle, she took in the diverse array of smells permeating the environment. Many of them were fragrant, but a few pungent stenches mixed in as well. She noticed how heavy and wet her feathers felt, even without a single raindrop landing on them. She tried wiping the moisture off her body, but to no avail. She fluffed her feathers, but they still felt warm and moist. She squinted and stuck out her tongue in disgust.
Mags then became aware of another phenomenon. Words not her own pressed against her mind, seeking entry. They seemed harmless so she allowed them in.
From Nothos,

Fair Fields are almost conquered. Hillton still resists. Capital is a well stocked fortress. Been months. Father impatient and furious. How is journey?
Mags knew at once it must be a magical message. She responded with her thoughts.

Sorry about that. Know he can be real mean and scary. Journey good so far. Picked up two new party members. Not sure about them.
Mags leaned back against the wooden frame of her shelter and began to think.

Should we really risk this whole mission by bringing along these two strangers? Something is definitely off about them. But what other choice do we have? The sisters know the tongues and the layout of the land better than any of us, and if the Dragon Lands are as dangerous as people say, there’s little chance just the three of us could survive all the way to acquiring the Omnishield. Without that, the Horde will be unstoppable. Katak has spent too much time and people to fight them off alone.

It’s a risk bringing them along but a necessary one. They are vital to this mission and the safety of the realm. They will need to have an eye kept on them though. If they jeopardize the quest, I’ll stop them, somehow. I hope I don’t have to kill them. I don’t want as little blood on my hands as I can have going forward.
Rygo began to stir then opened his eyes. He sat up, and after seeing Mags, turned to the sisters and gently shook them.
“Come on ladies. We gotta get going.”
“Blech! Get your claws off me ya bhfbepps.” Vanessa sputtered sleepily.
“Five minutes, then I turn into bird and fly.” Cerci murmured while curling herself up.
“Heh, heh. Alright then.”

With a smile on his face, Rygo lifted the sisters up like a pair of kittens. They hissed and swung their arms as he set their feet down on the ground. Rygo boisterously laughed at the sisters violent reaction. Mags shook her head, but couldn’t help chuckling. The dragonborn and kenku walked out of the tree house with the half-elf sisters trailing behind them cursing and grumbling along the way. The party met Ahriman standing outside observing the beauty of the surrounding flora and fauna.

The party traveled across the walkways of the treetop village to its lift. As they approached, they saw Sacniete and Dacey along with a dozen warriors standing off with a score of similar looking elven warriors.
Their face tattoos similarly depicted a green dragon wing but with one for each side of their faces rather than just the left. Their coiled hair was wrapped tightly around their throats somewhat restricting their breathing. Their leader sported a wide, vicious smile and a quiver containing three large, shining blue arrows. He spotted the party and called out with a pleased and hungry voice.
“The sisters accompany the newcomers? Tolehor will be rather pleased with my catch this morning.”
“You haven’t caught us Gabor. We’re going to Tolehor, and you’re taking us to her.” Vanessa retorted authoritatively.
Gabor’s smile grew even wider.
“You know her ways so well, Vanessa. You would fit right in with her offspring.”
“Not with those spoiled weaklings.” Vanessa scoffed.
Gabor laughed and directed the party to follow him. The party expressed their gratitude to the Quetal people for their generous hosting and went on their way. They traveled alongside the rainforest floor behind Gabor and with his entourage surrounding them. Amongst the chattering of monkeys and the singing of birds, Mags chirped to Vanessa.
“How did you know we wanted to see Tolehor?”
“She’d demand to see the newcomers to her domain. It’s better for us if we say we wanted to see her.” Vanessa explained.
“Why did you want to see her?” She asked.
“I need her to allow my army and Center City’s to pass through.” Rygo chimed in.
“That will be hard. She does not listen to most people’s requests.” Cerci warned.
“As a dragonborn, she’ll listen to me.” Rygo responded confidently.
Cerci and Vanessa gave each other a look but said nothing. The party traveled in relative silence for a few hours in the dense jungle. Along the way, Gabor turned to Vanessa and asked.
“The dragon I shot yesterday escaped the forest despite my mortal blow. Would you have had anything to do with the loss of my quarry?”
“No. Next time aim better.” Vanessa replied flatly.
Gabor laughed to himself.
As the party approached their destination, the trees grew closer and closer to one another squeezing everyone in together along a winding path. A bitter smelling mist permeated the air. The vibrant sounds of life in the rainforest grew quiet.
A green dragon roughly the size of a tiger, climbed halfway down a tree in front of the party. It arched back its long neck and spoke out in high, grating voice.
“Mother will crush your new playthings.” She mocked Vanessa and Cerci.
“Hello Grecia.” Cerci waved.
“Maybe, if she didn’t prefer me over you.” Vanessa spit back.
The young green dragon scoffed, and watched the party a sinister curiosity as they walked by.
Gabor stopped the entourage in a small clearing before a thick overgrowth of trees and shrubs. Gabor and his warrior knelt and bowed their heads. The party followed suit. Rygo quietly recited to himself what he planned to say to the sovereign of the forest.

The brush shook. The ground trembled ever so slightly. The tree tops quivered violently. An enormous, green scaled dragon head pushed out of the foliage. It was followed by a long, serpentine neck that swayed to and fro slithering in the air. The dragon spoke in a deep, reverberating voice.
“What have you brought me Gabor?” She asked her servant.
“Your Excellency, I have brought some uninvited guests to your domain who dare to seek favors from you.” He replied.
“Oh? And which of you is so bold and foolish to make a request of me?” Her head slithered around the party eyeing each of them up and down as one decides between which grape to pop in their mouth first.
Rygo cleared his throat.
“Oh magnificent and ancient one. I beseech you as a member of draconic kind. I ask that you give nothing of yourself but merely allow me to bring a fighting force of a few thousand through your lands that we may accomplish two goals: ending the dwarven menace and saving the realm from certain doom. For too long the dwarves have plagued our people. Slaughtering dragons and dragonborn alike. My own clan was destroyed by the monsters who seek to erase us. They must be stopped, and that along with Balcrath and others, is what I intend to do.
Furthermore, a vicious Horde is arriving from the east. Any gains we hope to make by eliminating the Kythrillian dwarves will be for nothing if they are allowed to rampage across the Dragon Lands and the entire realm. To stop them we seek the power of the Omnishield. Great Tolehor, please allow me to bring my army through your domain to help secure our victory.”
Tolehor leaned her head back, stared at the dragonborn, and laughed.
“Ha ha ha ha. Who are you to ask me of such a gift? To allow an army to trounce through my domain? All I see before me is a dragonborn with no clan, a duck who I’m not sure would better serve me as a snack or a pet, and a hideous abomination that makes a mockery of you humanoids. Even you ants should know better. What was your game for coming with them, dear little girls? Ha ha ha ha. Surely it was to watch as I crush them beneath my claw.”
Tolehor wound and twisted her neck around the party as she spoke mockingly to them. With her final words, she drew her humongous front left claw and hovered it over the party. Mags’ feathers fluffed up. Ahriman stood up erect with his staff forward. Rygo looked up with shock and dismay. Vanessa and Cerci simply waited. Tolehor paused then began to speak again.
“Your words are empty, dragonborn until you can prove your worth. Carry out a task for me, and I might consider your proposal.”
“It will be done, your wondrousness.” Rygo replied with deference.
“Good. Fetch for me an egg from the Rainbow Jungle Fowl. It’s nest is due east of here. If you fail, don’t bother returning.” Tolehor retracted her head back through the brush.
Rygo stood up, breathing heavily, and immediately stomped through the foliage to the east. Mags and Ahriman looked at each other and ran after him to catch up.
“Are you alright Rygo?” Ahriman called out with some concern.
“Fine. Just need to prove my worthiness to her. Then everything will be fine.” Rygo replied between huffs.
He couldn’t admit how angered he was. How could she dishonor him so? He had shown reverence and respect. What kind of dragon would treat her own kind in such a way. Did she not care about what the dwarves had done? What they are doing? Not even the impending doom of the realm seemed to affect her. How could she be so selfish?! No. She was right. He needed to prove himself first. Any dragonborn could make his claims. She did not know his deeds or what he was capable of. She will soon.
Rygo knocked down branches and pushed aside thick vegetation in his way. He pounded out a path and after several minutes found himself at the edge of a small river. On the other side, a giant hen, twice as large as an elephant with feathers colored as the rainbow slept upon her enormous nest.
Mags and Ahriman caught up with the kenku panting heavily having to run in the humid climate. Rygo shrugged apologetically at Mags. They heard Vanessa call over to them from a few meters away.
“Hey dung beetles! What took you so long!”
“There was an easier path over here.” Cerci added.
Rygo and Mags groaned. Ahriman chuckled. They walked over to meet up with the sisters.
“Is that what we’re looking for?” Rygo asked.
“No it’s the other giant chicken roaming around the jungle.” Vanessa replied sarcastically.
“How do we get to it? I can’t swim.” Rygo said.
“I’ve got that.” Cerci replied.
She began to chant in the druidic tongue. She called for the earth to intercede between the party and the water. Her rands fell and rose as though she were trying to lift an intangible object. Suddenly, worms writhed and wriggled their way up out of the ground. They squirmed over the party’s feet until they covered every inch.
Mags quacked in fear and disgust, but the rest of the party let it be. Cerci finished her ritual and said to the party cheerily.
“We can cross now.”
She skipped over to the bank of the river and stepped out onto the water. The worms provided a barrier for her, and she walked upon the water’s surface. Tentatively, Rygo, Ahriman, and Mags followed her. Vanessa walked out without hesitation. The party walked slowly and carefully that they may sneak up upon the resting hen.
Cerci looked down through the water. Something large seemed to be present at the river floor. Her eyes widened as it swam up and appeared larger and larger. She called out to the party.
“Look out!”
A five-headed hydra burst out of the water with a roar. One of its heads snatched at Ahriman who reflexively whacked its nose with his staff and jumped back out of its reach. The noise awoke the jungle fowl, and it squawked with rage at the intruders approaching its nest. It flapped its wings to take flight.
“Kill it with fire before its heads can regenerate!” Vanessa shouted as she manifested a violet fireball in her hand. She chanted in a twisted version of the ancient elven tongue as she threw the flaming sphere at the hydra. It burst and caught two of its heads in fire.
Cerci called upon the winds of the world to give her strength and a vortex of water, dust, and leaves formed and spun around her. Then it dissipated and Cerci emerged as an air elemental, a formless being of wind. She flew towards the hen to meet it in battle.
Mags ducked her head and sprinted towards the nest hoping to nab one of the eggs and escape quickly.
Rygo charged the hydra and swung his glowing hammer into one of its necks, and with a burst of light, broke open its throat.
Ahriman threw a pair of darts into the eyes of the head that had tried to grab him blinding it.
The creature roared and swung its one good head along with the two injured at Vanessa. She promptly blocked its attacks with a violet arcane shield surrounding her body.
Cerci collided into the hen as began to swoop down at the party members fighting the hydra. It squawked in confusion and batted its wings at its strange foe. All it could see was Cerci’s yellow eyes glowing amongst a torrent of wind. Cerci was knocked back but continued to trade blows with the gigantic fowl. Neither could do much to harm the other.
Mags climbed to the top of the nest and spotted the prize. Three eggs as big as her lay before her. Mags blew into each of her feathery hands and rubbed them together. She went down into the nest and with all of her might lifted one of the eggs. It was light for its size but still quite heavy. She yelled as she pushed it to the top of the nest. She climbed up after it and rested for a moment.
The hydra regrew two new heads to replace its injured ones. Vanessa immediately burned them away with another fireball. Ahriman and Rygo simultaneously smashed the remaining healthy head together, and the monster fell back into the water.
Cerci and the enormous hen continued smack each other back and forth. The hen tried to divert to attack the party, but then Cerci would ram herself into it. The hen tried to peck at its strange attacker but to little effect.
Mags ran across the river with the egg upon her back.
“I got it!” She yelled to the party.

Those standing on the water turned and ran after her as the hydra arose again with three new heads. Cerci charged towards the hen’s nest to distract it from Mags, and the mother took the bait. It charged after and managed to pin half-elf’s ever shifting form down. But Cerci slipped away from its talons and flew back to the bankside where the party had ran to.

Rygo took the egg from Mags, and they all ran back to Tolehor’s lair. Cerci returned back to her normal form as she rejoined the party. The worms decayed and fell off as they went. They all laughed and congratulated each other. Then they heard the chicken squawk in anger and despair at the loss of one of its eggs. Mags and Ahriman grew silent and solemn, but the others continued to celebrate.

Chapter 41: A New Friend

Chapter Text

When the party returned to Tolehor’s lair, another young green dragon mocked the party from a tree.
“Wow, can’t believe you losers survived.” He taunted.
“Shut up Rasda! Go ask your mother to catch your supper for you.” Vanessa retorted.
They laid the egg down in the center of the clearing and waited. After a few minutes passed, Tolehor presented herself slithering around haughtily. She looked down at the gift and smiled. She busted it open with her claw and slurped up its contents. Rygo waited for her to finish eating. But when minutes went by without a comment by her, he grew impatient.
“Ahem. So… about our deal.”
Tolehor lifted her head with a confused expression.
“What? Oh yea, that happened earlier. I don’t give a sh*t about your crusade. Now get out of here.”
“What?! You said you would take my offer!” Rygo impulsively shouted.
“I said I might consider it. I did. I don’t care.” Tolehor said with increasing annoyance.
“How could you be so selfish?! The dragons, the entire realm at stake and you just eat that egg like that’s all that matters!”
Tolehor lifted her head high and fumes of toxic gas began to pour out. Mags and Vanessa looked at each other with widened eyes.
“You impudent, pathetic little-”
“What he didn’t mention before, is that when we get the Omnishield, we’ll happily deliver it to you.” Vanessa interrupted.
“Yes!” Mags chimed in.
Tolehor swung her head over to the kenku and peered intensely at her. Mags nervously stepped from side to side and wrung her hands as she attempted to expound upon the promise.
“And, uhhh, since it requires an ancient dragon’s heart, yoooouuu could swallow it! And, uh, shoot magical beams out of your chest!!” She chirped in an especially high pitched voice.
Tolehor squinted at the small bird with her mouth hanging open in bafflement. Her eyes traveled to their upper left corners as she considered the proposal. She snorted and threw back her head.
“Wha- hahahahaha. Oh I thought you were cute before little duckling but that was so stupid and adorable I simply can’t bring myself to kill you with my toxic breath. Lucky for your friends you’d be caught up in it you’re so close to them. Do something else cute or stupid.”
“Uhhhhh… ROAR” Mags mimicked Wendel’s roar she had heard in the distance.
“Oh my that is delightful.” Tolehor laughed uproariously.
“Oh I’m so tempted to just pluck you up and make you my favorite toy. But you’ll help the others retrieve the Omnishield for me I suppose. I appreciate your cleverness Vanessa. You may all leave with your lives. Now go.” She commanded them.

Everyone around Rygo urged him to go. The proud dragonborn fumed, but acquiesced to his comrades. They left Tolehor’s presence, and Vanessa and Cerci guided everyone out of the forest. As soon as they past the treeline, Rygo furiously shouted.
“That selfish, greedy… How can I get my army back?! How are we supposed to do this without my army?! I can’t. I can’t make them pay without my army…” Rygo’s voice trailed off as he fell to his knees.
All this time. All the loss, all the fighting, all the planning, all for nothing. All because of a selfish dragon. Of all the things to ruin his quest. Of all the ways to take away his vengeance. He failed. In that moment, Rygo wished he would never die so that he would not have to face Fus Roh in the afterlife.
Mags and Ahriman looked silently at one another. They wanted to comfort their colleague, but neither knew how. They never approved of his mission, but they hated to see him so distraught.
Vanessa waited impatiently for this to end. It was so boring and a waste of time. Who cares what he was doing? He failed, get over it. They have more important things to do like finding where the Omnishield is.
Cerci tilted her head as she looked at Rygo with a curious expression. She was not used to seeing such pain and vulnerability being expressed. It made her feel bad. Not repulsed, angry, or scared but… bad. She walked over to the dragonborn until she stood next to him. It didn’t make him stop, but she felt the urge to be even closer. She poked his head with her finger. Rygo looked up at her with tears streaming down his scaly face and a baffled expression.
The party heard a roar and a woman’s scream. They ran over to where the noise came from. They looked down into a valley before them and saw two t-rexes looming over a red dragonborn trying to fly away with a heavily injured wing. Rygo activated his armor and drew his hammer.
“I’m going to kill the sh*t out of those dinosaurs.” He said before roaring down the valley.
The rest of the party followed after him. The two dinosaurs drooled hungrily as they stomped closer to the struggling dragonborn. The smaller of the t-rexes turned to the charging adventurers began to run to meet them.
Ahriman caught up to Rygo and pointed at the creature’s legs. Rygo nodded.
Mags ran behind them while drawing her hand crossbow.
Vanessa slowed her advance to a leisurely walk. She turned to Cerci and said with a smile.
“Cerci.”
“Yes seester?”
Vanessa’s smile grew wider.
“Let’s blight this beast together.”
“Yes!” Cerci replied with a grin.

The sister’s began to chant in their respective casting tongues. A shadowy fog formed around Vanessa’s hands as her violet eyes began to shine. Cerci pulled moldy fruit out of her pack and crushed it into her hands. Vanessa finished her incantation with her hands held forward out to the tyrannosaurus. The dark cloud in her hand coalesced a thick, black cord and shot out into the dinosaur’s chest. Cerci made a clasping motion with her hands directed at the same spot, and a brown film floated from the beast’s chest to the half-elf’s palms.
The flesh at and around the creature’s chest rapidly decayed and wasted away. The t-rex stumbled. Ahriman and Rygo struck each of its legs simultaneously. The great beast flew off the ground and crashed into the earth. Mags quickly put a crossbow bolt in each of its eyes, slaying the t-rex. Vanessa and Cerci giggled at their success.
The injured dragonborn gave a determined scream as she blocked the remaining t-rexes foot from stomping upon her with a crimson arcane shield. Rygo shouted as he charged at the dinosaur.
“Get off her, you stupid brute!”

His hammer burst with white light as he struck the creature’s tail. The t-rex roared with pain and swung its body around. It snatched up Rygo with its massive jaw and swung its long tail at Ahriman connecting and sending the living corpse flying. Mags fired her crossbow at the creature, but it shrugged off her bolts. With a yawn, Vanessa attacked the t-rex with a violet firebolt which did little. Cerci eagerly watched with wide eyes.

The t-rex lifted its head and threw Rygo further back into its mouth. As it was about to clamp its jaw on the dragonborn, it suddenly turned to ash. Rygo fell to the ground hard. He was hurt, but alive.
The party looked on to see the winged dragonborn lying on the ground panting with her finger pointed to where the dinosaur once stood. She slowly stood up as the party approached her. The dragonborn spoke with a deep, regal voice.
“Thank you for your help. Although you should have let me handle it on my own. If I was not strong enough to survive, I did not deserve to.”
Vanessa and Cerci nodded in approval.
“Nonsense!” Rygo retorted.
“We help our own.” He continued as he laid his hands on her wing to heal it. The dragonborn reluctantly accepted the aid.
“Who are you? What are you doing out here?” Mags asked politely.
The dragonborn stood tall. She held her head high and proclaimed.
“I am Pakris, daughter of Katak and the rightful heir to Archai. I have come to the Dragonlands to train until I am strong enough to take my revenge against him for the murder of my siblings!”
Mags’ eyes widened and she blinked several times at the revelation. How did Katak father her? Did he f*ck a dragon?
“Whose Katak and what’s Archai?” Vanessa asked curiously.
“Archai is a city in the Fair Fields and Katak is its king.” Ahriman responded instructively.
“Hm, must not be very important.” Vanessa mumbled to herself.
She had seen many maps and read several journals from caravans that had travelled through the region. None of them had ever mentioned the city or its ruler.
“Pleased to meet you Pakris. I am Rygo of Afsus’ Golden Clan. Before you ask, my appearance is because of a curse put on me.” Rygo introduced himself pleasantly to Pakris, only mildly grimacing during the explanation of his appearance.
“That would explain why your neck is so long. Nonetheless it’s always a pleasure to meet another of our kind.” Pakris said with a polite smile.
“It would be nice to get to know each other over a meal or something.” Rygo said eagerly.
“I have an idea for that.” Cerci said while hungrily eyeing the corpse of the fallen t-rex.
The party sat down upon seats of molded of earth around a bonfire all created by Cerci’s druidic magic. They feasted upon slices of the dinosaur’s massive ribs spiced with garlic powder, black pepper, and brown sugar.
“This is delicious Cerci.” Mags complimented the half-elf.
Everyone nodded or mumbled in agreement.
“Thanks!” She replied with a wide smile.
“Speaking of compliments…” Vanessa chimed in.
“The way you handled Tolehor was brilliant. You’re a master negotiator.” She said to Mags.
“Oh, I was just making it up as I went. It wasn’t much really.” Mags dismissed.
“Oh no. We wouldn’t have survived without you.” Vanessa leaned over to the kenku and whispered.
“You’re the smartest one on our team.” She pulled away with an alluring smile.
“Maybe.” Mags replied skeptically as she pulled away. She squinted suspiciously at the half-elf.
“So you all think the Omnishield will be the best way to stop the Horde?” Pakris changed the subject.
“After the loss of my army, yes. We don’t have another hope.” Rygo answered.
“I’ll gladly help you find it. As long as you help me destroy my bastard father, Katak.” Pakris responded.
“Deal. Heh heh.” Rygo replied enthusiastically.
“Did you know Nothos survived?” Mags asked the princess.
Pakris spit into the ground.
“What do I care? When I confronted my father over what he was doing to us, he refused to help. He just stood there.” Pakris said bitterly.
“He was a child.” Mags reflexively defended him.
“He was a coward!” Pakris shouted as she stood halfway up from her seat. She recollected herself and sat back down.
“We could have ended his tyranny right there. Instead my father fought me to a draw, and I had to flee.” She recalled with resentment.
“I’m sorry.” Mags quietly said.
“Well he’s not I’m sure. Anyway, I’ve heard rumors that the Kythrillian dwarves have the Omnishield, or at least know where it is. There’s an outlying village not far from here. We can get there before sundown. One of them will probably know something about its location.”
“Excellent. After we find out what we can and destroy the village, I’ll be two steps closer to my goals.” Rygo mused.
“What?!” Mags, Ahriman, and Pakris exclaimed.
“The dwarves destroyed my clan. I intend to eliminate them as revenge.” Rygo responded matter of factly.
“All of them?! Even the civilians?” Pakris shouted in horror.
“Yes. The dwarves want all of draconic kind dead. They are all responsible.” Rygo replied firmly with gritted teeth and a stern expression.
Pakris narrowed her eyes and said.
“Even the children?”
“They will be raised to do the same.” Rygo replied.
“What kind of monster intends to slaughter children?!” Pakris’ voice dripped with bile.
“Who are you to judge me?! You seek violent retribution as well!” Rygo stood up and shouted.
“Only against Katak. Not the city that is responsible for his power and refuses to bring him to justice.” Pakris replied coolly.
“That’s different!” Rygo roared.
“How?!” Pakris roared back.
“You wouldn’t understand. Not as a farborn.” Rygo said spitefully.
“Says the skin-wearer.” Pakris retorted.
“How dare you! I know what it is to be a dragonborn, unlike you who was not even raised by our kind!” Rygo exploded. Fire grew in his mouth and threatened to fly out.
“I know a great deal. Perhaps you’ve forgotten in all your time away that there is more to being a dragonborn than violence. I refuse to take you to the village until you swear that you won’t harm a single dwarf!” Pakris stormed off.
“Rygo what the f*ck?!” Mags exclaimed angrily.
“It’s none of her business. Or any of yours! It’s my grudge. My vengeance.”
“Just do it Rygo.” Vanessa intervened.
“She can’t stop you once we’ve gotten the Omnishield.”
“Huh, good point.” Rygo replied.
“Oh my gods.” Mags whispered in horror to herself.
Ahriman stared distraught into the fire. He was traveling with a monster and two young women in danger of being corrupted by him.
Cerci gnawed blissfully on her slice of dinosaur rib.
“Fine. I’ll go talk to her.” Rygo got up and walked over to Pakris away from the fire.
“What do you want.” She said to him with a glare.
“To make you an oath.” Rygo replied calmly.
“I swear to not harm a single dwarf in the village today or tomorrow, except in self-defense.” He bowed his head, held his hands to his side, and curled his tail around his legs as he made his promise.
“Huh, you’re serious.” Pakris replied with surprise.
“Yes, and I’m sorry. It’s not my place to claim you do not know what it is to be a dragonborn.” Rygo humbly said.
“Alright that’s enough. It’s weird you being so nice after that. Get the others and let’s go.”
“Very well.” Rygo politely replied.

Chapter 42: Quietgrass

Chapter Text

Rygo and Pakris returned to the party together. They peered eagerly at the two dragonborn, waiting to learn the results of their private conversation. Pakris sighed and threw her hands up as she said.
“Well come on. We’re not going to get to the village sitting down.”
The party nodded, and held back from expressing their relief. They would be in a dead end without Pakris. Cerci put out the fire and shoved as much dinosaur meat as she could into her pack. Vanessa rubbed her temples in exasperation at her sister’s antics but refrained from saying anything. All six travelers quickly packed up and moved on from the site.

The rain had long subsided, and the party trekked through the muddy fields. Along the way, a herd of hexophants, massive four legged beasts with six tentacles protruding from their face, passed by. Mags and Ahriman stared in awe at the strange magnificence of the gentle giants, but the rest paid them little mind.
After a few hours of travel, the party came upon a ring of mud brick pillars rising from the ground. The pillars stood three stories high and had dwarvish runes inscribed upon them. They stood a hundred meters apart from one another and formed a perimeter around a small collection of thatch and mud brick buildings. A watchtower with a small wall of wooden posts stood between and beyond two of the runed structures. The party could see a few little, hairy heads poking above the ramparts.
Pakris turned to the party.
“You all should stay back while I speak to them. I know their language, and they’re familiar with me. I’ll secure our entry. Then we can see about finding what they know about the Omnishield’s location.” She said authoritatively.
The party nodded in agreement with the exception of Vanessa. The half-elf raised an eyebrow in disbelief that the dragonborn could successfully parley with the dwarves. Pakris turned around and walked toward the watchtower with her hands raised high above her head.
“D-D-Dragonborn!!” A terrified voice shouted out in the Kythrillian Dwarvish tongue from the watchtower. A strange, steel object was set on the rampart.
“It’s just me, Pakris! Get Father Chaupi over here. He knows-”
“Stop right there, monster ! We won’t let you attack Quietgrass!”
One of the three dwarves who had rushed to the front of the watchtower shouted with a mixture of fear and anger. Rygo stepped forward impulsively.
“She’s not here to hurt you you idiots!” He shouted in broken dwarvish.
“Two! Two dragonborn!” The first dwarf shrieked.
“Rygo I’ve got this.” Pakris hissed at him.
“No. You don’t.” Vanessa chided from behind.

Pakris and Rygo looked back to see a dark fog pour out of the half-elf’s mouth as she spoke an incantation in an ancient form of the elvish tongue. The fog formed into a vague oval shape in front of Vanessa just larger than her. She stepped into it, and the fog vanished along with her.

Vanessa stepped out of the shadowy fog next to the three dwarves in the watchtower. The three dwarves turned and stepped back in shock. In a panic, one of them reached for the steel object resting on the rampart. Vanessa glanced at the steel cylinder with an attached steam tank at the bottom and a large clip of bolts at the top. She immediately recognized it as a dwarven machine bow.
“Hahaha. What do you expect to do with that?” Vanessa taunted the dwarves as she sent a violet firebolt at the weapon. It flew to the ground, and the steam tank exploded with the sudden increase of heat and pressure.
“Vanessa!” Pakris shouted angrily.
The dwarves stepped away from the violet-eyed half-elf too afraid to even draw their weapons. Vanessa smiled wickedly.
“Tell me where the Omnishield is if you value your pathetic lives.” She commanded them.
The dwarves shook in fearful silence for a moment. As Vanessa’s hands began to glow with purple flame, one of them managed to speak up.
“We don’t know anything. We’re just a small outpost.”
“You’re lying!” Vanessa shouted gleefully.
She stepped forward with glowing eyes to the dwarf bold enough to speak. She placed her hand on the terrified soldier’s forehead and said forcefully.
“Submit to my will and tell me everything!”
The dwarf’s eyes rolled back, and the sclera shone violet. The dwarf answered Vanessa in a slow, monotone voice.
“I do not know where the Omnishield is, but a regiment of our people has been tasked with eliminating a beholder who knows its location. The encampment is a few days journey by walking east of here.”
Vanessa released the dwarf from her spell with a pleased look on her face. The dwarf fell back and looked up at the half-elf with mortal terror. Vanessa laughed and her hands lit up with flame. A fiery red circle appeared next to her and Pakris stepped out of it. The dragonborn grabbed Vanessa’s arm and said in a low, forceful voice.
“We didn’t come here to kill them.”
Vanessa yanked her hand arm away and snarled. She glared at the dragonborn and considered how she might punish the wyrm’s impudence. Her thoughts were interrupted by an elderly voice calling out from below.
“Pakris! Is that you?!”
“Father Chaupi! You recognize me?” Pakris responded in a relieved tone.
“Of course! Come down here child. Bring your fellow wanderers with you.” A silver bearded dwarf dressed in orange and red robes warmly invited her.
“Be right there!” Pakris replied.
She turned to Vanessa to instruct her on how to behave in the village, but the half-elf was already gone.

Vanessa reappeared amongst the rest of the party. She calmly informed them.
“They told me how we can find the Omnishield. A beholder to the east of here possesses the information we need. The dwarvish army is trying to kill them. Oh, they offered us entrance to the village.”
She was not going to allow Pakris to take credit for that. Especially after telling her what to do. Did she think being a princess made her special? Oh well, the dynasties of old would soon be obsolete anyway.
“Why would we go in there?” Rygo asked with an irritated growl.
“Would rather sleep out here in the cold all by yourself?” Vanessa retorted.
She walked back to the village, ending the argument. Cerci merrily skipped behind her sister. Mags and Ahriman exchanged a look then followed after.

Alone, Rygo clenched his fists and curled his tale. No dragonborn he had ever known had entered a dwarven settlement before. Surely it was a trap. But what could they do? He was stronger than any of them. But all at once? His allies would help him. Right? Pakris may very well let them skin him alive and say he deserved it. But Mags and Ahriman would come to his aid. Although Mags was rather unhappy with his stated goal of eliminating the dwarves. She just doesn’t understand. She would fight alongside him if they attacked. Rygo took a deep breath and breathed out slowly. He activated his armor and walked into the village.

The dwarves of Quietgrass left their respective farms and workshops to observe the strange guests. The militia from the watchtower kept their distance. They marveled at the sisters’ pointy ears and Mags’ feathery body. Some peered curiously at Ahriman trying to determine if he was truly alive or dead. The majority neared Pakris tepidly and watched for any sudden movements or signs of aggression. After witnessing Father Chaupi and the dragonborn embrace however, most of her detractors warmly greeted her. Many of the dwarves called out her name and reminded her of when they last met.
Pakris responded in kind and chatted eagerly about life events and what they had been up to. Ahriman and Mags retracted from the attention directed towards them. Vanessa swatted away hands reaching for her ears.
But Cerci embraced the crowd and ran through it with a bright face and gleeful smile. She let the children play with her hair and rub her ears and in turn excitedly asked to touch the men’s elaborately braided beards. They laughed heartily as they refused her requests.
Suddenly, Cerci straightened up and her eyes darted around wildly as she sniffed vigorously. She sprinted over to the source and found a basket filled with fluffy, brown objects emanating warmth and a pleasant smell.
“What is this?” She eagerly asked.
“Bread.” The baker replied with a laugh.
“Breeeaaad. May I have some?” She looked up with big pleading eyes.
“Haha of course.”
Cerci took out a loaf and bit in. Her eyes widened and voraciously devoured the rest of the loaf.
“Oooooh!” She exclaimed.
“I love bread. May I have some more?”

The crowd of villagers laughed heartily at the half-elf’s antics. Mags, Ahriman, and Pakris chuckled to themselves as well. Vanessa simply covered her face at the embarrassment of her sister becoming a joke.
The laughter abruptly died off as Rygo strode in. The dwarves of Quietgrass fell back in fear of the tall, armored dragonborn. He looked down at them with a contemptuous glare. Rygo sneered at the priest as he approached him. Father Chaupi clutched his iron amulet of Moradin’s forge. Pakris stepped between them.
“He’s not here to hurt anyone. He’s with me.” Pakris said firmly to the small crowd.
The priest stroked his long, bushy beard.
“Is this true?” His brown eyes stared deeply into the dragonborn’s.
“Yes.” Rygo curtly replied.
“One dragonborn’s more than enough! We don’t need to allow another one here!” An angry laborer shouted.
The crowd murmured in agreement.
“All are Moradin’s creation, including the dragonborn!” Father Chaupi raised his voice and sternly retorted. He turned back to Rygo.
“As the Word says. “All who come to our roof in peace, shall be sheltered. All who come to our table in friendship, shall be fed.”
The crowd lowered their heads in shame.
Rygo snickered.
“Not how the other priests would put it.”
Father Chaupi walked up to Rygo and spoke quietly to him.
“Why do you think I’m a priest so far away from the rest of my society?”
“So you can have more control over this community without anyone noticing.” Rygo replied matter of factly.
Father Chaupi shook his head with a frown. He said with a hint of sorrow.
“I was going to say so that I could have the freedom to teach this way. Not all of us desire dominance.”
Rygo’s brow rose in confusion. Really? Why wouldn’t he want the control isolation allowed him? His thoughts were interrupted by the concerns of an ederly farmer.
“Well that’s all well and good but the presence of draconic people will bring a curse on our crops.”
“Would you like help with that?” Cerci spoke up.
“Well, uh, yea. Can you bless the crops?” The farmer asked hesitantly.
“Do you have more bread?” Cerci replied with wide open eyes and an excited smile.
A fit of laughter broke out throughout the party and crowd of dwarves. With the tension broken, the farmers happily brought Cerci over to their fields of grain. She looked out upon them with a satisfied grin. She was gonna get so much bread for this. Cerci walked directly into the midst of the fields until she arrived at the center. She began to chant in the druidic tongue.

She stomped on the ground and called upon the soil to relinquish its nourishment to the crops. She danced in fluid, flowing movements and summoned the water deep in the earth to rise to roots. She stopped and stood perfectly still for a few minutes. Then she commanded the grain to grow. She pounded the earth with each foot then dropped to the ground with her fingers digging into the soil. Then she sprang back up and raised her hands high all while ordering the crops to grow and grow. With a creaking and a shrieking all around her, the plants gave in to her demands.

The crowd of dwarves murmured in excitement as the stalks surrounding Cerci rose to twice their height and sprouted new heads of produce. After half an hour passed with little change however, one of the farmers could not help but ask.
“How long’s it gonna take to get the rest of them?”
“About eight hours.” Vanessa answered with a smirk.
“Ohhhh” The dwarves of Quietgrass collectively let out.
Before bored indifference could spread throughout the community, Father Chaupi announced.
“In celebration of our, soon to be, bountiful harvest, let us have a feast and thank Moradin for His rewarding of our hospitality.”

The villagers of Quietgrass cheered with jubilation and immediately set out to prepare for the party. Barrels of ale were rolled out, bread was baked, and games of contest and cooperation were organized. The villagers set up the festivities in the one stone building in the village, the Temple of Moradin. The party was directed past the birth room and the Hall of the Sacred Forge to the community hall. There they were seated amongst the villagers and served bread, ale, sausage, and vegetables.
Mags politely asked for some water and was obliged with a few chuckles let out by the dwarf serving her. Ahriman sighed at the presence of yet another meal he could not enjoy. Vanessa sipped her ale slowly and ate her food in a refined manner. She looked around the room to see if anything interesting was going on. Rygo and Pakris tore into the food and drink.
After a long swig, Rygo remarked.
“Not as flavorful as I’d like but rather strong. I’ll give them that.” He noticed Pakris guzzling her ale like a drought was upon them, and a smirk crept up his face. He leaned towards her and said mockingly.
“Wouldn’t expect a moralizer like you to be so into having a good time.”
Mags facepalmed. Ahriman groaned. Vanessa grinned. Pakris raised her arms in the air with ale splashing out of her cup. She proclaimed excitedly as though she had not heard Rygo’s tone.
“When it’s so rare in these lands to get to drink like this?!”
She set her cup on the floor and tapped the furnished stone with her other hand. She stared at her plate in fixed thought then looked up at Rygo with a goofy smile. She said.
“Besides, I wasn’t doing it for ‘MoRaLs’.” She set down her ale.
“I was saying you shouldn’t for your clan’s reputation.”
“What do you mean?” Rygo replied skeptically.
“I’ve heard of the Golden Clan of Afsus. Every clan that has spoken of them praised their noble warriors who fought bravely in battle and defended the weak.” Pakris laid out.
“Go on.” Rygo said intrigued in spite of himself.
Pakris leaned forward and spoke quietly so that the crowd of dwarves could not hear.
“Avenging your clan is the honorable thing, the right thing, the only sensible thing to do. Defeat the dwarves in fair combat again and again and you will restore the honor of your clan. Kill the elderly and infirm and those who can’t fight back though…” Pakris leaned back and sipped her ale.
“Your clan will be remembered as the monsters your enemies claim them to be. Is that what you want?”
What I want is for them to suffer. Rygo thought to himself. But what if she’s right? The wrong done to my clan must be repaid. But at the cost of their legacy? No. The clans would understand. They’d see my actions as just. But Wendel didn’t think so. Tolehor certainly would not care to uphold my people’s reputation. Balcrath and his crusaders though… do they share my plans? Would they approve?
Could the dwarves’ shame by defeat in battle make up for my loss? Could the wails of their defenseless? The wails would match those of my clan. But vengeance at the cost of my clan’s honor is no victory. I cannot wound them after the pain they’ve suffered.
Rygo crossed his arms. He breathed in deeply and whispered in a low growl.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have taken you for a fool. You know what it is to be a dragonborn more than I thought. However, my intentions with...” Rygo looked around to ensure no one outside of the party was listening.
“...them, is up to me. But, I may consider what you have said. I appreciate that you understand the weight upon my shoulders.”
Pakris raised her hand and held her head forward. Rygo clasped hers and pressed his head against hers. They broke after a brief moment and returned to stuffing themselves with food and drink. Mags sighed with relief. Ahriman nodded approvingly. Vanessa let out a surprised “hm”.
Cerci released her hold on the fields of grain. They had obeyed her for long enough and grown with the promise of bearing a bountiful harvest despite their earlier protests. The half-elf druid slumped onto the cold dirt. Her arms, legs, her whole body was exhausted. She weakly shivered. She hadn’t noticed how cold it had gotten since the sun went down.
Her ears pricked up. There was a rustling amongst the crops. Someone was coming. Cerci relaxed and smiled. Her sister’s soft footsteps were approaching. Vanessa was always so good at sneaking up on people. But never on her. Cerci always knew when her sister was near.
A soft, fuzzy warmth embraced her. She looked up to see Vanessa looking down with a soft smile. Cerci smiled back and wrapped the blanket tightly around her. Suddenly, she noticed the basket on Vanessa’s hip. Cerci shot up and eagerly asked.
“Is that…?”
Vanessa nodded. Cerci’s eyes widened and she lifted the blanket on top of the basket to reveal several loaves of bread. Cerci opened her mouth with an expression of pure joy and snatched one of the loaves. As she began munching on the delicious bread, her sister wrapped her arm around her and guided her back to the village.
“Come on. Everyone’s asleep and it’s time to get ours too.” She said softly while petting Cerci’s hair.
“Thanks Vanessa for… for everything. You’ve always been so brave and strong. Even when it was hard for you. Even when we lost our parents. You’ve always been the best seester ever.” Cerci snuggled up against her sister.
“Yes…” Vanessa looked away as she remembered that day.
“lost.” She said softly without looking at her sister.
She drifted off for a moment but quickly recollected herself. She smiled at her sister and said.
“Of course. We’re always there for each other. We always will be.”
The two walked in silence for a few minutes. Cerci piped up again and said cheerily.
“I like our new partners.”
“Don’t get too attached to them.” Vanessa replied firmly.
“But what if we didn’t have to. What if they became our friends then-”
“They wouldn’t understand. No one but us could.” Vanessa’s unblinking eyes stared deeply into Cerci’s own.
“That’s why it’s just you and me.” She embraced Cerci briefly then released and stoically looked toward the village as they walked.
Cerci looked up at her sister. So strong, so resolute, so sure of herself and everything. Cerci smiled with pride. Her sister was going to change the world, and she got to be a part of it.

Chapter 43: False Prophet

Chapter Text

Rygo grunted and threw his arms in the air as he was shaken awake the following morning.
“What is it?” He grumbled irritatedly.
“I want to show you something.” Pakris whispered enthusiastically to the dragonborn.
“This early? It’s barely dawn.”
“Trust me. You’ll want to see this.” She urged.
Rygo rolled from side to side on his back until he mustered the energy to lift himself up. He lazily looked around the room to see everyone else but Pakris fast asleep. He wondered what she was up to, but his thoughts were too muddled to make any guesses. Pakris lead Rygo out of the temple and beyond the village up to one of the mud brick pillars forming the perimeter of the settlement. Suddenly, Pakris threw her arms around Rygo’s waist and spread her wings.
“Hold on.” She calmly instructed him.
“Wait wha-”
Before Rygo could even ask what was happening, the princess lifted him up into the air and carried him to the top of the towering structure. Rygo was a bit larger than her, but Pakris mustered all of her strength in a rapid push to the needed height. They landed on the pillar’s smooth surface. Rygo began to protest.
“What is all this-”
“Shhhh. Look out over there.” Pakris held her finger to Rygo’s mouth then pointed out to the horizon.
Rygo saw a smattering of colors that appeared to be moving as an odd clump. He squinted his eyes to parse out the details. He saw wings. And the colors were not mixed but rather overlapping one another. Blue, gold, red, bronze. He widened his eyes as the clump grew larger, and the details became clearer.
“The pilgrimage of the wyrmlings.” The words slipped out of his awestruck face.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? You can see them flying in from here, and there, and over there.” Pakris pointed out the wyrmlings joining the flock from the north, south, and west.
“It’s… been so long.” Rygo said holding back tears.
Pakris put her hand on Rygo’s shoulder.
“It’s nice getting to watch them with someone.” She said warmly.
Rygo touched his hand to Pakris’ and replied
“It is.” with a smile.
“How many do you think will make it to Pavitra?” Pakris asked somberly.
“Most. But few of them will return.” Rygo replied with a heavy sigh.
“You can change that.” Rygo turned to Pakris with a look of surprise.
“And if you do so honorably, you and your people will be celebrated for ages.”

Rygo leaned back and reflected on her words. Succeeding in his mission would certainly improve the lot of the dragons and bring honor to him and his people. Would they care how it was done? He was still unsure. But for now, he could appreciate the beautiful sight of a thousand wyrmlings gathering together to travel to the Mountain of Origin itself. Regardless of the circ*mstances, it felt good to be home.
The two dragonborn gathered up the rest of the party, and they all head out after a brief farewell to the dwarves of Quietgrass. They headed east to find the encampment of dwarves tasked with eliminating their one lead to the Omnishield. As they began their journey, Mags received a message from Nothos.

What are the new members like? Father’s furious. We’ve gotten nowhere. Sent our army to eastern Badlands. Siege is over? Says Hillton will pay dearly.

He’s given up? Mags thought to herself. Doesn’t seem like Katak. At least he’s sending the army to the east where they can help against the Horde. How to describe Vanessa and Cerci to Nothos? Mags responded.
Two feral young women. One nice so far. Other is sketch. Sorry about that. At least we’ll have army. Met Pakris yesterday. She’s still pissed.

Mags wondered how Nothos would respond to his lost sister being alive. She couldn’t imagine he’d be too happy about it. She shrugged her shoulders. Nothing she could do about it now.
As the party walked along the grasslands of the Dragon Lands, they found themselves amongst the enormous fauna of the region. Termites larger than horses walked alongside them. Their nest towered in the distance far larger than any humanoid made structure anyone in the party had seen. Ants of a rival colony could be seen setting about the termites to the party’s south. As the battle of giants raged, the party members could the earth tremble beneath them. They all looked at each other with apprehension of how they might survive the clash amongst them.

Suddenly, they found themselves engulfed in shadow. The party looked up to see that a humongous bird loomed over them from above and blocked out the sun. Its partner flew alongside it and appeared to spot the tiny travelers with its sharp eyes. It called to its partner, and the two began to swoop down at the party.
The adventurers screamed in terror as the enormous raptors descended upon them. Mags drew out her Rod of Command and swung it around her head three times yelling.
“Friends!!”
Golden light shot out from the end of the rod and showered over the birds of prey. Their eyes shone a sparkly gold, and they landed in peacefully in front of the party. Mags proudly turned to the rest of the party and said with a silly smile.
“Want a ride?”

Cerci and Rygo enthusiastically ran over to the birds to mount them much to the others’ horror and Vanessa’s amusem*nt. The gigantic birds allowed the two to climb onto their backs, however. Mags turned to those still on the ground, shrugged, and then mounted a bird herself. The rest followed suit.

Mags ordered the humongous fowl to carry them off in the air. The charmed creatures obliged and lifted high up into the sky with the party clinging to their backs. As the world below grew smaller and smaller, the party could see the earth burst open. Purple worms several times larger than the ants and termites jutted out of the ground and fell upon the insects, devouring them.
The party concluded amongst each other that they would ride upon the birds’ backs until they had found a sign of settlement. At Mags’ command, the giant birds flew eastward for several hours. The party saw a wide variety of terrain surrounding them. Dense forests, high hills, vast grasslands, and dark swamps covered the landscape. Enormous wildlife they had never seen before appeared barely larger than specks from their height. The party covered an extensive distance before they spotted a small assortment of buildings below.

Mags ordered their mounts to fly down to the settlement. As they drew closer, the party noticed that the structures were almost entirely flimsy shacks surrounding a rather large longhouse with an ebony statue in front of it. When the birds landed in the open area between the longhouse and the shacks, nobody could see any of the residents. There seemed to be no sign of sapient life around.
The party dismounted and Mags dismissed the birds who promptly flew away. Afterwards, the adventurers took in their surroundings. There were no tools on the ground, no carts, no animals, and the small shacks did not even have doors. Silence pervaded the area.

A tall, black statue depicting a stern faced elf whose body gradually changed into an amorphous, fog-like form caught Vanessa’s eye. She looked closely at its face. There was an odd familiarity to it that she could not place. The elf’s eyes looked down upon the world with disdain, but when Vanessa met its eyes with her own, it felt like a strict father reminding her of her place in the world and the task assigned to her. Vanessa stared deeper into the figure’s eyes, searching for connection or some kind of guidance it could offer. It offered none.
“Look over here!” Cerci called out to the rest of the party.
The others came over to see what the half-elf was pointing at. They saw a collection of birdlike tracks that headed towards the longhouse. Mags put her own foot into one of the tracks demonstrating that they all approximated her size. She chirped curiously.
“Other kenku maybe. What are they doing here?” She mused.
She hadn’t heard of her kind being common anywhere in the realm besides the Badlands. Rygo pointed to the longhouse and said.
“We can find out by going in there.”
“Yes. And find out who built that statue.” Vanessa added.

The party walked towards the door of the longhouse together. Rygo activated his armor just in case. The door opened easily and revealed a crowd of over a hundred kenku resembling crows. They stood squeezed against one another with very little space between them. They expressed no discomfort however, and did not seem to even notice how tightly confined the area was. They all looked forward at the stage set up at the end of the longhouse.
Atop the stage stood an elvish man in darkly covered robes. He held a glass ball with a swirling dark cloud inside in his right hand and a rune covered iron staff in his left. He spoke with a fevered passion to his audience and shouted out with thunderous zeal.
“The return of Elandrus is upon us! He has endowed his prophet with these gifts to see his mission through! You, my loyal flock, will have the privilege of being the first souls that will empower his reclaiming of the realm!”
The party exchanged confused looks with each other, but Vanessa laughed uproariously.
“Hahaha. You are no prophet of Elandrus! You are a mere pawn to be cast aside!” She mocked.
The kenku did not react to her remarks, but the elf did. The prophet’s lips quivered. His face twisted and turned with shock and disgust. He pointed to the party and shouted.
“Seize them!!”
The kenku slowly turned around. Their mouths hung lazily open, and a black film covered their brown eyes. The party acted quickly.
Mags drew her crossbow and fired at the false prophet penetrating him with two bolts and forcing him to keel over. Rygo charged through the thick ranks of the kenku barreling many over with his great strength. Ahriman followed closely behind.

The kenku began to swarm the others, grabbing and pinning them down. Pakris attempted to fly into the air but was dragged down before she could get away. Mags spotted shadows cast along the walls by the torchlight and teleported from shadow to shadow to get closer to the false prophet. Vanessa cast dimension door and brought herself up to the stage.
Cerci was tackled to the ground. She called upon the spirits of flame and burning to give her strength. She burst into flame as she transformed into a fire elemental. The kenku screamed in pain as she ran through them towards the stage, setting them alight.

The false prophet swung at Vanessa where she appeared with his staff. She blocked the attack with a violet arcane shield, but the force of the blow launched her back several feet.
Rygo climbed up the platform and raised his hammer. The false prophet spoke a string of ancient elvish words and Rygo’s eyes clouded over with darkness.
Immediately after Rygo lost control of himself, Ahriman and Cerci leapt onto the stage from behind. Mags shadow stepped onto the stage right behind the false prophet. The three struck their foe at once, and he was overwhelmed. The elf fell with a scream, flinging the staff and glass ball out of his hands during his descent. Ahriman snatched the staff. Vanessa dove forward just in time to catch the ball. The shadowy mist inside of it dissipated until the glass sphere became entirely transparent.
The film over Rygo and the kenku’s eyes faded away. The kenku began to take in their surroundings and recollect themselves only to see that the fire had spread to the walls of the longhouse, and the whole structure was about to be caught aflame. They ran out screaming for their lives. Many trampled over each other trying to escape. Cerci transformed back into her normal form and shrugged with a bit of embarrassment.
“Oops.” She said with a nervous chuckle.
“We need to get them out!” Mags shouted as she teleported from shadow to shadow to the front of the building.
Ahriman used the same trick to follow after her. They tore down the weakening frame of the front of the longhouse to create a larger opening for the kenku to escape. Pakris got herself back up and joined them in their task. Vanessa, Cerci, and Rygo looked at each other and shrugged. They nonchalantly strolled up to the exit, unworried by the spreading flames.
The party got out safely before the longhouse had entirely caught fire. Most of the kenku escaped as well. The bewildered birds chattered frantically amongst themselves. They called out to one another, and many of them began to embrace each other with tears of joy streaming down their faces. Mags went up to one of them and asked.
“What are you all doing here? What was going on?”
“Not sure.” The confused kenku replied.
“In village. Lose control of body. Told to help get others. Do. March down here. Build place. Make statue. Not sure why. Now, think family here. Go hug them.” She explained.
“Thanks. I’m glad you’re with your family again.” Mags chirped back.
The kenku nodded and returned to searching for her family. Mags turned to Vanessa and asked eagerly.
“What was that stuff about Elandrus and him being a false prophet?”
Vanessa laughed.
“I was just f*cking with him.” She said with a smirk.
Mags sighed with disappointment. She looked back at the kenkus and tilted her head in thought.
“How are we gonna get them back home?” She mused.
“Ah, I have a way of getting back to places real quick.” Cerci chimed in.
“Oh?” Mags replied.
“Yes! I can make a tree into a doorway to another tree I’ve seen before. It only lasts for a few seconds, but if they hurry, they can show up at a forest near the great river.”

She must mean the Mirkazi. Mags thought to herself. She waited for the kenku to finish their reunions then explained the situation to them. They all agreed to the solution as their village was in the Badlands not far from the river.

Cerci walked over to a nearby oak tree. She chanted in the druidic tongue as she stuck her hands into the tree’s bark. Her hands pushed through as she commanded the tree to allow her passage. Then Cerci headbutted the tree and ordered it to open to the kapok of the north. She pulled her hands apart, and the oak groaned but gave way. The tree opened up revealing the bank of the Mirkazi river. Cerci told the kenku to hurry through, and they ran as fast as they could through the opening. In a few seconds, they were gone. Cerci pulled her hands out, allowing the doorway to close.
“Thank you.” Mags said to the half-elf.
Cerci smiled in response.
“Well that was a f*cking weird time.” Pakris remarked.
The rest of the party nodded and grunted in agreement. Vanessa held up the glass sphere and said triumphantly.
“But we acquired some excellent spoils. This item will allow for me to concentrate on two spells at once.” The knowledge came as a whisper in her mind, but she did not care to tell the party that.
Ahriman looked at his own share of the loot. He inspected the runes and found to his surprise that he understood them completely despite them not matching any language he had encountered in the realm. The runes read: Pillar of the gods. Ahriman blinked rapidly in shock. Suddenly, the memory of where the staff came from flooded back into his mind.

Once again, Ahriman saw a garden surrounding him. The flowers’ color faded as they began to wilt. A snow white skeleton stood before him. Its body, though without flesh, was full of life. Its eyes piercing as ever and filled with the love and passion for Ahriman he had always had.
“It worked! You’ll never suffer the pains of this world again.” Tulani said with overwhelming joy.
Ahriman looked at his hands and saw that they were composed of rotten flesh.
“I’ll never know its pleasures again.” He whispered sorrowfully.
Oblivious to Ahriman’s disappointment, Tulani boisterously wrapped his arm around Ahriman and walked with him while spouting his vision.
“I’m so close too, my love! Soon I’ll have discovered just how to erase even the pain of the mind. No more sadness. No more anger. Heartbreak will be gone. The people of this world will soon forget what suffering ever was.” He victoriously proclaimed.
“It’s hard to believe.” Ahriman said flatly.
“I know, but it’s more than possible now. After you the Teacher’s temple, no one can stand in our way.” Tulani proudly presented the rune covered iron staff to Ahriman.
“I recovered its central pillar and enchanted it so that you may wield it but strike with all the force its mass carries.” Ahriman looked up at his lover with dismay.
Tulani cupped Ahriman’s head with his hand.
“We have defeated death. We will defeat sorrow. With your strength and my mind, darling, we will bring peace to this world.”
Ahriman snapped back to reality. He set the staff down. He sat on the ground. Then he broke down in tears.
No one could get out of the zombie why he was so distraught. The party decided to wait until he recollected himself. They waited for several minutes, but they did not mind. After Ahriman stood back up, they continued their march east.

Chapter 44: A Fortress of Earth and Iron

Chapter Text

It was only a few hours later that they saw an old man in grey robes with a tall walking stick approach them. By now, Rygo was tired of the “old man schtick” and called out with annoyance.
“We know you’re a dragon. Who are you?”
The stranger looked up with surprise then shrugged his shoulders and returned to his original form. Much like Hassan, he revealed himself to be a silver dragon, but rather smaller than the ancient one. Nonetheless, he towered over the adventurers. He spoke in a booming voice.
“My name is Aman. You travelers have arrived in my domain at an auspicious time. The dwarves have entrenched themselves at Girsu, the ruins of an ancient elven city from their empire so long ago. Would you assist me in driving these invaders out?”
“Are these the dwarves who intend to kill the beholder?” Vanessa asked the dragon.
“I do not know their exact purpose, but they do not appear to be here for conquest. Nonetheless, they have torn up the land and slain some of my dragonborn. I want them gone from my territory and return it to its rightful state.”
Rygo bowed in reverence to the dragon.
“We will be honored to fight for you, Aman.”
Finally. Rygo thought to himself. A dragon willing to take on the Kythrillian dwarves.
Vanessa’s smile gleamed at the prospect of a great battle. Cerci grew excited along with her sister. Pakris nodded resolutely. Ahriman steeled himself and hoped that those he fell were deserving of their demise.
Mags grumbled to herself. The dwarves seemed reasonable enough. Perhaps they could work out something. However, it was clear where the party lie on the issue. Better to help make a smooth operation then.
“We oughta scout them out. See what we’re up against.” She suggested.
Aman nodded and grunted affirmedly.
“The duck is right. None of my people have gotten close enough. The dwarves are capable of much. We need to know just what kind of ordinance and equipment they have brought with them.” He said.
“Cerci and I can scout them out.” Vanessa spoke up.
“She can transform into an innocuous animal, and with this new artifact, I will grant myself invisibility and flight simultaneously. We’ll learn precisely what they are capable of.” Vanessa confidently stated.
The party nodded and murmured in agreement. Well pleased, Aman said.
“Do this, return, and we will formulate a plan. If I am satisfied, I will ready my dragonborn for the upcoming conflict.”

The two sisters set about their task immediately. Cerci flapped her arms and hopped on the ground whilst calling for the birds to lend their form to her in the druidic tongue. Feathers sprouted from all over body. Her face twisted, contorted, and extended into a beak. Her bones crackled and popped as she shrunk down. Cerci took upon the form of a crow but her feathers were matted, her eyes pressed against by a white puffiness, and mold collected around her feet.
The others, with the exception of Vanessa, turned their eyes away in disgust.

Vanessa, meanwhile, pulled a small pile of dead bugs out her pack. She crushed them as she whispered ancient elvish words into her palm. Violet wisps flowed from her lips into the dust of the insect carcasses, and a dark cloud began to pour out. The cloud fell to the ground then gathered around Vanessa’s feet and ankles. She lifted into the air with a pleased giggle. The glass sphere in her left hand glowed as violet as her eyes. Vanessa brought her hand to her chest and with an elvish word thrust it out to her side. She was instantly imperceptible.

The sisters laughed mischievously and flew out to the east. They flew over the treeline, and after just a few moments of flight, they saw a landscape of stumps and torn earth. A lifeless field scattered with barbed wire lay before them leading up to a long trench dug into the ground with a concrete pill box placed on either side.

Dwarves armored in their famed Kythrillian steel filled the trench armed with axes and crossbows with steam canisters. The officers wore capes made of dragonborn and dragon scales. Red and gold were the most popular amongst them.

The sisters flew over to the slits of one of the pillboxes and saw a team of dwarves manning a steam powered machine bow. The sisters flew over the trench to find another one a hundred meters behind it with an identical setup to the first. The second trench sat at the base of a large hill stripped bare of its trees.

The sisters flew to the brow of the hill. There they saw the moss covered ruins of what little remained of an ancient stronghold. Strangely, large holes in the earth dotted the top of the hill. Hundreds of dwarves tended to their encampment amongst the ruins. Each of them kept special care not to stumble into one of the many holes that could easily claim them.

The sisters scanned the area for things of note. They spotted a team of dwarves tended to twenty three griffins saddled for riding. A mechanic meticulously looked over a steel device shaped like a humanoid and three times as large. Its arms were mounted with harpoons. Its body possessed a seat with a glass hatch lying over it. Large tanks of gas were piled nearby. Vanessa’s eyes widened with wonder and glee at the magnificent weapon. The largest tent stood nearby the device clearly marking it as the abode of the commanding officer.
Satisfied with their discoveries, the sisters flew back to the party and Aman. They recalled everything that they saw.
“They wear capes made of dragon scales?” Mags said with horror.
“To protect themselves from our breath and parade as trophies.” Rygo bitterly explained.
“Monsters.” He growled to himself.
“The griffin riders and Kythrillian Mecha will prove a great challenge.” Aman solemnly remarked.
“Leave the mecha to me.” Vanessa replied with a wicked smile on her face.
“I can aid you in the air along with any other winged dragonborn you have.” Pakris added.
“I’ll go with you Vanessa. See if I can find any documents about the beholder.” Mags chimed in.
“Wonderful.” Vanessa replied with an unblinking smile.
“I can slow down the dwarves reinforcing the trenches.” Cerci eagerly contributed.
“Then I’ll take out their machine bows.”
“How will you do that?” Ahriman asked concernedly.
Cerci tilted her head and with a wide smile said.
“You’ll see.”
“Heh, guess that leaves us and the dragonborn to charge the trenches!” Rygo shouted boisterously as he wrapped his arm around Ahriman.
“That’s a risky move, but it will be necessary to use all of my dragonborn with the numbers they have.” Aman remarked.
“So it’s settled. Thank you. This is the greatest chance my people have had for driving these invaders out yet. I’ll inform my dragonborn of the plan and tomorrow… the battle begins.”
The party cheered as Aman turned to leave. Exhausted from the long day, the party quickly set up camp and went to sleep. The battle for Girsu would commence the following day.

The party woke up to the pounding of thunder and lightning cracking the sky. Rain began to pour down upon them as they disassembled their tents and prepared for battle.
Aman approached them with his clan. Three hundred silver scaled dragonborn stood before the party. They were armed with clubs, axes, and spears made of bone and steel. Most carried slings with bags of stones at their side. Their scars and hardened expressions told of the many battles they had faced and their readiness to face another.
Rygo slowly, methodically walked up to the dragonborn. He planted his feet and tail firmly into the ground. He spread his arms wide and held his hands open. He bared his teeth with a menacing scowl. Amongst pounding thunder, howling wind, and pouring rain, Rygo shouted.
“Cousins!! I am proud to fight with you today!! I am proud to stand with you in defense of our home from these invaders!! They have destroyed our land!! They have desecrated our home!! But today we drive them out!! We will drive them from the hills!! We will drive them from the forests!! We will drive them into the mountains!! Then we will drive them from there!!”
Rygo activated his armor and drew his warhammer. He held it up in the sky and proclaimed.
“Today!! We will have victory!!”
The Silver Clan of Aman roared with pride in response. Aman nodded his head with deep satisfaction. Pakris walked up to Rygo and pounded her feet into the softening ground.
“I am proud to fight with you today!” She declared.
“And I am proud to fight with you!” Rygo replied.
Aman lifted up into the air with a few dragonborn flying alongside him. The small army of dragonborn charged out onto the barren field with Rygo and Ahriman among them. Mags and the sisters had already gone ahead.

Mags called upon the Shadow Cult’s patron to grant her invisibility. She felt a sharp sting in her hip where her tattoo lied. She looked at her hands and saw right through them. Mags looked up to see the field alight with flashes of lightning. She used the shadows cast by the bolts to shadow step across the field and keep up with the sisters. They used the same trick as before to make their way up the hill.
Cerci flew up to the slope of the hill near its crest. There she landed and returned to her usual form. She stomped on the ground and raised her arms into the air ordering the grass of the slope to grow. With a groan, the grass twisted and extended itself upwards until it rose higher than the half-elf. Satisfied, Cerci threw herself to the ground and called upon the earth to lend her its strength. Soil and rocks flowed onto Cerci’s skin until they subsumed her whole body. Cerci’s skin hardened. Her body became as hard and thick as stone. When she completed her transformation into an earth elemental, she fused with the earth and burrowed through it to the first trench facing the hill.
Vanessa positioned herself behind the remains of a stone wall. She peered over at the hunched mecha, ready to be deployed. She smiled. All she had to do was wait.
Mags stepped lightly amongst the dwarven encampment. She set her eyes on the commanding officer’s tent. She surmised it would be best to sneak in once the battle began, and the encampment fell into a state of chaos.

Aman burst out of the treeline with a thunderous roar. His dragonborn sprinted down the field behind him. Rygo bellowed with joy. He had craved such a battle for many years. Ahriman tightly gripped his staff as he ran down the field. It was time to kill again.

The dwarves in the trenches shook themselves alert and shouted orders to each other. They took up their positions and aimed their sights down range. At the order of the captain they opened fire. Bolts flew across the battlefield connecting with the flesh of the dragonborn taking several down. Clerics ran back and forth encouraging their comrades and healing those struck by the dragonborn’s slings. They prepared to cast protective spells once the enemy neared.

Inside the northern pillbox, the team of machine bowers began to unleash their bolts onto the field. One soldier held the clip in place while another aimed and a third prepared to replace the gas tank or clip of bolts.

Suddenly, a monster of earth and stone rose out of the unworked ground. It towered over them at twice their height and width. They screamed with terror and reached for their axes but were thrown aside by the powerful creature. It picked up the machine bow with one hand and punched it with the other rendering the weapon utterly useless. All the dwarves could do was stare in shock and horror as the monster sank into the earth and left.

The encampment fell into disarray as the dwarves scrambled to muster a defense to the surprise attack. Griffin riders mounted their steeds and took to the air to engage the dragon and its airborne entourage in aerial combat. Officers gathered their squadrons to rush down the hill to reinforce their comrades unaware of the overgrowth about to bog down their approach. Mechanics activated the mecha, and its pilot climbed up into her seat.

Vanessa cackled as she reached out her hand as though she were grabbing the nape of the dwarf’s neck. Her eyes glowed a dark purple as she forced her will into the dwarf’s body. The battle for control was brief and futile. Vanessa ordered the pilot to turn her attack on the dwarves. She obliged.

The mecha stood upright and began its assault. It turned to the scrambling dwarves and launched a harpoon from each of its arms skewering several of the unaware soldiers. Chaos erupted as the dwarves struggled to realize what was happening and turn their attention to the turncoat. Mages and clerics launched magical attacks against the armored battle suit but with limited results. The mecha stomped and raged throughout the camp. Vanessa covered her mouth to stop her laughter from giving herself away.

Mags knew the perfect opportunity had arisen. She wondered why there was no activity coming from the commanding officer’s tent though. She tilted her head with curiosity and slowly snuck her way inside.
The tent was filled with piles of papers, books, and scrolls. Maps depicting the Dragon Lands and the cave system underneath Girsu were pinned all along the walls. Gears, springs, motors, and other mechanical parts were strewn across the room. In the center of the tent, a young, portly dwarvish woman sat at a desk furiously pouring over documents. She appeared to not even notice the commotion going on outside and adjusted her glasses rather than take a look to find out what was happening.
Mags tiptoed past her to get to one of the maps of the hill. It showed that the holes dotting it were all part of an elaborate cave system. Somewhere in the caves was the beholder’s den. As Mags walked up to the map to see precisely where the beholder was located, she bumped into a stack of books and knocked them over. She scrunched her body as they hit the ground with a loud thud. A soft voice behind her pleasantly said.
“Hello.”
Rygo rushed headlong to the dwarven trench. The dragonborn alongside him fell in droves but even the dwarves steam powered bolts failed to penetrate his armor. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the northern turret cease firing. Then the southern turret ceased as well. He smiled. Cerci had done her part.

Rygo barrelled forward as a fireball landed in front of him. It hardly bothered him. The thrill of battle was upon him. Spirit guardians in the form of Kythrillian saints appeared between him and the trench. Rygo refused to let them stop him. He cast misty step and appeared in the trench. He fell upon the dwarves with a ferocious zeal. Their armor was strong. Their training was excellent. It did not matter.

Rygo tore through the trench causing the dwarves to flee before him. Then Ahriman leapt into the trench and felled dwarf after dwarf as well. Soon the charging dragonborn caught up and flooded the trench with silver scales and stone clubs. The dwarves pulled themselves out of the trench and retreated to the secondary trench.

Rygo laughed as they ran. He saw the dwarves atop the hill struggling to make it down. He knew they would take the second trench just as they had the first. The dwarves would be routed or captured. He looked up in the sky to see how Aman and Pakris were doing. The clash of scales, steel, and feathers raged fiercely. But the two held steady, and the griffin riders dwindled in number. Satisfied, Rygo turned his attention to the fleeing dwarves. He was determined not to allow them to reach the next trench.

Vanessa cackled with delight at the destruction the mecha wrought. The dwarves possessed nothing powerful enough to counter it. Even when some of them determined a caster must be behind it, they could not come close to finding her. Vanessa set her sights on the commanding officer’s tent. It would be quite the bragging point if she took them down too. She ordered the pilot to fire upon the tent.

Mags stood perfectly still hoping the dwarf did not notice her.
“I know where you are.” The dwarf repeated.
“And they said ‘detect thoughts’ was a useless spell.” She murmured to herself.
Mags slowly turned around and dropped her invisibility.
They both paused for a moment, unsure of what to do. Mags laughed nervously.
“Hey, know where I can find a beholder? Might as well ask. I’ve got nothing else to lose.”
“You’re looking for them too?” The dwarf responded with a raised eyebrow.
“Yup! Want to know where the Omnishield is.” She replied.
The dwarf leaned on her desk and rested her chin on her hand.
“Hmmm me too honestly. But that’s not part of my mission. Of course my mission is going to be nigh impossible now with this battle going on.” She looked around with a disappointed expression on her face.
“Oh yea. Why not help us then?” Mags asked with a friendly shrug.
“Sorry. I can’t go back empty handed. I’ve worked too hard to get this position. If I fail though, well, I hope you find it.” She replied.
“Thanks, uhhh” Mags awkwardly responded not knowing her name.
“Miski. You?”
“Mags.”
“See you around Mags.” Miski politely replied.

Miski shoved the papers on her desk into a pack and sealed it. Then she spoke a string of dwarvish words and a pink portal with flowery borders opened up. Miski stepped through it, and the portal closed behind her.

Immediately after, two harpoons crashed through the tent. Mags squawked in fear and dashed to a corner of the tent. She felt the ground shake as the mecha stomped closer and closer. Mags looked at the map of the cave system. She darted towards it. The tent crashed around her as she tore the map off the wall. Mags squeezed her way underneath the tent as the mecha crushed it with its feet and fists.
Mags pulled out the map behind her, but it was badly torn. She shrugged and stuffed the map in her pack. She walked away from the destroyed tent and the marauding mecha.
“Halt!!” A dwarven soldier shouted.

Mags turned to face him. The soldier was accompanied by two others. One clearly marked as a mage while the other two were heavily armored. One of them aimed their steam powered crossbow at her. Mags drew her crossbow and fired three times. Each dwarf fell with a bolt between their eyes. Mags put her crossbow away and casually strolled off.

Vanessa sighed with contentment. The dwarven battalion was crushed, and the commanding officer was surely dead. She saw Rygo and the others victoriously marching up the hill with over a hundred captured dwarves. Aman flew over the hill unopposed, prompting several squadrons to surrender. Vanessa decided to end her little game. She ordered the pilot to turn the mecha’s arms towards itself and fire. The machine of war’s hull was pierced and its pilot killed. It fell in a disabled heap next to the many dwarves it had slain. Vanessa congratulated herself on a job well done.
Rygo climbed to the top of the hill and planted his foot down. He breathed in deeply and breathed out with deep pride. He had done it. Against enormous odds the dwarves were soundly defeated. His revenge had truly begun. He looked back and saw the hundreds of dead and wounded dragonborn. Less than a third had made it through the battle alive. If his brother were alongside him now, he would ask.
“Was it worth it?”
“Yes.” Rygo replied.
“Yes it was.”

Chapter 45: Eye of the Beholder

Chapter Text

Rygo gazed upon the remains of the dwarven encampment. Their tents lay in ruin, their machines destroyed, and their power over the hill broken. A toothy grin crept across his face at the sight of their humiliation. He laughed at the dwarves imprisoned and abused by their vindictive captors. They deserved it for all the destruction their people wrought on draconic kind. A hefty silver claw clasped his shoulder. Rygo turned to the sturdy dragonborn warrior smiling proudly at him. The warrior said
“When I saw you in that armor, I was worried you were going to be a soft scale. Glad you proved me wrong. You would be worthy of being a dragon’s champion.”
Silently, Rygo clasped the dragonborn’s hand in his own, and the two pressed their heads against one another.
“Hehe, don’t act like you did the heavy lifting.” Vanessa cut in with a sly giggle.
The half-elf wrapped her arm around her sister affectionately. Cerci waved at the dragonborn with a big smile on her face. Vanessa smirked and added.
“So typical of men like you to take all the credit when us ladies are doing the work.” She said with mock offence.
The silver dragonborn stepped forward aggressively, but Rygo simply shook his head and laughed.
“I’ll be sure to sing your praises whenever I speak of this battle then. Perhaps we can all become a dragon’s champion together, haha.”
The dragonborn looked back and forth between the two with a confused expression then walked off. Rygo crossed his arms and asked Vanessa.
“How did things go on your end?”
“Hm, destroyed their mecha with ease and slayed their commander. We won’t have to worry about them hurting our little beholder friend.” Vanessa replied with enormous self satisfaction.
“Uh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Mags retorted as she walked up to the three.
Vanessa tilted her head and said with a forced smile.
“What do you mean?”
“I was in the tent. Their leader, Miski escaped through a dimension door. She’s probably in the tunnels right now trying to finish her mission.”
“Hmph, you let her get away?” Vanessa chided.
Mags ignored her. She pulled out the torn map of the hill and laid it out on the ground.
“The beholder is somewhere in this network of tunnels. It’s unclear where but we don’t have time to figure it out. The beholder knows where the Omnishield is. We gotta get to it before she kills it.”
“And how will we get it to tell us where it is?” Vanessa questioned Mags.
She planned on capturing the creature and torturing it until it revealed the answer, but Vanessa figured that the kenku would not have the stomach for such a task.
“I don’t know, but I can try this.” Mags tapped the Rod of Command strapped to her back.
She has the occasional good idea. Vanessa conceded to herself. Rygo stood up and boisterously exclaimed.
“We must gather the rest immediately! I’ll go get them!” Rygo ran off to find Ahriman and Pakris.
“Oooh I wonder what beholders are like.” Cerci mused.
“Disgusting and vile.” Vanessa replied with disdain.
“We’d be doing it a favor if we put it out of its misery.” Cerci eagerly digested Vanessa’s words.
Mags shot a side eye at Vanessa. The sisters did not notice though, or they did not care. Rygo returned with the others in tow.
“Alright. How do we choose which one?” Rygo asked Mags.
She shrugged. She glanced at the map and then pointed at a nearby hole.
“That one seems close to the center. Probably a good place to start.” She suggested.
No one protested the idea, and they had soon tied a rope tightly around the corner of an old wall and began to descend down the hole into a dark cavern. Cerci noted on their descent.
“The hole we went through can’t be natural. It’s perfectly circular.”

A few of the party members mumbled in acknowledgement. They were in too great of a hurry to consider Cerci’s observation. They continued to climb down the rope into the cavern which grew deeper and darker with each second. The bottom could not be seen, and the cave’s features were unclear.

Near the end of the twenty meter rope, Ahriman’s feet sploshed onto a rocky surface submerged in water. He looked from side to side but could perceive nothing in the enveloping darkness. He took out a torch from his pack to illuminate the area. As the spark began to grow into a flame, Cerci said from above.
“That’s weird. It smells… metallic down here.”
The torch revealed three suits of darkly colored armor carrying a sword and shield in each hand. A strange, inorganic grumble rang out from the suits of armor, as their joints and empty headspaces glowed an eerie red. One of the animated suits of armor flew up into the air at the party still descending down the rope while the other two engaged Ahriman in combat.
Vanessa and Cerci’s eyes darted around looking for a way to escape the approaching foe. They each spotted a smooth raised platform of rock on either side of the large cavern. They flung themselves from the rope onto the nearby surfaces. Pakris launched herself into the air and spread her wings. Mags and Rygo drew their weapons preparing to fight the strange foe.
The ground began to tremble as a six meter tall golem made of stone walked into the cave through a large opening. Rygo boisterously laughed and dropped to the ground. He looked back at the party and shouted.
“I’ll take the big one!” Then he charged the enormous construct.

Mags fired at the armor coming towards her, but her bolts bounced off doing little harm. The helmed horror struck at the rope above her cutting it with ease. Mags tumbled to the ground. She rolled as her feet hit the ground, but the fall still sprained her ankle. The construct flew at her in her vulnerable state only to get knocked into the wall by a crimson fireball sent from Pakris. The two exchanged a nod then refocused upon their foe.
Ahriman struggled to hold back his two opponents as they struck in tandem at each side. One of the suits of armor noticed Vanessa land on the ground though and flew towards the easy target. Ahriman cried in dismay and tried to run after it. He stopped when he saw the sword of the other construct pierce straight through his side. He turned back around and engaged with the automaton.
Vannessa created a violet arcane shield between her and the construct attacking her. She blocked two of its strikes then cast blight upon it. Although a powerful spell, it did little to inorganic entity.
“Oh no!!” Cerci exclaimed as she saw her sister’s peril.
She quickly intuited what to do. Cerci chanted in the druidic tongue cursing the constructs metal contortion of nature. The automaton’s steel body glowed a hot orange, and it elicited a horrendous grating noise resembling a scream.
Vanessa smirked as the construct twisted and crumpled. She finished with a couple violet firebolts then flipped her hair with a satisfied chuckle.
Ahriman’s staff smashed against the helm of his opponent sending it flying to the floor. The rest of the body ceased glowing and fell to the ground in a limp heap. Ahriman looked over and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Vanessa was perfectly fine.
Mags and Pakris peppered their foe with crossbow and fire bolts until automaton finally ceased to move.
Rygo flew back and landed hard on the ground. He rolled up to Ahriman’s feet and said weakly.
“Help please?”
Ahriman shook his head and smiled. He picked Rygo back up, and the two charged back at the stone golem. The construct still loomed powerfully over them, though it had received several cracks at the courtesy of Rygo. Vanessa and Pakris briefly looked at each other. Vanessa produced a flame in her hand with a smile on her face and Pakris nodded approvingly.
Ahriman jumped onto Vanessa’s platform, ran to its edge, then leapt at the golem. He swung his staff at its head as Rygo launched a glowing strike at its feet. The golem hesitated on which strike to block and was too late to stop either. It staggered back after the great blows. Then a pair of crimson and violet fireballs blasted against its chest. The golem fell onto its back never to rise again.

The party breathed heavily. Vanessa and Cerci sat down together to catch their breath. Ahriman leaned against his staff. Pakris fanned herself with her wings. Rygo healed himself and Mags’ sprained ankle. After a few gulps of air, the dragonborn admitted to his comrades.
“I don’t have much left in me. I hope we won’t have much left to deal with.”
“I’m nearly out of energy to cast spells.” Pakris added.
“I can’t transform anymore.” Cerci informed the party.
“We don’t have time to recover. Any delay increases the chances of the dwarves slaying beholder.” Ahriman remarked.
“Were those things protecting it?” Mags wondered.
“We better hope there aren’t many left to fight.”
The party concurred and planned on avoiding combat if they could help it. They gathered themselves together and headed out through the opening the golem had entered. The sisters magically produced a ball of light in their hands illuminating the cavern.
The party walked through a long, large tunnel with perfectly smooth edges. The cavern on the other side lacked any life or natural rock formations. A tunnel in each cardinal direction stretched out from the barren room. All over the walls, a single word in an ancient obscure tongue was scrawled into the rock.
“Ruby dust.” Vanessa said aloud as though no one else were present.
Cerci sniffed the stale air. She walked over to the eastern tunnel and said without looking back.
“I smell fresh blood.”
Mags, Ahriman, and Pakris exchanged concerned looks amongst each other at the ominous information. But the whole party followed closely behind. As they exited the tunnel, they saw a mess of a battlefield. Several dwarven corpses laid upon the ground sliced and pummeled to their deaths. Automatons like the ones the party faced before lay motionless alongside them. The only sound came from the plopping of rain falling upon them from a large hole above. Vanessa looked upon the wall and saw a new word written.
“The chuquiragua flower.” She listed aloud.
Cerci followed the trail of bodies towards another tunnel when she suddenly stopped. Her ears twitched from side to side. A small, high voice cried out for help in the druidic tongue. Cerci changed her course and walked to the other side of the room and found the source of the cries at the end of a tunnel. A tiny faerie trapped inside a green crystal, attached to a circlet, resting upon an iron golem’s head. Despite the faerie’s power, Cerci knew it was helpless within the crystal.
She turned to Vanessa and said,
“Seester. That circlet. I want it.” She requested very politely.
She blinked her large eyes and played with her hair as she asked. Vanessa smiled at her sister and patted her on the head.
“Of course, my sister.”
The rest of the party exchanged looks of confusion as Vanessa approached the tunnel. The half-elf’s eyes shone bright violet as she plucked the circlet from afar. She commanded it to come to her in the ancient elvish tongue. The circlet rose slowly and softly off the giant’s head. It floated over to the one who called it and landed in her sister’s hand.
The faerie thanked Cerci a thousand times for its rescue, but she paid it no heed. Cerci covered the crystal with her hand and a dark, inky shadow slipped inside. A gift from her sister many years ago. Cerci held up the crystal to her lips and whispered.
“Give me your power if you wish to not be consumed by the darkness.”
The faerie protested with horrified shrieks that only Cerci could hear. The crystal continued to fill with darkness. The faerie ceased their cries and relinquished their strength to the deceitful half-elf. Cerci felt the rocky cave cede a portion of its power to her. The faerie dressed her in stone skin and hardened her muscle and bone. Cerci turned back to the party with a wide smile and said.
“Shall we go on?”
Cerci led the party down the trail of blood and death. They entered a room with even more slain dwarves and fearsome constructs. Another word was scrawled over every wall.
“Dragon’s heart.” Vanessa said aloud again.
At the end of the room they saw a pair of enormous iron doors nearly rusted away. They heard voices from beyond the opening they had once closed off.
“You’ve come to kill me?!” A high, warbly voice shrieked.
“Colonel, orders?!” A gruff dwarf shouted.
“Surround the creature!” Miski commanded.

The party rushed to the doorway. There they beheld a room with raised platforms of rock with shallow craters spread throughout the floor. Seven heavily armored dwarves scattered around the room trying to flank the creature at the center of it while Miski prepared a spell.

They surrounded what appeared to be a giant eyeball floating several feet above the ground. Its dark brown flesh dripped a viscous ooze as though it were melting off. Its mouth hung open wide revealing its several sharpened teeth. Eight tentacle-like stalks shot out of its body. Each with a grapefruit sized eye at the end. The creature’s many eyes shifted wildly around searching for each of its foes. Its body spun around as the central eye attempted to choose a target. Vanessa stood forward and shouted.
“Do not fear us beholder! We will aid you against the dwarves!”
The beholder spun around until its central eye lay upon the party before it. Miski’s spell immediately dissipated before she could finish casting it. Rygo’s armor disappeared. Cerci’s stone skin faded away, and the faerie grew silent. The creature screamed.
“Liar!! You’re all here to kill me!!”
Rays of multicolored light shot out from the beholder’s eye stalks. A purple struck a dwarf and instilled a horror so great the soldier dropped their weapons and fled with a terrified scream. A red ray picked up a dwarf and slammed them against the wall until their bones were ground to dust. A pure white ray tore a dwarf’s flesh away until nothing but bone remained.
Frustrated with the beholder’s mistrust, Vanessa held up her hands and cast a blight upon the miserable creature. But nothing happened. Suddenly, she realized her connection with magic was gone. She stood there as just a young half-elf woman.
Miski ran out of view of the beholder’s eye and began to cast a spell. The party followed suit and scattered. They hid behind the raised platforms of rock. Vanessa shouted to the others,
“What do we do?! That thing nullifies my magic!”
“I don’t know! But it hates us now!” Mags shouted from behind her rock.
“We need to kill it! If we work together, we can-” Rygo began to suggest.
“f*ck that!!” Vanessa retorted.
She grabbed her sister’s hand and created a doorway for them. She led them through it and disappeared out of the room.
“What the f*ck?!” Mags shouted in disdain of her audacity.
“Oh sh*t! Look at that!” Rygo pointed over to miski.
The dwarven wizard rose from the ground gripped by a red ray. It slammed her into the ground, and she did not stir.
“f*ck it! We gotta get out of here!” Mags threw up her arms and shouted.
Rygo and Ahriman nodded and ran out of the room alongside Mags. They ignored the screams of the dwarves behind them which grew fewer as each moment passed. They ran and ran until they returned to the first room they started out in. Mags and Rygo stooped over their knees and breathed heavily. Ahriman noted.
“Where’s Pakris?”
As if on cue, the dragonborn princess appeared through a fiery doorway. She held up a pack and said triumphantly.
“I grabbed the commander’s pack! You know… just in case it has anything useful in it.”
Pakris’ voice grew smaller as the disappointed and frustrated faces of her teammates looked upon her. Mags realized what she was doing and shook herself out of it.
“Sorry Pakris. I’m just so mad at those… those selfish bastards!” Mags stomped her foot.
“They left us for dead, we failed our mission, and we got nothing but a pack for it!” Her feathers fluffed out.
“Well… the beholder’s almost certainly not dead, and we can try again tomorrow.” Pakris reasoned.
Mags nodded. Ahriman laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and Mags laid a wing on his back in return. Rygo reactivated his armor, laughed triumphantly, and turned to Pakris.
“I just thought I had lost my armor! You did well today Pakris. I’m proud that you’re part of this little clan of ours.”
Pakris’ tail wrapped around her legs, and she smiled awkwardly at Rygo.
“Thanks.” She replied.
“Alright. Let’s get out of here.” Mags said flatly.
The party quickly determined how to fix the severed rope still hanging through the hole. Pakris flew up to it with the fallen rope and tied the two pieces tightly together. Soon everyone else had climbed the rope out back onto the surface of the hill. The twin half-elves were giggling at each other nearby. Mags stomped off to them and confronted them.
“The hell was that?! You abandoned us!” She yelled with fluffed feathers.
“Well I wasn’t going to stay there and die when I couldn’t do anything.” Vanessa replied matter of factly.
“We could have figured something out. We should have at least retreated together.”
“The foolish die. The clever and the strong are the ones who survive.” Cerci replied with a hollow sweet smile.
Mags shook her head. They weren’t willing to listen. Not now anyway. She stormed off into one of the unoccupied tents of the encampment.
“Stupid bitch.” Vanessa whispered to herself.
Exhausted from the day, the rest of the party soon retired. The thought of facing the beholder tomorrow robbed them of a sound sleep. But they got as much rest as they could.

Chapter 46: Tepid Negotiations

Chapter Text

Ahriman wandered aimlessly around the encampment that night. Although he did not need sleep like his compatriots, he could not find a way to relax his mind. Even reading the fifth volume of Disguised Love for the eighth time failed to calm him. Ahriman stumbled over a pack. He picked himself up and realized it was the dwarven wizard’s pack.
Why did Pakris leave it outside of her tent? He wondered. How careless. What’s inside? No. It would be rude and unnecessary to ruffle through it. But it’s not Pakris’ either, and it just might have something important inside. Hmmm. Sorry wizard, I promise to put everything back. A journal, eh, I’ll read it later. A wand? Maybe as a backup. Sandals? A bit big for her feet I think. Do dwarves have large feet? Well they are just my size. Let’s see how they feel.

The encampment faded away, and the garden returned as Ahriman slipped the sandals on. Ahriman stood up and turned about to take in his surroundings. The flowers had fully wilted and decayed. The air was still and empty. Not a bird chirped or an insect buzzed. Ahriman turned around to see Tulani. The light that used to radiate from his passionate eyes was gone.
“I’m sure I would be rather disappointed and heartbroken if I still could be, Ahriman.” Tulani spoke in a flat, unfeeling tone.
“Your guilt holds you back. I offered to take it away yet you still refuse. I thought your love for me would be enough. Why do you not take my hand?” Tulani held his hand out.
“I want to feel.” Ahriman said while choking up. Tears welled in his eyes.
“Do you still love me?” Tulani flatly asked.
“Yes.” The tears began to flow.
“Then stop resisting.”
“I don’t want to stop loving you. Even when it hurts!” Ahriman shouted. Tears streamed down his face.
“You choose pain and suffering over me?” Tulani’s face twisted ever so slightly in a way that could be interpreted as being hurt.
“I choose it because of you. Before I thought life was nothing but pain and misery. I wanted it to end, but you gave me purpose. You gave me hope. I’ve loved with you, laughed with you, and cried with you. And even if those days are gone, I never want to forget what that feels like. How it felt.” Ahriman cried out as he fell to his knees.
Tulani looked down upon him without a hint of sympathy.
“Then you cannot undergo my transformation. It matters not. We’re already finished here. But the cause still has use for you. You will sleep Ahriman and awake in a new land, with a new name, and a new purpose. I will find you, and call for you to join me. Then, perhaps, you will make the right decision.”
The garden and Tulani faded away. Ahriman was left by himself with his knees on the ground crying into a pool of mud and tears.

Mags woke up to a sunny day, dewy grass, and a message from Nothos.
Interesting. Like to meet them if they survive. Pakris?! Tell her I’m sorry. Update on Hillton. Giant red dragon showed up. Destroyed whole city. Horrifying.
Mags perked her head up. A red dragon destroyed Hillton? Who is it, Katak’s ex or something? That would explain Pakris at least. I’ll let her know Nothos is sorry. Someday anyway. When we have some time to talk. Mags responded.
Will tell her. f*cking crazy! Do you know the dragon? Close to finding where Omnishield is. Mission should be over soon. Will introduce the gals.

A whiff of Cerci’s cooking flowed into Mags’ nostrils. Her mouth tingled at the spiciness permeating the smell. She waddled over to the source. She plopped down next to Ahriman and Pakris who sat across from Cerci, Vanessa, and Rygo. Cerci smiled widely as she stirred the contents of a steaming pot. Upon seeing Mags, she giggled and began scooping out the meal into bowls for each of the party members.
“I raided their food supplies.” Cerci explained enthusiastically.
“I made potato and corn stew mixed with some of their peppers and spices. Also! They have delicious corn cakes and some jerky if you’d like.”
Mags nodded vigorously. The party dug into their meals with gusto. They all commented loudly on how delicious the food was. Rygo admitted that the dwarves were skilled with food. Pakris attempted to eat with manners in front of the others but gave up when she realized she had forgotten most of them.
Halfway through her bowl, Pakris sat up straight and exclaimed.
“Oh! I just remembered! I was going through the commander’s bag this morning when I found this!” Pakris presented the journal to the party.
“There’s a lot of superfluous stuff in here, but I found a few entries that appear to be relevant.”
The dragonborn tore the pages out and passed them out to the various party members. Each of them read over the contents of the three entries.

November 22nd, 442nd Year, 6th Age
Mystery of the Beholder
How is a beholder isolated from the world deep within the heart of the Dragonlands connected to the most powerful artifact known to mortal kind? Apparently Phesis knew. She’s far more intelligent than I could hope to be. Learning he was the key was the easy part. Figuring out where he was in this vicious land felt impossible. But months of dedicated research would unearth what I needed to know and so much more. Fesh is an odd example of a beholder. They usually live for little more than a century and yet this one has been around for at least a few millennia. I thought it would be impossible for him to be alive today, and yet it turns out he was already ancient when Phesis found him. How has he lived for so long? Even more puzzling is his seeming lack of ambition. He is surrounded by soulless constructs, nothing like my Mullu back home (I hope Yachaya is keeping him well maintained and giving him plenty of snuggles). Beholders tend to enslave and take great pleasure in exerting their will over “lesser” creatures. But the strangest thing of all is that despite beholder’s nature to be paranoid and xenophobic, he seems to have made an exception of some kind for Phesis (who couldn’t she was both kind and forceful). I still have no idea how he’s connected to the Omnishield, but perhaps his lair being at the depths of a Tesalachan ruin is no coincidence. How can I use what I know to accomplish my quest? There has to be a better way than just brute force sending troops in to kill him. They sent me after all.

November 19th, 442nd Year, 6th Age
Phesis the Diplomat
She is truly marvelous. She was one of the great heroes who ended the 4th age and brought about the 5th, an age of Heroes. She drove Orias and his demonic horde back through the Rainbow Gate back into the Abyss. She ended the war between the Wishtari orcs and the Grontan humans without shedding a drop of blood. She even played a pivotal role in securing a temporary peace between the Dragons and our people that would last for most of the age. None of these feats were accomplished before she wielded the Omnishield. She was known as intelligent, kind, and beautiful, with a voice sweet as honey and patience that could outlast empires. She possessed these qualities before and after the acquirement of the famed artifact, but she didn’t achieve legendary status without it. Just like me, she didn’t know where to start so she journeyed back to the city she learned her wizarding craft, Heka. I wonder how she acquired leads to the location of the Omnishield without the documents I used, but she clearly had the intuition to know that Fesh the Beholder was connected to it. According to her own testimony, she did not defeat and dominate the Beholder into telling her the information she desired but rather convinced it to tell her. I have surmised that she managed to befriend the creature somehow, possibly by performing favors for him? She always had a way with people that I admire. Who am I kidding, I adore it. I’m greatly envious of her legendary ability to create allies and make friends. Although, legends are never fully accurate. If only she was a dwarf rather than a tiefling, perhaps I could speak to her at the Well of Ancestors to attain guidance. At least I have her writings and the stories about her. As always, it will have to do.

November 16th, 442nd Year, 6th Age
The Omnishield
The most powerful artifact known to us since the collapse of the Tesalachan empire. Growing up, all of us Dwarven children would be told stories of its power by our caremothers. I remember Farfan the Loving who saved the entire Fair Fields from plague, Lumaer the Scholar who rediscovered over a hundred spells once lost to civilization, and Ragdahr Dragonsbane who slayed 5 ancient dragons. It was Phesis the Diplomat who uncovered it though. In the 4th age, a time of terrible chaos, she found it deep within the Dragon Lands. Before then, there were only rumors of its presence and use that not even those ancient caremothers would bother to fill our tiny heads with. I always wondered at its origin. Some say the last of the Tesalachan Emperors created it to secure his empire, some say it was the gods who formed it for reasons unknown, and still there are tales that claim it came into being of its own accord, seeking to dominate all life.
And now my mission centers around it. An entire battalion under my command to complete it. Not to find and acquire the Omnishield but to slay the beholder that knows of its location. Why me? I’m not the greatest martial officer we have. I was only promoted for my logistical talents and to train mages for the real armies. Did they think only I could find a way to kill him? Or was Guari too busy satisfying his vendetta against the Dragons? Why am I commanded to slay the one creature in the realm who almost certainly knows the location of the single most powerful artifact rather than to learn from him and report back to High Command?
Perhaps it’s to protect the realm from its power and evil. As thankful as I would be to have so mighty a weapon at this time in our history, when barbarians invade from the east, Dragons crusade from the South, and New Haven might be our first successful long-term colony, I know the dangers of using the Omnishield. Hell, I studied the infernal thing. I know Farfan erased villages with disease, Lumaer’s obsession with knowledge consumed him, and Ragdahr turned on his own people. The Omnishield is not a mere magical trinket. All accounts report how it speaks to its user, it tempts them and twists their desires until it has full control. It consumes the souls of all who are destroyed by its magic and eventually, the wielder itself. Yet perhaps there is a way to wield it and not be consumed. After all, Virjor sealed it away and lived for centuries after, or so the legends say.

Mags’ hands trembled as she set the last pages down.
“Guys, the Omnishield seems extremely dangerous.” Her voice wavered as she chirped her concerns. Her feathers fluffed out as the artifact’s true nature dawned upon her.
“Only for those who are too weak to wield it.” Vanessa scoffed.
“It’s a worthy risk to defeat the Horde and to make my father pay.” Pakris retorted.
“It’s the key to bringing justice for my people.” Rygo replied.
“If we are not strong enough, we deserve whatever fate befalls us.” Cerci added.
Ahriman did not respond. He stared blankly at the fire, lost in his own thoughts. So what if it consumed him? It would not be a much worse fate than the misery drowning him now. At least being destroyed would mean he would not have to be plagued by such painful memories. And if it helped save the realm, why not?

Mags’ mouth hung open in shock at their dismissal of the danger before them. It’s not like they had any real alternatives, but to not even consider this thing a threat? She could not make any sense of it. Mags determined that even if no else prepared for the Omnishield backfiring on them, she would. And she would do whatever it takes to stop it from causing mass harm.
The rest of the party brainstormed with each other about what to do with the new information.
“So the beholder’s name is Fesh.” Rygo reviewed aloud.
“And they were friends with Phesis the Diplomat.” Pakris added.
“One of us needs to pretend to be her so we can talk with the creature.” Vanesssa stated firmly.
“Yes! I could change my form to look and sound like her!” Cerci squealed.
“We don’t know what she looks like besides being a tiefling. And she’s been dead for centuries.” Mags grumbled.
“It’s our best chance. There aren’t any better options before us.” Ahriman calmly replied before Vanessa could snidely retort.
“Alright, but we’ll have to think fast if this falls apart.” Mags replied as she crossed her arms with a doubtful expression upon her face.
“As we always do, heh, heh. Let’s go!” Rygo ended the conversation.

The party cleaned up their camp and prepared to head back down into the cavern. Cerci clamped her hands on the pot to lift it away from the fire. She forgot how hot it still was. She yanked her hands back with a quiet from the burning iron. Cerci looked at her blistered hands.
She raised her eyebrows upon seeing the swelling immediately go down and the pain seep away. The druid looked around and noticed the grass and her wither and sink into the ground as her burns healed. She smiled. The faerie’s magic commanded the grass around her to give its life to her and heal her wounds. Cerci whispered a sly “thank you” to the faerie and finished cleaning the site.
The party wasted no time heading into the cavern once they had finished packing. They went through the same opening and traveled along the same path to the beholder’s lair. When they entered the final room preceding it, Cerci ordered the faerie and the spirits of the earth to grant her the form of a tiefling.
Her skin reddened. Curled ram horns grew from her forehead. A long, thick tail sprouted from the bottom of her spine. She grew taller and her skin wrinkled as her hair whitened. She appeared beautiful and wise. The party nodded in approval and moved forward.

Dwarven corpses littered the floor. None of them lay close to the center of the room where the beholder levitated just above the ground. Fesh had their back turned to the party. They floated just over one of the floor’s many craters and slurped up a viscous, black liquid with their long tongue. Their eight eye stalks flitted about scanning the area for potential intruders. Two of the eyes stilled and focused on the party as they entered. Cerci announced herself.
“Fesh! It’s me, Phesis. So good to see you.” She spoke in a deep, firm voice.
“Phesis? Is it really you?” Fesh asked hopefully.
The beholder lifted up from the crater and began to turn around. Cerci nervously stepped back and looked around for a place to hide. She blurted out.
“My friends mean no harm to you. We just need to know where the Omnishield is.”
Fesh paused. Their eyestalks curled up, and the beholder screeched.
“Why do you seek that cursed thing again?! Hasn’t it brought enough suffering?” Fesh’s eyes blinked. They slowly turned and said just as slowly.
“And how did you manage to lose it?”
Fesh’s central eye looked upon the party. Cerci’s disguise vanished immediately. Fesh’s eyes widened. The beholder flailed their eyes and screamed.
“Liars!! Liars!! You’ve impersonated my friend!! What have you done with her?!”
Mags stepped forward with her arms raised in the air. She frantically squawked.
“Only read her deeds and learned you can help us!”
Vanessa straightened her back and confidently proclaimed,
“We seek to save the realm from invaders. You’ve helped before. Will you help again?”
Fesh’s eyes grew still. They focused on the party and looked them over up and down.
“This would be a foolish way to attempt to catch me off guard. And you did see me destroy these dwarves just yesterday. Very well. I’ll trust your intentions are pure. But you must do something for me in return.”
“What is it, wise and brilliant one?” Vanessa flattered the beholder.
Fesh directed the party over to the crater. Fesh floated above them and instructed them to look down. They saw a small puddle of a dark, inky liquid at the bottom with tiny drops clinging to the walls of the small divot.
“This elixir has sustained my life over the years, but not without a price.” Fesh hacked up a horrendous co*cktail of bodily fluids and spit it out on the floor.
“Now it is nearly gone. I do not intend to die. I require the power of the Lake of Life itself to continue my existence.” Fesh explained.
“So a vial of its water is what you need?” Mags asked.
Fesh shook their head.
“No. I need the source of its power. In time long forgotten, several pearls were created and placed at the bottom of the Lake of Life. They are what give the water its life affirming properties. They can do so to any liquid they rest in. Acquire one of these pearls for me, and I will share with you my knowledge of the Omnishield.”
The party exchanged looks with one another. The decision was clear. They turned to Fesh and agreed to the proposal.
“Good. I will send you when you are ready.” Fesh replied pleasantly.

Vanessa’s gaze unconsciously fell to the puddle in the crater below. Something deep within her pushed her towards it. It was not a whisper. It was not her conscience. But something promised her great power if she was only willing to take a leap of faith. Vanessa knew this pull well. She followed it willingly.
She stooped down into the crater and held her head to the dark elixir. Vanessa drank from it as a horse drinks from a trough. It slid down her throat like a thick slime. She felt her organs twist and contort as the liquid seeped into every part of her internal body. Vanessa stood up. She felt horrible and corrupted yet so so good. She felt a new power inside of her waiting to be released. Vanessa turned to her comrades and saw their horrified faces. She laughed playfully with a hidden knowingness beyond them.
“I’m ready.” She said.
“Very well.” Fesh replied.

There was a bright flash of light. The party blinked rapidly and rubbed their eyes to deal with the discomfort. The fresh air hit them first. A new depth filled their chests cleaning out the still air resting there before. They breathed out deeply and saw lush grass and tall, thick trees. Birds sung, animals chattered, and a lively peace permeated the air. On the other side of a bush they heard young voices speak.

“Oh Ishaan, I’ll never win her love. Not with her going to Druhv’s Moon festival.”
A young forlorn man moaned.
“Don’t give up so soon Nikhil. Aja loves your beautiful voice, and I’m sure appreciates your romantic heart. All Druhv has is his high elf heritage and his family's mansion.” A steady young man replied.
Vanessa smiled to herself. A perfect opportunity. She walked through the bush. The rest of the party followed after.
The two lake elves stepped back in surprise. They grew nervous as the heavily armed party stepped out from the bush. Vanessa eagerly asked with her eyes glowing brightly.
“Want me to kill Druhv for you?” She said with a wide smile.
“What?! No!” Nikhil replied, horrified.
His friend nervously grabbed his shoulder. Pakris and Ahriman looked at the vicious half-elf with shocked expressions. Cerci giggled. Rygo did not react.
“Vanessa what are you doing?” Mags whispered harshly.
Vanessa ignored her. She walked towards Nikhil.
“Hm, how boring. It’s a shame. You could have been fun.” She placed her hands on each side of the elf’s face, frozen with fear.
“I’ll just have to make my own fun.” She said with a wicked grin.

Vanessa summoned the new power fomenting inside of her. She opened her mouth wide and a dark cloud poured out from it into the mouth of the shocked elf. He twitched and contorted violently but no sound passed his lips. The shadow behind him flowed up onto his body, darkening his flesh. It passed over to Vanessa and covered her from head to toe. Then she began to transform.
She took upon the elf’s form. His pale blue skin, his gills, and his webbed fingers and toes. Vanessa looked precisely like him, and his shadow was gone. A few details of his life ran through Vanessa’s mind. She laughed and said.
“Thank you Nikhil.”

Mags and Pakris yelled at Vanessa in anger and shock. The two elves screamed with terror and fled. Cerci giggled and took the form of an air elemental. She was excited to play with Vanessa’s toy. Rygo let out a short laugh and ran after Ishaan, thrilled by the chase.

Cerci caught her prey quickly. She snatched up the fleeing elf and raised him high into the sky. They rose several meters above the trees, and Cerci saw the landscape before them. They had been placed on a small island with simple huts dotting its edges. At its center, elaborate houses stood with paved streets leading out before them. Deep blue water stretched out beyond the horizon on all sides.

Elves all over their side of the island spotted the floating anomaly and screamed upon the realization of Nikhil’s peril. Cerci immediately let go of the poor elf, and he fell to the ground shrieking all the way. The elves of the island immediately began heading over.

Cerci saw her sister leisurely stroll into the town. The exasperated elves paid no heed to her as they rushed pass to find the fallen body. Cerci flew down and transformed into a generic lake elf and walked alongside her sister. They smiled and giggled with one another as they went. They had no idea Mags was following closely behind, completely invisible.

Rygo chased down his quarry. The young elf was no match for the veteran’s athleticism. Rygo caught Ishaan and threw him to the ground. He drew his hammer and raised it above the terrified boy’s head.
Rygo suddenly flew violently to the ground as Ahriman tackled him.
“What are you doing?!” The undead man shouted as he tried to pin the dragonborn down.
Rygo threw his arms up and held Ahriman back. He replied with a malicious grin.
“No witnesses.” Rygo cast hold upon his comrade.
Ahriman’s body tensed, and he could not move it. Rygo threw him off and stood back up over the elf. The boy was too afraid to move. He was too scared to save himself.
“RYGO NO!!!” Pakris screamed as she approached from behind.
Rygo brought his hammer down. Ishaan died instantly. Rygo looked up to see himself and the others surrounded by enraged elves armed with spears and bows.
“Drop your weapons!!” A commanding high elf shouted.
Ahriman threw down his staff, laid his hands on his head, and kneeled on the ground. Pakris followed suit. Rygo scoffed at their cowardice. He looked around for his other allies but could not find them. He saw the hundreds of elves closing in around him. The dragonborn let out a disappointed sigh and surrendered. The three were quickly bound and taken away.

Chapter 47: Search for the Pearl

Chapter Text

Why the f*ck did they just do that?! Mags raged internally. ‘Ooh you want us to kill him for you?!’ What is wrong with her?! And then they just murder them when they run?! Have they never been around people before?! Could they not think of any alternative to killing them? Maybe that’s how Tolehor raised them. They’re her sick attack dogs or something.
Maybe, maybe I can convince them there’s better ways of dealing with people. They won’t care, but at least they could get that it’s just not smart most of the time. Maybe. I hope so. Rygo has no f*cking excuse.

I thought he could change. I thought he could be like his brother, but he’s nothing like him. Just a violent, malicious, brute! He has no excuse. Next time I won’t give him the chance. I’ll keep him in line.

Oh gods. I’m surrounded by violent psychopaths. Maybe I should take them out for the sake of others. Can’t let them near anyone without risking them going off and killing them. But can I do it without them? Is there anyway just Ahriman, Pakris, and I could get the Omnishield and stop the entire Horde without them? I don’t know. I don’t think I can risk it.

But what about after? When it’s all over and we’ve saved the realm, what are they going to do? Rygo will go on a genocidal rampage. The sisters might do even worse. And if any of them have the Omnishield? Oh gods. Oh gods… I have to stop it somehow. They’re powerful, but each of them needs to sleep. I’ll wait for my moment. I’ll make sure. I have to play this safe. And I was worried about Seraph. The crazy never ends. I’ll survive. The world will survive.

Mags followed closely behind the half-elf sisters. She weaved through the crowd making special care not to make a hard collision with anyone. She had to make sure a rampage did not ensue. If she had to, Mags determined to end it prematurely.

Vanessa could not contain her laughter. Oh the look on that scared elf’s face was delicious. And now she wore it with no one the wiser. The Shadow had called her to take the drink; she knew it. Just another gift of power to his lovely chosen one. Now if only one of these idiot elves noticed Nikhil’s distraught expression and stopped to help him.
“Nikhil? Are you alright?” A wrinkled lake elf woman gently grabbed his shoulder.
“I- I- I don’t think so, Sana. I need some help. I think I need a pearl.” Vanessa replied with wide eyes and a shaky voice.
“A pearl? Why in the name of the gods would you ask for such sacrilege?! You know the Sentinel bars anyone but the Priestess from even nearing them?” Sana replied with a hushed and worried tone.
Unperturbed, Vanessa continued her rambling.
“Then take me to see her. The voices won’t stop. I need help. I need a pearl.”
“Well you certainly need help. Come child, I will take you to the Priestess.”

The older woman placed her hand on Vanessa’s shoulder and guided her disguised form through the town. Cerci and Mags followed closely behind. They had soon made their way through the hysterical crowd rushing towards the fallen elf and past the simply constructed huts and shelters. They made their way down the paved roads of the high elven sector of the island towards the center of the island.

After nearly an hour of walking, Sana stopped Vanessa at the top of an incline overlooking a small, stone structure centered in a field of finely cut grass. The structure stood a story tall with a galena dome atop it. The building possessed no windows and only one entrance. Eight troughs of pure blue water emanated from the circular structure in several directions. Sana breathed in deeply. A look of awe and reverence marked her face. She turned to Vanessa.
“Are you ready to enter the Temple of the Old Gods?” She asked.
“Yes.” Vanessa answered without a second thought.
“Then let us go.” Sana replied.
Vanessa covered her mouth to contain her laughter. The old fool was falling right into her hands. Bringing her to their most sacred building with the least bit of scrutiny. Soon she’d be right in front of the pearls themselves. Securing one and escaping would be comically simple. Vanessa smirked at the high elf guards surrounding the temple as she walked in. It was not like their simple spears could do anything to stop her if they tried.

Cerci paused at the top of the incline. She could not just follow her sister inside. But she may need her help. Cerci’s eyes lit up. She transformed herself into a harmless fly and buzzed into the temple after the two and placed herself on a corner of the ceiling. Mags followed right behind.

Vanessa squinted curiously at the contents within the temple. The floor and walls were simple. Other than a few small chambers, there were no other rooms aside from the central hall. Lake elf acolytes sat around the hall silently meditating.

In the center of the room, lay an overflowing well whose water flowed into the troughs that led outside. Several sculptures surrounded the well. They were placed upon wooden shelves standing over the troughs of water. The sculptures were made of colorful rocks arranged in various interweaving circles. The largest sculpture depicted a singular watery blue circle, the only one unified in shape and color.
“The Old Gods.” Vanessa whispered as Nikhil’s memory informed her of their meaning.
“One representation. We’ll have to go deeper to help you.” Sana replied.
Vanessa looked up at her guide with a confused expression. Sana smiled warmly and led the disguised woman to the well. The old elf leaned over and slipped into the water like a seal returning to the sea. Her hand reached above the water and beckoned Vanessa in. Vanessa smiled and joined her.

Cerci buzzed nervously. Where had her sister gone? Is she safe? Will she return? Her wings fluttered slower. Vanessa knows what she’s doing. She always does. She will be back, and I will be waiting for her. We’ll be reunited again. I can’t wait to see the pearl in her hands.

Mags cursed that she could not follow Vanessa. Preventing the half-elf from further violence had fallen out of her hands. Now she had to find a way to regroup without getting caught.
Mags noticed her left wing fading back into visibility. She silently cursed again. Mags ducked into an empty private chamber and considered her options. Her eyes lit up as she came up with a solution. She drew the Rod of Command from her back and popped out of the chamber. She swung it three times around her head and quietly said “Friend.” Golden light burst out from the staff and filled the room.

Most of the acolytes were unaffected and did not appear to notice anything had happened, but two lake elves looked straight at Mags with their eyes shining gold. She motioned for them to come over to her. They complied and casually strode over to her. Once inside the chamber, Mags whispered to the two acolytes.
“Ok, nothing personal, but I need some blackmail on the two of you in case things go bad for me here. If I get caught and put on trial or something, you guys need to defend me or I’ll share your secrets. So… what’s something you really don’t want anyone here to know?” She chirped quietly.
One of the elves, a tall, stern looking woman replied.
“Well, I think Naina is really cool and smart and she’s like really beautiful, and I really want to ask her out, but if she knew that I would be so embarrassed oh gods I hope she doesn’t know.” She said nervously.
“Oook?” Mags said tilting her head.
She was expecting something more serious and damning. Mags turned to the other elf and asked.
“What about you?”
“I am a gnome, disguised as an elf. I have been an undercover spy here for 200 years.” The acolyte flatly replied.
Mags shook her head in disbelief as her mouth hung wide open. She shrugged.
“Ok, good enough I guess. Go distract some of the others while I get out of here.” She ordered the two elves.

They slowly turned and walked over to the other acolytes meditating and praying. They engaged the others in simple conversation. As the other acolytes began to engage with them, Mags slipped out of the chamber and stepped into one of the troughs of water leading out of the temple. It was just deep enough for her to place her feet on the bottom and have her bob above the water. She waded her way through the water and out of the temple, holding her hand crossbow above her head just in case.

She’s really clever and skilled, Cerci thought to herself as she watched Mags’ escape. Maybe she could be convinced to help us. I’ll ask Vanessa later, she determined to herself.
Mags made her way out of the temple and walked with her bill barely above the water as she trekked the trough. If she could get to the end without being spotted, it would be easy to sneak away.
“Halt!!” A high elf guard shouted at her with a pointed spear.
Mags cursed internally again. She didn’t want to kill the guard, but she couldn’t let him chase her down or alert the others. Mags turned and aimed her crossbow at the guard. She pulled the trigger, aiming to land a non lethal blow.
“OH GODS MY KNEE!!!” The elf screamed as he dropped to the ground clutching his shattered kneecap.
“OH GODS WHY?! MY f*ckING KNEE IS GONE!!”
“Sorry!” Mags awkwardly apologized and dove into the water to swim away.

The other temple guards rushed over to their wounded comrade. None of them noticed the fleeing kenku exit the trough and escape over the hill.
Mags shook herself vigorously to remove as much water from her feathers as she could. They puffed out making her look incredibly fuzzy. Mags patted down her feathers and made her way out of the town.

Things had calmed down considerably. High elves were casually strolling down the street talking about the strange foreigners that had been arrested for murdering two lake elves. Mags shook her head with great disappointment. She’d probably have to break them out but for now, she needed a place to lay low.

Mags kept to the shadows as she snuck through the town. She carefully determined which alleyways were devoid of people as she skirted from one to another. After a few minutes, she had traveled beyond the well constructed elvish town to the shoddily laden huts near the island’s edge. Mags avoided the houses clumped together and searched for an isolated abode to take refuge in.

Eventually, she found a home that stood alone, near the water’s edge. Unlike the other lake elf homes, the dwelling stood firm and had not fallen into disrepair. The well constructed residence was tiny, but clearly an excellent source for shelter. No noise came from inside or around the abode. Deciding the coast was clear, Mags made her way over to the house.

Mags crept around the back and gradually made her way to the front. The door lay wide open with no one inside. The layout of the interior was quite simple. A turquoise rug lay on the floor. A single bed hugged the right wall. The fireplace in the back held a cauldron and teapot above charred logs of wood. A watercolor painting of the lake at sunrise hung from the wall. A silver clock depicting two dragon heads on either side rested upon the windowsill of the left wall.

Mags walked up to the front of the house and slumped down onto the ground. She leaned back against the wall and looked out onto the lake. The sunlight danced beautifully on the still waters of the Lake of Life. Mags basked in the warmth of the sun as it began to dry her soaked her feathers. She closed her eyes. She was tired. Tired of watching over unpredictable and violent individuals. Tired of worrying about her safety. Tired of this endless journey. She rested all alone if only for a moment.
“Hello, visitor.” A warm, soft voice greeted Mags.
She opened her eyes and shook herself awake. Her eyes widened and her feathers puffed out as she looked up at the speaker. She saw a heavily wrinkled but spry lake elf woman looking down at her with a soft, welcoming smile. Mags’ breathing began to level.
“Hello.” Mags chirped nervously.
“I hope you don’t mind me staying here for a bit. They’re looking for outsiders, but I didn’t do anything.” ‘That wasn’t self defense.’ Mags whispered to herself.
The elderly elf smirked and walked inside the house carrying a net filled with fish.
“I don’t see why not. I’m a bit of an outsider too.” She set the fish down and turned to Mags.
“So long as you help me with some chores around the place.” The elf said with a rueful smile.
Mags smiled in return.
“Sure.”

Vanessa swam several meters down the well behind Sana. It took several minutes for them to reach the bottom. There, a tunnel just large enough for them to swim through extended perpendicularly from the well. On the other side, Vanessa and Sana entered a large cavern with small tunnels extending out in several directions and at several heights. Vanessa followed Sana through one of the tunnels, and they continued for several more minutes.

Vanessa thanked the Shadow for providing her with the ability to match the elf’s physiology. She never would have had a chance to follow the woman without it. Vanessa’s eyes widened when they finally exited the tunnels into an enormous cavern beneath the island.
Nearly a hundred lake elves adorned with crystal necklaces swam about an aquatic chamber large enough to house Tolehor herself. Immense crystal statues depicted strange beings possessing fins, tentacles, and thousands of eyes throughout their bodies. Vanessa surmised these must be other depictions of the old gods, but they were so strange, so odd that she could hardly understand what she was seeing.

A wizened, grave elf woman bejeweled with a diamond necklace, ruby earrings, and crystal piercings throughout the body swam up to Sana and Vanessa. Purple ringed tattoos littered her body from head to foot. She looked upon Vanessa with a forbidding glare. The half-elf stared back, but could not help but tremble ever so slightly. Sana spoke up.
“Priestess, Nikhil is not well. He claims to be hearing voices and keeps asking for one of the pearls. Please, help us find what’s wrong with him.” She pleaded.
Vanessa looked up at the Priestess with a pained, pathetic look. The Priestess peered closely at her, then said in a deep, booming voice.
“Something is wrong. Come, child. We will fix this.”
Vanessa could not contain her smile. How perfect. They were about to give her precisely what she came for, and she didn’t even have to kill any of them to get it. That might have been fun, but deceiving them so completely was even more exhilarating. She’d have to hold in her laughter though. Unless they thought that was part of her insanity. These superstitious savages would probably think so.
Vanessa followed the Priestess to a large, smoothly topped stone. She followed her motion to lie back on it. Vanessa breathed deeply. Now was the time for them to conduct the ritual and deliver her the pearl. The other elves coming around her must be a part of the ceremony. All of them treading water so closely by. An intimate ritual. What fools don’t realize the danger of letting someone so gifted and unpredictable so close to them?

The elves grabbed her limbs. Vanessa struggled, but their grips were too strong.
What’s happening? She panicked internally. What are you idiots doing?! Let go of me!
Everything went black as the Priestess placed her hand upon Vanessa’s forehead. Vanessa looked around. She saw nothing. The Priestess’ voice rang out.
“Nikhil! Where are you?”
Vanessa did not answer. The call rang out again.
“Nikhil!! I must find what evil possesses you!”
Vanessa chuckled at the irony then broke out into uproarious laughter. The Priestess appeared before her. She towered over Vanessa and looked down with a burning rage.
“You’re not Nikhil.” She said with bitter bile.
“No. I stole his form. And he’s dead.” Vanessa replied with an arrogant, wicked smile.

The Priestess’ nostrils flared as she raised her hand high into the air. She began to mouth a spell at the mocking half-elf but suddenly stopped and looked over and past Vanessa. Her eyes widened and her flesh grew pale. Her mouth hung open in horror. A whisper escaped her lips.
“Oh gods no. Let it not be so.”
Vanessa cackled, but it was time for her to go. She cast dimension door and stepped through the shadowy portal. She walked down the shadowy tunnel quite pleased with herself when suddenly, a figure blocked her way.

She could not understand what it was. All she could discern was a huge, fleshy mass of sickening yellow covered in eyes and long tendrils. It reached out for her with every tendril. Each eye stared deep into Vanessa’s soul. She screamed in terror and anger and threw her hand to the side. The mass flew out of the tunnel, but several eyes and tendrils remained tugging it back and seeking the young sorcerer. Vanessa ran under and over the tendrils, past the seeing eyes, and reached the shrouded exit.

Vanessa came out just outside of the well in the Temple of the Old Gods. Water fell to the ground all around her, and she saw she no longer carried the lake elf’s form. The acolytes in the room started at her sudden appearance. A fly buzzed down to Vanessa and reformed into Cerci. The sister’s smiled at each other and grabbed one another’s hands. Vanessa took them away through another shrouded portal.

Mags waddled over to the fireplace with a bundle of firewood in her arms. She paused for a moment to collect herself after she set the wood next to the fireplace for the third time that afternoon. Mags put her hands on her hips and smiled. The work was difficult for her small body, but she enjoyed it.
Steam rose from the teapot resting over the flames, and a high pitch whine rang out from the spout. Mags lifted the teapot off and filled a pair of cups with the brew. She made her way outside and stepped carefully up a ladder to the roof.

When Mags reached the top, her host laid down her hammer and nails and reached out for the teacup with a pleasant smile. Mags handed one over, and the two sat across from each other, sipping their tea. After a brief moment of silence, the elderly woman asked.
“What brings you to this island, all alone?” She asked with a calm curiosity.
Mags shrugged.
“Long story, I got separated from my friends. Well, I don’t know if I want to call them that.” Mags grumbled.
The elf raised an eyebrow.
“Oh? Why’s that?”
Mags sighed.
“Cause they murdered two people when they ran away. After they were being all creepy too! What did they expect to happen?!” Mags threw her arms up in frustration.
Her host leaned back and breathed deeply. She asked.
“Why do you spend time with these people?” Mags put her arms down and looked away.
“I don’t know. They’re powerful, and I’m trying to save the whole realm from an invasion. I’m not perfect myself, but it’s real f*cked up when you kill someone at the drop of a hat right?!”
“Absolutely.” The woman responded.
“Right?! I don’t know what to do. A couple of them are okay even though one’s got a real vengeance thing going on with her father which isn’t too helpful. I want to get rid of them and maybe just be me and Ahriman, but I don’t think we can. Then… millions of people will die, and everything will be for nothing.” Mags grew quiet and despondent uttering her last words.
The woman placed her tea down and leaned forward. She said with a calm, soothing voice.
“You have a lot of responsibility on your shoulders. It’s a difficult burden to bear. The company you keep is dangerous and volatile, but the realm is at stake. I believe you will make the right choices to save the most lives.”
Mags let out a heavy sigh and relaxed her body. She looked up at her host and smiled.
“Thanks.” She whispered.
“You’re welcome.” The woman replied.
Mags leaned back and soaked up the sun on her feathers. She breathed in and out, in and out. She took another sip of tea. It filled her whole body with a soothing relaxation unlike any beverage she had drank before. Mags grew curious about her host. She tilted her head and chirped.
“Why are you out here alone?”
The woman set her cup down gently and leaned back on her wrinkled and spry arms.
“I’m not as welcome with the others as I once was. I managed to escape much consequence, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. So I live here, too far away to bother anyone.”
“Don’t you ever get lonely?”
“A friend or two wil visit me from time to time, but I don’t mind the solitude. It allows me a quiet life and an opportunity to live simply with the world around me and to learn more about it.” The woman smirked.
“I think that’s what the Old Gods intended all along.”
Mags nodded along. She enjoyed the laid back conversation. She perked up suddenly. She reached out her hand and said.
“I’m Mags. What’s your name?”
The woman chuckled and met Mags’ hand with her own.
“Me? Well, what do you think I should be called?” She replied with a smile.
“Hmmmmm.” Mags furrowed her brows.
“Well, you take care of the house, and you are taking care of me, so… how about the Caretaker?” Mags asked with a sweet smile.
“Haha. That’s a lovely title. Well how about we take care of the house by finishing boarding up the roof.” The Caretaker replied.
“Yes.” Mags responded enthusiastically.

Chapter 48: An Unfortunate Circ*mstance

Chapter Text

Ahriman took in his surroundings. Pakris, Rygo, then he all hung up by their arms with chains reaching down from a wooden ceiling. No weapons or armor between the three of them. All stuck in a barren, wood cabin with merely a door in the front and a window to the side with just enough light pouring in to reveal that dawn had arrived.
Easy enough for them to escape from. He thought to himself. Rygo could yank his chains out of place. Pakris could cast a spell to get out of hers. He could dig out one of the lockpicks sunk into my flesh for just such an occasion. But they did not deserve to escape. Not after murdering an innocent boy. Well, not after Rygo murdered him.

Ahriman glared at the burly dragonborn. He expected violence from him but to be so vicious against a defenseless innocent, and with a malevolent smile! He didn’t hesitate. He knew what he was doing. He didn’t care. That monster!!
Ahriman unconsciously violently shook his chains. Rygo stirred at the sound of the rattling. He groaned loudly.
“Could you keep it down?! My head hurts. Think they put something down our throats last night.” The dragonborn looked around with a confused expression.
“Where are we?” He asked aloud.
“Exactly where you ought to be.” Ahriman scorned.
Rygo ignored the dead man’s remark. He looked up at the chains securing his arms. Rygo lifted his body up then let it fall. The ceiling creaked at the strain of the force.
“I can get out of this.” Rygo mused to himself.
Pakris began to stir. She grumbled aloud.
“What did they put in us? I’ve been out for more than…” Pakris looked out the window.
“Oh gods, twelve hours.” She said with a mix of surprise and worry.
“Strong poison. Even for me, it was disabling for a good few hours.” Ahriman replied.
Now that everyone had collected their bearings, Rygo brought up the previous day’s events.
“Now I’m not mad at you guys, but I am disappointed. We could have easily escaped those villagers yesterday. I was the only one willing to put up a fight. Why did neither of you back me up?” Rygo asked like a disapproving parent.
Pakris hung her mouth open in frustrated incredulity. She furrowed her brows and thumped her tail against the wall. She said with exasperation.
“Not back you up?! Soooo sorry for not helping you get away with your murder!”
“It was the smart thing to do!” Rygo replied defensively.
“The smart thing?!” Pakris retorted with widened eyes.
“He was going to get us in trouble. Had you all helped ME instead of getting in my way we could have escaped without mud on our snouts!” Rygo shouted back with rising anger.
“You belligerent imbecile!!” Pakris roared.
The door flung open. A tall, pompous high elf stood in its empty frame. He held his head high and his silver hair down. His golden skin gleamed with bracelets, circlets, and necklaces bedazzled with a multitude of precious gems. The elf stepped into the room with an exaggerated graceful gait and a smug smile plastered on his face. He spoke in a breathy high voice punctuated with a smile for every word.
“So wonderful to see all of my guests up and active. You’ve caused quite the stir on our little island. The guppies want your blood, but a pair of dead gups is hardly worth so much trouble don’t you think? Besides, I have use for the three of you. At any rate, let me, Lieutenant Governor Lefaris, be the first to welcome you to the island of Vita.” The elf gave a dramatic bow with a hand flourish.
Ahriman snorted under his breath at the foppish display. Pakris rolled her eyes. Rygo directed his anger towards his captor and shot a menacing glare at the elf. The gaudy executive looked his prisoners up and down. With a smirk, Lefaeris walked from one end of them to the other.
“Who has blessed me with their presence today? Oh, the Dead Man, Silent Death, the Vampire Slayer himself. So wonderful to see another member of our lovely organization here.” Lefaeris slipped down a sleeve of his silk robe and proudly revealed his black scorpion tattoo. Ahriman looked at him with a dull disinterest. Lefaeris continued unfazed.
“Ah, Rygo the famed warlord of the Western Badlands. You’re head is wanted on a pike in Center City you know. What a lovely opportunity this is.” Rygo snarled at the arrogant elf.
Lefaeris strolled over to Pakris.
“And… you. Some dragonborn keeping them company? I suppose there’s a story there. I don’t care for it though.”
Pakris chuckled to herself. The lieutenant governor walked to the door and leaned against it.
“I could have you all executed, very easily. But I think we can help each other out. I want one of the sacred pearls of this lake. The damn guppies won’t let me near them despite how clear their cooperation is… beneficial to them. After you secure it, I want you, Dead Man to send a message to Vladik for me. It’s about time I ceased playing second lyre to him. Help me lay a trap for him, and I’ll make sure you do very well in the organization.” Lefaeris walked over to Ahriman and leaned in closely.
“What do you say?”
Ahriman let out a little half-smile at the elf and replied.
“Shall I liken thee to a trumpet? Shiny, loud, and won’t shut up.” Ahriman sarcastically replied.
Pakris and Rygo snorted with laughter.
Lefaeris’ nostrils flared. He breathed heavily as his brow furrowed and his eyes widened.
“You think you’re funny?!” He screeched.

The elf dug into his silken robe pocket and drew out a ring with a dark green crystal. He placed it on his finger and began to chant in the elvish tongue. The crystal glowed with energy. The color grew brighter and more intense as the lieutenant chanted faster and faster. Finally, Lefaeris pointed his ring finger at Ahriman and a stream of dark green energy shot out of the ring and into the zombie's chest.
Ahriman coughed and twitched violently. His bones cracked and his muscles atrophied. His flesh bruised and a dark brown liquid slowly oozed from his pores. Ahriman slumped forward, limp.
Lefaeris gave a quick hmph then turned to the two dragonborn.
“Think about my offer. Work with me, or you wind up like him.”
Lefaeris stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
Pakris and Rygo turned to Ahriman’s still body. Pakris looked at him with concern. Ryog looked at him with morbid curiosity.
“Hey, uh, Ahri… guy, are you dead? Like dead dead?” Rygo asked the corpse man.
Ahriman lifted his head suddenly with a groan of pain. Rygo and Pakris screamed in surprise. Ahriman cracked his neck and back then calmly explained.
“I didn’t think I could still feel pain. Even so it’s pretty dull. Definitely not enough to kill me.” Ahriman said with a weak smile.
“Glad you’re alright.” Pakris replied affectionately.
“Oh when did you get so soft?!” Rygo whined with great annoyance.
“The f*ck do you mean?” Pakris responded with equal irritation.
“When I first met you, you said something about those who weren’t strong enough to survive didn’t deserve to. Now you’re complaining about me killing some scrawny elves and being all concerned for someone you hardly know.” Rygo said accusingly.
Pakris narrowed her eyes and bared her teeth at the dragonborn.
“You f*cking asshole!” Pakris hissed with contempt.
“Am I wrong?!” He challenged.
“Yea, cause I wasn’t making an excuse to go around murdering people or not giving a sh*t about anyone. I was just stating a fact about nature. Survival goes to those who can so it’s not a big deal if someone is taken down by circ*mstances too great for them.” She explained angrily.
Rygo threw his arms up in the air and rolled his eyes.
“Yea! So who cares if those elves died. Who cares if he dies? That’s just what happens.” He mocked Pakris with a sarcastic tone.
“Because you killed them when you didn’t have to!! They weren’t a threat to you. There were a million ways to stop them from ratting on us without murder. And for f*ck’s sake! Ahriman is our companion. There’s nothing soft about being happy he isn’t dead!”
Pakris shook her chains violently as she yelled.
“It is when you’re all “survival of the fittest”. At least I’m consistent. If you help me towards my goals, you live and I’m happy you’re aboard. If you get in my way, you die.” Rygo nodded his head forward as though to end the argument.
Pakris’ eyes widened then quickly narrowed. She glared at Rygo with a newfound hatred. She spoke with a bitterness reserved for her father.
“Spoken like a cruel, evil man!!” She said slowly, enunciating every word clearly with venom dripping off of every syllable.
There was silence, for a moment. Rygo puffed and huffed, slowly at first then quicker and with greater power for each breath. He looked at Pakris with an intensity that nearly made her shake. He said, oddly softly.
“Would you rather be clanless? Wandering the world alone with no one to mourn your death?”
“What do you mean?” Pakris responded with confusion.
“I am the way I am. This is how I do things. If you don’t like it, then leave Fus Roh!!”
Rygo’s eyes widened. He breathed heavily as he realized what he had just said. He looked back and forth at Pakris and Ahriman as they stared at him like a madman. Rygo’s face sunk, and he lowered his head in shame.
“She’s not alone. And she won’t be. You’re the one driving people away. You’re the one who’s going to be alone.” Ahriman spoke sharply to Rygo.
Rygo gasped for air. He tried to say sorry. Sorry to Fus Roh for driving him away. Sorry for abandoning him. Maybe if he had listened, maybe if he tried to change before Fus Roh left, they could have stayed together. He could have protected his brother. How could he avenge him by making the same mistake? Maybe, maybe he was wrong.
“I’m… I’m sorry. I’ve been cruel. I’ve been rash. I’ve dishonored you. Please don’t leave me.” Rygo choked out the words between tears leaving his head low as to not meet the eyes of his companions.
Pakris’ mouth hung open in shock. She looked at Ahriman for guidance who merely shrugged his shoulders in response. She turned to Rygo and said slowly.
“I don’t forgive you. Not yet. What you did was horrible, and threatening to cut me off was cruel. But… I’ll allow you the opportunity to redeem yourself, and I’ll aid you in retrieving the Omnishield and saving the realm. Throughout our quest, I’ll have your back.”
“That’s all I ask for.” Rygo replied breathlessly.
“I don’t plan on abandoning you either, Rygo.” Ahriman said softly.
“You’re a vital part of our team. I expect you to restrain yourself in the future though.”
“Of course. I will not hastily attack those who pose no threat.” Rygo promised.
The door swung open. Lefaeris sauntered in with a forced smile upon his face.
“Now then, have you all considered my offer.”
Pakris turned to her companions and said with a co*cky smile.
“You know, Vanessa isn’t the only one with tricks up her sleeve.” Pakris turned to the lieutenant governor and said with a booming, commanding voice.
“Lefaeris!”
The elf’s head snapped back. His eyes became covered with a fiery red glow, matching Pakris’ own eyes.
“Yes?” He asked in a docile, monotone voice.
“You will release us from our chains. You will tell us where our friends are. You will let us return to them and not attempt to recapture them. If you try, you will fail. And we will inform Vladik of your little scheme.” Pakris commanded with a smile, relishing every moment.
Lefaeris squirmed ever so slightly. His face twisted into a sour frown. Even so, he responded with a compliant
“Of course, Pakris Rhalom.”
Rygo laughed gleefully as he was released from his chains. Ahriman smiled softly. The three companions strolled out of the cabin arms on each other’s shoulders and joked and laughed all the way to the Caretaker’s cabin about how fun it was to see Lefaeris squirm.

Chapter 49: The Sisters and the Bird

Chapter Text

The sisters snuck about the dilapidated huts of the lake elves until they finally came upon an isolated shelter. The shack appeared as though it were about to cave in at any moment. The half-elf sisters approached it to take refuge inside. Cerci skipped up to the door and knocked it just in case. To the sisters’ surprise, the door opened revealing five lake elves inside. The sister’s faces twisted with disgust at the sight.
The elves’ flesh was covered in sores, tumors, and holes. Parts of their bodies had fallen off completely. None of them possessed all of their fingers and toes. The elf who opened the door gasped in shock and immediately slammed the door in their faces. The elf shouted from the other side.
“We don’t want outsiders here! Not while the murderers are still on the loose.”
Vanessa rolled her eyes and turned to Cerci.
“Let’s just kill them and go inside anyway.” She said with an irritated tone.
“What if we offered to heal them instead?” Cerci eagerly suggested.
“Why would we help them when it’s so much easier to kill them, dummy?” Vanessa scoffed.
“I don’t know.” Cerci replied while looking down at the ground with a pouty face.
“Maybe it would cause less trouble?”
Screams rang out from inside the shack. The sisters heard feet scrambling to the back of the building. They ran around to the other side and saw one of the elves climbing out the back window with two already ahead and running away. Vanessa sighed and said to Cerci.
“See?”
Vanessa cast blight upon one of the fleeing elves and Cerci followed suit. The two fell dead. Their flesh tore away to the bone. The sisters turned to the last elf who stood in front of the window quaking in fear.
“Please don’t hurt me.” She pleaded.
“We were terrified when we heard you deciding to kill us or not. That’s why we ran.”
Vanessa held up her hand with a stoic, unfeeling expression upon her face.
“You made the wrong choice.” Vanessa launched a firebolt into the elf’s chest, killing them instantly.
The sisters crawled into the shack through the window. Still looking down, Cerci tentatively asked.
“Seester, was that necessary?” Cerci nervously played with her hair as she asked.
Vanessa spun around and retorted.
“Necessary? Necessary?! I’ll tell you what’s necessary dear sister. Shutting those screaming idiots up so they don’t give us away is what’s necessary. Getting the Omnishield and bringing it back to the Shadow is what’s necessary. Crushing anyone in our way is what’s necessary. I don’t care if it’s some pathetic lepers, a pair of ingenues, or even our fellow adventurers. Nothing gets in our way of seizing our rightful place in this world, got it?”
Still playing with her hair, Cerci asked.
“What if we get our teammates on our side? Like Mags? She’s pretty smart. I’m sure you could convince her.”
Vanessa laughed mockingly.
“She’s the biggest threat of all. That duck doesn’t trust us and that makes her dangerous. None of them can be trusted. They’re all selfish and would stab us in the back as soon as they got the chance.” Vanessa cupped Cerci’s chin and lifted her face to meet her own. She said softly and sweetly.
“You and I are the only ones looking out for each other. It’s you and me versus the world sister.”
Cerci nodded.
“You’re right, seester.”
A whimper squeaked out of one of the shack’s corners. Vanessa turned and saw two elves huddling together with terrified looks in their eyes. Vanessa laughed and held her finger to her lips. Cerci walked over to the pair and plopped down in front of them. She looked intensely at their decaying flesh and asked with a curious tone.
“What happened to you?”
After a nervous gulp, one of the elves replied.
“We were caught dabbling with arcane magic. Our people charged us with blasphemy and brought us before the Sentinel. It was terrible and beautiful. I only saw it for a moment before I was on the surface again, cursed with this affliction.”
“No arcane magic? Your people are fools.” Vanessa mocked.
“It was the command of the Old Gods. They deemed it unnatural to tamper with the world that They had created. They gave us so much. We were meant to be satisfied with it. Perhaps we should have been.” The elf replied sadly.
“Yet They gave us curiosity. I’d still learn if I could.” The other elf countered.
A pounding shook the door.
“Open up! We have you surrounded!! There’s over thirty of us! You won’t escape alive murderers!” A gruff voice shouted from outside.
Vanessa turned to the huddling elves with a smirk.
“How valuable of hostages would you make?”
Cerci tugged at Vanessa’s arm. She remarked.
“It’d be easier to escape.”
Vanessa sighed and rolled her eyes.
“I suppose you’re right sister, but this is the last time I’m running from these elves.”
The sister’s held hands and escaped through a dimension door once more.
Mags and the Caretaker watched the sun set from atop the finished roof. Mags let out a contented sigh and said.
“It is really nice out here. Would be a great place for retirement.”
“It really is. You’re welcome to visit once your quest is complete.” The Caretaker replied with a warm smile.
Mags returned the gesture with one of her own.
“We’ll see. I don’t want to make any promises but… I’d like that.”
Mags leaned back and took in the view. Her relaxation was cut short when she saw two figures approaching the house out of the corner of her eye. Mags turned to see who the pair was. She immediately muttered under her breath.
“Oh, great.”
“Mags so good to see you again!” Vanessa called out with hollowed pleasantness.
Mags turned to the Caretaker and warned her.
“These are two of the murdery ones I was talking about.”
Mags hopped down from the house and walked up to the sisters.
“Hey guys. Find the pearl?” She asked as politely as she could.
Cerci cut in before Vanessa could give a calculated response.
“No! But we went on quite the adventure! We must tell you all about it!”
“Ok. I’m going to have some dinner first though.” Mags replied flatly.
“Would you be so kind as to invite us in?” Vanessa tilted her head and put on a threatening smile as she asked.
“Please come in.” The Caretaker replied from the doorway.
A worried look hid under her veneer of jovial hospitality.
“Why thank you.” Vanessa responded.

She pushed past Mags on the way inside. The four ate their meal of fish, vegetables, and tea in silence with the exception of Cerci’s loud chewing and slurping. The rest finished their meal long before the hungry half-elf who consumed such vast quantities of food that the Caretaker’s mouth gaped open at the sight.
“I’ve only known one other who ate so much, and he was… larger.” The Caretaker remarked with much amusem*nt. Cerci giggled nervously.
“Well, I haven’t eaten alll day, and it was really delicious! How did you make such good fish and veggies?” Cerci asked with a wide smile.
“Oh, it wasn’t just me. The water of the lake makes everything taste and feel so much better.”
“Interesting.” Vanessa muttered to herself.
“Ah, I’ll try cooking myself tomorrow. Maybe I can make it even better! Oh yeah, I didn’t tell you about our adventure!”
Cerci recalled her and Vanessa’s experiences on the island. She left out their disagreement over murdering the three cursed elves and told the whole story with a frivolous glee. The Caretaker kept silent but could not conceal how disturbed she was by the tale. Vanessa eyed her with suspicion. Mags crossed her arms and asked pleasantly.
“Did Tolehor ever tell you guys about the benefits of diplomacy?”
Vanessa rolled her eyes. Cerci replied.
“What do you mean?”
Ok, they’re just dumb kids. Tolehor raised them to be nasty and uncaring. Maybe if I give them an incentive to be nice and not kill everyone who looks at them wrong, maybe we can have progress.
“Well, if you talk with people to solve problems, you can get a lot of good things. You can get friends, allies, avoid fights, and have people you can work with again in the future for things.” Mags instructed.
“What about when they’re weak?” Vanessa retorted.
“What?” Mags said in surprise, taken aback by the half-elf’s callousness.
“When they have nothing to offer and destroying them is easy. Why not kill them?” Vanessa stared intensely at Mags with widened eyes and a slight smile. She hoped to throw the lecturer off.
Mags recollected herself. She replied with an even, firm tone.
“It will often cause more trouble than it’s worth. Other people will want revenge, they might be stronger than you thought, or you lost an opportunity you didn’t even know about.”
“Sounds like a problem for those who are weak and have to rely on others. You should teach them how to be nice. They might even think it will help them.” Vanessa added sarcastically.
“All we need is each other.” Cerci wrapped her arm around her sister.
“Anyone who gets trampled in our way should have been stronger.”
“Speaking of which, I have half a mind to set this island on fire until they give us the pearl.” Vanessa commented with a bored tone.
“But that can wait for tomorrow. We could even bust our friends out if they haven’t escaped already.”
Cerci let out a big yawn and rolled out a sleeping mat for her and her sister.
“You’re right seester. Tomorrow will be a big day.”
The sisters tucked themselves in and quickly fell asleep. The Caretaker looked at Mags with a deeply disturbed expression on her face. Mags nodded in acknowledgement. The Caretaker stood up and walked out to the moonlit shore. Mags listed lazily behind, watching from a distance.
I can’t let them do that. She thought to herself. I’ll find another to get the pearl, or I’ll… Mags looked back in the house. I’ll kill them if I have to. Gods I hope I can. Drowsiness fell upon Mags after the long and exhausting day. She turned to walk back inside and sleep when she heard the Caretaker say.
“Oh Hassan, what should I do?”
Mags turned around to see if the strange man was there, but the Caretaker was all alone. Mags was surprised she knew him, but she was far too tired to discuss it now. She considered doing so the next day. Mags went inside and curled up in her sleeping bag, desperately hoping that tomorrow would be a peaceful day.

Chapter 50: A Powerful Transmutation

Chapter Text

Cerci hummed a little lullaby to herself as she spiced a set of grilled fish. Vanessa watched her sister with a soft smile on her face. It reminded her about how Cerci was the most precious person in the world to her. The only one she would trust with her life. All the times she had protected her from unscrupulous merchants and monsters too terrible for her to handle had been more than worth it. She shared in her victories, tended to her wounds, and provided a soft, warm body to lie against at night. No one could keep her so calm or so content when she had such a great task ahead of her.
“Done!” Cerci said with a beaming smile.
She handed a spiced fish to her sister, Mags, and the Caretaker. She eagerly awaited their response to the first crunch of meat. Vanessa bit down and immediately moaned with pleasure.
“Delicious Cerci. This is your masterpiece.” She encouraged her sister.
Cerci wiggled with glee and blushed.
“Oh, it’s nothing special. The water of the lake is what really did it. I could make a far greater meal with the more ingredients.” She said while pointing to the water right behind her.
“I hope to have the opportunity to enjoy such a treat.” The Caretaker warmly said.
“Yes. This is the best fish I’ve ever had.” Mags tried to say with excitement but could not bring herself to do so.
She hoped her gut would make room for much more, but it continuously contracted in the presence of the half-elf sisters. Mags grumbled to herself about such wonderful food being wasted by such miserable company. The girls did not notice, despite Cerci’s ears twitching. Or she pretended not to. Mags leaned over to the Caretaker and whispered excitedly.
“Heard you mention Hassan when talking to yourself last night. Do you know him?”
The Caretaker gave an accusatory side eye to Mags then chuckled and smiled.
“Yes my little eavesdropper. I know him well.” She whispered in return.
“How?” Mags asked with rising curiosity.
“You learn a thing or two about a person when they are your student.” The Caretaker replied.
Vanessa squinted suspiciously at the whispering pair. She leaned ever so slightly towards them to listen in.
“What did you teach him?!” Mags asked with eyes expanding to the size of saucers.
The Caretaker opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Cerci calling out.
“Friends! You made it! Come join us for fish!” She called to the trio coming down the beach.
Rygo, Ahriman, and Pakris triumphantly strode over to the rest of the party as Cerci hastily threw five more fish onto the grill. As they arrived at the cookout, Rygo proclaimed proudly.
“Yes! We were captured by a mad wizard! He was powerful, and had us firmly in his grasp! But we overcame our differences and defeated him together, ensuring our escape!”
Pakris and Ahriman exchanged a look then laughed to themselves at the boastful exaggeration. Vanessa cut straight to the point.
“Did you find a pearl?” She asked sharply.
“Uh, no.” Rygo admitted with a little embarrassment.
Vanessa scowled and bit her lip. She flipped her hair dramatically and loudly said.
“Well, I don’t see what other course we have but to raze this whole island until we find it! Need I remind you how important this thing is? It’s the only way we’re going to get that beholder to tell us where the Omnishield is which is the only way we can stop the Horde from ravaging the entire realm! So unless any of you have any ideas about how we can get it, I suggest we start strategizing about who we need to kill or take hostage to get the locals to hand it over!”
Ahriman stepped back with shock at the ferocity and viciousness of Vanessa’s proposal. Pakris dug her feet into the soft sand beneath her and glared at the unscrupulous half-elf. Rygo looked down in shame that he had not stood for the necessary solution earlier. Cerci continued to happily cook. Mags made no reaction, but simply reached her hand into her cloak and grabbed her crossbow.
Standing a few meters away from the rest of the party, the Caretaker replied while gazing at the lake.
“There is another way.” She said distantly.
Vanessa wheeled around.
“And what’s that?” She snapped.
Without turning to face Vanessa, the Caretaker replied.
“Create one ourselves.”
Gasps rang out and mouths hung open as the party reacted to the idea. Mags tilted her head and asked with a curious voice.
“How do we do that?”
The Caretaker turned to Mags and said with a soft smile.
“I’m so glad you asked.” She walked towards her small home and explained on the way.
“We’ll need to gather the right chemical compounds, mostly calcium carbonate, and arrange them appropriately to be fused together.”

The party followed the old elvish woman as she entered the house and opened one of the few cabinets inside revealing shelves stacked with vials filled with substances varying in color, density, and state of matter. She selected a vial with a label over it saying, CaCO3, filled with a white powder and put it in a handbag along with a few other bottles. The Caretaker walked out of the house and towards the local woods. She continued explaining as the party followed.
“The combining of materials will have to be accomplished by magic, naturally. The next step will be enchanting the pearl. I can make the necessary preparations for the whole process on my own, however, the creation of such a powerful object will require an immense amount of magical energy. I will not be able to channel enough on my own.”
“Why are we doing it out here in the forest?” Ahriman asked.
“What we are about to do is prohibited by my people. I’d rather them not know what I practice after all this time of successfully hiding it.” She replied.
“Arcane magic?” Cerci chimed up.
“Yes.” The Caretaker replied with a pleased smile that she had figured it out.
“You’re a wizard, aren’t you?” Vanessa added with a knowing smirk.
“The first.” The Caretaker confirmed.
“I assume some of my pupils escaped or were exiled from the island and spread knowledge of the arcane, but that was so very long ago.” She commented as they pressed deeper into the woods.

After a few minutes of walking, they came upon a small meadow, and the Caretaker immediately proceeded to set up the procedure. She pulled out a long, thin stick from her robe and walked in a large circle pointing it down at the ground. A rainbow of colors shot out from the end of the stick and burned through the grass into the earth marking the soil where the Caretaker walked.

After completing the circle, the Caretaker drew three interconnecting rings within the larger circle in the same manner. She placed the calcium carbonate in once circle, a handful of snail shells in another, and small bits of miscellaneous material she brought in the other vials. Upon completion of the setup she turned to the party and said.
“I will need your assistance in providing enough energy to complete the operation. Those of you who are casters can channel your magical power with me to assist. Although this process can be made easier with some sacrifice. If any of you have items imbued with magic that you are willing to part with, please add them to the circle.”
Vanessa clutched her glass ball and said crossly.
“I’m not handing mine over!”
The other party members exchanged looked at each other. Their intentions were clear. Mags stepped forward and spoke for them.
“What magical items we do have will be necessary to accomplish our mission. We’ll take the risk.”
“Very well.” The Caretaker said with a solemn nod.
She positioned herself at a corner of the meadow outside of the circle. The Caretaker directed Pakris, Vanessa, and Cerci to take up positions at the other three corners. The ancient wizard lifted up her wand and said with a serene voice.
“Let us begin.” She announced.
A ray of many colors shot out from the Caretaker’s wand into the outer circle scribed into the ground. The ray traveled along the carved path lighting it up with a rainbow of colors. It crossed over into the intertwining rings within the outer ring. The earth lit up with an astounding array of light. There was a flash, and the party turned away while covering their eyes.
When they looked back, the rings and the vials were gone. All that remained was a fist sized sphere of multicolored light.
“Now!” The Caretaker shouted.

She launched a stream of arcane energy into the sphere. The others followed suit. Vanessa summoned the dark power within her granted by the Shadow. Her eyes lit up with deep violet, and with an unsettling, echoey laugh the sorcerer fired off a current of violet arcane energy into the sphere. Cerci commanded the faerie within her circlet with a soft whisper to grant her its power. A sickly green shot out from the circlet into the sphere. Pakris clenched her fists, stomped her feet and roared. Red arcane energy poured out from her maw and flew into the sphere.

The sphere grew brighter and larger as the women filled it with magical energy. It suddenly collapsed to its original size. A boom like thunder rang out from the sphere and powerful waves of energy reverberated from it, nearly knocking the women from their feet and concentration.
“Hold!!” The Caretaker shouted.

Vanessa called within her mind for even greater power. The Shadow obliged. A dark film covered Vanessa’s eyes. Dark ebony began to mix with her deep purple. Vanessa was losing control, but her body continued its task.
Cerci drew from the forest for its strength. Roots sprouted from the ground and twisted around her legs holding her in place. The trees and shrubs around her withered and shriveled as they sacrificed their life to the druid. Cerci stood firm with new vitality and continued the task.
Pakris dug her feet into the ground and stuck out her tail for balance. She summoned all the rage within her and roared with all of her might. Her magic flowed with an even greater intensity than before.
The Caretaker remained calm and stood steadily in place.
The rest of the party looked on in awe at the sight before them, hardly able to grasp all that was occuring.

The sphere grew and collapsed again. A more powerful set of waves reverberated out.
“Hold!!” The Caretaker shouted again.
Vanessa stood firm but her left foot slid back ever so slightly. The Shadow took complete control of Vanessa’s body. The violet energy was replaced with ebony black.
Cerci did not waver and continued to draw life from the forest.
Pakris stumbled back, but Mags, Rygo, and Ahriman caught her. They pushed her back into place and held her steady with their combined might. Pakris continued, trying to ignore the assistance provided to her.
The Caretaker remained as serene as before.

The sphere grew and collapsed once more. The reverberation was too powerful to withstand and launched everyone onto their backs, including the ancient wizard. When everyone returned to their feet, they saw a single, plain pearl lying on the ground in the center of where the ring had once been. The party let out a triumphant cheer.
Vanessa stared vacantly as her body returned to her control. Why did it take over? She had it! She was doing just fine. One little slip, one tiny imperfection and then it used her like a mere meat suit to carry out its bidding. Did it not trust her? Did the Shadow not believe she was up to the task? After all these years, all this preparation, does it still doubt she can complete her quest, that she could fulfill her destiny?

It’s probably nothing. Vanessa assured herself. The Shadow knows what it’s doing, and it would not assign her to this vital task if it did not have the utmost faith in her. This was merely an unforeseen challenge that she could not be allowed to fail. The Shadow is wise. The Shadow believes in her. The Shadow will grant her the power necessary to see the mission through.
The Caretaker walked over to the small pearl and plucked it up. She held it out to the party members clumped around Pakris.
“I believe this is what you came here for.” She said with a self-satisfied smile.
Vanessa walked by and snatched the pearl from the wizard’s hand. She held it in front of her face and examined it. The half-elf said cooly.
“Yes. This will do just fine.” She turned to her sister.
“Cerci, prepare a tree for our return to Girsu.” She commanded her.
Vanessa turned to the Caretaker and said with a sickeningly sweet smile.
“Thank you so much for your help. The people of Vita owe their lives to you.”
The Caretaker responded with a half, insincere, smile. Vanessa spun around and sauntered over to the tree Cerci was preparing for teleportation.
Meanwhile, Pakris turned to Ahriman, Mags, and Rygo who had all helped each other up after the last wave had knocked them to the ground. The dragonborn princess smiled weakly and said.
“You didn’t have to help me. I could have done it on my own and…” Pakris lowered her eyes.
“Even if I did fail, it was my responsibility to bear.” She said with a drop of shame.
Mags and Ahriman began to insist that it was not trouble when Rygo stepped forward and clasped his hand on Pakris’ shoulder. They locked eyes as he said firmly.
“We’re a team. We help each other.” Pakris let out a relieved smile.
Rygo smiled back. He liked her smile. It was like her. Warm, genuine, and strong. He was glad to have met her. Someone to call him out and kick his ass when he needed it. But also someone who would have his back… as soon as he got his head out of his ass.
Rygo chuckled to himself. He still did not see himself as a red dragonborn, (despite his appearance), but they would fit well in a clan together. Like an older sister and younger brother. That would be nice. Fus Roh would like her too.
The party headed over to the tree Cerci had prepared a doorway in. Mags stayed back a bit and turned to the Caretaker. She looked up at the ancient woman with a sweet smile and said warmly.
“Thank you for… everything.” She chirped softly.
The Caretaker smiled back and said in a motherly tone.
“Thank you for the pleasant company. I’d love to see you again.”
Mags beamed and replied.
“That’d be nice!” The party called her over.
Mags turned and waddled over to the doorway. She looked back at the Caretaker one last time before going through and saw her kind smile as she walked through. Mags smiled back and sighed contently to herself.

The party stepped out of a random tree back into the ruins of Girsu. The campsite had been abandoned and many dwarven corpses lay out unburied in the sun, rotting slowly away. The party, with the exception of Ahriman, covered their noses and swiftly headed over to the holes and down the tunnels of Girsu. After a few minutes of walking, they arrived before Fesh who patiently awaited them in their lair. The beholder’s brow raised as it said with bemused surprise.
“You’ve returned? Did you actually succeed in acquiring a pearl?”
Vanessa proudly held the pearl forward. Fesh pointed an eye stalk at it, and the pearl lifted up into the air and floated over to the creature’s head. Fesh examined it with their many eye stalks and smiled widely.
“Amazing. You actually did it. HAHA!! Now I shall live forever!!” He boasted excitedly.
“Or at least a long time, assuming no one kills me. You never know with adventurers.” Fesh cautiously said to themself.
Vanessa cleared her throat then said with her head held high.
“Now for your end of the bargain. Tell us of the Omnishield.”
Fesh shuddered and their many eyes winced at the utterance of the artifact’s name.
“Please, don’t say that foul thing’s name. It’s caused me enough harm already. What do you desire to know about it?”
Mags rested her chin on her fist and thought of how she should ask about the item’s cursed nature. Before she could come up with a question, however, Vanessa spoke on behalf of the party.
“Where do we find the artifact? And how do we use it?” She asked the beholder.
Fesh took a deep breath and replied.
“It is hidden in the Kythrillian mountain range, though no dwarves or even dragons live in the mountain where it lies. The use of it is easy. Any creature with the faculty of language can wield it, but I suggest one of strong will and little ambition. You will find it in a dormant state. In order to activate it to its full potential, it will need to absorb three things: the dust of crushed rubies, a chuquiragua flower, and the beating heart of an ancient dragon.” They explained.
The party exchanged several worrying looks with each other. How were they to acquire such rare items, especially a dragon’s heart? Vanessa voiced their concerns.
“How can we ascertain these keys or even find the mountain?”
Fesh shrugged with its many eye stalks.
“I don’t know. I can teleport you all to a place nearby but not in the mountain it is hidden. The chuquiragua flower is native to the range. You can recognize it by its spiny stem and orange petals. As for the others, you’ll have to figure it out on your own. Now can we please cease talking of this cursed item?” The beholder whined.
Mags raised her hand to ask about the curse, but Vanessa spoke too soon.
“Yes. We are ready to leave right now.”
“Good.” Fesh replied.
Fesh set the pearl on the ground and focused all of its eye stalks on the party while closing its central eye. Suddenly, the party stood in a dense forest covered in a light blanket of snow. They looked up and saw above the trees the snow capped peaks of the Kythrillian mountains in the distance. A shorter mountain loomed over them a few kilometers away.

Chapter 51: The Enemy Revealed

Chapter Text

Cerci reached down and scooped up the fluffy, cold, wet substance. She laughed childishly and turned to Vanessa and with a wide smile exclaimed.
“Seester!! It’s amazing!”
“It’s just snow Cerci. Nothing to get excited over.” Vanessa replied dismissively.
“I love it!” Cerci said unfazed by her sister’s remark.
Cerci looked back and saw the others shivering. She wondered why she felt the cold of the snow, but it felt comforting and protecting rather than biting and oppressive. The half-elf looked down and saw that her flesh was covered in a thin sheet of ice that extended over her fingers like claws. Cerci looked up to her circlet and whispered in the druidic tongue.
“Did you do this?” She asked the faerie.
“This is from my power, yes.” The faerie replied bitterly.
“What else can you grant me?” Cerci questioned excitedly.
“Whatever environment you are in, you will gain power from it. If you so desire, I can grant a few objects temporary life that is yours to command.” The faerie explained.
“Oooh, fun! What else can I do with this… snow?” Cerci wiggled as she asked.
Rygo and Pakris shivered violently. They desperately breathed hot air into their hands and rubbed the rest of their bodies. Rygo grumbled.
“I swear the nine hells are covered in this infernal stuff. Only dwarves could feel comfortable in it after all… and white dragons I guess.”
Mags shrugged. Her feathers being fully fluffed kept her insulated from the cold.
“It’s not that bad really. You just need heavier clothes.” She remarked.
Ahriman picked up a clump of snow and clamped his hands around it. He crunched and molded the snow down into a fine ball. He turned to Rygo and said with a smirk.
“I remember an activity that helps distract from the misery snow can bring.”
“What’s that?” Rygo asked, clueless of Ahriman’s intentions.
Ahriman raised his hand in the air and took aim. Suddenly, he was pelted in the back of the head by a soft missile. He whipped around to see Cerci giggling uncontrollably. He smiled. These two sisters may be horribly troubled, but there is still a childish innocence in them. The undead man thought to himself. He threw his snowball at his assailant. The party descended into chaos.
Pakris gathered as much snow as she could and took to the air raining icy terror from the sky. Vanessa cast telekinesis and lifted scores of snowballs into the air and launched them at her hapless foes. Mags bobbed and weaved as she dodged incoming fire and returned her own at anyone foolish enough to turn their eye from her. Rygo gathered up huge mounds of snow and dumped it on those unable to outrun him. Ahriman smoothly sidestepped projectiles directed towards him and snatched missiles flying by and sent them careening back to the sender.
Cerci laughed and laughed as she ran around gleefully pelting her comrades at random. She only laughed more as the slings of her foes connected with her body. She stopped abruptly when one of her attacks landed on the face of a hulking orcish woman dressed in several layers of fur, covered in scars, and carrying a large spear.

The rest of the party ceased their merriment and took in their surroundings. Over a score of fur covered people consisting of goliaths, humans, orcs, and half-orcs encircled them. The strangers appeared to be curious rather than aggressive though despite them all being armed with spears, axes, or bows. The orcish woman spoke out.
“Who are you? What are you doing in these lands?”
The other fur covered people grumbled similar questions in confirmation. The party members turned to each other with utter confusion. None of them could understand a word the woman had just spoken. None except for Ahriman. They spoke in a tongue unlike any he had encountered in Tesalach, but it was familiar. Incredibly familiar. Ahriman replied in kind.
“We are a group of travelers searching for an entrance to the mountain up ahead.”
The heavily scarred orc looked at her other companions. She looked back at the party and pointed towards the mountain with her spear.
“Come with us to our encampment.” She ordered.
Ahriman explained the situation to the others, and they agreed to go along. The party stood closely together as they followed the strange people leading them.

Along the way, a wiry man walked alongside Mags and stared at her with a curious expression. He spoke a few words to her, and she repeated them to him in his voice. The man stepped back with surprise and then laughed giddily. The man spoke another sentence to the kenku, and she repeated them back. They went back and forth a few times with the man’s smile growing wider and wider. Ahriman looked back and said to Mags in the common tongue.
“He was asking you if you were food. You’ve said yes and given him permission to eat you.” He informed her nonchalantly.
“Oh, how do I tell him I’ll break his kneecaps if he tries?” Mags asked playfully.
Ahriman told her, and she relayed the message. The man’s smile faded, then he laughed again and explained he was only joking. With the help of Ahriman, Mags said she might be.

Presently, the party arrived at the encampment of the fur covered people. Hundreds of octagonal, brown tents were set up throughout the section of the forest. There was a flurry of activity outside the tents. Children ran around laughing and squealing as they played imaginary games of hunters and beasts. The adults busily carried around bodies of large game and plates filled with nuts and root vegetables. Fires burned throughout the campsite filing the air with a thin layer of smoke. The people wore brightly colored, patterned quilts except those who returned from outside the encampment who were heavily covered in furs.

The party was brought deep into the campsite to a group of burly men and women holding cups filled with beer and singing a rowdy song together. The orcish woman ordered the party to stop. She stomped her foot on the ground three times and shouted loudly. Out of the crowd came a tall, portly orc man with a jolly face and a hearty laugh. The man stepped forward and introduced himself with his arms extended wide open.
“He says the Odonese people welcome us. His name is Luka, one of the forty council members, and the most fun. We are just in time for a feast after a successful hunt.” Ahriman translated for the party.
“Did you say feast?” Cerci said with mouth watering and widening eyes.
Luka laughed jovially at her expression. He brought them over to a long wooden table extending several meters across the encampment already filled with meat, vegetables, nuts, and beer. Rygo laughed and said to Cerci.
“Bet I can eat more than you.”
“Haha, you won’t.” Cerci replied.
The two rushed off to the table and immediately began stuffing their faces. The rest of the party laughed at their antics and followed to the table to watch with their escort and Lootah joining them.
Rygo and Cerci stared at each other as they sat side by side eating voluminous amounts of food to see who would cave first. A tall, spindly elf woman sat down across from them. She stared intensely at them, grabbed the leg of a buck, and ate cleaned it of meat in three seconds. The elf calmly set the bone down and plucked another leg to consume. Cerci and Rygo looked blankly at the elf woman, then looked at each other, then back at her. They proceded to eat even more voraciously than before doing their best to keep up with the other two.
The three gluttons ate through four deer, three chickens, five plates of vegetables, and a platter of nuts. Rygo and the elf continued going strong. Starting to fill her small body, Cerci transformed into a brown bear and shoved more food into her maw down her gullet.
It was still not enough. She ate slower and slower until she could not slide any more food into her mouth. The elf woman gave up as well, and Rygo laughed victoriously as he stood up with a chicken wing in his hand. He immediately sat back down as his head grew light.

Luka laughed heartily and began to discuss with the rest of the party with Ahriman translating.
“So what are you searching for up in the mountain?”
“An artifact.” Mags replied.
“Mm yes.” Rygo cut in while wiping large chunks of food from his mouth.
“We’re searching for an item powerful enough to stop a force of barbarians invading our homeland.”
“That sounds terrible.” Luka replied concernedly.
“I hope you succeed. We were driven out of our homeland many generations ago.”
“Where was that?” Ahriman asked nervously.
“Morcia.” Lahoot answered solemnly.
“We have been traveling west ever since trying to find a new home.”
Ahriman lowered his head. He prayed he had not contributed to their displacement.
“Well there’s plenty of places for you all to settle!” Rygo said boisterously.
The dragonborn pulled out a map of the realm of Tesalach and laid it out on the table.
“See you’re over here in the Dragonlands right by the Kythrillian Mountains. This is an incredibly difficult place to live so you want to go over here to the Fair Fields, they have excellent farmland over there. Or if you prefer hunting, the Western Badlands are an excellent place to settle. Of course there are many nomadic peoples throughout the Badlands, especially the eastern ones and…” Rygo eagerly explained to Luka.
Cerci tepidly cut in.
“Uh, guys, I think these people ARE the Barbarian Horde.”
Rygo abruptly stopped talking with his mouth hanging open. His eyes widened at the sudden realization.
Ahriman and Mags looked at each other. Mags peered at her old friend with shock and disbelief. Ahriman clutched his staff and looked away. He could not bear to think of what he had done and what they were doing. Mags stared at the ground. All of this time, all of this hardship, all of this betrayal and blood and this is what they are? The supposed vicious invaders?
Vanessa tried to show no signs of surprise. But her eyes blinked for the first time in years, several times in fact.
Cerci looked around curiously at her comrades. What was the matter? Wouldn’t they want to know? It seemed rather obvious to her.
Pakris stared blankly dumbfounded. She shook her head slowly and said.
“No, it can’t be.” She said aloud.
Rygo’s eyes narrowed. His tail curled and his brow furrowed.
“Damn right it can’t!” He snapped.
“These are good people! Fine people! My brother didn’t die for this! I didn’t amass an army, wade through a city of treacherous snakes, and fight my way here to drive off people looking for a home! It can’t be!!
The nearby Odonese stared at the shouting dragonborn. Lukanervously backed up. He asked Ahriman.
“What’s wrong?”
The undead warrior merely shook his head. The orc anxiously looked amongst the party for someone to explain what was going on. Vanessa gathered herself. She saw the confusion of her party and determined to take control of the situation. She announced to them.
“I’ll get to the bottom of this!” The half-elf turned to the living corpse as she spoke.
“Translate this for me: Are there more of your people?” She ordered forcefully.
Ahriman reluctantly complied. He nearly whispered the words back. Excited that communication had finally reopened, Luka enthusiastically replied.
“Oh yes! There are many more tribes and people from Morcia. Some are a bit ahead of us I think. I know many of them split up and traveled north instead. A few went south of us. All in all there’s probably somewhere around 30,000-50,000 people coming onto that map of yours.” He explained.
“Are they all so friendly?” Vanessa asked skeptically.
“Oh well the Naiyuga are nasty people. Don’t even bother talking with them. We’ve had a rivalry with the Lekene for a while, but they went north so they won’t trouble us anymore. I guess the Rontar can be rather brutal in warfare, but the rest of the tribes are alright if not downright great company.” The orc answered jovially.
“Well some of them are aggressive and need to be put down.” Vanessa loudly for the rest of the group to hear.
“Not enough of them.” Rygo grumbled.
Mags shook her head. After all the friends she had lost and people she had stepped on to get here, she was not going to let all of this time and effort go to waste. She had a powerful secret organization as her ally and the favor of one of the most powerful prince’s in the realm. If the realm didn’t need saving from these people, then she would insure that these people would be saved from the realm. Something good had to come out of all of this.
She stepped forward and spoke authoritatively to Luka. Ahriman translated for her.
“We were worried your peoples meant to conquer and destroy our realm. Knowing your situation, we will try our best to make sure you can settle among us peacefully. We don’t have much influence throughout the continent, but I will use all of my connections and resources to help you and your people.”
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Luka said, overcome with joy to the point of tears.
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
“So what displaced you from your home anyway?” She asked Luka.
Ahriman winced reflexively. He closed his eyes and looked away.
“No, no, no.” He whispered to himself.
Luka lowered his head and said with great sorrow.
“Long ago, a lich and his death cult destroyed us from the inside. Morcia is a graveyard filled with undead. Worse yet, we learned not too long ago that they are following us. That’s why we split up.”

I knew it! Ahriman thought to himself. I knew there was a reason for this horrible weight I bear. I knew the guilt came from somewhere. I knew I was terrible. I knew it! I knew it! I hope they beat me. I hope they break me and bury me where I won’t be discovered for a thousand years. I deserve much worse.
Ahriman buried his face into his hands and began to weep. He breathed heavily. Despite his hard sobs, no tears came from his eyes. The corpse shook and groaned miserably.
Mags laid her hand on his shoulder and asked.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s my fault! I helped Tulani gain power. I aided him on the path to what he became. He was so sure of himself. His words were filled with conviction. I thought we would better the world, but we destroyed it!!” He wailed.
“Yikes.” Vanessa and Cerci said simultaneously with uncomfortable smiles.
Mags continued to comfort the distressed corpse. She laid her body against Ahriman’s and said softly.
“I did a terrible thing once too.” Ahriman lifted his face and looked at the kenku with a pathetic face filled with sorrow and shame.
“I felt horrible for it when I realized what I did. I’ve tried to do better since. I don’t know if I’m a good person yet, or ever will be, but I’m trying. I know you can too.” She said.
Ahriman nodded and began to collect himself. But the guilt still weighed heavily upon him. His eyes drooped and his torso hung limply over his legs. He looked as though he may never move again.
Pakris came over to Ahriman. Her tail curled nervously as she stood apart from the grieving corpse. She snorted, dug her feet in the ground, and looked Ahriman dead in the eyes.
“You can’t change what you did, but you can help them now. Save them from the lich that pursues them. Right your wrong. Then you can be forgiven.” She said firmly.
Ahriman sprung up. He frantically turned to Luka and asked.
“Where is the lich now?!”
The orc shrugged.
“I have no idea.” He replied.
Ahriman clenched his fists and stared dejectedly up at the sky. Cerci walked over to the undead man and tapped him on the shoulder.
“You mentioned the lich again, yes?” She asked with a curious expression on her face.
“Yes. I was wondering where he was, but they have no idea.” Ahriman replied woefully.
“I can find him.” Cerci said with a smile.
“You can?!” Ahriman’s eyes widened as he replied.
“Yes! If you give me his name and something he owned, it will be much easier.” Cerci responded cheerfully.
“Tulani!” Ahriman quickly replied.
He paused and slowly took off his bandana and handed it over to the half-elf druid.
“And… this was a gift from him.” He said with a touch of sentimentality.
“Thank you.” Cerci said with a smile.

She skipped around the encampment, with the party following her around, until she found an active fire. She held up the bandana to her lips, whispered a few druidic phrases, and cast it into the flames. Ahriman gasped and rushed over. He reached for his ancient gift, but Cerci slapped his hand away.
She motioned everyone to stand back. They slowly complied. Cerci turned around and stared into the fire. Her eyes glossed over and her head began to sway side to side. She said slowly and rhythmically.
“The cold north wind blows upon a pale white army.”
“They must be in the Badlands.” Ahriman said aloud.
“A dragon of sheer bone flies westward with them.” She continued.
“They have an undead dragon?!” Pakris remarked with dismay.
“They stop for nothing. Eyes set upon a land of grand buildings and many people.”
“Center City.” Mags chirped.
“They move swiftly, set to take their prize and spread throughout the known world with a host greater than any seen before.” Cerci chanted.
“How long?” Vanessa asked her sister.
Cerci pulled away from the fire with the bandana in her hand.
“I don’t know. Less than a week though it seems.” She replied simply.
She handed the bandana to Ahriman who held it tightly to his chest.
“We have to get the Omnishield now!” Rygo exclaimed.
The dragonborn wheeled around and asked the orc.
“How do we get inside that mountain?” He pointed up to the mount ahead.
After Ahriman translated, Luka replied.
“I don’t know. But we met someone who knows the area well. Would you like to have a few guides take you to her?”
“Yes!” The party answered.
“Very well. I’ll ask around. The mountains are a dangerous place to travel so volunteers may be difficult to find. Are you all equipped to handle that?” Luka asked caringly.
“Heh, heh, danger is our specialty.” Rygo replied.
“We should get some rest though.” Mags chirped to others.
The rest of the party agreed. They set up their bed rolls and slept amongst the Odonese people, anxious to get inside the mountain and retrieve the Omnishield.

Chapter 52: Danger in the Mountains

Chapter Text

The party woke up and gathered their things at first light. After a quick breakfast of leftovers from the prior day’s feast, they met with Luka who was accompanied by a trio of lightly packed scouts. The orc stood upright before the party and pressed his fist to his chest. The party responded in kind. Luka lowered his hand and said with a weak smile.
“These three have volunteered to guide you up the mountain to the one we call the Seer. She’s an older elf with golden skin and hair. Her home is the only structure we have seen in the area so it should be easy to find. Good luck. I pray you are successful in your quest.”
“Thank you. We are indebted to your kindness.” Ahriman replied with solemn gratitude.
Luka let out a short laugh. The mirth drained from his face as he said in a low voice to the living corpse.
“Defeat the lich and help my people settle peacefully. Then you won’t have to worry about any debts.”
Ahriman nodded. The orc and his people may not know his crimes, but it comforted him to hear directly from one of them a way to recompense. At least a way to begin.

After he explained the situation to his comrades, the party headed out. As they left the encampment, they were given a stack of furs by the Odonese people which Rygo and Pakris enthusiastically threw on their bodies. Vanessa chuckled at their desperation for warmth and gracefully wrapped a snow leopard's fur around her body. The party followed their guides through the forest towards the summit of the mountain ahead.

Nearly as soon as they began traveling, Mags received a message from Nothos.

No idea who dragon is. Vacationing in Center City while army marches into Badlands. Have you acquired the Omnishield yet? Or met the Barbarians?

Mags froze still. He didn’t know about the lich and undead heading towards Center City. Of course he didn’t! Or what the “Barbarians” are actually like. Mags scrambled in her mind a response and replied.

Forget dragon. Met Horde. Actually refugees. Nice people. Undead army headed to Center City. Be there in days. MUST STOP THEM. Nearly have Omnishield.

Mags prayed to all the gods she could remember that Nothos would receive the message and act on it immediately. She scrunched her face at the thought that Katak would have to believe it as well, but so far he was the only one taking the Horde seriously. Mags walked with a quicker step and a greater urgency.

She looked at the guides ahead of her: one orc, goliath, and a half-orc. It was amazing. She hadn’t seen this kind of unity since Archai. They were so brave, leading them along a treacherous path in the middle of the Dragon Lands, and she had not even asked for their names. More people to worry about, and more to feel responsible for when they died. Mags broke her gaze upon them. Maybe if she did not remember anything about them, she would not have to feel guilty for losing them.

Ahriman broke the illusion. For so long these people had been faceless ideas to him. Even back in Morcia up in the mountains, in the temples of sanctuary, they did not feel real. Talking with Tulani for so long about the suffering they must experience in their daily lives of drudgery. All of the diseases, wars, famines they had to endure. It was easy to think their existence was consumed by such horrors when he did not see them eating, laughing, and playing. It was especially easy when he did not know their names or faces. Ahriman caught up with the three guides and timidly said.
“Wha-, uh, pardon me. What are your names?”
The three guides looked at each other with shared confusion. The goliath guide, a woman with piercing grey eyes and shimmering bronze skin, chuckled and looked back at Ahriman with a smile.
“My name is Mila.” She replied warmly.
Ahriman smiled sheepishly back. The gaunt, balding half-orc guide gruffly replied.
“Pasha.”
The barrel chested orc stared intensely at Ahriman. The orc said with a deep and powerful voice.
“Call me Řöç.”
Mags interrupted with a chuckle and repeated the name gleefully in the orc’s voice. Řöç let out a silly smile and laughed heartily. Ahriman gave a scolding look at Mags to which the kenku replied with a simple shrug. The undead man sighed and said.
“Their names ought to be respected. They remind us of their personhood and our duty to protect them.” Ahriman lectured Mags.
“I didn’t want to know. I don’t expect to save everyone on this mission, and I didn’t want to feel guilty about it. I can least have fun with it. Especially with names like that.” Mags responded with another shrug.
Ahriman turned away with a frown on his face. How could she be so glib at such a dire time?

The three guides led the party up the slopes of the snowy mountain. The path was steep and treacherous. Loose rocks and icy steps threatened to send the unobservant members of the party off the path and tumbling down a long fall. Fortunately, the experienced adventurers had acquired a good sense for danger and communicated quickly and efficiently before the others could be caught unawares. The guides led them well taking them along secure routes and instructing the party to break frequently and snack often to conserve their energy.

On one of these short rests in the middle of the afternoon, Cerci looked off to the cliff’s edge, a few meters away from where she and her friends sat, and tilted her head with a curious smile at what she saw. Poking out of the rocks and a pile of snow were the branches of a squat shrub. Protruding from its branches was a flame shaped, bright orange flower. Cerci heard a whisper in her mind, and her smile widened. She got up and wandered over to the flower. Her sister let out a short, breathy laugh and asked.
“Find something sister?”
Without looking back, Cerci replied joyfully.
“The chuquiragua flower!”
Vanessa’s face soured.
“How do you know?” She asked. Her voice was filled with doubt.
Cerci shrugged
“I just do.”
Vanessa frowned. She was supposed to be the knowledgeable one.

Cerci reached for the beautiful flower, but withdrew her hand at the sharp pain that sprang out when she squeezed her hand around the stem. She giggled to herself as she looked at her hand, dripping with blood. Of course, its leaves were quite pointy to protect itself. Cerci used her new icy claws to cut the flower from its stem and put the Chuquiragua in her bag. One of three ingredients to activate the Omnishield. She clapped her hands giddily. They were getting closer and closer to completing their grand quest. Vanessa must be so happy.

Vanessa offered a fake smile to her sister as the rest of the party gave polite congratulations. It was a small victory, but an important step if they were to get any use out of the artifact. Shortly after, the party continued their way up the mountain.

Another hour of travel passed by, and the path widened from a narrow strip hugging the side of the mount to a relatively flat plateau. The party’s back turned to the cliffside as they marched through several feet of soft, heavy snow. Their feet sank deep into it, and the shorter members of the party found their steps to be increasingly labored and slowed with the exception of Cerci who glided upon the top of the icy terrain as though it were solid earth.

The wind began to howl and harshly scrape against their flesh. Before, the cold had surrounded them like a heavy blanket, but it now beat against them as an angry resident beats against an intruder. The snow swirled around them. Thousands of snowflakes blended together to create an opaque veil of white between them and the rest of the world. They could barely see each other amongst the flurry. They could hardly hear the warning come from Řöç as they shouted above the screeching wind.
“Be careful!! We may have crossed over into a white dragon’s territory!! Look out for-”
A scream cut them off. A high, horrid, unnatural scream that pierced through the air like an arrow through tissue. Řöç’s face grew pale. They stood firmly in place as the color drained from their face. Etchemin looked around frantically for a place to run to. Wyome gripped her spear and shouted.
“Incoming!!”
Long spears of pure white bone shot out from behind the veil. Mags ducked and rolled, burying herself under a blanket of snow and avoiding the pointed missiles.
Vanessa and Pakris both used their arcane shields. The dragonborn immediately took to the air, using all of her strength to stay balanced against the harsh winds.

A spear scraped Cerci’s left arm. She snarled and immediately transformed into an elemental of air. The crystal containing the faerie glowed in the center of Cerci’s swirling form, and the edges of it became coated in a sharp, icy layer.

The spears bounced off harmlessly off of Rygo’s armor. He raised his shield and charged towards the veil with a roar.

Ahriman effortlessly sidestepped a pair of incoming projectiles, caught one, and threw it back where it came. A more natural scream of pain rang out from behind the veil, but Ahriman did not look back to see where the redirected spear had landed. He sprinted towards the three guides desperate to protect them.

Řöç remained frozen still, surrounded by three spears that barely missed him. Pasha limped towards the center of the party, his foot bleeding from the spear he just pulled out of it. Mila stood tall with a spear jutting out of her chest.

She screamed defiantly as her own spear clashed against the axe of a snarling dragonborn, whose scales were as white as the spear embedded in her flesh. Wyome knocked her foe back with a strike to the head with the butt of her spear. Ahriman finished them off with a pair of blows of his own. The white dragonborn collapsed into the snow, never to rise again.

Eight more white dragonborn charged out of the veil at the party. Two flew at Pakris, spears pointed and ready. Pakris blew one away with a crimson fireball. The other escaped the flames and continued towards its quarry. The dragonborn fell though when its wings were pierced by two crossbow bolts. A third went through its skull landing hard in the snow shortly after.

Cerci flew towards a wingless dragonborn and plucked them up into the air. The dragonborn screamed in terror and confusion as the unseen enemy carried them over the cliff’s edge and dropped them to their death. Vanessa smiled and cast Telekinesis on herself. She snatched two more dragonborn and tossed them over the cliff.
Rygo dispatched his opponent in single combat with ease. His defeated foe began to rise from the snow as a zombie. Rygo crushed it beneath his heel with a sneer. It was not even worth keeping around.

The remaining two dragonborn turned and fled into the flurry of snow, screaming as they went. The party gathered back together. Řöç finally began to move again. They lowered their head and said with embarrassment.
“Sorry for being such a coward.”
Pasha placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder and said warmly.
“I was scared too. You did nothing wrong.” The two embraced.
The party ignored their apologies and reconciliation. Instead, they silently formed a defensive circle. Mags, Vanessa, and Pakris stood on each side facing away from the cliff. Ahriman, Cerci, and Rygo paired up with the ranged members of the party. Ahriman directed the guides to stand behind him. Rygo quickly healed those who were wounded. Wyome thanked him, and the dragonborn simply grunted his approval.

The party and their guides stood in silence. Only a few seconds passed before the horrific scream rang out again.

More spears flew out of the veil. The party was ready for them. Ahriman received and returned the spears that flew towards him to their sender. Mags fired her bolts into the veil while Pakris and Vanessa eached launched crimson and violet firebolts at the hostiles. As nearly a score of dragonborn charged the party, Ahriman, Cerci, and Rygo knocked back those who got too close.

Suddenly, a hulking dragonborn flew straight into Ahriman, bowling him over. The white dragonborn brandished a shining Kythrillian steel battleaxe. They leapt towards Rygo’s back and swung their weapon in a single, fluid motion. Rygo tried to turn but was too late. The axe glowed a blinding white as it cut through his armor and seared his flesh with its radiant head. Rygo fell to the ground with a roar of agony.

The elite white dragonborn warrior stood over their fallen foe and raised their axe to deliver the finishing blow. Instead, they screeched in pain as a spear punched through their chest from behind. The warrior wheeled around and clutched their claw around the throat of their assailant. Mila glared fearlessly at her captor.

The dragonborn launched into the air with their great wings and carried the goliath over the cliff. Mila screamed as she fell to her death. Ahriman and the two guides yelled out for her in vain.

But the dragonborn had exposed themself, and the three ranged party members peppered the target with bolts of steel and fire. The dragonborn plummeted lifelessly down the slopes below.

The few dragonborn who remained fled for the final time back into the veil. The party cheered. Rygo healed himself. The remaining guides grasped each other for comfort over their loss with Ahriman joining them. Mags let out a triumphant roar in the voice of Wendel.

She was answered with an enraged roar from beyond the veil. The party looked at each other with trepidation. Řöç and Pasha clutched each other even tighter.

An agonizing moment of silence passed by. Each warrior prepared an attack for whatever may spring out from the flurry of snow. A strange whistle broke out over the howling wind. A large mass became perceivable yet heavily obscured amongst the billowing snow. Suddenly, an enormous dragon burst out from the veil. Its bone white scales glistened as it swooped in upon wings so broad they shielded the party from the snow. The dragon’s raptor-like jaw widened as the mighty creature glared at its foes with a dark malice.
Pasha immediately ran and dragged his friend, paralyzed by fear, with him.

The party girded themselves and faced their new opponent.

Pakris cast disintegrate at the pale foe. The dragon snapped its beak shut and dipped below the attack. Rygo slammed his hammer against the creature’s lowered underbelly. Black and white mixed together as energy burst out from the hammer, and the dragon shrieked in pain.

It rose back up in the air to avoid further assault only to be caught by a powerful blight cast from Vanessa that began to rot its side. The dragon clawed at its wound but continued to climb into the sky. Mags fired off a series of bolts. Only one sank into her opponent’s flesh. Cerci hurtled herself towards the dragon, flying with incredible speed. Ahriman rushed towards the dragon staring intensely at the head of his target. He looked over his shoulder and shouted to Vanessa.
“Launch me!”
The sorcerer nodded and prepared to cast telekinesis.
But the dragon acted first. The great wyrm arched its neck back then shot forward, unhinging its maw to spit out a torrent of biting frost encasing all those unfortunate enough to lie in its path in a sheet of rigid ice.
Rygo was the first to be caught up in the ice. He roared defiantly as his body was enveloped and frozen stiff. The bitter cold of the ice burned every scale of his body. He would have screamed in pain had his lips not been sealed shut. Still his body carried on, and the fire within him continued to burn.
Ahriman pressed on through the channel of ice. His body, already numbed by death, ignored the biting cold. The undead warrior rapidly spun his staff before him, pushing the icy wind around his body allowing him to move freely through the blizzardy breath.
Cerci’s icy skin protected her from the worst of the attack and she pressed on despite the pain.

Mags’ eyes widened as she saw the dragon arch their neck. She instinctively rushed to the side and dove into the snow around her. The icy powder was frigid and soggy, but the discomfort was nothing compared to the freezing torrent that passed over her.

Pakris desperately hurled herself into the air to avoid the dragon’s breath. She managed to avoid its full blistering might, but the force of the freezing wind knocked her back onto the ground stunning her as frost coalesced over her crimson scales.
Pasha hauled Řöç and himself just beyond the extent of the white dragon’s breath.

Vanessa took the worst of it. The freezing torrent blasted her small body, pushing her back and encasing her in ice. She opened her mouth to scream, but the wind rushed in and froze the very moisture in her throat. Her body grew stiff. Her heart slowed.
As her vision blurred, Vanessa raged internally. How could this be it?! She was so close?! All this time, and the Shadow abandons her during a random encounter?! What a pathetic, stupid, weak patron to allow its greatest protégé to die like… Her thoughts trailed off. The world faded. Only anger, frustration, and then finally, fear, remained.

Suddenly, her heart began to pound. Her blood rushed throughout her body. The tips of her fingers wiggled within the enclosure of ice. A dark blanket enveloped her. It was warm and comforting. The ice melted away, and Vanessa began to move again. She looked around, dumbfounded at what had just happened. Then she smiled and chuckled. She had given up on him too soon. His plans for her were not over yet, and she still carried her dark purpose for him.

Vanessa’s eyes shone a deep purple as she reached her hand out to snatch Ahriman with her telekinetic might. He was going to slay that dragon for her. Good. The damn beast ought to pay for causing her to doubt her patron.

Meanwhile, Cerci slammed her elemental form against the dragon. The white wyrm swung its claws and snapped its jaws at the transformed half-elf, but failed to connect a solid blow. Cerci flitted about the dragon striking it from several sides and angles distracting it from the charging warrior below.

Ahriman charged forward. He jumped onto Rygo’s frozen body and leapt off the dragonborn’s shoulders into the air. Ahriman’s powerful vault grew even greater as Vanessa snatched him in the air and sent him ever higher. The fighting corpse rose in the air all the way to the dragon’s head. He spin kicked the wyrm’s mouth twice then landed on its snout.

Before his foe could snap at him with its beak, Ahriman launched himself into the air again. The dragon looked up as Ahriman fell upon it with a mighty blow from his staff. The pole cracked the wyrm's skull and forced it hurtling down to the earth. Ahriman and the dragon crashed into the snow beneath them. Ahriman rose out of the snow. His foe did not.

The howling wind grew quiet. The last flakes of snow fell softly to the earth. Rays of light pierced through the clouds as a blue sky banished the grey. All was calm.
The party breathed heavily with relief and began to gather themselves. Cerci returned to her half-elf form and went around healing the others. After helping Ahriman, Mags, and Pakris with what wounds they had, she skipped merrily over to her sister. Cerci stopped abruptly when she saw the mound of ice surrounding Vanessa. She scurried over to her sister and asked worryingly.
“Are you alright Seester?!” She reached out her arms to caress her twin and protect her from the dangerous world.
Vanessa simply laughed and turned away from her simple sister.
“Of course I am Cerci. As if a mere beast could hurt me.” Vanessa flipped her hair dramatically.
Cerci let out a whimper.
Vanessa smiled slyly and turned back to her twin. She gently cupped her face in her hands and said with a sickeningly sweet tone.
“Don’t worry my lovely sister. We are so close to achieving our goal. He won’t let us fall when we are so near the pinnacle of our purpose. Just a little bit longer dear sister, and we will be granted such power not even gods could threaten us!” Vanessa’s eyes shone a bright violet as she spoke with an ever widening smile.
Cerci brought her hand to Vanessa’s and nodded softly.

Meanwhile, Pakris ran over to Rygo’s frozen body. Her tail switched back and forth, her hands clenched, and her eyes darted about as she searched for a sign of life. Rygo’s eyes shifted in their sockets. His fingers waggled amongst the slowly melting ice. Pakris let out a sigh of relief.

She cupped her hands and breathed a small flame into them. She let the fire die in her hands then placed her heated palms onto Rygo’s icy encasem*nt. The ice quickly melted and broke away. Rygo staggered forward, groaned painfully, and reflexively laid his hands upon himself to heal his wounds. As the burning pain finally faded from his body, Rygo stood tall. Pakris embraced him. Rygo returned her affection. He closed his eyes with a warm content he hadn’t felt since he last held Fus Roh. Rygo wished Pakris had been there. She would have been a good sister to them.
Ahriman walked over to Řöç and Pasha whose arms wrapped around each other as their eyes stared off to the cliff. Řöç said weakly.
“I can’t believe Mila is gone.” Their head lowered as the reality sunk in.
Etchemin opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
Ahriman offered his hand to Řöç. The orc took it and squeezed softly. Ahriman said quietly with his head bowed.
“I am so sorry I did not do more.”
Řöç weakly smiled.
“You did all you could.” They replied.
Pasha spoke up with renewed vigor.
“We’ll meet her in Morcia again. We all return home someday, and when we do, she’ll be waiting for us with a smile.” He said as his eyes welled with tears.
“Someday.” Řöç said softly.
The three stood in solemn silence. After a few moments had passed, they returned to the party.
Mags stood in front, the first ready to continue. She looked on at the others with a small smile. She could be saving the realm with worse people, she mused to herself. The rest of the party joined her, and the guides went to the front of the entourage to lead them to the Seer.

Chapter 53: Rygo of Clan Afsus

Chapter Text

The party marched off with the sun on their backs and the snow glistening a beautiful white. It was not long traversing the mountain’s plateau before the guides pointed out a wide structure amongst a grove of trees. As they walked closer, the party realized the structure was a sizeable house with sloped roofs and a symmetrical design that emphasized horizontal rather than vertical growth. It would have given off a proud and regal appearance had it not been for the fading yellow and somber grey that colored the home. In front of the house, wasted away a pavilion decaying from years of neglect.

An air of sorrow and melancholy fell upon the party as they trudged their way over to the door, unsure of who would be inside. Řöç lightly tapped the door three times and a low, dejected voice called out from the inside.
“Who is it?”
Řöç cleared their throat and replied politely.
“Members of the Odonese and a few of our friends. They seek help with your knowledge of the area so that they may find the Omnishield and save the realm.”
A moment of silent passed. The party leaned towards the door anxiously waiting for the reply. A heavy sigh pushed out from the inside of the building.
“Guests on a suicide mission? Why not I suppose. Come on in. Don’t mind the sh*t everywhere.” The voice responded with a slow, labored cadence.
Řöç turned to the party and shrugged who returned the gesture. They did not mind the mood of their host, so long as they received the vital information for their mission. Řöç opened the door and led the party inside.

The interior was poorly lit, and the atmosphere carried a cold and damp quality. A hint of mildew permeated the air. The floor was littered with boxes allowing little space to maneuver without stubbing one’s toes which Rygo and Pakris did often. What little space remained for furniture was occupied by a small table holding a cup of tea and a plate with a single baked potato resting on top and a black futon with the party’s host sitting atop it.

Most of the boxes were sealed but some had their lids haphazardly placed on top allowing a peak inside. Mags glanced into one of them and saw a pair of yellow dragonborn dolls and a set of pots and pans. Mags’ curiosity was piqued and she looked around the room for clues as to who this woman was.

The first thing she noticed was the walls were as cluttered as the floor. Paintings of sweeping landscapes and stunning portraits filled nearly every foot of the wall. Had their been proper lighting to see they would have appeared quite beautiful. Mags even recognized a few of the pieces as famous works she had made forgeries of so long ago. Her eyes widened as they fell upon one painting that she had never seen before. She quickly turned to the host of the house anxiously waiting to ask her a question.

Mags paused when she saw the woman. She was an old weary looking elf with pale gold hair and wrinkled skin. Her dim eyes sunk deep and her lips lay flat along her face. She wore a loose fitting, dark grey robe that obscured her thin frame. Mags frowned at the sorry sight. The woman seemed like all she wanted was to be left alone, but Mags’ curiosity compelled her to ask.
“Have you always been called the Seer?” She queried with a high chirp.
The woman sighed and replied.
“I don’t care much for what people call me these days. Call me what you like.”
Mags wrinkled the feathers around her beak in frustration. She asked outright.
“Who are the people being depicted in the painting on the west wall?”
The Seer’s eyes lit up with an angry flare. The party turned to look at the painting and saw a portrait depicting a group of golden dragonborn excitedly piling on top of each other to fit into the frame. Rygo’s brows raised. He slowly raised his hand. His finger quivered as he pointed at the laughing dragonborn in the center of the painting.
“Is that ... Daikot?” Rygo’s voice shook as he forced the words out of his throat.
Rygo traced his finger along each of the dragonborn. He said their names with increasing difficulty.
“Engra, Galden, Jookra. They look so… They look so…”

Happy. Rygo thought to himself. They look so happy. Tears filled his eyes when they fell upon one particular dragonborn. He stood tall and strong in the back of the group. He had a smile that gave off an easy going confidence, and his eyes showed a sense of purpose. One Rygo recognized as a drive for bringing justice to the world.
“Fus Roh…” Rygo plodded over to the painting and rested a heavy hand upon his brother. He bowed his head with tears streaming out.
The Seer stood up with widened eyes and a puzzled expression. Mags noticed the woman’s reaction and scrunched her face feathers thoughtfully. The kenku closed her eyes and called upon the patron of the Shadow Cult to grant her the ability to see things as they truly are. She opened her eyes and her mouth gaped widely at what she saw. The Seer called out to the tearful dragonborn.
“Young man. Who are you?”
Rygo lifted his head and turned around. He stood with his head high and proclaimed with pride and sadness.
“I am Rygo of clan Afsus. I lost my people long ago and more recently lost my brother. I apologize for my behavior ma’am, but this painting portrays in a way that… brings back many memories.”
“It can’t be.” The elvish woman muttered to herself in the draconic tongue.

The others looked at each other with bewilderment. What was going on? What was this all about? Rygo and the Seer stared at one another for a long, static moment. The former unable to make the connection, and the latter unable to act upon it.
Mags intervened. She stepped forward and proclaimed.
“And you are the dragon for which his clan is named; taking the form of an elf woman known as the Seer. But you are Afsus.”
The woman turned to the kenku with a spiteful glare, but her anger at the bird’s indignance vanished when she heard a single word escape Rygo’s lips.
“Matriarch?”
The woman turned back to the dragonborn. As though speaking to a phantom in a dream, she asked.
“Rygo, you survived?”
“Yes, Afsus.” Rygo replied with a gasp of relief.
The woman’s face flushed with color. Her wrinkles disappeared and she stood tall with a renewed vigor. She rushed to the dragonborn with open arms and tearful eyes.
“My boy!!”

Rygo reflexively wrapped his arms around Afsus as she embraced and caressed him. He couldn’t believe it. This whole time she was alive? The years of mourning her, of believing his entire clan was destroyed. Endlessly wandering, fighting, swearing she and the rest would be avenged. He should be happy, overjoyed. Afsus is alive. His dragon is alive. His clan can be reborn.

But if she is alive… what did Fus Roh die for? What has he been fighting for? He could have had it all back. Why did the gods only reveal this to him now? Did they seek to torture him with a wasted life? Why is this moment filled with bitterness? Why is such wonderful news so hollow? Rygo clutched his dragon and cried tears of joy at her recovery and tears of anger at the cruel irony of his life.

Afsus pulled away and stroked Rygo’s face. She looked at him with concern mixed with disappointment.
“What happened to your golden scales? What is this scarlet that has replaced it?”
“Hassan has cursed me.” Rygo replied with a deep shame in his voice.
“I have been stripped of my golden color for a mark to make the other races fear me.”
Afsus shook her head and glowered.
“Hassan?! How dare that fool do this to one of my dragonborn?! No. You are one of mine. You are golden.”

Afsus touched her finger to Rygo’s forehead, and his scales began to transform. Like water, a golden shine flowed from Rygo’s head down to every scale of his body. Rygo looked at himself and felt filled with the pride he had once had. The pride of his clan. The pride of a dragonborn. He looked up to Afsus with tearful admiration. He embraced her.
Pakris looked on with a proud smile. Cerci smiled enthusiastically at the pretty transformation and sweet display of affection. Etchemin and Řöç looked on warmly and wrapped their arms around each others shoulders. Ahriman crossed his arms, not wanting to admit he felt happy for Rygo, but he felt especially happy for Afsus. Mags thought of Fus Roh, and hoped he could see his brother now, embracing their dragon. Vanessa lazily looked about the room for something to interest her. She quickly sighed with disappointment and gave up.
Afsus brushed his scales and pressed him against her chest. She held Rygo tightly and whispered a promise to never leave him again. After a long embrace, Afsus pulled away. She pushed her hair back behind her ears and let out a nervous chuckle. She said to Rygo.
“May I ask something of you in private?” She said tepidly.
“Don’t worry, whatever you’d like to ask of me you can say in front of my friends.” Rygo gestured to his party members.
Afsus sighed. She gave an uncomfortable glance at the party. She sighed and asked awkwardly.
“So… now that I know you are alive and you are a male member of our clan… would you be willing to do a great favor for me and the clan?”
“Sure, what is it?” Rygo replied with an oblivious nod.
“Uhmmm” Afsus tapped her fingers anxiously together.
Ahriman stifled a snicker. Vanessa did not restrain herself and giggled loudly.
Afsus glared at the two and turned back to Rygo and let out a sigh. She straightened her back and said in the most dignified tone she could muster.
“Would you be willing to mate with me in order to replenish our clan?”
“Yea!” Rygo said enthusiastically.
“I know this a lot to ask of you-”
“No. This is fine, I’m down.” Rygo interrupted.
“Oh, well if your party is in a hurry we could do that now.” Afsus added embarrassedly.
“Perfect!” Rygo threw his hands into the air excitedly.
Afsus transformed into a beautiful golden dragonborn with large fins, beefy arms, and a head that stood nearly twice as high as Rygo’s.
“Ooohhhh.” Rygo eyes widened with excitement and a little bit of fear.
Afsus turned and left the room with Rygo in tow. The rest of the party exchanged looks of bemusem*nt and bewilderment. Ahriman held in a fit of laughter that nearly burst just before Rygo and Afsus returned. Rygo strode back to the rest of the party while Afsus watched him with a satisfied smile. Vanessa elbowed Rygo in the side and quietly teased.
“How was being pegged?”
“I totally topped!” Rygo loudly protested.
Afsus shook her head in embarrassment, Mags immediately made a face of disgust, and Ahriman burst out laughing with a mighty guffaw shaking his head vigorously.
“I did!” Rygo said indignantly.
“Sure you did.” Vanessa replied with mocking sarcasm.
Pakris smacked her face with her palm, and Cerci looked about confusedly as to what everyone was reacting to.
Afsus loudly cleared her throat, grabbing the attention of the party. She nodded to them and said.
“Your companion Rygo told me about your mission. I am happy to help. There’s a cave not far from here that leads into the heart of the mountain. I’ll take you to it. Řöç and Pasha, you’re welcome to wait here until I return so that I may safely escort you back to your people.”
The party thanked Afsus for her assistance. The two Morcian guides expressed their gratitude in turn for the dragon’s protection. Rygo gazed at the floor in disappointment. After a brief moment, he raised his head and asked with a morose frown.
“Aren’t you coming with us?”
Afsus smiled softly at the dragonborn and shook her head.
“Your quest is very important, and I really hope it succeeds but…” Afsus patted her belly affectionately.
“I thought I had lost my family, and now I will have them again. I won’t risk losing them again.” She said with a warm glow welling up in her face.
Rygo clenched his fists. He opened his mouth to speak when Pakris placed a hand upon his shoulder. He looked back at her, turned back to Afsus, and bowed respectfully. Without looking his dragon in the eye, he said.
“I understand. It will be difficult for us, but you need to protect the clan. Thank you for your help.”
Afsus smiled and walked out the front door with the party trailing behind her. The party exchanged farewells with their guides, but Ahriman paused at the door. He turned to Řöç and Etchemin and said in a low, grave voice.
“If I survive, I will ensure your people are peacefully settled in these lands. I promise.”
“Thank you.” The two warmly replied.
Ahriman returned to his party with a small hopeful smile on his face. He could never make up for his mistakes, but he would help the people he had harmed so long ago when this was all over, one way or another.
Afsus led the party through the thicket, and the party trekked through the thick layers of snow blanketing the wood. Along the way, Pakris leaned over to Rygo and whispered.
“What was the matter back there?”
Rygo grunted irritatedly and clenched his fists again.
“She won’t join us. Despite all the power she has, she won’t aid us in our mission to save the realm because of the danger it poses. She expects us to die. She cares more about her future clan than she does the sole surviving member of the old one.” Rygo irritatedly explained.
“She doesn’t mean that. Of course she cares about you, but she’s lost so much too.” Pakris retorted.
Rygo threw his arms into the air and replied.
“Yea I know, but it feels like even with gaining my clan back I still have nothing. I have nobody to fight alongside me. No one to risk their life for me and with me, who will be with me until the end.”
Pakris grabbed Rygo’s shoulder again and peered into his eyes.
“You have me.” She said firmly.
Rygo’s muscles relaxed, and he let out an affirmative “hmph”.
“I do.” He said with a smile despite himself.
“What would you all do if you got the Omnishield?” Vanessa called out from ahead to the rest of the party.
“I would use it to find an old friend and restore her, Xenobia. I miss her liveliness.” Ahriman replied wistfully.
“I don’t want it. It's obviously cursed.” Mags grumbled to herself.
Rygo collected himself and excitedly replied.
“I’d use it to drive the dwarves back and force them to give up their relentless expansion.”
“I’ll use it to make my father pay for what he did to my siblings. He won’t die peacefully.” Pakris answered with a mixture of hopeful anticipation and spite.
Vanessa turned to her sister and whispered.
“As I suspected, she wants it for herself. We must get rid of her if we get the chance or she’ll betray us.”
“Yes, Seester.” Cerci replied with a gleeful nod.
The druid cleared her throat then proclaimed joyfully.
“I would use it to make a mountain of bread!”
Ahriman let out an audible “aww” and Afsus chuckled at the half-elf’s adorable reply. Vanessa smiled ruefully, bounced her eyes around her head, then answered.
“I don’t know. Probably wouldn’t trust myself with it. I can be a bit wild sometimes.”

Mags clenched her wings and reflexively brought her hand to her crossbow. “Wild” was a word for it. How about murderous and monstrous?! Mags restrained herself. The sisters were still needed, and the party probably wouldn’t back her up against them. Not enough anyway.

It was not long before they arrived at the mouth of a cave lightly obscured by the foliage around it. Afsus stepped forward and moved the brush aside with ease revealing an entrance just large enough for the even the tallest amongst the party to enter comfortably. She turned to the party and said solemnly.
“This is where I leave you. Good luck. I hope you succeed.”
The party thanked her and entered the cave one by one. As Rygo approached the entrance, Afsus stopped him and said.
“When you have completed your mission, please return to me. I’d like our children to have a father.”
Rygo looked away for a moment then replied.
“I may. I do not know where the end of this journey will take me, but I would like to see the future of our clan.”

Afsus smiled and gave a soft kiss on Rygo’s golden forehead for good luck. The dragonborn joined his companions with a hopeful smile on his face. Maybe he could be a part of this new clan after all.
The party gathered together in the cramped chamber of the cave. What little light illuminated the room revealed a single tunnel that stretched far beyond the point where light failed to pierce its dark shroud.

Mags and Ahriman did not mind, for their eyes had been made accustomed to the dark so they walked headlong into the tunnel. The sisters followed after as they were also adept at seeing in the dark, and the two dragonborn walked closely behind the sisters.
As they traveled down the dark, damp tunnel, Rygo and Pakris grew frustrated by their lack of vision and complained to the other party members. Vanessa rolled her eyes and produced a ball of violet light in her hand to cease their griping. As the light illuminated the tunnel, it revealed a large yellow skinned creature, with the wings of a bat and the horns of a ram, hanging upside down from the ceiling of the tunnel. Its red eyes opened and fell upon the party that disturbed it. It dropped to the ground and stood up, looming over the adventurers. It opened its mouth revealing rows of sharply filed teeth. It asked the party in a deep, hissing voice.
“What is your purpose in this mountain?”
The party stepped back in surprise and apprehension at the creature. They paused awkwardly, not knowing what to do or how to respond. Vanessa, however, stepped forward and said confidently.
“We have come to acquire the Omnishield from this place. What is yours?”
Cerci looked upon her sister with admiration for her boldness whereas Mags, Ahrimman, and Pakris looked upon her with baffled frustration at her impudence. Rygo crossed his arms and humphed with respect.
The large creature looked each of the party members over, paying special attention to their armaments and artifacts. It nodded and turned around with its long tail flickering about.
“I am merely the guard of this passage. Now come with me.” It hissed.

Without another word, the party followed their new guide down the tunnel which began to wind and descend deep into the mountain. Mags anxiously fiddled her hand around her crossbow. She expected some kind of trap or betrayal to come from this demonic looking creature, but some part of her felt it meant no ill will towards her or the others. She decided to stay her hand, but kept it close to her bow in case her gut was wrong. The guide showed no indication of noticing the kenku having her hand on her weapon, but it may have just not cared.

After nearly an hour of descending into the heart of the mountain, a cascade of light finally poured into the tunnel revealing an enormous cavern at the end of it. However, the party could not see what lay before them as their guide blocked their view of the cavern and its contents. When the large two-toed creature stepped out of the tunnel clearing the party’s field of vision, they stared in awe at the magnificent sight before them.

An immense pit lay in the center of the cavern, dividing a battlefield between angels, devils, and demons. Each faction surrounded a massive stone pillar beaming rays of golden, emerald, and ruby light above the center of the pit where a singular object lay suspended above the vast emptiness beneath it. The object elicited a dull orange glow and possessed a perfectly round shape that convexed on one side.
“So many demons.” Mags said aloud in horror.
Vanessa laughed scornfully at her mistake. She derisively lectured Mags.
“No silly, the demons are the ones on the opposite side of the ring next to the ruby pillar. Demons take animalistic forms, are wild in their habits, come from the Abyss, and seek to spread their chaotic nature across all of the planes. The devils are over at the emerald pillar. They typically take twisted and ugly humanoid forms. Unlike the demons, they are extremely organized, bureaucratic even, and try to prevent the demons from propagating in the other planes. They originate from the nine hells.
Those weirdos by the gold pillar with eyes all over their wings are angels. They serve whatever god they were assigned to and carry out their missions from wherever in the heavens they live. They’ll blindly obey their personal god’s orders regardless of what the smart thing to do is. At least the devils can think for themselves.” Vanessa sneered at the angels.
“Wow, thanks so much.” Mags grumbled sarcastically to herself.
“Yes, and your arrival adds an interesting element to the conflict over the Omnishield.” The horned devil said to the party.
“The Omnishield is the circley thing floating above the pit right?!” Rygo asked the devil boisterously.
The devil blinked a couple times and replied flatly.
“Yes.”
“Good!” Rygo exclaimed.
“That’s what we’re here for!”
“I think that was obvious.” Ahriman dryly interjected with a drip of annoyance.
“I’ll take you to the others.” The devil said.
The party followed the devil to the split between the devil and angel camps. The supernatural beings were not engaged in combat with one another, but rather stood opposite each other along a line carved into the stone ground. Most of the members of each group ignored one another and stuck to their own side, but some jeered and taunted the opposing faction.

As the party came up between them, the nearby extraplanar beings took notice of the group and followed them with intrigued looks upon their faces. They began to whisper to each other, and soon a bustle of whispers, shouts, and buzzes erupted amongst the two camps. By the time the party reached the center of the division, two representatives of each faction came out from their respective crowd and approached the adventurers.

Each of them looked precisely as one might imagine with the devil’s red skin, curled horns, and long tail and the angel’s illustrious hair, skin tight white robes, and outstretched eagle wings. The two beings towered over the party stretching to more than twice the tallest of them’s height. The devil carried a lumbering, heavy mace. The angel held a finely crafted bow whose string sang exquisite chords at the slightest vibration.
Vanessa gulped anxiously.
“What is it? The devil?” Ahriman whispered concernedly.
“Oh that’s just a pit fiend. It’s the solar I’m worried about.” Vanessa whispered back.
Vanessa had only heard rumors of the being’s capabilities, but if it was true that its ears saw through all lies, and its bow could slay a mortal with a single arrow, she might actually be in trouble.
Cerci saw the worry creeping along her sister’s face. She grabbed Vanessa’s hand and squeezed gently. When her sister turned to her, Cerci said with a sweet smile.
“We will get it Seester.”
Vanessa let out a deep breath and smiled back at her sister.
“Yes.” She turned her face back forward.
“We will.”
The pit fiend and solar exchanged a brief look with each other. The devil nodded solemnly, and the angel gave a playful smirk. They turned to the party and informed them of the situation. The pit fiend spoke with a slow, grave cadence with a deep hiss behind every word while the solar spoke with a quick, flighty cadence that resembled an upbeat ditty.
“Your arrival is rather fortuitous.” The pit fiend began.
“The demons surely quake with fear now.” The solar chimed in.
“Finally, the stalemate can be broken.” The fiend continued.
“Our alliance has come to fruition.” The solar added.
“Although our goals are opposed.”
“Asmodeus himself has sent this somber servant to acquire the Omnishield and bring it back to him to fight off the Hordes of the Abyss.”
“Whereas Gond has sent this fickle angel to retrieve their creation and return it to the Heavens.”
Mags co*cked her head to the side and blinked curiously at the pair. She chirped with piqued interest.
“Gond created the Omnishield?”
The angel laughed a beautiful chord and replied.
“With a little help from the elven emperor who commissioned it so many millennia ago.”
Rygo stroked his chin thoughtfully. He thought aloud.
“If you two are opposed, why are you not fighting it out over who gets it?”
“Our forces are even.” The solar replied.
“The conflict would be grueling and uncertain.” The pit fiend added.
“And the demons must be kept from the artifact.”
“At all costs.”
“So we have joined together.”
“Until the time comes.”
“To have you and the other adventurers decide.”
“Other adventurers?” Ahriman asked with surprise.
“You are not the first to arrive...” Asmodeus’ servant began to explain.
“A wizard, a cleric, and a paladin have graced us with their presence as well.” Gond’s servant interrupted.
“But they are not enough to turn the tide.” The devil finished.
Vanessa crossed her arms and said dismissively.
“Why should we choose either of you?”
The pit fiend looked at the angel with an irritated expression, and the angel laughed once again. The devil turned to the party and replied sourly.
“We offer you to take the shield and keep it for your mortal time, but we will collect it when you expire.”
“But its danger is too great for any being to wield it, so it must be returned to the heavens and sealed away from the mortals who will surely be corrupted by it.” The angel answered lightheartedly.
“But this can be decided upon later.”
“We must first release the artifact.”
“And beat back the demons to do so.”
“How do we release the Omnishield?!” Cerci asked with enthusiastic wonder.
“Each of the pillars holds the artifact in an inert state.” The devil explained.
“We must deactivate each of them.”
“At the same time to release it.”
“The demons possess one pillar.”
“We need to fight through their forces to secure it.”
“Long enough to deactivate the pillars in a coordinated maneuver.”
“It is risky.”
“And costly.”
“Are you willing to help?”
All it took was a quick glance amongst the party members to know exactly what they wanted to do. Mags snapped her head back to the pair of supernatural beings and said with utmost confidence and certainty.
“Of course. When do we start?”

Chapter 54: Old ‘Friends’

Chapter Text

The immortal negotiators smiled at the party’s ready cooperation. The flighty servant of Gond stepped to the side and stretched out their hand to a group of travelers camped out at the edge of the pit.
“First come meet your companions who will accompany you on this perilous mission.” Their face beamed gleefully as they spoke.
“Although they may not be as ‘thrilled’ to see you as us.” The fiend said with a tired rolling of their eyes as they stepped to the side as well.
The party walked down the open lane. Mags’ feathers bristled as she reflected on the devil’s words, and they fluffed out as she saw their new “companions”: Aelius, Alec, and Glorfindel.
Aelius sat up straight with his mouth wide open in surprise. Alec turned her scarred face to the party and looked straight at Mags with contempt and disgust. Her face broke into exasperation as her eyes fell upon Rygo. Glorfindel approached the party with a smirk on his face, a bottle in his hand, and a sway in his steps.
“Well, well, well, if it ain’t my old friend, little miss backstabber.” Glorfindel playfully addressed Mags, barely concealing the bitterness in his voice.
Mags’ jaw clenched, and she stood firmly as the cleric’s ale stained breath drew near.
“What do you mean?” She asked, careful not to reveal anything her old colleague did not already know.
“Oh come on heh, heh, heh.” Glorfindel’s laughter passed through his lips but his eyes were mirthless.
“Don’t ya remember? In Seraph’s hour of need, who SAVED you might I remind ya, you were nowhere to be found, lettin him die all alone.”
Glorfindel stooped over the kenku. His bottle hung menacingly above her small head. Mags glared back at him, refusing to so much as flinch.
Rygo stepped forward with an excited smile on his face. He clapped his hand on Glorfindel’s back and shouted
“Well, I wasn’t there for him either! Anyway, how are you doing Glorfindel?! What are you doing in this dungeon?!”
Glorfidnel looked upon the dragonborn with an incredulous expression and laughed scornfully.
“Wow Rygo, oblivious to the point and dumb as ever! I’m doin GR-” Glorfindel began to swing his bottle up to his lips when his eyes fell upon Vanessa. He quickly transitioned his rough swing of the bottle to a smooth drawing of his drink to his lips. He took a long, measured sip while his eyes never left the sorceress.
“-Rrreaaat.” Glorfindel adopted a confident smile and sauntered over to the young woman.
Vanessa blushed and fluttered her eyes as he approached. It had been too long since she had seen such a handsome and confident man, and one with the kind of attitude she loved.
“What’s a fine woman such as yerself doin here surrounded by all these clowns?” Glorfindel asked with a flirtatious smirk.
Vanessa flipped her hair and rolled her eyes as she replied.
“Important business unfortunately, someone had to stand between me and the monsters after all.” She looked up innocently at the cleric.
“Well, all ya need is a classy man such as myself to protect ya from what lurks down here.” Glorfindel replied with a smile.
Mags gagged.

Cerci’s eyes widened as she looked up at the handsome half-elf man before her. Her mouth opened with a large smile, and she abruptly closed with a bit of embarrassment. Cerci walked up to her sister and Glorfindel, wiggling with nervous excitement as she approached. She greeted the man with a big smile and said with bubbling enthusiasm.
“Hello! My name is Cerci. Nice to meet you.” Cerci jutted out her hand toward the cleric.
Glorfindel chuckled and replied.
“Well ain’t you a cutie? Name’s Glorfindel. Pleased to meet ya.”
Glorfindel plucked Cerci’s hand up and laid a gentle kiss upon its back. Cerci wiggled intensely. Her curly hair bobbed up and down rapidly.
Vanessa scowled and nudged her sister out of the way. She brushed her hair from her face and said with her best attempt at elegance and poise.
“That’s just my little sister. Don’t mind her, she’s a bit strange. You may call me, Vanessa.” She stretched out her hand to be kissed by Glorfindel who happily obliged.
Mags made her way past the nonsense to Aelius whilst Ahriman walked beside her. She immediately got to discussing the business at hand.
“How did you three get here?” She asked the wizard.
“Well, we certainly had a journey of our own. But we received help from a strange wanderer calling himself Hassan if you would believe it.” Aelius replied matter of factly.
“Hm, I don’t not believe it.” Mags glanced amongst the other party.
“Wasn’t Trennius with you for this mission?”
“Ah, yes. She was.” Aelius took a solemn look at the ground.
“We lost her. The Dragon Lands is a dangerous place after all. We were unable to save her from one of the many terrible beasts that roam this land.”
Mags frowned. She felt she held a share in responsibility for driving the woman to her death. Had they never forced Trennius out of Parlington… Mags replied with a tinge of sorrow.
“I’m sorry.”
Aelius shrugged. His face defied showing any emotion at her passing.
“Can’t be helped. Be sure to avoid a Tho San though if you ever find yourself in the territory of one. At least you all are here now. The probability of our success in acquiring the Omnishield has increased quite significantly with it.” Aelius concluded with a hint of excitement.
“Yea…” Mags’ voice trailed off as her eyes locked with Alec’s icy glare.
Alec stared at the kenku with a quiet but deep resentment until her attention was diverted by Rygo addressing her. Mags turned back to Aelius and replied anxiously
“... so long as we don’t clash over our grudges first.”
“Oh, I assure you, everyone will handle this mission professionally.” Aelius insisted.
The sound of lively laughter drew his attention to the conversation between Glorfindel and the sisters. Aelius shook his head and commented with slight irritation.
“Even if Glorfindel cannot help himself from flirting with every new woman he meets.”
Mags stifled an uproarious laugh to a small chuckle and began telling Aelius of the party’s adventures through the Dragon Lands with Ahriman dryly filling in the minute details.
Rygo awkwardly approached Alec with Pakris close behind. His right hand scratched the back of his head while his tail nervously curled around his leg. He looked away for a brief moment and then turned to the half-orc paladin to speak.
“Hey, uh… been a while hasn’t it?”
“I’ve heard much about your deeds since leaving your forge at Nordend.” She replied sternly.
Rygo stiffened up.
“Yea? What about them? Heh, heh.” Rygo chuckled nervously in an attempt to soften Alec’s expression. He was unsuccessful.
“Do you think your actions aligned with the ideals of the oath you made? Protect the Innocent? Seek Peace? Uphold the Law?” Alec spoke as a school teacher disciplining an unruly student..
“I, uh…” Rygo struggled to respond.
Pakris interrupted.
“Regardless of how he’s behaved in the past, he’s working towards ensuring everyone’s alive to even be capable of keeping your oaths.” Pakris said forcefully.
Alec sighed deeply. With a grim look on her face she said,
“We’ll discuss this another time, Rygo. After things have settled down a bit, however, I want to have a serious discussion with you about what you have been up to.”
“Uh, yea, sure. I guess I can do that.” Rygo replied awkwardly.
Alec shook her head and walked off to be alone. Rygo let out a deep breath as his back and shoulders loosened releasing their built up tension. Pakris laid a hand on the paladin’s shoulder. He turned his head to her and said with a soft smile.
“Thanks for having my back there.”
Pakris smiled and replied.
“Of course. You’ve screwed up but you’re working on it. Besides, the only one allowed to bust your chops is me.”
She gave a hard smack on Rygo’s back to which he chuckled. Rygo had never had an older sister, but if he did, he’d want her to be like Pakris.
As Mags and Ahriman finished their recounting of the party’s adventure through the Dragon Lands, Aelius shook his head concernedly. He earnestly said,
“If such a force, as you say, of undead is headed for Center City at this very moment, we have no time to lose.”
“Agreed.” Mags replied with a nod.
“You must inform Vladik at once.” Ahriman replied forcefully.
Aelius sighed and shook his head.
“I can’t get a message out of here. This place appears to have wards preventing both sending and teleportation spells from escaping. Besides, he has not taken the threat of the Horde seriously up until this point. I doubt the presence of undead will do much to change his belief that Center City is in no real danger.”
“Pathetic.” Ahriman angrily muttered.
“Regardless, we need to act quickly to get the Omnishield.” Mags chirped.
“We’ll need to decide on who we side with to acquire it first.” Aelius replied.
“I’ll gather the others.” He said.
The old wizard stepped into the center of the small gathering. He cleared his throat then snapped his fingers which gave off a thunderous, echoing boom which captured the attention of the other adventurers. Aelius spoke slowly and deliberately.
“I thank you all for coming here despite the perils you have endured and will endure to succeed in our mission. Before we proceed, though, we must decide between the servants of Asmodeus and Gond for whom we shall side with to take the Omnishield.”
“The answer is obvious.” Vanessa quickly replied.
“The devils will allow us to actually use the Omnishield to stop the lich. The angels will just take it away and make all of this a waste of time.” She stated decisively.
“I’m sure the angels would assist us in exchange for our aid.” Alec retorted.
“They have an excellent point of Omnishield being too risky for us mortals to be corrupted by it.” The half-orc gravely said.
“Speak for yourself.” Vanessa replied with a mocking wink and smirk.
“I have to agree with Vanessa.” Rygo spoke up.
“We need the Omnishield if we are going to win. We need to side with the devils.”
Mags, Ahriman, Pakris, and Aelius silently nodded in agreement.
“I wouldn’t trust the angels anyway.” Glorfindel added with a cynical tone.
“They’re far too likely to adhere to orders from their god so strictly they ain’t able to be reasoned with.”
“I trust Seester’s judgement! The devils it is!!” Cerci chimed enthusiastically.

Alec sighed with disappointment at her defeat but acquiesced to the group’s decision. Having come to an agreement on their next course of action, the expanded party resolved to take a long rest to recover from the long day in preparation for their next great feat. They pitched their tents and laid their bed rolls along the rocky floor of the cavern and nestled in their sleeping bags as comfortably as they could.

While the rest of the party attempted to sleep, Ahriman sat against a stalagmite and silently thought to himself. The reunion of so many acquaintances old and new had left him feeling strange. He had felt little connection rise from the sight of Glorfindel, Alec, and Aelius and had little to say to them aside from updating them on the party’s exploits.

What would he even want to talk to them about? He wondered to himself. Chat with Glorfindel about how he had participated in the death of his friend? Or reminisce with Aelius their time in the Shadow Cult and all the people whose lives they had ended in a vain attempt to make a better world?
Had he really changed all that much since his time with Tulani? Using violence to achieve all of his ends? But what other course was there? Seraph certainly would not have been stopped otherwise. And some people really did stand in the way of progress. Such as Vladik. With the king by his side, and the Shadow Cult beneath him, the man still refused to act upon the threat to the realm. Such power and refusing to use it. Worse than useless. Ahriman resolved himself to ensure this issue was addressed once out of this dungeon.

A few hours into her sleep, Cerci was stirred awake by her sister. She rubbed her eyes and yawned as she looked up at Vanessa.
“What is it Seester?”
The sorcerer held up a finger to Cerci’s lips.
“Shhhh. Quiet. We’re sneaking off to talk to the devils’ leader.” Vanessa whispered.
Cerci silently nodded and rolled out of her sleeping bag. She stood up and followed her sister quietly out of the camp. As they stepped over siny tails and ducked under outstretched wings on their way through the fiendish gathering, Cerci asked curiously.
“What are we going to talk to the devil about?”
“A deal.” Vanessa replied with a scheming smile.
“What kind of deal?” Cerci replied with a confused expression.
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
“Ugh, you’re so simple. We’re going to make a deal with the devil for the two of us to get the Omnishield. And we’re gonna make sure they don’t f*ck us over.”
“Oooohhhh, very smart Seester.” Cerci replied.
“Of course it is.” Vanessa said as she dramatically flipped her hair.
“And once we get it, we’re gonna ditch those losers and take it straight to the Shadow.”
“Won’t our friends be upset?” Cerci innocently retorted.
“Don’t forget why we’re here, Cerci!” Vanessa quietly hissed.
“Not to make friends, not to have a fun little adventure, but to fulfill our destiny. My destiny. The Omnishield belongs to Elandrus, and I will deliver it to him.” She said with rising pride in her voice.
“Ok.” Cerci said while forlornly staring at the ground.
She liked all of her new friends. They were very funny and had lots of delicious food. But Vanessa was right. They had a very important job to do. But then a thought crossed her mind.
“What about the lich?” She queried.
“What about it?” Vanessa impatiently replied.
“Won’t the Shadow want him gone? He’s trying to take over the realm right?” Cerci responded.
Vanessa stopped in her tracks. Would the Shadow want that? He could easily sweep aside any rival to his power, especially with Omnishield and her by his side. However, wouldn’t he be so impressed if she did the job so he didn’t have to? After all, it’s one thing to fool these rubes, but to defeat a lich; that would be an accomplishment truly worthy of his chosen confidant. Besides, the more people the lich killed and turned, the less Elandrus would have to rule over. Vanessa laughed to herself. Her little sister may be foolish, but she stumbled upon a point every now and then. She turned around to face Cerci.
“I suppose he would. Fine. We’ll stick with your new friends for just a little longer. More time for me and that handsome cleric anyway.” Vanessa replied warmly to her.
“Oh, he is very handsome.” Cerci whispered to herself as she wiggled at the thought of him.
Presently, the pair approached the pit fiend. They turned around and looked down upon the sisters with a mildly curious expression. The surrounding devils gathered about eagerly awaiting what these two young women had in mind approaching a pit fiend.
“What is it you want?” The devil asked with a dull drone.
“We would simply like to make a deal with you for the Omnishield.” Vanessa replied with simpering confidence.
The devils cackled gleefully at the prospect. With the same somber expression, the pit fiend replied.
“What did you have in mind?”
Vanessa smiled ruefully and laid out her proposition.
“Glad you asked. When the Omnishield is released from its captivity, you do everything in your power to aid me and my sister, Cerci, to acquire the Omnishield before the angels can stop us. You will get the Omnishield, but only after every one of us in our party has died. You cannot do anything to hasten our end directly or indirectly. After we are gone though, it’s all yours. Deal?”
The court of devils cackled and hollered. An excellent deal indeed. The pit fiend stood up straight, towering so high they nearly struck the ceiling with their horns. After a brief moment, they held out their hand and commanded.
“Bring forth the contract.”
The devils exploded into a frenzy of excitement and chatter over such an historic deal. They bet and debated over which mortal would retrieve the Omnshield first and which would be the first and last to meet their demise. A devil, white as bone and spiny as a porcupine, approached the pit fiend with a long flowing scroll with each word Vanessa had uttered for the deal written out upon it. The pit fiend snatched the paper and put their finger to its bottom. They scrawled a name, Zaltosta, General Secretary of Asmodeus, onto the flowing scroll. Zaltosta turned the page around and held in front of the sisters.
“Sign.” He flatly said.
Vanessa and Cerci eagerly did so to the exuberant clamor of the devils present. With their secret task, complete, the two quietly made their way back to the party. Despite the noise coming from the devils, none of their companions stirred from their sleep. Not even Ahriman noticed them as they slipped back into their sleeping bags as he was busy pondering to himself. The sisters giggled excitedly as they tried to rest for the night.

Chapter 55: The First Pylon

Chapter Text

Cerci woke up to the smell of sizzling sausage. Her mouth dripped with anticipation as she let the scent carry her to its origin. The young druid found Glorfindel stooped over a frying pan circling the flames that reached out to lick it as though they wanted a taste for themselves. Cerci skipped over to Glorfindel and plopped down next to him, her eyes fixed on the meal being cooked, sunny side up eggs with hashbrowns and sausage.
Glorfindel chuckled at her enamoration with the simple dish. He said in friendly tone
“Ya like it?”
Cerci eagerly nodded.
“Heh, heh well you can ‘ave this one. I’ll whip up another batch fer myself.”
“Really?!” Cerci replied with widened eyes.
Glorfindel chuckled again.
“Of course! Since, NO ONE ELSE ‘ROUND HERE KNOWS A THANG ‘BOUT COOKIN’, I’m the resident chef of the party. Been plannin’ on makin’ this breakfast fer everybody, but you sure seem real hungry now so you can have it.”
“Thanks!!” Cerci squealed as she threw her arms around the resident chef.
She swiftly plucked the food out of the pan and munched on her meal despite its heat. The rest of the party stumbled out of their sleeping bags and shifted over to the fire. Alec rubbed her face awake as she complained.
“What’s all that racket?!”
“Breakfast, Sleepin Beauty!” Glorfindel replied with a wink and a smile.
Alec groaned at the “compliment” while Rygo and Glorfindel laughed, much to her chagrin. As the party sat around the campfire, Glorfindel exclaimed.
“Ya know, it kinda feels like old times. Travelin’ the world, defeatin’ demons, and sharin’ my wonderful cookin’ with y’all. Some of the faces are a lot prettier though.” Glorfindel said with a wink at Vanessa.
“Careful.” Vanessa replied with a mischievous smile.
“A pretty face often hides something dark within.”
“Ooh danger, I like it.” Glorfindel replied with a smirk.
Aelius rolled his eyes, leaned over to Mags, and whispered.
“Who are your new companions anyway? Are they as shady as they seem or just… performative?”
Mags whispered back.
“Well the dragonborn is Pakris. She’s the lost heir of Katak it turns out. She’s pretty straightforward. I don’t know about Cerci, she seems too… distracted to come up with any schemes of her own. Don’t trust Vanessa though. She’s as shifty as she seems and much worse.”
“Ah, interesting. You seem to find yourself in very unique company.” Aelius mused.
“Heh, I guess. I used to be the strange one.” Mags looked over at Ahriman not breathing as usual, and Rygo getting into a rant about how much he hated the very concept of math.
“On second thought, maybe I was always the normal one.” She muttered to herself.
Shortly after Glorfindel served each of the party members their own dishes, the pit fiend, Zaltosta, stomped over to the party. They all looked up at the towering devil who had just arrived at their little camp.
“Mortals.” They flatly greeted the party.
“Look, I don’t have nearly enough sausage to satisfy you big feller.” Glorfindel jested.
Zaltosta sighed.
“I am merely here to brief you on the mission.”
“Please do.” Mags cut in before anyone could respond with their own nonesense.
“Very well. Today we conduct the risky but vital assault to push the demons back and reach their pillar which will allow us to release the Omnishield. The angels will attack from their side to draw some of the enemy forces away from our advance. Reaching the pillar will not be easy, but there will be three checkpoints on the way that will help.”
“Checkpoints? What do you mean?” Ahriman inquired.
Zaltosta sighed again, a bit irritated by the interruption.
“On the way to the demon’s pillar there will be three rooms each containing a pylon. When activated by a simple touch and command, the pylons will emit a magical aura that prevents creatures from a selected plane, in this case, the Abyss, from existing within it. This lasts for only about ten minutes, but it will be long enough for us to regroup, gather our strength, and push on to the next. Importantly, the pillar under the demons’ control is within the aura of the final pylon.”
“So we just run up and activate the pylons, right? Doesn’t sound too hard.” Rygo commented.
The pit fiend sighed deeper than ever before.
“It won’t be that easy mortal. Each of the pylons will take some work to unlock. The first is underneath an obelisk, which will only be removed when its three keys are pressed. Images depicting three of the most valuable things to the old Elven Empire’s culture: a cat, a book, and a heart.”
“And the others?” Pakris chimed in.
“The second requires four heavy stone columns to be placed on their pressure plates. Moving them will be the challenge. Finally, the third will require a fair amount of magical energy to be surged into it so that will be ready for activation.” Zaltosta replied.
Before anyone could interrupt, they continued.
“These tasks will take some time. And there will be foes trying to stop you from completing them. The plan is to fight our way to the checkpoints, a handful of you complete the tasks and activate the pylons while the rest help us keep the demons at bay so that they do not slay you before your completion of your mission. I suggest you divide your forces to meet the demands of both.”
The party sat in silence for a brief moment to absorb the information Zaltosta had just divulged. Glorfindel was the first to break the silence.
“I think it’s fairly obvious that the larger of our two groups oughta secure the checkpoints.”
Murmurs and nods of agreement abounded.
“And I’ll be joining them!” Glorfidnel proclaimed as he stood up and struck a heroic pose.
“What?!” Alec exclaimed.
“You can’t just leave the two of us to hold back the demons on our own!!” Aelius complained.
Glorfindel waved his hand at them nonchalantly.
“Relax, relax. Y’all got all them devils with ya. Y’all be fiiiine. Besides, their crew will need all the healers they can get. I know fer a fact Rygo likes to use his magic fer smitin’ exclusively.”
“Not exclusively.” Rygo grumbled as he folded his arms.
“Devils or no, losing a member will drastically reduce our strength.” Aelius countered.
“We simply need more firepower if we’re going to hold off the enemy for you.” Alec added.
Pakris shook her head and stood up.
“I’ll join them. Firepower is what they need, and that’s what I’ve got.”
Rygo gently grabbed her arm and said to her with a slight quiver in his voice.
“We’ve been doing this together. It’s too dangerous. Stay with us.”
Pakris smiled softly and replied.
“I’ve survived the Dragon Lands all on my own for years. With these two, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Before Rygo could retort, Alec interjected.
“Sigh, it’s not ideal but we can work with that.”
Zaltosta straightened their back and nodded.
“Very well. Let us get into position immediately.” They said.

As the party split up into their new groups and filed behind legions of devils, Rygo ran to Pakris.
“Pakris, I, I…” He stammered.
Rygo wanted to say he couldn’t lose her. He wanted to make her promise she would not fall. After his clan, his brother, everyone he saw as family slipped away from him he could bear to lose another. Not after he had finally opened his heart again. Not after he had allowed himself to love another as his kin.
Pakris wheeled around, cupped Rygo’s face in her hands, and placed her forehead against his.
“I know. I will see you again. Our bond has not formed in vain. But if the worst were to happen, avenge my brothers and sisters for me.” Pakris spoke firmly but lovingly.
The princess pulled away and joined her group. Rygo looked on, stunned into motionlessness until he heard Glorfindel call.
“Come on slowpoke! You ain’t gonna git the Omnishield just standin’ there!”
Rygo shook himself and ran up to his party.

The party marched closely behind the devils, each member preparing themselves for the fight of their lives. Mags nervously loaded, unloaded, and reloaded her crossbow. Ahriman tightly gripped his staff and stared resolutely forward. Rygo pounded his hammer against his shield, snorting and hissing in anticipation. Glorfindel took a long swig of his favorite whiskey and sang a merry tune. Vanessa and Cerci walked close beside him, giggling with excitement at how close they were to their crush and how close they were to their destiny.
Cerci held her circlet close to her lips and whispered to the faerie within.
“Normally I become stronger from my surroundings. But I don’t feel different. How has this dungeon changed me?”
She held her ear close as the faerie reluctantly whispered her response. Cerci’s eyes widened, and she smiled giddily.
“Oh, I will be stronger against magic! Wonderful!”
She continued to merrily stroll towards the coming battle.

The surrounding devils cackled and chatted amongst themselves as they marched. Many recalled their favorite moments of violence and battle from their mortal lives. Others boasted of how they would be the ones to deliver the Omnishield to Asmodeus. Some nervously discussed all manner of topics unrelated to the upcoming event. A few remained silent as they marched towards all but certain destruction.

The mass’ pace began to quicken. Their march turned to a jog, to run, to a sprint. Zaltosta’s bass rang throughout.
“CHARGE!!!”

The devils through themselves forward at top speed hissing, shrieking, and roaring at their enemy as much the same came back to them. The party scrambled about to avoid being trampled by the paws, feet, and hooves that rushed past them. Within seconds, the party was bombarded by the sound of fists, claws, and steel clashing with flesh, scales, and steel. A maelstrom of violence erupted around the party and quickly surrounded them. They kept close to one another, moving slowly as they cautiously made their way through the pandemonium. The devils behind them began to push and prod the warriors, shouting.
“Forward!!”

The party exchanged quick looks with each other, nodded, and moved forward with great speed. Rygo, shield raised with hammer ready, and Ahriman, staff forward ready to strike, lead the way. The party slipped past the combatting devils and demons which surrounded them, too small and seemingly insignificant to be noticed. Those demons which stumbled into their way or thought them easy pickings were swept aside by a strike from the dragonborn paladin or the undead monk.

As they neared their destination, the storm of chaos cleared ever so slightly as to allow them to see five figures approach them. Each of the figures took a beautiful form in their own way. A gorgeous, golden dragonborn woman, not unlike Afsus’ form, approached Rygo and spoke honeyed words to him.
“Come lie down with me, mighty warrior. It has been too long since you rested.”
Rygo stopped, but only for a moment before shaking his head and replying.
“I’ve got a job to do. Pleasure is not what I need or deserve. Get out of my way.”
He said firmly as he pushed the woman to the side. The succubus “tsked” with great disappointment and went elsewhere.
Ahriman faced the guise of his former lover, Tulani, smiling and beckoning towards him.
“Forget all of this, my love.” The guise spoke sweetly.
“Let me place lilies in your hair and talk of the life we shall share together.”
Ahriman gripped his staff and stormed past with a glowering brow.
“The life you want with me, is no life at all. Get behind me, apparition.”
The foiled incubus complied. Having failed its task it had no desire to be struck by the angered man.
Once more, Glorfindel saw the face of his long dead wife. Before she even said a word, the cleric raised his finger to his lips as he took a swig of his whiskey.
“Nah darlin’. This ain’t the time. I know that. I’ll see ya again, sweetheart, in a better world.” Glorfindel moved past the succubus without her saying a word.

The sisters giggled nervously as their assigned incubus approached them. Cerci wiggled so hard she practically vibrated. Vanessa reflexively bit her lip, but flushed with embarrassment upon seeing the true version of her desire. The false Glorfindel sauntered over to them with a co*cky smile that melted their resolve. He said with a wink.
“Well ain’t you two just a pair of cuties. Wanna keep me company?”

Cerci began to run forward only to be held back by her sister who in turn slowly walked towards the deceiver despite herself. They came closer and closer to the man who would be their demise until the true object of their affections shouted.
“Come on little lassies! I ain’t got all day to wait on ya!”

Hearing themselves referred to in such a way immediately suppressed the girls excitement. With great embarrassment, they made their way towards the real Glorfindel and away from the impostor meant for them.

Mags was approached by a sexy, mallard kenku sporting a sailor’s uniform but without any pants. Mags looked at this strange sight with confusion and disgust. She scrunched her face and cried in distress
“Why aren’t you wearing pants!!” and moved past the now embarrassed incubus who shamefully walked away.

Having passed their strange trials, the party pressed on towards the first of the three pylons. Presently, the devils before them pushed their demonic foes aside revealing an opening into a hall containing the obelisk Zaltosta had spoken of. The party rushed inside just as their window closed. They took in the situation before them.

A large hall stretched out before them. Its rocky walls were covered in carved symbols and writings long eroded into being unintelligible yet harkening to some long lost meaning. The room divided into two halves split by a stream of a bubbling, acidic fluid that floated around a small island of stone. Upon this island sat the obelisk, a pyramid reaching three meters high and littered with perfectly preserved images etched onto tiles that covered the structure.

Standing atop the obelisk was a vicious looking glabrezu. Its dog head snarled at the approaching party, and its claws snapped in anticipation of crushing the mortals in their grasp. Before the stream of acid were four rows of paired stone pews which had long fallen into disrepair. Dispersed throughout the pews stood four unsightly hezrous whose crocodilian maws snapped shut into sinister grins. The boils upon their backs burst open unleashing a nauseating stench that flowed towards the adventurers.
Whilst recoiling from the fetor, but not being overwhelmed by it, the party quickly discussed their course of action. Vanessa confidently stepped forward and announced.
“I’ll activate the tiles. Sister, take me to the obelisk and protect me once we’re there.”
“Of course, Seester!” Cerci enthusiastically replied.
Ahriman’s eyes widened as he shook his head in concern.
“You two aren’t going there alone! I’ll cover you.” He shouted after the sisters as they charged headlong towards the objective.
“Guess we’re dealing with these guys.” Mags shrugged.
“Heh, yea, these stinkers don’t stand a chance.” Rygo boasted.
“Let’s show these f*ckers who we are!” Glorfindel cried as he stepped forward.
The battle began.
Cerci took upon the form of an air elemental and lifted her sister from the ground. She flew straight for the obelisk as the glabrezu guarding it watched with a sinister smile. When the sisters had reached within a few meters of the obelisk, the fiend sprung their trap. The demon reached out a claw to Cerci and uttered a word of power in its Abyssal tongue.
“Daze.”
Cerci immediately stopped. Confounded and stunned by the magic of the word of power, she could do nothing in that moment but float above the ground motionless. Her grip on Vanessa loosened, and the sorcerer fell straight towards the bubbling acid beneath her. Vanessa quickly cast dimension door and a violet tunnel opened up beneath her. As she fell in, she came out on the other side at the obelisk, thudding into it with a bit of bruising pain, but otherwise fine.

The glabrezu cackled at its vulnerable victim. The demon leapt forward to deal a vicious blow to the stunned druid, but was intercepted by the staff of Ahriman which connected with its skull, slamming it back onto the obelisk. Ahriman landed upon the fiend and shouted.
“Stay away from her!!” As he laid down another blow upon the wicked creature.
Cerci struggled against the overwhelming power of the spell placed upon her. She willed and raged against her body to move, but she could not. Then her circlet glowed with a prism of light, and Cerci felt a strengthening aura envelop her. She broke out of her stupor and joined Ahriman in his fight.

Meanwhile the others engaged with the hezrous. Rygo charged forward, slamming his hammer into the chest of one foe and then swinging it to the side connecting with the jaw of another who had leapt to the aid of Rygo’s first victim. He smote with each of his strikes, but held back the bulk of their power as to not waste too much too soon.
Glorfindel prayed to Olidammara who blessed him with a trio of mirrored images of himself. The cleric whistled over to one of the hezurous who came charging towards him. Glorfindel slyly stepped out of the way as it struck one of his mirror images. With another whistle, Glorfindel summoned his bolt which sailed through the flesh of the demon causing it to roar in pain.
“Come on partner. You can do better than that.” Glorfindel mocked his foe.
The hezrou hissed furiously and charged at the half-elf.

Mags rolled out of the way of the swinging claw of the fourth hezrou. She sent three crossbow bolts into the fiend’s side as it wheeled around to face her. When the hezrou had turned around, the kenku was already gone. Mags crouched behind a pew and reloaded as the demon stalked about trying to find her. It stopped, sniffed a few times, smiled, and reached its head over the pew and looked down upon the little duck. It was met with three bolts to the face.

Together, Ahriman and Cerci slammed the glabrezu back and away from Vanessa. Although powerful, the demon struggled to snatch the swift monk in its claws or deal much damage to the formless druid it struck with its fists. It struggled against them, screaming in frustration.
Vanessa screamed as well as she searched for the first tile.
“Where in the nine hells is that damn cat?!” She yelled out.
The obelisk possessed a multitude of tiles with more than a hundred on each side. Each one depicting an image of some kind. Vanessa poured over the structure, but despite her earlier confidence she could not find what she sought.
“This is impossible!” She complained.
Hearing of and seeing Vanessa’s difficulty, Mags looked to the obelisk and quickly decided she ought to help with the task. She fled her pursuing hezrou and fired a few more bolts into it as she ran to the obelisk. Mags shouted to Rygo.
“Can you handle one more?!”
Rygo turned and smiled confidently as he saw the wounded fiend approach, hot on Mags’ tail.
“I’d love to!” He replied.
“Coming up!” Mags yelled as she led her pursuer to Rygo.

The nimble kenku dove and rolled under the legs of Rygo as the dragonborn defended against the attacks of two hezrou and then withheld the assault of the third. Mags rolled right past the combatants without them having even a chance of striking her and continued on towards the obelisk.
Mags leapt across the deadly stream and landed at the base of the obelisk. She climbed up to Vanessa and cheerfully inquired.
“Need some help?”
"No!!” Vanessa snapped.
“I’ve got this. I’m smart enough to handle this on my own now get the hell out of here!” The sorcerer swatted at her compatriot who easily avoided the slap. Mags sighed and said.
“You know, everyone needs help sometimes, no matter how strong or smart they are.”
Mags pulled out the enchanted magnifying glass she had received so long ago and began to search for the necessary tiles.
“There’s the cat!” She said almost immediately and pressed it before Vanessa could interrupt.
The young half-elf woman looked on in shock and bitter jealousy as the tile sank into the obelisk and a loud click rang out from the structure.
“Only two more to go.” Mags said with a smile.
Vanessa gave a mocking smile in response and returned to her search muttering.
“And I’ll be the one to find them.”
Glorfindel side stepped once again as the hezrou struck his final mirror image. Glorfindel smirked as his spiritual bolt returned to him through the hezrou’s back and carrying its slimy heart.
“Ya gave it yer best. Too bad it was sh*t.” Glorfindel taunted his foe as they fell.
Glorfindel looked over to see how Rygo was faring. The dragonborn had received a few knicks and scratches, but had in return felled two of his three opponents. Even so, Glorfindel thought to himself, the man looks to be getting a little tired. Glorfindel sent his spiritual weapon sailing through the skull of the final remaining hezrou. Rygo looked over as the creature fell.
“Yer welcome!” Glorfindel said with a co*cky smile.
Rygo smiled in return.
“Heh, was this supposed to be a grueling fight?! This is too easy!”

Rygo had spoken too soon. For nearly as soon as Ahriman and Cerci had defeated their own opponent, and their lifeless body collapsed to the ground, the defensive line holding the demons back broke on both sides. Three horrific, vulture-like, vrocks with long sharp claws entered the hall from the other side of the stream, and two awful, buzzing chazmes flew in towards the cleric and paladin.

Fortunately, the defensive line closed up again but now their enemies had replenished themselves. Rygo and Glorfindel took up defensive stances, and Ahriman along with Cerci immediately engaged with the vrocks to keep them from the two searching for the tiles.
Mags and Vanessa engaged their task with renewed haste. Quickly, Mags found the second tile with the aid of her magnifying glass.
“The book!” She shouted excitedly as she pressed it resulting in a loud click emanating from the ebony obelisk.
Vanessa groaned loudly and desperately poured over the obelisk for the final tile.

As the chasmes approached, their horrible drone confounded Glorfindel and Rygo. The cleric managed to shake off the noise and concentrate on his foes, but Rygo was not so fortunate. He fell into a stupor, completely discombobulated by the awful assault on his senses.
“Ah sh*t!” Glorfindel yelled.
He immediately prayed to Olidammara.
“God of wine and revelry, I ask that you banish this foul creature from this earth back to the Abyss from whence it came.”
One of the chasmes screeched as a golden lasso wrapped around its body and pulled it into a hole reaching into the Abyss. The portal closed as quickly as it had opened, and the demon was gone.

The other chasme, however, headed straight for the confused paladin. It landed upon his shoulders and stuck its long, pointed proboscis into the flesh of the dragonborn. It began to drain the very life from him, leeching his essence into its swelling stomach. Rygo roared in pain and woke up with an enormous fury. He grabbed the proboscis of the chasme and tore it out from its head and staked it straight through the fiend’s body slaying it instantly.
He panted and shook from the energy he now lacked. He shook his head and remarked.
“I hate being wrong.”

Cerci and Ahriman fared better against their foes. The druid slammed her windy body against the vrock in front of her, keeping it from reaching her sister. Ahriman had managed to stun one of them with a well placed strike upon the spine and had engaged another vrock by leaping onto its body and pounding it with his fists and feet.

Mags tried desperately to finish the fight by finding the final tile but could not locate it despite the aid of her magnifying glass. Her feathers began to fluff up as she worried that the more time she took, the more demons would break through until they overwhelmed the party. Mags looked to Vanessa for help and saw the half-elf looking at her with a scornful smirk.
“Found it.” Vanessa boasted as she pressed into the heart tile.

Mags scrunched her face with frustration and disappointment at Vanessa’s immaturity. Nonetheless, it worked. With a series of clicks, sliding stone, and turning gears the obelisk’s sides slid down into the floor revealing underneath, a simple stone pylon with a shimmering glass ball atop it. Vanessa sauntered over to it and said.
“I’ll do the honors.”
She placed her hands upon the glass, and it glowed the deep violet that so often colored the sorcerer’s spells. Vanessa commanded the pylon.
“Prevent all creatures from the Abyss from existing within your aura.”
The glass glowed brighter and brighter and then a wave of violet spread over the hall dispelling the bodies of the demons that had fallen. The hezruous, glabrezu, chasmes, and the newly fallen vrocks all disintegrated and left the material plane. The first battle had been won.