Chapter
One
Pilot;
The Hubris of Men
Timeline:
All stories start somewhere around the breaking point of change. And change, by its derelict nature, oft has unexpected, and quite unwarranted consequences.
However diverse, controversial, or inspired said change may be, it is what we do when it arrives that matters. We may resist it, go along with it, embrace it, or even try and ignore it.
Whatever course of action we might choose to adopt, and in whatever flavor change may come, or how earth-shaking we may believe it be, it is not really in the change itself, but how we man up and own, or defy the consequences of our choices, hence your deeds, that will inevitably, and perhaps, irrefutably reveal, and ‘consequently’, define who we truly are.
Our story begins in a lovely and scenic town of Serenity Home, a namesake for its very purpose, founded some four hundred and eighty years relative to now, that grew over the centuries but just didn’t want to become or eventually evolve into a city. Now, what made this peaceful town particularly important, or stand out among its peers was not only the fame its founders enjoyed, as much as the foresight of said founders.
When the wise and somewhat elderly men and women first gathered, they wanted a place where they could find peace and serenity, in a ‘retire’ sense, and at a location as far away from the conflicts of men and not, as possible, but also without altogether isolating themselves from the world.
Hence they considered all the likely potentials, skimmed over and discarded the lot of them for various geo-political and accessibility reasons until they found the sweet spot of the Kingdom of Isles; a piece of land with a vast stretch of beautiful and quite bountiful greens to the north called the Ritual Forest that entertained a large community of the aloof wood elves, just to its east was the breathtaking and oft misty valley of Gull’s Perch that homed the very shy and remote fey, not too far south dwelled the ingenious and artificing gnomic communities called Silent Hills and Tinker Hills, and there were the obstinate and very much scowling dwarves, also, always mining above and under the rocky Scowling Hills to the west and running right by this quaint bit of land was the joyously flowing waters of The Great Arashkan River..
Centuries after its founding, Serenity Home would grow rich and flourish and accept any and everyone; elf, human, dwarf, or gnome who would come here to live in peace and harmony, and at times, even some ‘things’ that weren’t quite an elf, human, dwarf, or gnome.
It is here, in this happy town of Serenity Home our story begins..
..along with changes, choices, deeds, and consequences.
An ill wind whispered through the lulling town of Serenity Home. A depressing sort of murmur, hollow and ominous, and it had little to do with the man in dark leathers, dark hood, and dark half-mask ghosting through its quiet, winding streets. Select few knew what this man really did in this peaceful town even though he’s been in this town for a stab over four years as Aager Fogstep walked in voiceless steps towards the sheriff’s office after inspecting all the town guards and watchmen and making sure each and every single one of them was where they were supposed to be, awake and sober.
The young man in his dark leathers frowned, perhaps with an instinctual irk, and looked up at the cloudless, near-dusk sky; a beautiful display of red, deep blue, violet, and orange. For the young man, however, beauty meant little. He only had interest in the hushed, insinuating wind and what it might entail. Had it been before, going as far back as his earlier life in Drashan, he would have suspected a tail, likely a cutter. It’s been four years since Drashan, however, and Aager Fogstep could not think of anyone who would bother seeking him out here in this quiet town —perhaps with the exception of one, possibly because the young man was not only careful, he was diligent, meticulous, and very thorough also, and had many corpses in his wake. Consequently, any fool who would have him dead would likely be somewhere among said corpses.
Aager Fogstep was a man who had long culled his past before leaving it behind..
• • •
“I really don’t think you should do this, Gnine.”, said a young, slightly throaty feminine voice.
Aager did not stop because he knew sudden movements would attract uninvited attention. Hence, the young man only and very slightly changed the direction of his silent route, took a mere few steps to one side, and faded into the shadows of a nearby two-story townhouse.
“Why not?”, asked a tenoric sort of voice with a note of disappointment.
“Young Master Gnine.”, fumed Aager Fogstep quietly. “Why are you here, and what are you up to again? And why are you tooling Ranger Novice Laila to your idle ways?”
“Just what do you think will happen when you put those disgusting slugs and earthworms into his boots and he wears them in the morning?”, asked Ranger Novice Laila in a voice that gave the careful impression that she was stifling a laugh.
“He is going to cuss off his limited vocabulary, and then—”, cackled the young gnome, Gnine.
“—and then he will come after you with a vengeance! And when he finds you, he will do what he has always wanted to do.”, finished a third voice. A voice that was surprisingly soft despite her owner’s pugnacious infamy.
“And young Ranger Novice Morel. Of course.. If Laila is here, why would she not be?”, murmured Aager with an unamused tone.
A huff was heard from Gnine.
“How could he possibly know I did it? There is a whole town full of kids who would do that to him.”, he grumbled.
Laila sighed.
“Gnine.”, she said. “Bree is right. What’s more, do you really think Udoorin will think anyone other than you would do something as juvenile as this?”
“Juvenile? I totally resent that! And besides, who cares? He can’t prove anything!”, Gnine said with a stubborn voice.
The young Ranger Novice Morel snorted.
“I can’t believe a gnome as smart as you can be this naive sometimes.”, she said.
“Why?”, the young gnome asked, somewhat taken aback.
“Udoorin requires no proof to grab you by the head, as large as his hands are, and toss you over the town walls and into the Arashkan River. I am sure you know this, right? He’s been meaning to do exactly that for years and all he wants is an excuse. What’s more, that excuse does not even have to be a good one.”, Ranger Morel tried to explain.
“I think you should listen to the young ladies, Master Gnine. Should Udoorin pick you by the head and toss you over to Arashkan River, I will not intervene and the rush will drag you off all the way to Gulls’ Delta and flush you out into the Endless Sea. Should you somehow survive that unpleasant journey, the only hope for anyone to ever find you would be the Drashan armada and they would love to entertain someone like you on their ships. The sad part in all this is the fact that it is Ranger Novice Morel who is giving you the sound advice!”, Aager murmured with a bemused expression.
“I see the both of you have become selectively boring ever since you became rangers. Boring, tedious, and quite stuffy!”, Gnine said glumly. “Neither of you would have objected to this when we used to hang together.”
“We are no longer initiates, Gnine. We are novices now. Great Heavens, we are almost full rangers and we are expected to comport ourselves accordingly. We have records, and everything we do goes directly into our rap sheets. You must understand this. And those sheets are sent to Arashkan, and from there, they are forwarded to the core islands of the kingdom!”, Laila implored him to understand.
“Why can’t I be a ranger, too? Ninety times! Ninety times did I apply to the Rangers Lodge. Ranger Master Davien Hart kept on saying I was too intelligent to become a ranger and insisted I would be wasted there as if it’s up to him where I was to be wasted!”, Gnine said bitterly.
“I think Ranger Master Davien is correct in his assessment.”, Laila said kindly.
Morel gave a heartless snort.
“Did you ask the same thing to Ranger Master Moorat Maelstrom?”, she asked with a chuckle.
Gnine didn’t reply for some time. When he did, there was a distinct tone of bitter disgust in his voice.
“Yes, I did.. Once..”
“And what did he say?”
“Get out from under my feet before I step on you, midget! —is what he said, and I think that was a very impolite, unscrupulously improper, and very much an unprecedented thing to say.”, Gnine replied with a very resentful tone.
Morel let loose a very harsh, very loud laugh.
“It was not funny, Bremorel.. Not funny at all!”, fumed the young gnome.
“Moorat is not a delicate man, Gnine. I am surprised he didn’t stuff you in a sack and dump you in front of your uncle’s workshop.”, Morel chuckled.
“That’s.. that’s exactly what he did! The bastard!”, hissed Gnine and he sounded very much offended now.
“Please don’t mock him, Bree. Gnine is a gentle soul and what Ranger Master Moorat did was not nice at all and it caused a very noisy argument between him and Master Nimbletyne. The sheriff had to intervene and I heard it was the first time people actually heard him shout down anyone, let alone a ranger master. In the end, he took both of them down to his office. It was a needless, pointless, and stupid thing for Moorat to do. Everyone knows how protective Master Nimbletyne is with his only niece.”, Laila said somberly.
“Oi! Do I go around ill-speaking about your Ranger Master?”, Morel objected.
“My Ranger Master Davien is a considerate and handsome gentleman. What is there to ill-speak?”, huffed Laila.
“Girl, you do not want me to start on what my Ranger Master Moorat says about Davien’s mental capacity! It will break your heart!”, Bremorel laughed with contempt.
“Like master, like apprentice!”, snorted Laila.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Bremorel asked suspiciously.
“Better if I didn’t say. It will break your heart!”, Laila deadpanned.
Gnine snickered.
“Well, I am off. Uncle Nimbletyne told me to get home early. Apparently, I must help him pack his latest project. The one he’s been working on because it’s finally done. As his apprentice and assistant, all I get to do is help him with boxing stuff and mopping the floors..”, the young gnome grumbled.
“Well you have to start from somewhere, Gnine, right?”, Laila said kindly.
“Yes, do start from somewhere young Master Gnine. You are nothing but a menace and heading for a good slam time at your current rate.”, Aager confirmed quietly.
“I wasn’t allowed to get anywhere near a bow, let alone a sword in my first year as Ranger Master Davien’s apprentice.”, Laila continued. “All I was told to do was to run laps around the town, climb trees, and carry heavy sacks of potatoes or lots and lots of firewood. Said I ran fast but not for long enough and that my arms and shoulders were too weak. Only after he was satisfied did he allow me to train with the bow and the sword. Good thing too. A person could hurt himself trying to draw a longbow if they lack the strength.. as you found out that one time.”
“Yeah. Almost caved my face in when the bow snapped back!”, Gnine said unenthusiastically. “Well, g’night to you boring girls.”
“G’night, Gnine.”, said Laila.
“Say, hi, to your Uncle Nimbletyne for us.”, added Bremorel.
Aager heard the footsteps of young Master Gnine leave but he decided to wait a bit more because he’d felt something was off about that conversation.
“You think he bought it?”, asked Laila.
“Yes. I believe he did. But I doubt he will fall for our ‘bickering’ again. We’ll have to come up with something else next time.”, Bremorel replied.
“Huh..”, grunted Aager Fogstep.
“True. But I can’t blame him though. He’s a proactive person and he gets bored in his uncle’s workshop. He used to hang around with us before. But that’s all changed now.”, Laila said with a frown.
“And the forest isn’t safe for a young gnome to run around anymore. Barely three days ago, Ranger Master Davien brought down a band of Orcs just south of Elder Hills. They never dared to sneak in that close before.”
“I agree. I was with my Ranger Master Moorat yesterday and we found tracks of another Orc raiding party and they were heading north and east. He believes they were going to the Ruins of Themalsar.”, Bremorel said seriously.
“We don’t know that Bree.”, objected Laila.
“What else is there to our northeast? If they are not heading to those inauspicious ruins, the only other option is the Great Northern Tundras and no one with their right mind will go there. Those tundras are wild and full of savage barbarians.”, Bremorel replied with distaste.
“Inauspicious?”, asked Laila, arching an eyebrow.
“It means sinister or ominous..”, Bremorel said with a sigh.
“I know what it means. I am surprised that you do.”, Laila laughed.
“So am I.”, murmured Aager from the shadows.
“I have been reading.”, Bremorel said evasively.
“Sorry I missed that.”, Laila snickered.
“You are not as funny as you think. At least I don’t keep dolls around the house.”, Bremorel said waspishly.
“I am sorry. I just didn’t think you were into reading all that much. I mean, I never saw you actually read anything.”, Laila apologized.
“I do a lot of things that you don’t see me doing, Laila. I.. uhh.. like reading.. I do it whenever we return to town. I am not allowed inside the town library and it’s too risky to take books out of the temple library because Temple Guardia Magella will bludgeon me. I have to actually go there and do my reading so it would have been impossible for you to have seen me at it..”, she said in a defensive tone.
“How about we return back to the forest and sleep in our treehouse? Father loves to see us and we’ve just returned from our patrols but there’s something in the air this evening and I am not sure what it is exactly..”
“Perhaps you should read some, too.”, Bremorel offered.
“It isn’t that I lack the words, girl. It’s just hard to describe, that’s all. Suffocating, maybe? Or even unholy?”, Laila replied carefully.
“Unholy, eh? Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
“Not as dramatic as, inauspicious.”, Laila said. “Well? Shall we camp out?”
“Sure. But you really should go and see your father, first. It’ll make him unhappy if he finds out we returned but didn’t bother to come and see him. And I am sure he already knows we are back! He does adore his daughter after all.”, Bremorel snickered.
“My father adores his niece too, you dolt!”, laughed Laila. “Come on. He does tend to get grouchy and grills me why his favorite niece hasn’t come as well.”
“You mean, his only niece.”, Bremorel snorted.
“Same difference.”, Laila shrugged. “We can just drop in, say, hi, then go to our treehouse in the forest.”
“Why don’t you go ahead. I have.. uhhmm.. an errand to run..”, Bremorel said carefully. “Tell my uncle that I got held up and that I won’t be able to make it. We can meet at the stone bridge.”
Laila paused for a moment.
“Great Heavens, girl! Are you going to skulk around the temple like a lost cat again?”, she said exasperatedly.
There was a pre-storm pause at that.
Then Bremorel flared!
“How could you possibly know I will be going to the temple?”, she asked hotly.
“Bremorel Songsteel.. The sun is down, which means there are no open shops for you to go to. Because of your history, you are also banned from both the inns in this town. That leaves only one of two places you could go, and it is not the orphanage, it is the temple! To be honest, I don’t understand why you do this to that poor kid? I’ll admit, it’s rather sweet, but skulking around the temple after hours in hopes of him seeing you is just creepy.”, Laila said with an amused tone.
“What? How do you know I’ll be skulking around the temple? Besides, temple dormitories are underground and there are no windows down there!”, Bremorel flared again.
“Girl, I am certain he already knows we have returned from our patrol and is sitting by one of the windows now with a book in his hands and waiting for you to show up even as we speak! Not to mention, you have been doing this for months and as big as Serenity Home is, everyone knows everyone here. Did you think your evening sorties over to the temple would go unnoticed?”, snorted Laila.
“You can be so mean sometimes, did you know that? Go and leave me alone. And the things between me and the temple is none of your business!”, Bremorel hissed.
“I am sorry, Bree.”, Laila said honestly. “I am merely curious, that’s all. Why do you torture that boy the way you do?”
“I am not torturing him. I am only testing his interest, that’s all.”
Laila stared at her.
“Considering how little to no interest you show him, what does it matter where his interests lie. Or whether he is still into you or not. I mean, it’s bound to fade eventually.”, she said carefully.
“Because I am looking forward to the day that actually happens.”, Bremorel said grimly.
“Why?”, Laila asked.
“When that day arrives, I shall not break only his head this time.”, snarled the young girl viciously.
Laila stared at her cousin once again but with stupefied amazement this time.
“Are you insane? If you want him so much, why don’t you just go and talk to him?”, she said finally and with a concussed sort of expression on her face.
“This is really none of your business, alright! Do you see me poking my nose into your fling with that D.D. Dexter-boy? I didn’t even laugh when he started singing about ‘the pretty ranger girl’ last time we returned to town in his cawing voice.”, hissed Bremorel.
“Poke away.”, Laila snickered. “And for your information, D.D. does not ‘caw’, he sings ballads and he has a beautiful voice.”
Her cousin sneered at her. Then she paused. When she spoke, however, her soft voice was a contrast to the surly tone it carried.
“No one wants to talk to me, Laila. No one wants to be seen with me or even be related to me.. Alright, I do not deny that this is somewhat my fault. Perhaps I was a bit feisty and.. contentious.. when I was younger.”, she said.
“A bit? Is there a single kid you haven’t fought or beaten in this town?”, Laila asked, though not with overt sarcasm.
“If it matters to you, there isn’t. I pretty much fought with every kid within my age range, and quite a few much older than myself.”, she replied with disgust.
“That should be just about right.”, Laila said. “My father received his Medic Adept Certificate just by patching you up these past years. But none of this explains why you are pestering the boy.”
Bremorel boiled silently for a bit. Then she spat her answer with harsh words.
“Maybe I need to know if he still likes me.”
“Great Heaven’s, girl”, Laila flared again with exasperation. “Then go and speak with him!”
Bremorel shook her head.
“No. He must come and speak to me.”
“Why? Is there some kind of incomprehensible agreement between the two of you that I am unaware of?”, Laila asked.
“If I go and speak to him, he will think I am doing so because I pity him. Yes, I did pity him, but that was years ago. If he wants me, he must first man up and overcome his fear of me, and come and speak to me.”, Bremorel growled silently.
“That.. I did not expect.”, Laila admitted. “I thought you would rather be the one in charge.”
“And what the bloody Hell did I ever achieve when I was in charge? I am on everyone’s black list, I have a ban from everywhere, and other than you, your father, Gnine, and Udoorin, no one will talk to me. The best I get is an occasional nod and that’s only because I am a ranger novice. Even your Dexter speaks to me out of courtesy and we both know it! That temple boy is calm and steady, which is something I can never be. And smarter than I am, apparently. There will always be some things to fight. Those are the moments I will shine. I need the calm I think he will give me. Two fires will only make a bigger fire and as much exciting as that sounds, or even exhilarating, I don’t really find that all that appealing. No, I do not need a second fire. What I need is someone with a calm and steady presence like him. That way, one of us will set the other on fire, while the other soothes her stupid when she’s being an idiot!”
“Wow, girl! That.. truly was quite poetic.. You really have been reading.”, Laila said with a genuine smile. “I must admit. You have managed to amaze me.”
“Please don’t tell my uncle about this. I have shamed him enough as it is. Should he think there is something going on between that boy and me, things would end quite abruptly.”, Bremorel said mutely.
“Father would never speak ill of you.”, objected Laila.
“No, he wouldn’t. Which is the point. Should anyone approach him and say, ‘Tell that crack-head niece of yours to stay away from our temple guardians’, just what do you think he will do?”
“My father is one of the most gentle and cool-headed men I have ever known. My Ranger Master Davien really is a gentle and kind man, but if I were to choose one, I would say my father is the kinder of the two and I am not saying that because he is my father. He detests fights. He won’t even raise his voice. People think I am cool and steady. True that I have those qualities, but I owe them to my father. And he’s an awesome listener. Should anyone comes and try to warn him about his niece, however, I am absolutely certain he will cave the idiot’s face in! But I doubt Revered Demos will speak ill of you to my father, or anyone else for that matter. I don’t think Temple Guardian Magella will speak ill of you either, though if she has something to say, I don’t think she will go to my father, she will come to you and speak to your face, probably with something thick and heavy.”, Laila snorted.
“I am not worried about them. But there’s always that one idiot out there who will. What’s more, both Revered Demos and Temple Guardian Magella will expect me to do the right thing and stay away from the boy all together. Like I said. There isn’t a place left in this town that I am not already banned from. If it weren’t for Revered Demos, I would have been banned from the temple and the orphanage a long time ago.”, growled Bremorel.
“I wouldn’t worry about it, cousin. The heart wants what the heart wants and they both are smart enough not to get in the way. Not to mention, if both of you want it, they got nothing to say on the matter.”, Laila said grandly. “Besides, Thomas may be the Junior Temple Guardian, but you are the famous ranger novice, Bremorel Songsteel; she who sings with her blade!”
Bremorel let loose a snort, then paused. When she spoke again, however, her voice was bitter and vehement.
“My skills with the blade isn’t going to help me in this matter, Laila. Once you are black-listed, you stay black-listed!”
“Like I said, I wouldn’t worry too much about it, girl. There’s only one person in this town who can sing with her blade and that is my cousin, and no one other than me can say she’s an idiot!”, Laila said with a grin. “Should anyone else want to test that, perhaps I will get to remind them how I won my name!”
“Indeed, Laila Wolvesbane!”, Bremorel grinned back though her grin was a bit brittle.
“Go on. Do your skulking. Take your time. If my father knows we are back, which I am sure he does, he’s probably got us a cake, lots of doughnuts, and a platter full of jam pastries from the bakery. We’ll meet at the stone bridge in about an hour?”, Laila offered.
“Ow, damn!”, Bremorel said. “Cakes and doughnuts? Now I am of two minds! I really hope he’s got those little blueberry pies too.”
Laila chuckled.
“That’s why I said, take your time. I’ll have to wrap them up well so they don’t go cold by the time we reach the treehouse”, she said.
“Darn it!”, Bremorel exclaimed. “Will we make some tea? Please let’s make some tea when we get there!”
Laila laughed, bumped knuckles with her cousin, turned around, and soon enough, she was gone.
Her cousin, Morel, however, stood where she was for several long minutes. Then, very slowly, she took a deep breath and started towards the temple. Soon enough, she too was gone.
“Interesting.”, murmured Aager Fogstep quietly. “Ranger Novice Laila turned out to be quite a bit smarter and more mature than expected. It would seem some positive improvements can be expected from Ranger Novice Morel as well. If she manages not to get banned from the temple. Should young Udoorin continue in his current, steady pace, that would make three potentials.”
Then he slid out of the shadows and started towards the sheriff’s office, but only after checking in the Guest House on the red-headed girl in plate armor. The one called Moira, who the sheriff had told him, in confidence, was the daughter of the famous Paladin Lord Delia Karakash Hooman. The man in dark leathers was checking in on her because the sheriff hadn’t met the girl before her arrival at Serenity Home. The assumption of a blood relation was natural reasoning due to the similarity in their surnames but Aager was a cynical man. True, the name ‘Hooman’ carried a lot of weight, even as far as Drashan, the birthplace of the young man in dark leathers. After all, the Paladin Lord had, as rumors had it, single-handedly slain the dreaded ancient red dragon Karkass which had plagued the kingdom some three decades ago.
The reason the young man was cynical was, what was a famous Paladin Lord’s daughter doing here? She had arrived several days ago, wandered around the town, spoken to the locals, been very polite and, as aristocrats and nobles went, was a surprisingly down-to-earth girl. Aager, however, never accepted anything at face value.
It was about then the ill wind whispered again and the young man was irked once more..
..because he thought he had just gotten a scent from the wind this time.
In all his Drashan life, the young man had never known a ‘home’ because Drashan did not offer homes. Only shacks with people in them. After his arrival to this town with the sheriff some four years ago, however, he had, very slowly, started to feel, if only at its fringes, what a home might be, and the scent he thought he’d felt in the wind did not belong to this town. This scent had a malignant tint to it and his instincts told him somewhere, not too far away, were some people with ill intent in mind.
The young man decided to make one more stop, even before going to the Guest House and checking in on the red-headed girl; his single-room house to grab his shortsword and his spare knives. And yes, for Aager, it was a house, not a home. Possibly because the young Drashan convict didn’t really know what turned a house into a home. He quickened his steps as he felt the sense of dread rise inside him..
..because Aager Fogstep had long tested the consequences of ignoring his instincts and found out just how painfully luxurious that could be. The young man in the dark leathers, dark hood, and dark half-mask inadvertently rolled his shoulders to shrug off the jarring itch that ran down his back, for he still carried the deep, ugly marks of such luxuries..
My beloved father, why did you shy from cleansing this foul place when you had the chance? By failing to exhibit resolve, did you cause this malignant place to fester, over and over, and for eight hundred years did it become the rallying point for skulking, malicious beasts. I have thus lost count of the number of ill-begotten and uncouth orcish raiding parties I have witnessed swarming to this charred and salted ruins since I left my home and my country.”, murmured Princess Alor’Nadien né Feymist bitterly.
The extraordinarily beautiful, solemn, serene, and with her naturally prepossessing feminine allure, the daughter of Ri Grandaleren Feymist and Rise Nadine Graciousward of High Woods and Bari Na-ammen frowned slightly.
With her elegant nose peppered with barely discernible freckles, her small, cherry-red mouth, her grass-green eyes, and her very long, single-braid, raven black hair roping down her very slightly tanned slender figure, one would wonder what this noble creature of grace and much elegance would be doing here in this evil and unholy place as opposed to her father’s palace resting in her divans of elven silks and rich, Arashkan velvets. The only issue with that would be that anyone left to wonder was the orcs lying dead at her feet..
Princess Alor’Nadien né shook her head in resentful disappointment and gave a sharp swing to her near-three-yard long polearm that ended in a thirty-inch blade; her Hex Glaive, spattering the stygian orc blood. With a second swing, the glaive disappeared altogether in a dark, choking, inky-black smoke!
Alor’Nadien né cautiously abandoned the charred and salted grounds of the ruins and ghosted back into Ritual Forest for she had some thinking to do..
..and consequently, some decisions to make;
Her father, Ri Grandaleren, had explicitly forbidden all his subjects from coming anywhere near these ruins, but contrary to his beliefs, not only these ruins were far from empty, following the war he had fought here many centuries ago, the ruins had witnessed four insurrections since then, each ending with devastating losses to many races living near and far.
Many questions crossed her mind as she prepared her camp in the final throes of the day and inside a thick copse. The one that irked her the most was quite bothersome indeed; was the gathering of the orcs a prelude for a new insurrection?
The answer to that would very much relate to the decision she was about to make; was she going to defy her father, the Ri of the high elves of High Woods, again, by entering the accursed and damned ruins, just like she had defied his orders and ran away from the palace?
The princess was a rather strong-willed girl. One might even go as far as calling her ‘mule-headed’, if they were of an uncharitable frame of mind, even if they were being somewhat realistic. Those that knew the princess closely would certainly list her excelling qualities such as being extraordinarily calm, maturely demure, being extremely focus oriented, considerate, loving, caring, trusting, viciously loyal, never arrogant, snobbish, or conceited, always quiet, reserved, withdrawn, even, and endearing in her naturally feminine grace. She also very much disliked attention and shied from it such as any sane person would shy from a plague, and she would always smooth herself around drama, wanting anything but to be part of it. The Grace of High Woods and the hidden elven city of Bari Na-ammen was also, however, known for being bloody stubborn!
Hence it was her former qualities that told her she shouldn’t be rushing things and that perhaps she ought to take a break and think things over. And maybe figure a way to send a message to her father, informing him of her findings, even if it meant revealing her location, and her intentions..
It was, however, her latter attribute that hinted the at fact that she had already made up her mind.
Prior to her running from her father’s palace, the princes had received extensive weapons and magical training, and possibly from the best Bari Na-ammen had to offer. She had, however, found out that careful training sessions on the palace grounds were small comfort when it came to fighting against rabid orcs and goblins, and even the occasional bandit who thought she would make good entertainment, never considering the glaring fact that said ‘entertainment’ was alone, tired, certainly, but otherwise in good health, fit, and alive in the middle of nowhere! It had been her natural calm aura that had saved her life in her first few encounters in the wilds. She had been afraid, certainly, but had never panicked. Very calmly, she had faced her assailants and fought them off with her dark, inky-black Hex Glaive, buying her the precious time for all her training to kick in..
..and the fact that Princess Alor’Nadien né absolutely refused to be ostentatious had helped her stay alive for as long as she had.
True, she had an impeccable taste when it came to clothing, her lightly but tastefully applied makeup, and her choice in jewelry and loosely draping wardrobe, which she wore to battle, she found the whole idea of over-dramatic displays of combat prowess, a.k.a. roaring, bellowing challenges, cursing back and forth, taunting, and monologuing with the enemy to be rather silly, and a tad vulgar —from an aesthetic sense.
When Alor’Nadien né entered battle, she did it in absolute silence and very much focused, refraining from any needless dramatic swings and pointless acrobatics even though she had a very supple and pliant figure, hence reserving her energy. Should one watch her clash, they would, in all likeliness, be confounded whether she was in deathly mortal combat and very much fighting for her life, or doing some sort of dance that didn’t involve any overt flamboyance, as she silently ghosted among her foes and methodically cut them down.
Biased or otherwise, however one watched the graceful princess as she displayed her skills in her beautiful, exhilarating, and rather creepy approach, she did them as a matter of course and her course was not unlike a careful dance in sync to a tune only she could hear; never too revealing, and never for the satisfaction of the audience. She just sliced open her enemies, usually with a ghastly, vertical gash. The princess almost never stabbed with her glaive, fearing it would get stuck somewhere inside her foe. Alor’Nadien né was fully aware she was not a physically strong girl.
When she fought, she relied on her agility, her grace, her speed, and the momentum of her very long glaive. A cursory inspection on the orcs she had left scattered behind would attest so, after all, which, in all candor, not the amazing part, really.
The truly horrifying realization would dawn when said inspection would reveal the fact that all the orcs were split open vertically, and from groin to hairline!
Apparently, Princess Alor’Nadien né was not of the mind, ‘learn something about everything’, but rather, ‘learn one thing and do it bloody well!’
The young girl with the otherworldly beauty, raven wings, crowning, dark purple horns, long, honey-brown hair, baby pink skin, and sad, soulful eyes slinked and wriggled, then vanished in the dark and bottomless-seeming crevice in the leveled ruins of a once, arrogant, overbearing tower with the supple agility of a boneless sable..
Merisoul Xyrotwu had never been afraid of the dark. Being born and consequently spending the first ten years of her life in a dark, wet, narrow, and filthy pit, simple human emotions like fear would be rich to expect from her. That is, should one expect a little girl barely able to crawl to be dropped and left in a dark, wet, narrow, and filthy pit for ten years to be a rich experience.
The otherworldly girl crawled down through the crevice and landed on a rubble-filled chamber, perhaps some sixty or eighty feet underground, weaved a tiny cantrip, pointed her baby-pink index at herself, and cleansed the dust, the dirt, and possible tears and wears off her dark purple, strapless, and knee-high skirt dress.
One would think it’d be more prudent to check around first or form a safety perimeter, or even scout.
But no..
For a succubi-hybrid such as herself, priorities were quite different, divergent, and quite oft contradictory!
Even so, the preferences of the extraordinarily beautiful, albeit odd girl seemed off. Or perhaps disconnected from reality.
After cleansing herself and her strapless dress skirt, the girl produced a thick, four by six-inch ratty scrapbook made of papyrus paper, and with careful deliberation, she turned the pages over until she arrived at the one she sought.
Her honey-brown brows furrowed a bit and her small, ripe-cherry mouth pursed as she went through her entry.
Training Diary Entry No. 4986 / 12
Tomorrow at dusk, I will be entering this filthy pigsty of what that mad and quite senile old man called a ‘temple’. I find the idea of Auntie Irine sending us to this Mortal coil to gain ‘real experience’, kind of silly, and somewhat redundant.
We are succubi-hybrids. The half-born. We do not mindlessly attack and shred anything that moves resulting in buckets of sticky blood, heaps of rendered, festering flesh, and pounds of fetid and stinking gore. We enthrall, have our fun, then eat the souls of our ‘clients’ with the ardor delicacy of delivery and we are rather selective when it comes to what we put into our mouths.
This venture is clearly a waste of resources. But apparently, our superiors know better. Though I must admit, it totally beats the monotonous and deadly exposure of Hell. That and the last one who objected, Fez Tem’Ohra, was dragged off by Auntie Irine, by the hair, all the way to her private chambers. We never saw Tem’Ohra again after that. But we did hear her shrieks of ecstatic pleasure. At this point, I feel I must conclude that at least she died in blissful happiness!
Te-hee!
Merisoul Xyrotwu turned the page over and evaluated the last entry in the ratty scrapbook.
Training Diary Entry No. 4986 / 13
I am bored. Why didn’t they send Temez with me? It’s always so much more fun when she’s around. But to be fair, they are planning on employing and utilizing her at management and tactical planning. A stuffy sort of job, I must say, but it’s steady and she’s good at both. When my arrangement with my Master is finalized, I think I shall appropriate her as my personal advisor. That way, we can always have fun, and we can look out for one another.
As to why my Master still pays rent for this stinking Hell hole, I do not understand. I mean, other than that deprecated old man being an anchor for the Demon Pit here, he holds no practical use nor serviceable function in my opinion. Not that my opinion carries any weight, but who cares. This is my Training Diary, so there!
What’s more, the foolish old senile brought too much attention to this location over the centuries. I am curious as to why he did not wait for a millennium or two after the war that took place here? I mean, even though there are elves living in the forest just west of here, giving six or eight centuries of quiet contemplation, these ruins would have been nothing but a vague blot in Mortal’s history and the details of the war would have been long forgotten making it a ripe candidate for an awesome ‘reboot’. But no! The doddering old goat just had to rise again and again, and with limited funding, not once, not twice, but four times over the centuries, causing these ruins to stay under constant scrutiny!
*Sigh* Well, whatever..
As a side note, I must say, my patience has finally paid off. When I saw a band of orcish raiders arrive the other day, I followed them and found out how they gained entry to the dungeons under the ruins but I am afraid they have noticed me and, I surmise, when I follow them down, (a) they shall kill me, (b) they shall make good ‘use’ of me, though I’m quite disinclined to entertain what will likely be their request. Hence, right after they entered the narrow crack leading down, I burned them!
There’s a spell called Dragon’s Breath, and I must admit, the praises do it an injustice. They wanted to ambush me down there, yet I burned them alive while they were climbing down the narrow crack and left them nowhere to run!
I am quite certain the irony of that was not lost on them; they did scream a lot in disappointment!
Merisoul Xyrotwu, looked down at her now clean, strapless dress skirt, her smooth, slender, and soot-free arms, what was apparent of her rather soft and perky breasts, and her very smooth, lively legs..
Yup!
When she’d chosen this particular little cleansing cantrip, her mentors, along with many of her half-born brothers and sisters had been somewhat expectantly surprised. After all, who would need to be ‘clean’ in Hell, right? The whole idea of ‘clean’ was rather silly and quite redundant there. Hell was where the dirty and the filthy were, after all, and when one said ‘dirty’ and ‘filthy’ in Hell, they meant it in all its encompassing nuances. Also, when one was being chased by demons or down in a festering shit hole, or just burning alive, being clean was quite pointless and not precisely a matter of priority but Merisoul was not a ‘per diem’ sort of girl.
True, she made time for ‘frivolities’, but she did plan ahead so she would have the time for said frivolities. Hence, and only after making sure she was thoroughly rinsed off the dust, the dirt, and the clingy soot attained from overheated and dried flesh, and consequently, charred and disintegrated orcs that had rubbed on her while she climbed down the very narrow, crack-like shaft, the otherworldly girl produced a long, black quill, sucked at its tip with her ripe-cherry lips, and started to write elegantly into her dog-eared training diary;
Training Diary Entry No. 4987 / 1
Well, there’s a bummer. I had to wait till morning for the tunnel beyond the crevice to air out. My plan with the Dragon Breath spell worked perfectly, sans a few minor setbacks.. For instance; (a) the screams of the burning orcs were a tad too shrill for my taste and might have echoed all the way down, and possibly heard by others who might be there, (b) it never occurred to me that the tunnel would act as a potential chimney and cough up all the inky and oily smoke back at me, (c) my cleansing cantrip indeed does wonders, (d) though I still feel I should wash my hair, my body, my dress, and air my wings at the first opportunity with clean Mortal water —which, incidentally, is not precisely a real and practical need, but due to some reason I can not quite decipher. It ‘feels’ like I would be happier if I did, in fact, use real Mortal water, and I do not understand what that ‘feeling’ entails, though I have hypothesized some speculations such as; (addendum) (d-1) I am a graveyard for emotions and I have no ‘feelings’, (d-2) the fact that it is a ‘feelings’ hints at a wish that, even if vaguely, precludes a ‘choice’ which goes against being a succubi-half-born because everything we do is done with perfect deliberation and instinctual pre-planning, and hence, requires no choice, (d-3) if the previous assumption is true, which, in all likeliness, it is, then I have a serious problem, as in, we, the half-born, were never meant to have feelings, (d-4) I am afraid something unfortunate ought to happen to this scrapbook before I return back to Hell and Auntie Irine when my time here is done.
Merisoul Xyrotwu, reread her notes once again, then, while holding the scrapbook in one hand, a little fire appeared in the palm of the other.
In retrospect, there was little the otherworldly girl liked back where she’d come from. As a matter of fact, and other than her BFF, Best Fiend Friend, Perigren Ostlanna Temez, or how she preferred to call her in secrecy; mirima Temez, and a few other half-borns like herself, Merisoul Xyrotwu didn’t like anything back there. But as much as she disliked Hell, it was, however, the only place she belonged and consequently be accepted, even if with demeaning contempt. What Merisoul truly detested about her origins was the excruciating fact that everyone there worked, quite diligently, to stab someone else in the back, hence Merisoul slowly burned her only ‘worldly’ possession; her Training Diary! After all, it contained too many things she wouldn’t be able to explain and too much private information about herself that she didn’t want circulating. Should it fall into wrong hands, she would, in all likeliness, be presenting herself on a silver platter, and not really in a metaphorical sense, to the luscious execution of Auntie Irine, who wouldn’t even need a platter to drag her, by the hair, to her private chambers..
Especially considering the fact that the, now burning, scrapbook contained many excerpts and quotations from her Master’s very secret and absolutely forbidden Kardax Chronicles!
Inshala, stop!”, roared the monstrous ogress chieftain of all the ogres in Ritual Forest. She was a grievously huge creature that loomed nearly a man’s height over her own subjects and she was furious.
The ogres nearby cringed in fear, for Chieftain Grulganiste Grimtooth was not someone to be messed with at the best of times. She dashed forth with unprecedented speed and with sheer brute strength, grappled the six hundred pound saber tooth tiger, but the prehistoric feline was quite uncontainable. With near-panicked frenzy, she roared again..
“We did not do this! You must believe me. We did not slay your father!”
Yet, the majestic, deadly feline coughed its own roar, and as it struggled and clawed at the trunk-like arms of the chieftain, a lost, wrathful voix echoed in the night..
“My father.. He cared for you and you killed him! You killed my father and I shall shred all of you for this!”
Everyone is where they are supposed to be, Sir, awake and sober.”, Aager Fogstep reported in his low, gravelly voice. The young man in his dark leathers had prowled the streets of the town until late hours but was unable to quench the ill sense that had clutched at his heart. Finally, he had ghosted over to the sheriff’s office to give his report to the only other man in the town who’d also had trouble sleeping that night and had decided to forgo it altogether.
And now the young man was in the partitioned room dedicated to the sheriff himself and was silently staring at him. The room was full of overflowing drawers and file cabinets and had only two flimsy chairs; one right in front of the young man, and the other, behind the desk that was a few sizes too small for the large man sitting on it.
Despite his past prime, Sheriff Standorin Shieldheart still had powerful arms and shoulders, and his piercing gaze projected a sense that said, ‘Settle down, or I shall set you down!’
Aager thought the man’s, not aggressive nor belligerent, but decidedly unnerving gaze had settled in before they had met and likely after he’d lost his wife, some sixteen years ago. It was interesting to note that he, Aager, never thought to compare his own, somewhat ‘dead’ stare with this man’s gaze. He probably wouldn’t have, had he ever wondered about it and not because he could face that gaze but because it was a stupid waste of time and neither he nor the sheriff had time for stupid. And from what Aager had perceived since the day he’d arrived at this town with the large, broad-shouldered sheriff, who was busily skimming through various reports in the dim candlelight, was that he was an excelling swordsman, he had a harsh and unbending sense of law, order, and justice, and should one try, possibly at the cost of his own life, Standorin Shieldheart could be certainly be killed, but never quite brought down!
“You seem a bit on the edge this night, Master Aager.”, the sheriff said in his quiet, calm, rumbling voice, noting the shortsword and the knives on the young man’s belt. “Why don’t you go home and sleep? That house was assigned to you for that very reason. I must admit, it isn’t much of a house, but how to best utilize it is up to you.”
“I have already dropped by the house, Sir.”, Aager replied soullessly. “And I do make use of it.. every once in a while. It does not have anything in it because I see no reason to crowd it with pointless trivia.”
“It is possible, ‘trivia’ isn’t what is missing in it. You have been in this town for over four years now. I had hoped you would not lose sight of life by pursuing only your job and mentoring my son, Udoorin, but find a wife, as well. What else I had hoped was—”, the sheriff said.
“—Not interested, Sir.”, Aager cut in unexpectedly and there was a real growl in his voice now.
The sheriff cocked an eyebrow as he put the reports he’d been reading down on the table.
“If it wouldn’t be too improper, may I ask, why?”, he said.
Aager did not reply immediately. When he did, there was a distinct tone of disgust in his voice. A disgust directed at himself.
“Once, a long time ago, I was entrusted the care of a girl. And I let her be taken away from me, and years later, just when I thought I had found her, I ended up watching her burn alive, from far away. And now you want me to take responsibility for another girl? True, I have been charged with the lives of everyone in this town. But I shall never take the responsibility of another girl and no girl should be cursed nor be burdened with a murderer such as myself..”
And now, the sheriff cocked his other eyebrow.
“Young man, I never thought myself to be wise enough to give advice to someone with as depressing a past as yours. Moreover, my own marriage didn’t last long enough because shortly after Udoorin was born, my Limnia fell ill and no one was able to fix her. For months I watched her fade away right before my eyes. I can not begin to describe the pain I felt then. But if I had to chance to relive those short few years with my Limnia again, I would be happy to suffer that pain, all over again.”, the sheriff rumbled quietly.
“Then I am both happy and sorry for you, Sir. You are one of the rare, fortunate men I have ever met. For all the pain you have suffered, and are willing to go through again, you aspire to see the woman you loved. I, on the other hand, do not wish to see my sister be taken away from me, only to be forced to watch her burn alive. Not again. What you do not have, can never hurt you.”, Aager said with an absolute tone, instantly murdering the conversation.
For a long, silent minute, Sheriff Standorin stared at the young man and his blackened soul. Then he sighed and, not so much as gave up, but rather relented to the fact that the young man in dark leathers just wasn’t ready to move on yet.
“Well, it’s a good thing we never know what time will present us, now, do we? I would tell you to go home, but that’s unlikely to happen. Now, what’s troubling you this particular night? The last time I saw you armed with this much iron was when I, ranger masters Davien and Moorat, Junior Temple Guardian Lady Magella, and you were off to raid Oger’s Foot.”
Again, Aager did not reply immediately for the issue at hand was not a tangible one, per se.
Finally, he said, “I don’t know.”
Standorin didn’t push, for he trusted the young man’s instincts as much as he trusted his cunning mind.
“There’s something in the air tonight. Something I have felt only once before. Something malicious.”, Aager whispered, his gravelly voice silently boiling. “And that last time I ignored this feeling, you ended up saving me from a blunt guillotine.. and from Drashan..”
The sheriff stared at the man in dark leathers for another silent moment, then took a deep breath, pushed back his chair, and rose from his desk. He gathered the reports, placed them into one of the already overflowing drawers, then reached out and grabbed the sheathed long-blade leaning at the side of his desk, and with practiced motions, buckled it across his shoulder and stepped towards the station’s door.
“Sir?”, Aager asked, staring after the sheriff.
“I didn’t hire you because of your pretty face, Master Aager.”, he grinned at the young man. “As much as you would deny yourself of such pleasurable privileges, you will have to get yourself a girl for that. I hired you for your skills and your sharp senses. And if I were to ignore them, that would sort of make me look like the fool, now, wouldn’t it? Come. Apparently, neither of us is going to get any sleep tonight. Might as well walk the town..”
For all his soulless gaze, the young man also grinned and inevitably appreciated the sheriff just like he had when he had found out it was him, who had saved him from Drashan, and the blunt guillotine all those years ago.
One sheriff, the other a former convict, stepped out of the station..
..and in the middle of the night— ⊗
Why are we here, exactly?”, asked the handsome young half-elf from where he was crouched in his hidden spot, at the very southern edge of the Ritual Forest but no reply came from the silent bunch in their dark, over-dramatic cloaks and masks he was a part of but never quite included.
With a cautious premonition, the young half-elf checked his daggers, then, very slowly, and silently, he moved slightly away from the huddled group while they were all focused on the stone bridge stretching over the fast-running Arashkan river and the town beyond it..
..and rose to his feet where he would be in plain sight had it been day hours!
“What are you doing?”, one of them hissed.
“Get down!”, growled another.
“Idiot! You will ruin everything!”, spat a third.
The young man heard more warnings and threats in similar growls, whispers, and hisses!
“Nice..”, grinned he with a cheery voice. “So good of you to finally take notice of me after all these days. Now, either you lot give me the answers I want or I am off because I have no desire to be part of your masquerade which I find a bit of a cliché. Dark leathers, dark cloaks, dark hoods, dark masks? Really, guys? All you need is a sign that says, ‘We are the villains in this story and we are up to no good!’”
The young man, in fact, was not as cool and unperturbed as he seemed, with his hands on his hips and leaning on a tree. But he was a thief from the big city, and he knew how to put on a cheeky front rather well. In a manner of speaking, that was precisely how he made a living and he was very good at it. He was not, however, a total fool; the balled hands he’d hooked on his hips held a pair of daggers, revered so their blades would not be seen by the men in blacks. His swag also had a purpose. It camouflaged the beads of sweat running down the back of his neck..
..and the handsome young half-elf, Darly Dor by name, had no intentions, whatsoever, to entertain this lot in what would likely be a very bloody knife exchange which is why he had waited until this very moment since he had been ‘rented out’ to this odd bunch. He had, tentatively, asked them about the details of their ‘mission’ before but hadn’t received any answers. And when it came to ‘any answers’, this bunch formalized it quite literally; they would stare at his face from behind their over-dramatic black masks and that’s pretty much it. Now, however, the young half-elf had the opportunity to get more than mere silent stares, with or without their stupid masks..
And what he had in mind, should they decide to go for him, was not going to be pleasant.
“Gentlemen, either you give me an answer I can accept, or I will run around these woods in circles screaming like a little girl where I am certain to be heard by everyone within several miles!”
“We will kill you, boy!”, one of them snarled.
“Undoubtedly..”, the young half-elf, Darly Dor, replied with an easy shrug..
..and nodded at the large, very heavy cylinder object sitting between them. The one they had been carrying around for over a month now and ever since they had arrived at the Great Arashkan City. They had come, went straight for the hidden Thieves Guild, and rented him out.
Just like that!
“..but not before I expose the lot of you to everyone in that town, at which point you will all have to scatter and you will definitely have to leave that round-whatsit behind.”
The men in the blacks stared at young Darly with baleful eyes and started at him, all drawing their cruel-looking curved knives.
One of them, however, raised his hand and fisted it, ordering them to hold.
“The boy is right..”, he said to his comrades with a thick, muffled voice, then turned to stare at Darly through his dark, leather mask. “And it is quite apparent he will not be deterred by threats.”
Darly Dor shrugged again.
“Threats seldom work on three people. The one that is of a certain caliber, the one who thinks he will be killed at the end of this run so he can not attest as a witness, and the fool. I will leave it up to you as to which is which. Either one will do for me but none of them will work to your advantage.”, he said with a grin.
The man in dark leather mulled over that for a moment.
“Perhaps we did do you a disservice by ousting you the way we did and kept you in the dark, but then, we had no obligation to give you any information whatsoever, for your presence here is, simply put, due to an old debt owed to us by your guild. You were rented out as payment for that debt. Ask what you will. I shall try to answer to your satisfaction.”
“Alright. First things first then. Why me?”, Darly asked because it seemed like a relevant question. What the man in blacks had skimmed over was the fact that when they had arrived at the secret hideout of the Thieves Guild, they hadn’t asked just for anyone. They had demanded him specifically, referring to him by name..
“The reason for that is not as complicated nor convoluted as you might think, young man.”, replied the man with his thick, muffled voice.
“By all means, enlighten me.”, Darly said with a tint of sarcasm.
“We needed an elf, or preferably a half-elf who knew the area, and your guild gave you. It is hard working with elves, however. They are a tad too uptight and conceited for our taste.”
“Now there’s something I can agree with. However, I do not know the area. At all.. I have never come to this forest before nor to this town.”, Darly objected.
This time, the man in blacks shrugged.
“You carry elf blood, young man. You have a natural affinity to forests and nature by default. It is in your blood. More so than any human. Also, we needed a sneak-thief, as demeaning as that sounds. Someone who knew his job well enough to be able to enter places he isn’t supposed to be, and someone with a smart mouth, should he encounter some overzealous law enforcement officer, and..”
“And?”
“..and someone who has a good head for details. Now, either you hold aptitude for all these talents or you don’t, meaning someone truly hates you in your guild and you are practically useless to us.”
Darly’s face turned sour.
And no, not because he thought he lacked said talents, but by the underhanded compliment coupled with the underlying threat the man in blacks had layed out. And by doing so, he had, quite literally, caught Darly by the balls!
“Whatever their own reasons were, they did rent you out to us.”, he continued in his thick, muffled voice. “We will not have much to ask of you. Your first task is, you will leave this item to its designated location. Quietly and unnoticed. And once that’s done, we shall leave this town and head out to another place to receive our payment. Your second task is to observe, from a relatively safe distance, again, quietly and unnoticed. Should something go wrong during the transaction and we are betrayed, you will be our witness and attest to what you have observed, as the objective ‘third party.’”
“And what assurance do I get that you won’t betray and try to kill me?”, asked the young half-elf.
“It wouldn’t make much sense in killing our own witness, now would it? Particularly if we are betrayed.”, he replied, giving Darly the impression he was grinning at him behind his mask. “Now. Should you still want to run around the forest screaming like a little girl, by all means, you had better get started. I promise I shall not stop you. I must, however, remind you, should you choose that particular course of action, we shall assume you have betrayed our trust, your own guild’s dept, and will further assume you are refusing to participate in doing your part in this venture, in which case, we would like to use our option to cut you down, here and now.. The ball is in your court!”
Darly gulped.
Just as he had suspected from the beginning, these were not ordinary cutters, but people with zeal and conviction. The worst kind to get into a death list because they could not be bought, swayed, or bargained with. They would set their own goals and nothing was sacred, holy, or off-limits for them. As unscrupulous as he was, Darly still knew the law, and as corrupt as his morels were, he still had some, of sorts. These men did not. They had their own ‘understanding’ and that was about it, and the young man knew there was only one practical way to deal with them. He also knew he was outnumbered for that by a bloody dozen!
“What do I need to do, besides the obvious.”, he said in a resigned tone.
“We are here to retrieve an order placed several years ago from the gnome inventor who lives in this town. While we are doing that, you will take this ‘packet’ to his workshop and leave it there. The rest of us will make sure no overenthusiastic guard pesters you. That is it.”, the masked man explained.
“First of all, how in the blazes do you expect me to carry this thing? It took three of you to move it through the forest. Second, I am a thief, not a murderer.”, Darly objected.
“True, the packet is, in fact, at least as heavy as it seems but it can be carried by a single person. It has levitation runes engraved at its bottom end. The reason three of us handled it is because the forest ground is uneven and is crowded with roots and other obstacles. The town’s streets are not. Also, once activated, the runes have limited hover time.”
“How limited?”, Darly asked.
The man in dark leathers shrugged.
“Don’t know. Never tested it. But I suggest you active it before you climb over the town walls and do not dawdle..”
“Very well. But no killing. Being caught for stealing and being sought for murder are two, very different felonies. I have no desire to have the blood of some poor watchman who is just doing his job nor do I want any Palantine bounty hunter tailing me for the rest of my life.”, the young man said sternly.
“You will not be killing anyone. Should the necessity arise, I and my men will be doing it.”, the cutter replied calmly.
“No. Sneaking is my job. Back off and allow me to do what I do best. Otherwise, find yourself another tool!”, Darly said with an absolute tone.
The man in blacks stared at the young half-elf with seething eyes for a full minute.
“Very well.”, he said finally. “You will take the packet to the gnome who has made everyone believe that he is an inventor. When you break into his workshop, you will leave it there as my men retrieve what we must. On the top of the cylinder, you will see a cap. Open the cap and pull the little round pin. I would, however, advise you not to linger once you pull the pin.”, he said harshly.
“Why?”, asked Darly Dor, more than a bit freaked out now because something told him this packet was not some payment at all.
“That packet holds the power to cleanse and absolve the false inventor of his past sins. He shall be the first among those we will surely purify! Time will come for his friends as well and they shall all be scoured.”
And now young Darly was totally freaked out! These were not mere overzealous cutters, they were some bloody fanatic cult members!
“Uhhmm.. Isn’t that a tad overkill? There are much easier ways to get at someone, you know.”, he said, though he knew he was not going to be changing any minds here. He did secretly vow to cave in some faces when he got back to Arashkan, though.
“You must understand, young man. We are not some simple knives for hire and we never forget those who betray us. I would strongly advise you to do exactly what you were hired to do and not to give us any reasons to come after you as well.”, growled the man mercilessly..
⊗ —and the night sky lit as if dawn came early and savagely!
Serenity Home Sheriff Standorin Shieldheart was hurled back into his station as if punched by an invisible giant’s fist! The hand tried the same cheap shot on Aager, but awake or asleep, the young man had been alert for the whole of his life and he took the brunt of the fist on his side as he too, was hurtled back..
He spun in the air with the reflexes of a cat, grabbed the sheriff, and pulled him at himself just as they both slammed into the far wall, then crumbled on the floor.
The young man groaned in pain. Though he had saved the sheriff from any number of fractured ribs and likely a broken neck, Standorin Shieldheart was not a willowy man, and crashing into the wall, then on the floor with him on top had not been fun.
“Are you alright, young man?”, Standorin asked as he slowly rose to his feet. There was an impressed grin on his face, though his voice sounded warbled due to the ringing in the young man’s ears.
“I.. am not quite sure, Sir. I believe I shall complain about my ribs soon enough.”, Aager moaned through gritted teeth.
Standorin gave him another grin, clasped his hand, and pulled him up to his feet.
“That was a remarkable display of physical dexterity, Master Aager. I believe I owe you thanks of gratitude. Had you not grabbed me the way you did, I believe I would have lost a head and a neck!”, he admitted.
“It’s alright, Sir. Thanks to you, I also entertain a head and a neck.”, Aager said, feeling at his ribs with a grimace.
“I knew there was a good reason when I saved you from that guillotine!”, the sheriff chuckled.
Then both of them stepped out of the station and stared at the sky because it was no longer night outside! There, from somewhere in the center of the town, a very bright shaft of chemical-green fire, belching up perhaps a hundred feet in a straight line and into the night sky with a low and hallow, disgruntled roar..
..and among the roar, many screams were heard.
“What in the blazes is this?”, Standorin whispered as he ogled at the incredible scene before him.
Aager did not waste time ogling. He dashed back into the building, up the ladders leading to the roof, three at a time, and started hammering at the large alarm bell hooked on an iron tripod.
“Master Aager!”, the sheriff shouted at him. “Get down here and follow me. I am certain everyone has already seen and heard that!”
Aager jumped down from the roof and rolled on the ground, got up, and seamlessly, he started running after the sheriff towards the fire, and Serenity Home tremored awake with alarms ringing frantically from every post!
Young Master Gnine Tinkerdome came around with a terrible headache. He wasn’t quite sure what had woken him. The only thing he could vaguely remember was the shadow he thought he had seen as it loomed over him and struck him with something hard.
“Udoorin!”, he fumed viciously as he touched the tender spot on his head. “You are so dead! When I tell your father what you did, not even the ghost of your mother will be able to save your sorry hide!”
But just then, the dome of the workshop-home he shared with his uncle vanished! And with a savage roar, a chemical-green fire belched forth into the night, disintegrating what remained of the dome, and half the walls..
Gnine just ogled at the fire, then realized it was suddenly incredibly hot, and that he was having severe difficulty breathing. With insight quite unexpected of him, he also realized what had woken him; the painful moans of his uncle! The little gnome remembered some things of his own past just then as panic and fear clutched at his heart.
“Uncle!”, Gnine ‘eeped’ out of his smoking bed. “Uncle Nimbletyne! Where are you? The house! The workshop! It’s all on fire!”
His perception spinning wildly due to the blow on his head, the incinerating heat, and the thick, boiling smoke, Gnine crawled towards the stairs leading down to his uncle’s workshop and saw him lying face down and a bit too close to the baleful fire! He felt a tremor running through the whole structure followed by the jarring screech of splintering wood and shattering of bricks. At that very moment, young Master Gnine’s mind went blank!
“Not again!”, he moaned..
Out of breath, very much scared, and his head spinning wildly, he jumped down to the floor below, heaved up his uncle’s limp body, got under one of his arms, and dashed out as fast as his short, trembling legs could carry him..
..and something exploded behind them with contemptuous spite! Like the fist of a titan, the blast grabbed Gnine and slammed him into the wall of the adjacent house across the street some fifteen feet away. His uncle, Nimbletyne, however, was not as lucky; a large, burning section of the shattered workshop’s support beam had landed on top of him and trapped him there.
Gnine groaned as he detached himself from the wall, looked around dazedly, saw his uncle moaning under the smoldering support beam, yelped with fear, and ran to him. He tried to pick the impossibly heavy log and promptly burned his hands.
“Uncle! I can’t nudge it! The beam is too heavy! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!”, he screamed as his panic finally kicked in.
“Move, Gnine!”, rumbled a voice from behind him and a very large man with uncombed hair and a scruffy-looking patch of beard picked him up by the scuff of his nightshirt and set him aside.
Gnine ogled at the big, burly man.
“Udoorin!”, he blurted.
The big, burly man, however, assessed the situation, pulled off his shirt, displaying massive muscles and lumping abs, tore it in two, wrapped them around his hands and arms, then bent down and heaved at the burning, near three hundred pounds wooden beam, using not his back, but his powerful legs.
For a short moment, the beam stubbornly resisted, but when the young man’s arms and legs bulged, it gave way and Udoorin picked it up, an inch at a time as the little gnome continued to stare at him.
“Gnine..”, groaned Udoorin under the stress of the beam. “Perhaps you should pull your uncle from under the beam. I can’t hold, burn, and get him out of there all at the same time!”
Gnine’s face flushed as he dashed in and pulled his only remaining relative from under the burning support beam..
Udoorin gave out a savage roar and hurled the beam away from himself and the two gnomes, and fell to his knees. He tossed the remains of his charred and smoking shirt and clutched at his burnt hands.
“Udoorin!”, rumbled a voice and the big, burly man turned around to see the sheriff come running at them with Master Aager and every guard and watchmen they could find on their way.
The dome of the workshop had shattered like a broken egg and was totally gone now and the baleful fire was still belching out of it with spiteful abandon.
“Dad?.. I mean, uhhmm, Sheriff?”, the big, burly man stammered in pain.
“What in the blazes are you doing here, boy?”, his father scolded him angrily.
“I saw the explosion through my window and thought I could help.”, mumbled Udoorin.
“Where is your shirt, boy? And what happened to your hands?”, Standorin asked, his tone even harsher.
“Sheriff Standorin. Perhaps we could save this inquiry for another time?”, Aager intercepted. “All the houses nearby must be evacuated immediately. We do not know for how long this fire will burn or how far it will spread. For all we know, this is just the beginning.”
“You!”, the sheriff rumbled at the dozen guards staring at the chemical-green fire. “Go to each and every house within fifty yards, wake everyone inside if they are still asleep, and tell them to evacuate their houses. Tell them all to gather at the Town Hall. Use force if you have to. GO!NOW! Master Aager, I want you to go and check all the watch posts. We do not know if this was an accident or some prelude to an attack. Send one of the men to the temple as well. The Temple Guardians should prepare to receive the wounded.”
“Yes, Sir.”, Aager said, but just before he left, he went over to young Udoorin and whispered..
“Why are you entertaining bare feet? Running to a fire ‘to help’ without your shoes is not the smart thing to do.”
..as he stared at Gnine.
“I am ‘entertaining’ bare feet because some idiot thought it’d be funny to stuff slugs and disgusting worms in them!”, Udoorin replied angrily through his gritted teeth.
“Huh! I wonder just who would do such a juvenile thing?”, mused Aager with a neutral expression..
..still staring at the little gnome.
Young Gnine’s face flushed once again, but it wasn’t quite certain whether it was due to the fire or something else. He did cough into one of his cupped hands, though that could have been due to the smoke.
“Go and have your hands checked.”, Aager said finally, turned around, and disappeared into the night.
“Boy, what did you do to your hands?”, Standorin growled at his son.
“Sir, Udoorin burned his hands while saving my uncle from the fire! He used his shirt as gloves but still got blistered.”, blurted Gnine unexpectedly.
For a very brief moment, Sheriff Standorin stared down at the little gnome, then at his unconscious uncle, and finally at his son, and swiftly formed a priority list in his mind.
“Udoorin.”, he rumbled in his commanding voice. “Take Masters Nimbletyne and Master Gnine to the temple. Make sure Master Nimbletyne receives proper medical attention and young Master Gnine here is also thoroughly checked. Have them look at your hands as well. Once that is done, and only if you can hold a sword, come and find me. We will have a lot of work to do this evening. And you, young Master Gnine, I want you to stay at your uncle’s side at all times. It is possible this was an accident. If wasn’t and this is a deliberate act of arson, there’s a good chance he might have seen the perpetrators and is likely the only one who can tell us what happened. It also means his life is still in danger.”
Despite the horrible pain stabbing at his hands, Udoorin nodded at his father/sheriff, picked up the unconscious Nimbletyne, and with Gnine at his tail, he dashed towards Serenity Home Temple.
Once they were gone, Sheriff Standorin stared up at the freakish fire and wondered just what could have caused it. Was this an accident, a deliberate act of vandalism as he suspected, or something else? Very carefully, he took a few steps towards what was once the home and workshop of Master Nimbletyne Tinkerdome the Inventor, merely half an hour ago, now burning angrily with some strange, chemical-green fire. He took a few more careful steps and peered into the burning rubble—
—and what was left of the building quaked, then exploded once again!
✱ ✱ ✱
The arrogance and hubris of Mortals have always triggered greater constellations of similar follies in the form of ‘more of the same’, culminating in, possibly irreversible, and likely horrible and unspeakable deeds.
For example, turning what could have been ‘solved’, and probably would have been forgotten, given enough time, by a simple theft into a matter of vengeance, is hubris.
More to the point, no matter how farsighted Mortals believe they are, even should they truly be as farsighted as they believe they are, that in itself is hubris.
After all, being as farsighted might easily be not far enough!
Being different might be a unique quality. But going out of one’s way to be unique and making it a passion, a mission, or a life’s purpose is hubris.
Being proud of who we are is a natural inclination. Thinking it makes us above and beyond others for being born to a certain race, skin, doctrine, creed, community, or geo-location for which we had no choice, for which we made no choice, nor did we work, sweat, or bleed, is hubris —and in the most ‘base’ and primal sense.
Neither our families, our race, our communities, nor the status we believe we have attained or achieved does not win us the rights to such hubris because said achievements are never due to our own singular efforts nor diligence, which are, in fact, the cumulative results of the successes, or failures, of those around us.
Arriving to the apex conclusory assumption that the Serenity Home fire was, in fact, the culmination of many previous, currently unknown events and would inadvertently trigger many brand new ones, is likely a matter of hubris as well, though, perhaps, not one that is overtly off the mark.
What must always be remembered is; good or ill, every deed is subject to consequences, everyone has their own agendas, and that hubris is one of the deadliest poisons for Mortals, but the favorite stimulative booze of demons!
Looking at this, seemingly simple fire, and arrogantly calling it ‘Day Zero’ and missing the whole point that the whole chain of events that led up to it, and would further avalanche after, was in fact, due to the hubris of Mortals.
It is possible, the only part in all of this, that is above hubris is the acceptance of the last part.
Or maybe not..
