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Post by diversegnu on May 30, 2023 13:38:20 GMT
[Reject her proposal] I don't think Pardona would harm Luna even if we reject her, she seems like she knows the severity of the oncoming calamity. I think we just have to go out on a limb and hope she doesn't kill the Marked Second before she even receives her mark.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Jul 29, 2023 22:39:39 GMT
[Ally with Pardona] I don't think Luna is in a position to reject Pardona here, regardless of her true feelings on the matter. Might as well ally with Pardona for now, at least until she has an actual way out of this. Besides, Pardona isn't really asking for anything outlandish or vile, she seems quite reasonable in her way of thinking here. If this is truly the first time that all of the Marks have been summoned together, then this means that Borbarad is on a different level entirely, Pardona has been around for a while and even she did not warrant that kind of reaction from the gods. This was a great read, Liquid, as always. I have just recently read your FoT post and I wanted to say that I'm truly sorry for your loss. I sincerely hope you're doing better these days and taking good care of yourself. I wish you good luck in your nursing apprenticeship, know that I'll be cheering for you and your success. It should be noted that on a cosmic scale, Pardona is not all that important when compared to some of the other theoretically world-ending threats the marks have historically been sent out against. She mentions that two marks fought for the elves during the Fall of Tie'Shanna, which is something she played a major role in (and which we are going to see in a later chapter), so that's likely the strongest cosmic response she can trigger on her own. The actually scary part is that she mentions five marks moved against her master, who is infamous for having been the greatest threat to the divine order ever. Five, out of seven. So, whatever is coming, it seems the gods consider it a greater threat than even the Nameless God. Pardona also does not believe that Borbarad is this threat and if she is correct, then something worse than Borbarad, worse than her own master, is approaching. One thing I can say is, by the end of this chapter you will know more about this threat and just why it warrants a reaction worse than even her own master received. Thank you. I wouldn't say I'm doing good, but I am indeed doing a bit better than last time. It's been a really rough time, but I'm improving, I feel like I'm finally getting somewhere decent in my life and that's all that matters. It was a scary transition, but I am glad I took the step and finally started a meaningful job. I'm really giving it my all right now and I think in time I'll be fine again.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Jul 29, 2023 22:44:16 GMT
Damn, this was a great and very intriguing part. The plot twist at the end of the memory and a seamless transition between Luna and Pardona was quite cool. One thing that popped to mind, as a theory. If Pardona is unaware of who the marked seven are being summoned for, while also preparing to summon Borbarad(Who she might want to present to the Nameless one as a servant?), then there might be someone or something even more powerful then Borbarad that marked seven will have to deal with. [Ally with Pardona] Hey, who would say no to allying good character with a villain? That's always fun! Also, the goal itself is noble, I just don't yet trust Pardona being that noble. I am very glad to hear this! It is something I thought of fairly recently to spice up the final flashback part of this chapter and I am glad it worked out. I was a bit nervous that this seamless transition could be a bit confusing, but it seems that there was no need for me to worry. I might start to experiment with such scenes in future parts, where it's fitting at least, this one seems to have been well-received. A very good observation! Indeed, Pardona doesn't seem to fully know who or what the Marked Seven are supposed to face. Inferred by her actions, she does not believe this threat to be Borbarad, as she is evidently trying to summon and bind his spirit to her master's will. That means there is something way more powerful approaching, something so powerful that she tries to gather the seven marks AND Borbarad (whom she believes to operate on a level similar to her own in terms of strength).
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Jul 29, 2023 22:45:34 GMT
[Reject her proposal]I don't think this is something she would readily agree too. Despite what Pardona said, she did see her past and how she thinks. Who knows how much Pardona's views actually deviated in the millennia's she's been around. Plus, this goal that she said that the Marked second should do is something she entirely came up with. Why should Luna believe that this grand alliance is the mission of the marked second? Pardona, may want unity, but I believe she wants the world united and unified under her rule and serving her god. She would use her for her benefit and this goal. She would probably say that the world could only succeed against this new great threat under her rule and guidance. I also don't want Luna to fall to darkness and this might be a big decision which could influence that. Since, it is likely the other choice wins; I hope this choice is not a permanent thing that she can't back out of and she can still remain true to herself. By the way, that was quite a transition between Pardona's memories back to Luna. It really showcased the nameless one's abilities to see her and interact with her inside Pardona's memories. Hm, an interesting thought. Right now, you only have Pardona's own words that she sort-of changed her ways, but she could be lying through her teeth. Her god is a known liar and she literally speaks with his tongue, so that is something to keep in mind. She offered mercy and sympathy to Yveshin a few parts ago when she could have just as easily killed him, but at the same time she is responsible for the vampire plague that is troubling Meadows right now, with possibly hundreds of people sacrificed for her goals. We will learn more about her goals before this chapter is over, giving you a better impression if she actually is as well-intentioned as she claims to be here, if she has ulterior motives or if she just wants to sway Luna to her side by sweet-talking her. That, as I can confirm at least, is something she is VERY good at. One way or the other, I can assure you that this choice alone will not determine Luna's morality. There will be a lot yet to come for her and this is just one of many parts that will shape her as a character.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Jul 29, 2023 22:55:39 GMT
[Reject her proposal] Awesome part! My old computer got busted and I got a new one only last week, so I am late to this, but this was truly excellent. I mean the tongue ripping bit? Some of your finest horrifying writing. The flashback transition? Great, great. And this is all very intriguing. It's not going to win but I think rejecting is a good character choice. I mean, we got to have common sense, she is definitely bad. Maybe looks good, but definitely sinister. Excited to see how it goes! Haha, I am glad to hear you liked this! I was not quite sure how gory I wanted this part to be, but eventually chose something that I wanted to be appropriately horrifying, to show that the Nameless One operates on a wholly different level from anything ever encountered in the story, not just in terms of raw power, but also how the world works around him. He casually implants parts of himself into his champions and even manages to insert himself into a memory of himself when he realizes someone is accessing it without permission. Goes to show just how big the gap between him and Pyrdacor (who quite foolishly considered himself the Nameless One's successor and equal) truly is.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Jul 29, 2023 22:56:45 GMT
[Reject her proposal] I don't think Pardona would harm Luna even if we reject her, she seems like she knows the severity of the oncoming calamity. I think we just have to go out on a limb and hope she doesn't kill the Marked Second before she even receives her mark. A reasonable line of thought, actually. While it has been stated before that Luna is Asch's side project and not something Pardona officially ordered him to do, by now they have both put time and resources into her, so it stands to reason that she would not immediately harm or kill Luna just for rejecting her. If she fails to sway Luna here, she could very well just try again later. One of the perks of being virtually immortal is that one usually develops a lot of patience.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Jul 29, 2023 23:12:02 GMT
The Voting is closed!
Luna is going to accept Pardona's proposal Wow, talk about a choice I did not see coming! I was quite certain you'd reject her proposal, but I am pleased to be in the wrong. This is one of the most important choices in this chapter, probably the biggest one for Luna and definitely one of those that will have important consequences in the future. Of course, it is not the only part that will determine Luna's future, but it will be one of many important moments for her to come. She will soon learn more about Pardona and her plans, now as an ally instead of a prisoner, which should be a refreshing change of pace for her parts. The next part will be out... just about right now. Yeah, I decided to keep the voting open until I had the part essentially finished, because I am sick of closing the voting, announcing the new part and then something comes up and I need a lot more time. That happened way too often lately and I am sorry for that. As such, I will try to close the voting only when I am absolutely certain that I'll get the part done asap. This one is actually finished and only needs a bit of formatting, which should be done within the next hour at the most. It will be an Edmond part, picking up where we last saw him. Last time we saw Edmond, he and Alicent, his fellow Borbaradian spy, broke into the study of Dragosh of Sicklecourt, the Sword of Swords and highest Priest of Rondra in Aventuria. They did so to follow a lead left for them by Alicent's late mentor, the Borbaradian cult leader Braken, who has found a brutal end in the catacombs beneath the Rhodestone keep after apparently searching for something of great importance in the keep some time ago. Using a momentary distraction provided by a mortally injured Priest of Rondra who turned into a vampire and attacked Dragosh, Edmond and Alicent managed to break into the study unnoticed, where they searched through Dragosh's belongings. As it turned out, one such object was the ceremonial armour of Viburn of Hengisford, Dragosh's much more popular predecessor, who was murdered by orks during the early days of the Orkenstorm a few years prior to the story. When Alicent touched this armour, she suddenly had fresh blood on her hands, which prompted Edmond to do an arcane examination of the armour. As it turned out, the armour was possessed by a ghost and not just any. As soon as he noticed the ghost, it took possession of Alicent, so that it could properly communicate with Edmond, as properly as possible for a half-mad incorporeal being. This ghost, as it turned out, was none other than Viburn of Hengisford himself, who had been summoned by Braken down in the catacombs, but whom the mage failed to bind to his will before being murdered. Viburn, in Alicent's body, managed to tell Edmond something about a thief and a sinner in the Rhodestone, albeit the process proved very dangerous for Alicent, as the ghost seemed to be completely oblivious of how easy a human body can get hurt. Edmond managed to plead with the ghost to leave Alicent's body, but not before Viburn pointed him towards Dragosh's desk. Immediately after leaving her body, Alicent broke down from the horrible ordeal and Edmond did his best to console her, knowing that they had to push on and find out what Dragosh was hiding before someone would find them in his study. As such, he briefly searched through the desk and found a locked drawer. He was left with the choice of either melting the lock with his magic, which would be far from subtle, or to ask Alicent for help despite her being in bad shape after the ghostly possession. He chose the latter and the next part will start right there.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Jul 29, 2023 23:27:01 GMT
Edmond Edmond hesitated to ask this of her, but he knew that discretion was mandatory here. He could not just melt the lock and risk discovery. If Lord Dragosh were to learn of their presence here, he’d take their heads, theirs and Urdo’s and Asmodeus’ as well. As such, with a heavy heart, he placed a hand on Alicent’s shoulder. The girl was still trembling from her violent encounter with the ghost, pale with fear and pain. Edmond himself had never been possessed before, but he had read enough first-hand accounts to know that it was a truly unpleasant sensation. “Alicent…”, he whispered. “I need your help with this. We need to look inside this drawer” She clenched her fists, as her breathing became more ragged, her eyes wide and fearful. Though she was looking into Edmond’s direction, she was looking right through him at the same time. He waited a moment, before clenching her shoulder. “Alicent…”, he repeated. “You’re the only one who can pick this lock” Usually, this would have been Urdo’s specialty. Though more suited for robbery, the short man had an extended history of thievery as well, a talent he had used for the good of the cause in the past, whenever Liscom and the Begging Monk didn’t want to dirty their own hands. There were mages who could pick locks with a spell as well, but Edmond had never met one and neither had he ever bothered to learn those spells, even if they were taught at his academy. Then again, almost every spell imaginable was taught at Punin and he could hardly ever learn them all. Another spell he now dearly missed was one chiefly taught at Perricum, where arcane healers tended to troubled minds and those affected by possession. It was a simple spell, one that calmed the body and mind and it would have been just what Alicent needed right now. Alas, Edmond had never chosen to specialize in such rather niche parts of his arcane skill and as such, all he could do right now was a little trick a fellow student had once shown him. He moved one hand to Alicent’s face and snapped his fingers once, twice, before finally getting a reaction out of her. She flinched as if punched, but her gaze cleared almost immediately. “What?”, she stuttered, looking at Edmond with a small bit of fear remaining. “We… we need to get out of here. This… this monster could still be around!” Edmond shook his head. His arcane sight had not faded yet and he could still see the outlines of Lord Viburn’s ghost hovering behind Alicent. He knew at once that the desperate specter wouldn’t let them leave. It waited patiently for now, but it had taken over Alicent’s body once before. Surely it would not hesitate to do so again should he not convince her to aid. “First we need to finish what we came here for”, he told her, deliberately choosing to withhold his suspicion from her. The last either of them needed now was for her to suffer a panic attack. “I will keep you safe” Those words were spoken with conviction and while Edmond had no idea what he could even do against a ghost without access to lengthy tomes and expensive paraphernalia, he knew that he would try his utmost to spare her another experience such as the one she had just gone through. She gave him a nod, followed by a weak smile. “I trust you”, she replied and finally, she began to stir. Still on all fours, she crawled up next to Edmond, who was crouching in front of the drawer. With expert eyes, she looked at the lock. “Braken taught me all manner of things”, she revealed. “Skills that would be useful to the cause. Something to offset my lack of magic” There was a bitterness in her tone and Edmond could understand her well. While he was born with powerful magic, most of his fellows weren’t, including a significant number of Borbaradians. Some of them, such as Liscom’s old manservant Kurun, learned to utilize Borbarad’s blessings, to use their own life force to cast rudimentary spells, but they never reached the full strength of a trueborn mage and each spell took a toll on their body, risking injury or even death if the caster overextended themselves. As such, it took an exceptionally strong body and mind to cast spells in this way. Alicent, for whatever reason, had not been ready to receive such a blessing yet. Perhaps, given her reaction to Viburn’s possession, she never would be. Nonetheless, she just now proved her worth in a way Edmond never could have. “This is a surprisingly complex lock”, she revealed, her voice still a bit shaky, but regaining its strength with every new word. “Doesn’t look like it was originally part of the desk. The wood is old, but this lock… barely any sign of aging on it. Whatever’s inside of it, Lord Dragosh wanted to make sure that nobody would ever see it” She pulled a needle out of her hair and jammed it into the lock. “Fortunately, this is not dwarven handiwork, else I would be at my wit’s end”, she admitted. With these words, she began to twist the needle, slowly applying pressure on it, her expression tense. Behind her, the ghost of Viburn moved closer, hovering over her shoulder, unnoticed by her. Edmond, however, could not help but glare at the specter. Though it seemed as if the ghost was only curious, Edmond knew how utterly unpredictable these things could be. “This is a tricky one”, the girl admitted. “But let me apply a bit of pressure just here and…” Edmond heard a mild clicking sound and Alicent gasped with excitement, a proud grin forming on her pale face. “There it is”, she chuckled. “That wasn’t too bad now, was it?” Compared to how she had been just a minute ago, she was positively chipper now and Edmond let out a sigh of relief as he realized that she would be fine. “Let’s see what we have in there”, he spoke and under the ghost’s watchful gaze, he pulled at the drawer, revealing a fairly small compartment, just enough for the one item inside. It seemed to have been custom made to exactly fit a lean strap of leather, wrapped around a narrow object. Edmond reached for it and the ghost next to him began to flicker. For just a second, he was afraid it could take hold of Alicent again, but instead it remained hovering over the table, as if it too wanted to see what was inside of the leather. As Edmond gazed inside, he spotted a single document, tied around a sealed scroll, both bound together by a tight leather strap, the kind that could not be loosened without cutting through it entirely. His expression grew sterner at once, as he realized that there was no way now for them to keep their secrecy now. “Whoa, he really wanted to make sure nobody would ever open this”, Alicent sighed, but Edmond shook his head. “He would have hidden it better in that case”, he replied. “Or used spells to guard it. No… I think he just never expected thieves in his office, not here in the Rhodestone. This feels like something that was meant to be opened at a later date” “A last will?”, Alicent asked and Edmond gave her a nod. “But not his”, he added, having recognized the seal on the scroll. “This one here… look at the ceremonial armour. Looks like the churches’ seal at first glance, but the tiny differences here and there… that is Lord Viburn’s personal seal. This is… highly unusual” He hesitated only for a moment, before reaching for the gilded letter opener on the desk. They had come this far, so they had to take a look inside these documents, else it was all for nothing. If Dragosh had anything to hide, this was it. If Braken had been looking for anything, if he had died for anything meaningful, this had to be it. As such, he cut through the leather band, holding the sealed scroll with one hand and the parchment of paper with the other. Unlike the scroll, the paper was only folded, not sealed. As such, he decided to read it first. “Those are Lord Dragosh’s words”, Edmond mumbled, as he began to read through the contents of the letter. His eyes quickly darted over the words, faster than his mouth could speak them and his eyes widened before he even finished with the whole thing. Alicent, curious now, slapped his upper arm. “Well, what does it say?”, she hissed. “Don’t make such a big deal out of it” “But it is…”, Edmond gasped, before he pulled himself together. “Just… listen” Alicent gave him a nod and he also was under the impression that the spirit of Lord Viburn was listening as well. As such, he took a deep breath before he began. “For those that may read these words, know that they have been written down by Dragosh Corrstone, Baron of Sicklecourt by birth and Margrave of Griffinsford by marriage, by the grace of the Lioness HER Sword of Swords, True Shield of the Twelve Gods, The Righteous Claw Pointed at the Throats of HER Enemies”, he intoned and Alicent could not hide a mildly annoyed smile. “So pompous…”, she chuckled. “Go on” Edmond rolled his eyes, before he gave her a nod. “This letter in particular concerns Walmir Giselliglava of Styring, Master of the Dominion Middenlands, or his rightful successor should he have fallen in battle. Should anyone else happen to come upon this letter, you are hereby ordered to deliver it to its rightful recipient at once without reading another word. I trust in your integrity, Priest of Rondra” Alicent raised an eyebrow. “He really did not expect a thief to break into his study”, she sighed. “Admittedly, this is a gutsy move by us. Anyone spots us, we’re as good as dead” Edmond could only agree with a grunt, before he continued to read. “Walmir”, he continued. “You might wonder why I leave you with this letter. By now, I presume to have perished in the true domain of our church, in righteous combat against the foes of our goddess. The orks have too long been allowed to thrive in their steppes. For too long did the House of the Fox do nothing as the Blackfurs multiplied, as their raids became ever more daring, as they tested our defences. The House of Gareth did nothing as orks took Griffinsford, as they burned down Meadows and the Kosh, as good men gave everything to hold them back on the Plains of Silk. As I write these words, I aim to fix their mistake. I aim to avenge the Orkenstorm and the many lives lost. I aim to bring back honour to our church and to regain the trust we have lost in the wake of Lord Viburn’s death” Edmond briefly read over the rest of this letter’s content in silence, his expression darkening before he continued. “War has always been our calling and in war, brave men die. I have no intention of dying, but if you read these signs, then undoubtedly I must have perished at the hands of the Blackfurs. I doubt my spirit will be welcome in Rondra’s Holy Halls unless I ease my burden. In life, I never had the chance, but in death, I must confess. This note should be tied to the Last Will of Lord Viburn Aellanburg of Hengisford and upon reading through both of these, much shall be clearer. Before I continue, however, let me state it once more that the following words are meant solely for the eyes of the Master of the Dominion Middenlands” “Yeah, don’t care much about that”, Alicent chuckled. “He wants nobody to go through his stuff, he should have guarded it better” Her comment was reasonable from a perspective of someone who knew little about the Church of Rondra, but Edmond had grown up in these lands. He knew how obedient the priests and acolytes were to their superiors. Even their servants were usually tested for loyalty, which proved to Edmond that Braken must have had a hand in getting Alicent into the Rhodestone as his spy. To anyone else, even the thought of breaking into Lord Dragosh’s study was unthinkable. “Let it be known, I had no hand in my predecessor’s death”, Edmond continued and Alicent fell silent at once, her eyes wide with anticipation. “Though he served well and true for many good years, Viburn was not without flaws. During his term, the orks grew stronger, while our northern bastions crumbled. The loss of the entire Valley of Svelt during the Orkenstorm is proof enough of his failures” As Edmond spoke these words, he kept a careful eye on the ghost of the previous Sword of Swords. Though the specter had little way of communicating without taking control of a body, it remained perfectly still. If it even understood the weight of these accusations, it showed no sign of shame. “The worst of his failures, however, was his choice of a successor”, he continued. “Mortally wounded by blackfur knives, hearing reports of hordes of orks taking Gashok and Tjolmar, he did not appoint a reasonable leader, not the strong, firm hand we needed to survive the onslaught of these savage beasts, no, he chose a woman barely grown, a lesser priestess whom he harboured a fatherly fondness for” “Oh… oh shit…”, Alicent gasped and Edmond could only nod. “Oh shit indeed”, he confirmed, before he continued. “Traditionally, as I must remind you here, the Sword of Swords chooses their own successor and the Masters of the Dominions simply confirm this choice. But this is mere tradition instead of written law. By said law, the council members are the ones to decide. And above all, Rondra is the authority that confirms a Sword of Swords in their position. As such, I have broken no law by withholding Viburn’s decision from you and the other council members” “Sounds awfully defensive”, Alicent mumbled and once again, Edmond could only agree with her. “That man knew he did something deeply wrong”, he replied, before he kept reading. “Just listen to this… In conclusion, I broke with tradition, not law. The Lioness accepted me as HER Sword of Swords and I worked tirelessly to restore confidence in HER church ever since. As such, the revered council might surely consider my actions a moral blunder, but I have utmost faith that you will see their necessity. Pragmatism has never been a strength of this revered church, but sometimes it is not without its merits. Call me duplicitous if you must, but I am convinced that my actions were necessary. For Aventuria. For Rondra. Always” Silence followed, as both tried to wrap their heads around what they had just learned. “So… did I get that right?”, Alicent began. “Lord Viburn is mortally wounded by an ork assassin. On his deathbed, he appoints a new Sword of Swords, as it is customary in his church. However, the only one present at the time was his faithful right hand, Dragosh Corrstone, who… just chooses to ignore the man’s wish and claims that he himself has been appointed as the new Sword of Swords” “Ruling over the church ever since, yes”, Edmond confirmed. “Braken must have known, somehow, he must have been looking for clues to prove it. I wonder why Lord Dragosh even wrote something so damning to himself” He glanced at the sealed scrolls, wondering if he should even open it, or find a way to deliver it to the council sealed. “Those are not the words of a man with a clean conscience”, Alicent interjected. “He confessed here in private because he feels guilty over it” He glanced at her, noticing the surprisingly accurate insight in her words. Their eyes met. “Wouldn’t you?”, she asked. “When faced with the choice to either betray your church or see an inadequate leader ruin it… wouldn’t you pick the same option?” He honestly could not give her an answer to that. Liscom had been his mentor, the leader of his branch of Borbaradianism ever since he had first joined the movement. However, other branches had different leaders entirely. Braken had been zealous in his faith, but his methods had always been questionable. Menchal ak’Taran was a fraud and Edmond could not even consider ever working beneath him. And even Liscom had not been without flaws… he closed his eyes for a second, seeing the desolation of Drakesfield before him. His fists clenched around the scroll. “Shall we take a look?”, he asked and Alicent gave him an immediate nod. “Let me”, she spoke, her tone eager now. “That’s the least you can get me after that damn ghost” She snatched the scrolls from his hands before he could even offer it to her, not that he was going to protest. They had come this far and he knew that there was no chance a loyal Rondrian would ever break this seal even if presented with proof of Dragosh’s betrayal. Alicent opened the seal with surprising care. Above her, the ghost of Viburn flickered and slowly seemed to grow weaker, as the spell ran out and Edmond’s arcane sight faded. But he knew better than to assume that they were alone now. The ghost was still there, waiting with growing impatience and it would be only a matter of time until he’d take action again. As such, Edmond was far from calm, watching Alicent, the place above her where Viburn’s spirit had hovered just moments ago, but also the door, fearing discovery in this compromising position. “Damn…”, Alicent gasped, as she read through the scroll. “No matter Dragosh did what he did. I’d be furious in his stead” Edmond narrowed his eyes, carefully placing a finger on his lips. Though he was not certain how much the ghost could even comprehend in his current state, he knew better than to anger it. Thankfully, she understood. “I don’t claim to know much about the inner workings of this church”, she admitted. “But out of all the choices he could have made for his successor… he had to go for his squire?” “Ayla of Shadowsground”, Edmond realized, remembering the woman from back when he had arrived at the Rhodestone. She was, at the most, a few years older than him, a good twenty to thirty years younger than any member of the inner council, way too young for such a duty. He remembered the odd hostility Lord Dragosh had shown towards her and now it made a lot more sense. “I heard rumours that Viburn was fond of her”, Alicent admitted. “Not as a lover, no, but as a parent. He mentored her, clearly shaping her up to be his successor at some point, but even the most optimistic knights I spoke to don’t think she’s up for it yet. Had Lord Viburn lived for another decade, then sure, she would have been as good a choice as any, but now? I’m not saying I condone his actions, but I can understand where Dragosh comes from” Edmond gave her a tense nod. “He clearly expected himself to be Viburn’s chosen successor...", he mumbled. "But instead his lord nominates his young squire instead, a girl half his age, not even a third as experienced, someone who is seen as too young for this duty by literally everyone in the church” He shook his head. “At the same time, he knows that the council would go through with Viburn’s nomination, if only out of respect for the man”, he continued. “And so, he keeps the last will hidden and claims that Viburn chose a different candidate, one that would be much more popular among the traditionalists within his church” “One that would be willing to start a war to avenge the Orkenstorm”, Alicent confirmed, as she handed him the last will. The handwriting was the same as on the confession note, but written with more care. The words were written by Lord Dragosh, but dictated by his predecessor, with the dying man himself setting a shaky signature beneath it. And Alicent was right. Out of all the possible candidates, from his right-hand man, to the revered members of his council, to any priest of Rondra who had become a hero during the Orkenstorm or even in the wars before that, Lord Viburn had chosen his young squire, out of misplaced paternal fondness. And Dragosh, in anger over what he surely perceived as a great betrayal, had broken a sacred tradition of his church and the trust his old friend had placed in him. If such news would come to light, his position in the church would be in jeopardy. Worse leaders had survived greater misdeeds, but surely he would, at best, remain leader in name only, a man whose authority would be forever challenged. “Braken knew”, Alicent realized. “I don’t know how, but somehow he knew. Had he managed to reveal this information, the Church of Rondra would have fallen into disarray. At worst, they would have fought against each other as they did during the Dark Times” Edmond gave her a grim nod. “As the Church of Praios is doing now”, he confirmed. “They would be in no position to stop Borbarad’s rise to power” “So, what are we going to do with this?”, Alicent asked. “I mean, I understand why he did this, but we have to reveal it, right? We have to tell someone, if only to see Braken’s last plan come to pass. For Borbarad… right?” Edmond gave her a curt nod. “For Borbarad”, he confirmed, even if this did not sit right with him. The Rondrians were protectors, their swords and shields had saved countless lives during the Orkenstorm. A church in disarray meant chaos, violence and death. And yet, sometimes good men had to do evil deeds to usher in the golden age that was promised. Borbarad’s return was worth any sacrifice. “We will reveal this”, he spoke. “But I have no idea whom we should tell. The Rondrians would likely refuse to even read this” He shook his head. “Let’s get out of here for now. Asmodeus will know what to do. He is of high birth and has contacts he could speak to. But we must be careful. If we give this to the wrong person, it’ll be hidden away in some drawer once again” As he rose from the ground, he offered one hand to Alicent, who rolled her eyes. “I’m fine”, she claimed, even if she was still a little pale. Her mood had brightened significantly now that they had uncovered Braken’s final secret. Revealing this would, in a way, make her mentor’s sacrifice worthwhile. It’d bring Borbarad’s triumph all the closer, for in the unrest sure to follow in his return, the Church of Rondra would be the fiercest enemies imaginable. Alicent struggled back onto her feet on her own, staggering backwards a little bit and Edmond placed a hand on her shoulder to support her. Her smile grew slightly thinner. “So concerned”, she sighed. “Seriously, there is no need. I’m all good now” He doubted her words, but had to respect her determination and as such, he backed off. “Alright”, he replied. “Let’s get out of her and quickly so. Once we regroup with Asmodeus and Urdo, we get the hell out of here” As they moved through the room, Edmond glanced around for any sign of the ghost. He had no doubt it was still around, but with the effects of his spell having run off, he had no way of conventionally seeing it. And yet, the air still had a certain chill to it and he felt a deep unease, as if someone was intensely watching him. “We’ll use this”, he promised. “Lord Dragosh’s deception will come to light” He had no idea if this was enough for the ghost, but he felt better having said it. The last thing he needed right now was a vengeful, half-mad specter on his back. With great caution, he opened the door, glancing to the right at first. Nobody was there and he let out a deep sigh of relief. Just as he turned left, however, he felt the cold tip of a sword pressed against his throat, forcing him to stop dead in his tracks. He hadn’t heard anyone approaching the door as they had moved through the room, but there she was, equal parts the person he wanted to see the most and the least after what he had just learned in the study. “Hands where I can see them, mage”, Ayla of Shadowsground hissed, her tone a low, angry growl. Somehow, she had managed to sneak up on him in her protective plate armour, somehow she had managed to draw the sword and point it at him before he even noticed. Or perhaps, as Edmond had to admit, he just was not very perceptive to begin with. It didn’t change the fact that for a second, he had no response to her demand except to meet it in full. With his hands up, he took one step out of the study, the sword following him, still nearly digging into his flesh. Alicent understood at once, but even though she remained in the study, it was to no avail. “Your friend too”, the priestess spat. “And don’t even attempt to cast a spell. I will cut you down before you finish the incantation” It was no empty threat and he was painfully aware of it. As powerful as magic could be, as much of an advantage as he would usually have over a physical combatant, right now none of it mattered. Magic could be fast, but not as fast as a sword already pressed against his throat. “Now, you will tell me what you did in Lord Dragosh’s study”, Ayla hissed, as she allowed him to turn towards her. He could see her clearly now and perhaps it was just the blade whose tip she kept digging into his flesh, but right now he had a harder time understanding Lord Dragosh’s deception. She was young, yes, but nearing thirty already, with a tall and imposing build for a woman. With her wild, blonde locks and sharp, blue eyes, she was as fierce a lioness as any priestess of her order. He’d have to be very careful to navigate out of this, if he even could. "I thought I heard something and look at that... two thieves" Behind him, Alicent obediently followed him out of the study, similarly hesitant. Unlike Edmond, she had no sword pointed at her and there was no other Priest of Rondra in sight, but this one alone would be enough to kill the both of them. “We…”, he stuttered and for all his smarts, his mind just went blank right now. “We… uh… we just…” He frowned and briefly closed his eyes, as the panic of having a sharpened sword pointed at his throat threatened to overcome him. “We broke into the study”, Alicent confessed at once. “But before you take action, hear us out. I beg of you, just listen to what we have to say before you make a decision” It was a gamble and Edmond knew it, perhaps better than she did. Breaking into Lord Dragosh’s study gave Ayla all the reason she needed to execute them on the spot. He had met priests of Rondra who would have been all too happy to dish out this punishment, overly zealous brutes who relished in the brutality of combat. And yet, there was a calmness in Ayla’s fury. “Speak then”, she hissed and for the first time, her gaze wandered, spotting the scroll in the girl’s hands. “And what in Rondra’s name do you have there? Have you stolen from the lord’s study?” Though her gaze wandered, her body remained firm and the sword remained pointed right at Edmond, ready to strike him down at a moment’s notice. “I will give you one chance to explain yourself and then I will make my choice” “Why don’t you just take a look at this?”, Alicent argued. “Just for a moment. Perhaps you will see things clearer then” She walked up next to Edmond, only barely staying out of the sword’s reach, as she held the scroll in front of her. Ayla’s eyes narrowed and her expression grew even sterner. “That is Lord Viburn’s seal, broken”, she hissed. “You are not helping your cause, girl” “On the contrary, I think you need to see this”, Alicent argued. “This is not just any document, but something the Sword of Swords wanted to keep hidden for the rest of his life. It is Lord Viburn’s last will” A brief moment of conflicting emotions flashed across Ayla’s face, but just like that, fury won once again. “I am sure he had good reason for it”, she replied. “I will not betray my lord’s trust by reading through something never meant for my eyes” That was more like the reaction he had expected from a Priestess of Rondra. She believed in the higher authorities that she served under, she had nothing but utmost faith in the pinnacles that kept this world working. Edmond had always felt more comfort in challenging the status quo and he had never been content with accepting it. “And what if I tell you that it is meant for your eyes?”, he asked. “Have you ever wondered what Lord Viburn said to Dragosh as he was dying? Please, just… if you do not believe us, then read this. Your lord, the man who mentored you throughout your entire career, did not want Dragosh to be his successor. Please, just take a look at it” Her words were filled with urgency, enough to make the priestess’ conviction falter for a second. She glanced at the document, which Alicent so openly displayed, just long enough for her eyes to widen. “Those are Viburn’s words”, she gasped and Edmond could actually see a hint of emotion in her gaze, though her posture remained firm and her expression hard as steel. “But… how…?” She shook her head, decisively. “I am not worthy of this honour. Not yet” “Lord Viburn thought differently”, Edmond disagreed. “Regardless, isn’t honesty a pillar of your faith? Lord Dragosh betrayed Viburn’s trust, he betrayed the council and he betrayed the lioness…” He came no further, as the sword dug deeper into his flesh, this time actually drawing blood. “Not another word”, Ayla hissed, her tone more furious than ever now. He had hoped Alicent’s open display of their findings would make her more inclined to aid them, but it seemed it only made her angrier. “Lord Dragosh is still my leader. He is still chosen by the goddess. Viburn’s personal feelings do not matter here” And yet, even with the growing fear of being decapitated right here and now, Edmond could sense that he was getting to her. “Then it’s not as if he has anything to fear from hiding the truth, right?”, he mumbled, as loudly as he still dared. Ayla’s gaze pierced deeper than her blade. “That is all we’re here for. Let the council know of Lord Dragosh’s actions. Let them decide for themselves whom they want as their leader” He gave her an urgent, pleading look, hoping to finally get through to her. It was a tense situation, yet he found some solace in the fact that for as threatening as her gesture was, he knew the tenets of her faith would not allow her to harm an unarmed man. The young priestess shook her head. “Now I see what you’re doing here”, she hissed. “I don’t know your motives, but your actions paint a clear picture. Breaking into my lord’s study, trying to pit me against him, trying to throw the council into disarray, all under the fairly hollow claim of good intentions. I will not allow my church to make the same mistakes as the Praiots are doing right now” She shot him a fiery glare. “And do not expect me to go easy on you because you are unarmed”, she added. “I have seen what your kind is capable of, mage. You are never truly unarmed, aren’t you?” Edmond’s eyes widened, as he realized she had seen right through him. As good as his intentions were, his actions would bring chaos to the Church of Rondra. As much as he wanted to bring Dragosh’s actions to light, he could not deny that he was doing it not for the good of Ayla or her church. And as much as he’d love to claim otherwise, it was true that he was not unarmed. He could try to fight back against her, given a bit of luck he could even kill her, but Edmond had never been one to leave things to luck. She had a sword pressed against his throat and it would take her the fraction of a second to open it from cheek to cheek. He was fast with his spells, but right now, she was faster. “So you intend not to use this?”, he asked and once more, Ayla shook her head. “Oh, I will”, she promised. “But it will be on my own terms. I know nothing of your intentions, mage, so I will not trust you with this evidence. I will take this to people I trust and when the time is right, we will bring this to Lord Dragosh’s attention and give him a chance to properly defend himself against this… admittedly fairly damning evidence” Behind Edmond, Alicent took a deep breath, but before she could say anything, he interjected. “And what about us?”, he asked. “I feel like we both want the same thing here, Ayla. How can we prove that we mean well?” The priestess thought about his words for a moment, before she replied. “Surrender peacefully”, she ordered him sternly. “Do not fight back, do not resist, fully comply with our investigation and I might believe you” For a second, she seemed ready to lower her blade, before her expression hardened again. “My church is not known for mercy, but I promise you a fair, impartial trial. If your intentions are truly as good as you claim them to be, then the council will certainly take this into account” Under any other circumstance, Edmond would have fought back without a second thought. But he knew for a fact that Ayla’s offer was genuine, that she truly was going to grant them a fair trial to the best of her abilities. Her church was more than just a bit self-righteous, but nobody could accuse them of dishonesty. Well, aside for their leader, it seemed. “Can you promise our safety if we comply?”, he asked and this time, Ayla gave him a nod without hesitation. “I vow to keep you safe until your trial”, she promised him. “Please… if this claim of yours has any merit, if you truly broke into my lord’s study out of misplaced, but genuinely good intentions, then work with me. Surrender, comply with the investigation and your good will shall be taken into account" She actually meant it, he knew that someone of a faith as ardent as hers was no liar. And yet, he was not certain if surrendering was truly the wisest option here. Arguing with her, trying to convince her, it was a risky move but it might just work. And fighting back... that was always an option, but he knew that one wrong move could mean certain death for him. And one wrong word couldn't help either. [Surrender to Ayla] [Try to convince her] [Use the moment to fight back and escape]
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Post by InGenNateKenny on Jul 30, 2023 2:48:32 GMT
[Surrender to Ayla] Urdo will save us anyway.
This is an interesting part, and certainly the plot thickened. I wonder what the ghost will think of all of this; what the ghost will think of Ayla. Could he try to possess her or he just stuck in that room since the armor was there?
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Post by TheAPlegends on Aug 2, 2023 15:02:12 GMT
[Try to convince her]
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Post by GMS Freeman on Aug 2, 2023 16:19:53 GMT
[Try to convince her]
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Post by diversegnu on Aug 2, 2023 21:13:00 GMT
[Surrender to Ayla]
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Post by Tales93 on Aug 28, 2023 0:55:10 GMT
I'm back and ready to vote.
I would like to remind everyone that I predicted this! If you guys remember, I commented on the last Edmond part that my theory was that Drogosh usurped the position of Viburn's successor from Ayla. That's why Viburn's spirit was saying their was a great sin and a thief and pointed to the locked drawer. I figured this was his will and would prove it. I was right! This will definitely cause political drama within the church, and depending on how it's handled can split the church in at least two possible warring factions if not more. Revealing this information is definitely a great maneuver for the Borbaradians.
[Try to convince her]
It was between this and surrendering. I figured it couldn't hurt to try and reason with her more. Although, I'm sort of skeptical that her mind can be changed. If they end up arrested anyways; I wonder if Asmodeus could possibly use his noble contacts to help them, or Urdo could possibly just break them out.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Oct 19, 2023 0:16:56 GMT
[Surrender to Ayla] Urdo will save us anyway. This is an interesting part, and certainly the plot thickened. I wonder what the ghost will think of all of this; what the ghost will think of Ayla. Could he try to possess her or he just stuck in that room since the armor was there? Hm, we will definitely get the ghost's view on all this in one of Edmond's next parts. In life, Viburn was very fond of Ayla, she was his chosen successor after all, his surrogate daughter and favoured squire, so it stands to reason that Viburn as he used to be would never harm her (and as we have seen with Alicent, ghostly possession is VERY harmful). At the same time, death changes a person, so really anything can happen if she were to encounter him.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Oct 19, 2023 0:21:04 GMT
I'm back and ready to vote. I would like to remind everyone that I predicted this! If you guys remember, I commented on the last Edmond part that my theory was that Drogosh usurped the position of Viburn's successor from Ayla. That's why Viburn's spirit was saying their was a great sin and a thief and pointed to the locked drawer. I figured this was his will and would prove it. I was right! This will definitely cause political drama within the church, and depending on how it's handled can split the church in at least two possible warring factions if not more. Revealing this information is definitely a great maneuver for the Borbaradians. [Try to convince her]It was between this and surrendering. I figured it couldn't hurt to try and reason with her more. Although, I'm sort of skeptical that her mind can be changed. If they end up arrested anyways; I wonder if Asmodeus could possibly use his noble contacts to help them, or Urdo could possibly just break them out. You did indeed call it, I was amazed by that theory! Now I can comment on it openly, because you were spot on. Dragosh might have had good intentions (or what he perceives as good intentions), but he commited high treason by betraying Viburn's last will. He has some minor leeway in that the goddess Rondra seems to have accepted him, but his actions went against church protocol in a massive way. If it is revealed, it might indeed plunge the church into great disorder. The very same recently happened with the other big church among the Cult of the Twelve Gods, the Church of Praios, which is currently undergoing an open power struggle (made even worse by the fact that Praios stands for order). If both churches were to be thrown into a civil war, then the Borbaradians would have little to fear from the clergy of Aventuria. The only other church with standing forces is the Church of Boron, but most of their forces are located in southern Aventuria, as part of the Al'Anfanian Empire.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Oct 19, 2023 0:22:13 GMT
The Coting is closed!
Edmond is going to try and convince Ayla This is kind of a far shot he's taking there. Ayla is utterly devoted to the Church of Rondra, which itself is very strict in its hierarchy. Dragosh is her leader, wether she likes it or not, wether he is righteous or not. However, there might be a tiny chance to get her to doubt her orders. We will see in his next part, this one was quite an important choice in his storyline. The next part will be out right now. This one took me a long time, mostly because I was in a very critical part of my apprenticeship at the hospital, working super long shifts and preparing for my first batch of exams. I am proud to reveal that I passed with excellent grades. Of course, I do have two more years of this ahead of me, but this initial round of exams is super important, because it's where they weed out those unfit for the job. Quite a number of my classmates did not pass. Now I am on vacation, I am going to relax, take things easy for a bit and, most importantly, get some writing done. Thanks for sticking around, I hope you will enjoy this next part. This next part will be an Iiro part. Last time we saw him, he and his companions went to the Coppersmith homestead, where they encountered the husband of the vampire Nadarie, the one who had abducted Dangig Skywood during Kobold's confrontation with the Whorescarver in Baliho. Nadarie's husband revealed her rather tragic backstory, explaining that she was a huntress who was near-critically injured during a hunt, which left her unable to bear children. Angry and disillusioned, she rejected Firun, the god of the hunt (who is also the god of winter, so this deed likely saved her life, given that vampires who believed in Firun during their old life are unable to survive in the freezing temperatures that have engulfed Meadows at this point) and turned to the demigoddess Ifirn, the goddess of gentle winters and new beginnings. Of course, that was before she was turned into a vampire. Right now, as you may remember, she and the goblin vampire Gruugraz are on the hunt for our heroes. Iiro and his companions left her husband with some warm words of comfort, before making their way back to Menzhome, where the rest of their companions and their new ally Kobold was waiting. On their way, they encountered a surprising battlefield, where one man had apparently defeated half a dozen, though merely knocking them out instead of killing them. These people were the thugs who ambushed Kobold in an earlier part and the man who knocked them out now was none other than Raidri Conchobair, the most famous hero in all Aventuria, a master swordsman and childhood hero of Iiro. Raidri had been sent to investigate the vampire plague by Duke Waldemar of Meadows and he was originally supposed to join forces with Iiro and his group, but he travelled ahead before they arrived at Waldemar's court at the beginning of this chapter. Hesitant to trust Iiro and his companions right away, he decided to test his worth, namely by challenging him to a friendly duel. Though initially star-struck, Iiro recovered enough of his composure to accept the duel, despite knowing that he is hopelessly outmatched against this legendary hero. The next part will begin with that scene. As I said above, it will be out right now and I hope you enjoy it.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Oct 19, 2023 0:24:16 GMT
Iiro For a second, Iiro could not contain a smirk. “In that case, Sir Raidri, I accept”, he spoke, his voice shaky with nervousness. Fighting a duel against his childhood hero was a dream come true, even if he had little illusions about the difference between the two of them. After all, this was Raidri Conchobair, a hero a hundred times over, the man who had fought the Blood Twins during the Tuzak Uprising and the Raven Emperor during the Answin Crisis. He was beyond the skill of an ordinary man and as much pride as Iiro took in his own swordplay, he knew Raidri could take ten men of his skill on at once. The Sword King shot him a crooked smirk. “Excellent”, he spoke, but to Iiro’s surprise he lowered his swords. “Of course, it would hardly be a fair fight were I to go at you at full force. I want to test your mettle, not kill you where you stand” He raised his right arm again, this time twirling the blade in his hand so that the hilt pointed at Iiro. “You will fight me with a proper sword”, he spoke and the sapphire that was crafted into the hilt gleamed in the setting sun. “Responder, the azure blade, shall be more than enough” Iiro’s eyes widened at this generous gesture, but refusing it never even crossed his mind. Instead, he reached out and grabbed the offered hilt, feeling the cold steel beneath his fingers. He had only ever fought with his own sword, a weapon made of fine steel from Maraskan, a gift from his father who had fought Reto’s war on that godsforsaken island and returned a bitter cripple. Still, swords like his own were common, thousands of them could be found in Meadows alone. Responder meanwhile was made of endurium, the heavy, black metal that never lost its sharpness and which only master blacksmiths could even form. Only a handful of swords like it existed in this world, each a weapon of legend, wielded by emperors and heroes of renown. He lifted the sword up, taking a hesitant swing with it and though it was notably heavier than his own steel sword, he was surprised by how balanced it was. It cut through the air with a gentle hum, sharpness radiating from its edges, while even the bright sun left barely a reflection on it. Iiro had heard the story a thousand times, his father had even been there on that day, when Raidri Conchobair killed both of the Blood Twins, the infamous leaders of the Tuzak Uprising and took their twin blades for himself. To think that he held one of them in his hands left him breathless. “Come on, Iiro, you got this!”, Nadim exclaimed and as Iiro glanced over his shoulder, he noticed that his companions seemed quite eager. Well, Nadim and Relin were. The latter had a wide, fascinated expression on his face, one that reminded Iiro of his own whenever he witnessed a fine fight back in his youth. Cilie kept quiet, slightly shaking her head in disapproval, but she did not intervene. “If you are quite ready, you may take the first strike”, the Sword King offered, holding Revenger loosely in his left hand. Iiro took a deep breath and pulled himself together, before he narrowed his eyes. “Then ready yourself!”, he barked, as he took a swing at his opponent. Responder cut through the air, faster and easier than he expected for a sword of such an uncommon weight and though he had no intention of killing the man, he knew better than to pull any punches. He was confident that Raidri would parry and indeed, the Sword King did not disappoint. He rose Revenger upwards, meeting Responder inches away from his head. Where Iiro had swung the heavy bastard sword with both hands, Raidri used only one. “A fine strike”, the Albernian complimented him, as their blades separated again. “But I believe you can do better” This time, he attacked first. It was a swift stab, expertly aimed at Iiro’s lower chest, but not too difficult to deflect. Still, it came fast enough for Iiro to recoil back, as the Sword King forced him to defend himself. The next stab followed immediately after the first, then another, faster than the ones before. They were each quite simple, but the sheer speed with which they came forced Iiro to remain defensive. He deflected one blow, then the next, before Raidri switched things up again, just before Iiro could get used to it. This time, he attacked with a high strike and it took Iiro all of his skill to block in time. Sweat dripped off his forehead and he held against the other blade with both hands. Raidri Conchobair, meanwhile, only shot him a thin smirk, his barely raised breath showing that he could go much more serious if he wanted to. He was holding back with ease while Iiro was close to giving it his all. If this was his definition of a friendly spar, Iiro didn’t want to know how he would fight against his enemies. Iiro knew that victory was unlikely, but he still had to try. And for that, he had to stop being pushed back. He had to take the initiative, a feat easier said than done. Immediately after parrying the Sword King’s strike, he tried to attack, but Raidri shut him down hard by taking another swing at his head. His strength was exceptional, yes, but Iiro realized immediately that it was his speed that made him so much better than other fighters. Every time he tried to attack, the Raidri had already anticipated the move and acted faster. His attacks were met with swift blows that forced him to defend himself mid-swing, changing a well-aimed attack into a headless parry. Iiro was forced back more and more and this happened despite the fine weapon he wielded right now. His own sword, objectively inferior, would have stood no chance against Raidri’s endurium-forced blade. At worst, it might have even shattered. With a roar, Iiro pushed forward and this time, he actually managed to go through with one attack. It was a desperate gamble, but by ducking beneath Raidri’s blade, he created an opening and for the first time since their duel began, he managed to push him back, if only for a second. The Sword King’s eyes widened with surprise, as he took a step backwards, his blade meeting Iiro’s not to attack, but to defend himself. Then, his grin widened. “That’s the spirit!”, he chuckled, as their blades separated again. When he attacked again, he was a changed man. Gone was the restraint he had shown just seconds ago. Of course, he was still not fighting Iiro with killing intent, but at least he was taking this duel seriously now. Grabbing the bastard sword with both hands, he made good use of Revenger’s reach, dealing heavy and precise blows against Iiro’s guard. The whole thing was over in a few more seconds. With one strike, he forced Iiro back, before causing him to stagger with the next. It happened fast, so fast that Iiro could barely follow the attacks, acting more on instinct than with any plan behind it. Raidri remained calm, with all the advantages in his favour. Another high attack and this time, Iiro blocked the blade only inches in front of his face. Instead of separating from him again, Raidri closed the distance and moved to the side, the two blades slicing across each other, with Revenger cutting closer to Iiro’s throat, as the Sword King pressed his blade against Iiro’s. “Do you yield?”, he asked and Iiro narrowed his eyes. Chanceless as he was, he was having the time of his life. He would give it his all. Raidri sensed his determination and he continued his move. In a serious fight, it would have been simple to cut Iiro’s throat right now, but he showed that much restraint at least by moving to the side, their blades separating again. Just moments ago, Iiro had pressed against the other sword with all his might, now there was nothing. He staggered forward, past the Sword King, who rammed the pommel of his sword against Iiro’s well-protected back. It was not a painful blow, but it was enough to make him stumble. Helpless in the fresh snow, Iiro stumbled forwards and dropped on all fours. A growl left his throat, as he felt cold steel on his throat. “Do you yield?”, Raidri asked again, as Iiro let go of his blade. Instead of a reply, he punched into the snow beneath him and it was all the answer the Sword King needed. “Good”, Raidri spoke, pulling back the uncomfortable sharpness. “Do not be disappointed, good man. I tried my best to make this as fair a fight as possible, but there is only so much I can do to limit myself. You did well” Iiro glanced over his shoulder and to his surprise, he noticed a genuine, pleased smile on the Sword King’s face. “You fared better than most would have against me”, he spoke, as he reached down with his free hand. After a second, Iiro accepted. “And unlike most, you even dared to take the challenge. That took guts and gave me the best damn fight I had in months. Good” He helped Iiro up, but let not go of his hand until the sellsword handed him back the priceless endurium blade he had just fought with. “It was a good fight”, Iiro agreed. “They do not call you the Sword King for nothing” This got a chuckle out of Raidri. “It was not a title I chose for myself, but I will be the first to admit that I earned it”, he stated with confidence. “And you, my new friend, have earned praise! Most would have been too cowardly to duel me, but you seemed positively excited about it. That takes guts and your skill is nothing to scoff at. You also did not yield until I had pushed you down. Determination is a fine virtue” Despite his momentary anger over the lost fight, Iiro felt warmth in his cheeks as this man, this hero, praised him so openly. “I… uh, thank you, Margrave”, he managed to stammer and Raidri openly laughed, a warm, jovial sound. “Raidri!”, he exclaimed. “My subjects call me Margrave Conchobair and strangers call me Sword King, but we have locked blades and now you are neither. Let us go back to this dark city and find some place warm and cozy. Drinks are on me” He looked at the rest of Iiro’s group. “The same goes for all of you. Fine company that you keep there”, he added and Nadim took a step forward. “I thank you for your generosity… Raidri”, he spoke. “I am Nadim Umer, of Broonsgorge” He extended a hand and with genuine enthusiasm, Raidri shook it. “A pleasure”, he replied. Relin was visibly more shy around such an accomplished hero, only managing a slight nod and a mumbled greeting, which Raidri replied to with a friendly chuckle and a pat onto the boy’s shoulder. When he came to Cilie, the jovial warrior effortlessly changed into a gallant knight, giving her a respectful bow usually reserved for a noblewoman. “And you, fair lady… forgive me for being so blunt, but you seem remarkably familiar”, he stated, which earned him a mild smirk from Cilie. “The name’s Cilie”, she introduced herself. “And we have met before indeed. About five years ago, you spent a night at Baliho on your way to Trallop, stayed at the inn I’ve been working at” She narrowed her eyes, but Iiro could see how she was more amused than annoyed at him. “You and your companion insisted you had no coin on you and I was naive enough to let you pay in stories instead. Guests were entertained, I suppose, but my boss wasn’t. Decked my pay for a fortnight” Raidri let out a hearty chuckle. “That does ring a bell, even if your face did not”, he chuckled. “I apologize for my foolishness” Cilie shrugged. “Forgiven and forgotten”, she stated graciously. “Besides, it wasn’t your idea. That other man with you, a Ravenmouth if I’m not mistaken, thought himself very smart when he offered to pay in stories” Briefly, Iiro noticed that Raidri’s smirk grew thinner and his expression darkened. This sullen look remained even after his smile returned in full force. “That must have been Galawain”, he sighed. “The usurper’s son and a man I loved like a brother” He shook his head. “It sounds like something he would have done”, he added. “Alas, let us not dwell on brighter times. May we take this someplace warmer?” With these words, he began to lead them away from the snow and away from the unconscious men who littered it. They’d be alright in a few hours from now, though probably sick from the cold, not that Iiro pitied them. Raidri had shown restraint keeping them alive at all. As such, he gladly followed after him, towards the looming city in the distance, feeling a sudden chill as he stepped across the snowy road. It was the Sword King who broke the silence. “I believe we have an enemy in common, yes?”, he spoke up and his tone was different now. Gone was the jovial glint in his eye, replaced by a firm focus, a seriousness befitting of the situation. His words were measured, as if he still did not fully trust Iiro, so the sellsword decided that honesty would be the best approach here. After all, he had the luxury of knowing that Raidri was on their side. Iiro chimed in again and gave him a nod. “Indeed we have, Sir Raidri”, he spoke. “We too have been sent by the duke” Raidri thought about this for a moment. “Yes, Waldemar mentioned something like this. So… you lot are the heroes of Drakesfield?”, he asked. Nadim dutifully shook his head. “Only Iiro here may claim this glory”, he spoke. “But others who stood with him await us in the city proper” “Good”, Raidri replied. “We do need as many heroes as we can get. Waldemar implored me to wait for you, but well… I decided to hurry ahead and achieved precious little on my own” He glanced over his shoulder at Iiro, then carefully at each of the others. “You have to do. I take it you already know what we’re up against” “Vampires”, Iiro confirmed, earning himself a grim nod from Raidri. “We have killed one in Broonsgorge and our companion Kobold managed to kill another in Baliho” Raidri narrowed his eyes. “And I slew another two at Oldnorthing”, he revealed. “This is not my first time running into these beasts, but they have always been solitary before. I encountered one maybe every decade. Now… it’s not quite an epidemic yet, but their numbers are alarming. At this rate, they are multiplying” “What can we do then?”, Iiro asked and he noticed the grim look on Raidri’s face almost immediately. “Precious little”, he admitted. “They are there now, they are alive and hungry and unless we find a way to kill them all at once, they will likely grow their numbers faster than we can cut them down. The only thing we can do is kill the one behind them” “We had a similar thought”, Iiro admitted. “Someone must be at the source of this. A vampire of great power or something else entirely. A queen, of sorts” For just a second, Raidri looked downright alarmed. “The vampire I slew mentioned something similar”, he whispered. “But their kind has no queen. They barely accept the authority of the vampire who turned them” “So, any chance that vampire is the one we’re looking for?”, Relin asked and while it was a reasonable question, Iiro knew things would not be this simple. “I doubt it”, Raidri disagreed. “Only an arch-vampire could turn this many people so quickly, but their kind is rare and for good reason. They are not just solitary, they are greedy and distrustful of their own kind. They are in control of their urges and know well never to leave a trace. As long as they don’t meddle in human affairs, we don’t venture to their dark corners of the world to cut them down. For one of them to act this foolishly, to turn so many people and to attract this much attention… why, that would be unthinkable. Unless…” He was quiet after this and Iiro stared at him from behind for a moment as they walked through the snow. “Unless?”, he asked after a second. Raidri’s sigh echoed wide. “Unless the arch-vampire is forced to act against his own nature”, he stated. “But there are even fewer beings who could subjugate them like this. They are creatures of the Nameless God and they do not bow easily” Thea’s warning rang through Iiro’s mind. She had left them to find Yveshin, to protect him from someone, something greater, a threat beyond mere vampires. “Actually… Raidri, there might be…”, he began, before he was cut off by someone calling to them. “Over here!”, a familiar voice sounded and as he gazed down the crossroads they found themselves at, he saw Joanna waving at them. Sir Maximus walked by her side, panting heavily from exhaustion. Immediately, Raidri’s attention was on them, as they walked closer. “Maximus Montclair”, the Sword King greeted him. “And… we have met as well, haven’t we? One of Waldemar’s soldiers” Joanna saluted in front of him. “Joanna Walter, sir”, she intoned. “Pleasure to see you again” Raidri took the gentlest of bows in front of her. “Pleasure’s all mine, captain”, he replied with a smirk. “I should have known Waldemar would send the two of you with the heroes of Drakesfield. Good. We may have need of your skills” Maximus have him a nod, his heavy breathing slowly getting calmer. “It is good that you’re here, Margrave Conchobair”, he sighed. “Something foul has taken ahold of this city and of its ruler. I called him a friend and a brother-in-arms once, but the Dustward I knew would have never done something as foul as this” He pointed into the distance, where Iiro could see the macabre gallow’s tree, or what was left of it. Maximus had felled mighty branches, cutting off any of the frozen corpses on display there and, from the looks of it and of him, had given them a proper burial despite the frozen ground. “He killed one of my own men, Raidri, hung him there for all to see”, Maximus added. “It happened under the guise of desertion, but I knew the man well and he was the most loyal soldier one could have hoped for, a close companion of my son, Marcel” His expression grew more dire. “They were inseparable last I saw them”, he added sternly and for a second, Iiro could see a crack in the calm facade of the knight. “So I have reason to believe my son might be here. It is only a short ride to Montclair Hall, but I dare not leave this city until I have confirmed my suspicion” The Sword King placed a hand on Maximus’ shoulder. “Then confirm it we shall”, he spoke. “Come. Let us find a proper place to dwell. We will decide on the right course of action together” He pointed towards the gate and now as a larger group, they approached it on foot. The sun was setting by now, their talk with Nadarie’s husband and Iiro’s duel with the Sword King had taken most of the few fleeting hours of sunlight that graced the land in these dark months and by now, Menzhome seemed even darker. There was something grim in this city, a wickedness clear to see on the walls, on its buildings and even on the faces of those they came across. With two knights by their side, not even the openly distrustful guards dared to challenge them, with one quickly waving them through, allowing them to step onto the muddy cobblestone that covered Menzhome’s main road. By now, even more buildings seemed lifeless, doors and windows shut, people hurrying inside as the group walked past them. Shockingly, the large inn Darbrek and Vittorio had chosen for them was not much livelier. Iiro would have expected any large establishment in a city like this to be filled with merry people, especially in these dark, cold months. It was warm and dry inside and genuinely comfortable, but only a handful of tables were filled, by dour-faced locals who spoke in hushed whispers. Hostile glances were thrown at them and not even the presence of Raidri Conchobair earned them any favours, not that the Sword King introduced himself. Vittorio, of course, noticed nothing of it. He had chosen a table in a slightly secluded corner of the taproom, giving them some degree of privacy, but his wide, booming smile was a far cry from the atmosphere around him. “Ah, my friends, it is so good that you made it!”, he exclaimed. There was an empty cup in front of him and two in front of the dwarf. Darbrek seemed notably more composed, however, greeting them with a nod and a quiet smile. “And you have brought a new companion. Who might you be, warrior?”, the mage added, as Raidri stepped past the rest of the group, his smile matching Vittorio’s. “You have heard of me”, he spoke confidently. “The name’s Raidri” Vittorio blinked once, as the realization hit him. His smile faded, as Raidri walked past him, sitting down on the finest seat at the table. “Conchobair?”, he gasped, as he stared at Iiro, his eyes wide with awe. “That’s Raidri Conchobair!”, he mouthed quietly, which got a much-needed chuckle out of Iiro. “We met Sir Raidri outside. He was dealing with a handful of thugs, the sort that is not too fond of outsiders”, Iiro explained. “We have a common enemy, so for the time being we have decided to team up” Vittorio sighed, as he sank down in his seat. “So… we just teamed up with Raidri fucking Conchobair”, he muttered. “May I say that this has officially become too large for us?” “Why the false modesty, my friend?”, Iiro asked, as he sat down next to Raidri. “You should know, this is Vittorio Crawford, one of the heroes of Drakesfield” Vittorio turned slightly red, a rare moment of embarrassment from him, as the Sword King gave him a smile. “Yes, I have heard of you”, Raidri spoke. “A mage of great skill, if Waldemar’s words could be believed. Given, he’d be in awe of a parlour’s trick even, but still, it is rare of him to speak highly of a mage. Where did you receive your training?” “Grangor”, Vittorio managed to utter, his usual confidence only returning slowly. Raidri gave him a measured nod. “A fine city filled with even finer people. You keep good company, Iiro Redal”, he stated. With these words, he turned to Darbrek, who looked up from his second cup. “Darbrek son of Darmor”, the dwarf growled. “Now, we introduced ourselves. They call you Sword King and hero and all manner of great words. You know how to deal with this mess, don’t you?” Raidri’s smile grew thinner, but he seemed decidedly pleased by Darbrek’s blunt tone. “Straight to the point, Master Dwarf”, he began, as he lowered his voice. They were alone in this secluded part of the taproom, but not out of earshot of any curious listener. “Then let me be frank as well. I have uncovered evidence that links this city to the centre of the vampire plague. It stands to reason that Ulgraine of Mersley-Boarstribe, the baron’s only child, has joined their ranks” Maximus let out a grim sigh. “We have reached the same conclusion”, he admitted. “Much as it pains me. She was a warm and lively young woman once and I remain fond of her father” His expression was serious as always, but unusually furious as well. “But if she laid a hand on my son, then Boron have mercy on her, I will cut her down” “We won’t let it come to that”, Iiro assured him swiftly, placing one hand on the knight’s shoulder. “But we’ll need a plan. Since you are familiar with the baron, what do you think we should do?” Maximus took a deep breath and the fury in his eyes was gone. “Yeah, of course…”, he mumbled. “Dustward was once a good and righteous man. He was a man I called friend in all earnesty. His daughter may have fallen to darkness, but I see no evidence that he is a vampire as well” “She would have turned him first though, wouldn’t she?”, Cilie brought up, but this time, Nadim shook his head. “I… we met a vampire in Broonsgorge” He glanced at Raidri with obvious nervousness. “Do I have your word that you will remain silent about this?”, he asked and the Sword King gave him a nod without hesitation. “Of course”, he confirmed. “What is it, my new friend?” “In Broonsgorge we met Lucy, a woman I’ve been courting for a while. She had been turned, but she had not yet turned her family. Her sister and mother had willingly given up their blood to keep her sated and sane. She never turned anyone, never attacked them either. Isn’t it possible that Lady Ulgraine has spared her father?” “Possible…”, Maximus admitted, but Iiro noticed how swiftly he jumped onto that hope. He could understand it as well. If one of his friends had been turned, Vittorio or Yveshin, he would hold out hope as well. “I would like to take that chance. The guards at the gate have likely informed him already, so Dustward knows we’re coming. If we approach him openly, perhaps there is a chance to reach him, to… talk him out of this” His hands were trembling as he spoke and Iiro could only imagine how shaken he was at what he had seen in this city and at the implication that his son might be here as well. “Any other options?”, Darbrek asked. “I don’t really like betting everything on one card. If the baron’s a bloodsucker, he’ll kill us all if he gets as much as a suspicion that we’re here to hunt his kind” “He’s got a suspicion already”, Nadim interjected. “He knows we’re in the city. It’s not as if Maximus or Raidri made any attempt at hiding their identities. The fact that we*re still up and walking means that maybe he’s not as far gone as you may fear” His expression faltered. “Or maybe I just want to believe that…”, he admitted quietly. Just in this moment, the door of the taproom opened loudly. From their secluded corner, Iiro could not see who entered, but he heard a familiar voice. “Iiro?”, Kobold croaked and a second later, the goblin came into sight. His limp seemed worse than before and his fur stood up, his eyes wide with concern. Behind him followed the mage, Abigale, who was supporting a younger man, a thin, pale boy who dragged himself alongside her. The goblin stopped in front of the table, glancing at the others while he tried to collect his breath. Finally, his gaze fell onto Raidri. “And who the fuck are you?”, he growled harshly. Raidri took the words calmly. “The Sword King”, he replied, to which Kobold sighed. “Of course you bloody are”, he snarled, before his gaze fell onto Raidri’s twin blades. His eyes widened even further, just for a moment. “You actually are… fuck me” With these words, he sank onto the chair behind him, still collecting his breath. One clawed hand was pressed against his weak leg and he grimaced in pain. “We got a problem”, he admitted. “I may have made a mistake” Immediately, Abigale shook her head. “You saved this boy’s life”, she spoke, as she helped the pale boy onto the bench. He sunk down next to Darbrek and the dwarf threw one brief look at him, before quietly sliding one of his mugs of ale over towards him. “Yeah and Eret paid the price for it”, Kobold replied with barely concealed anger. He looked around at the group. “We were at the temple, talking to the boy… that boy over there”, he began. “He told us some fairytale and suddenly, the place is swarming with guards. Not the city guard fucks, but ghastly people, coming from the castle. Something was wrong with them. They wanted to take the boy to the keep. To the baron” “You intervened?”, Darbrek spoke up, his voice betraying his surprise. Kobold gave him a disgruntled nod. “I was trying to distract them, so that Abby and the boy could sneak away”, he admitted. “Worked a little too well and, well, they ended up trying to arrest me. Just then, out of nowhere, Eret comes and decks one of them” For a second, a look of genuine remorse flashed over his cunning face. “I should probably give him a raise”, he sighed. “He distracted them, held them off long enough that even I with my blasted leg got away” With these words, he shot a glare at the pale boy next to Darbrek. “And all for some boy and his tall tale” “The boy has a name and his tale might be of interest to all of us”, Abigale interjected sternly. “Will, why don’t you tell them what you told us?” She narrowed her eyes at Kobold, but her expression softened almost immediately as she looked upon his pained, exhausted state. The boy pulled himself up, his back resting against the wall behind him. Darbrek gave him a pat onto the shoulder. “Go on, lad”, he encouraged him. “We’re listening” The boy, Will, took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the table in front of him. “The short version”, Kobold sighed and Will gave him a quiet nod. “We were attacked”, he whispered. “On the road. Me, my friends and… and Luna. The farmer’s daughter. A knight in black armour approached us, he wanted to take her away with him” His tone was quiet and measured, but his eyes were wide with fear. He had clearly told this story to Abigale and Kobold before, but telling it to so many people at once was something else entirely. “Something was off about him. He was so tall, but lean and his armour… I’ve never seen anything like it. I don’t think he was human. He attacked us with spell and sword, slaying my friends and…” “Excuse me, did you just say spell?”, Vittorio interjected. “You mentioned he wore armour. That’s impossible. Any mage knows that forged iron interrupts the flow of magic, makes it difficult or downright impossible to cast spells for the one wearing it. That’s why none of my kind wears mail or plate” “That and the Codex Albyricus”, Abigale reminded him, to which the Almadani rolled his eyes. “Yes and the rulebook”, he agreed. “Fact is, it doesn’t even need to be a rule. It’s impossible, simple as that. I don’t know what you’ve seen, boy, but it cannot be. I have seen mages who are strong enough to cast while wearing light mail, but full plate? Why, Rohal and Basilius could not do such a feat” “Unless it wasn’t forged steel”, Raidri brought up. Unlike Vittorio, who had an amused, dismissive smirk on his face, the Sword King seemed openly concerned. “There are certain metals that do not interrupt the flow of magic even when forged” Vittorio gave him a surprised nod. “I did not expect a swordsman to know about them, but yes”, he confirmed. A brief smile flashed across Raidri’s face. “I am older than I may look, Master Crawford”, he replied. “I have seen things over the course of my life” “Whatever the reason, you are quite right”, Vittorio confirmed. “The five arcane metals. Of them, Mindorium and Arkanium even improve the prowess of the spellcaster. But they are rare and weak, fit mostly for smaller objects or jewelry. An armour made of them would be as expensive and unwieldy as one made of gold” “I’m not talking about the more common arcane metals”, Raidri brought up. Iiro, of course, could barely follow this talk, but he could see the concern flashing over Abigale’s face, while Vittorio’s confident smirk faded in an instant. “You mean… no. That is a ridiculous notion and one we should not even entertain”, the mage stuttered. “The boy almost died out there. He’s obviously delusional” “I don’t think he is”, Abigale spoke and she turned towards Raidri. “The black armour… that is not just blackened steel, is it?” The Sword King shook his head. “I’m afraid it could be endurium”, he revealed. That, however, was a term Iiro was familiar with, mostly from the tales of Raidri’s heroics and his own father’s account of the Maraskan War. Endurium, the metal of kings, the rarest and most coveted substance in this world. It had played a significant part in Emperor Reto’s declaration of war against the island kingdom, for Maraskan was home to the only known endurium mine in all of Aventuria. Controlling it had brought the Middenrealm wealth beyond measure and tens of thousands an early death. “I have fought against a fearsome opponent during my travels”, Raidri explained. “An elf clad in black armour from head to toe, wielding a similarly black blade. He was able to cast spells on top of nearly matching me in skills and killing him took all that I have” He placed one hand on one of his blades. “But even back then, I recognized endurium and I’m telling you, his entire armour was coated in it” The very thought was terrifying. Iiro had faced a number of heavily-armoured opponents before, but their armour made them slow and predictable. Endurium meanwhile was deceptively light and sturdier than even the finest steel. “I… I think the man who attacked us was an elf”, Will admitted. “Whatever he was, he was no human” “Then he was shakagra”, Raidri spoke and the word had an odd sound to it, an otherworldly echo that seemed out of place in this quaint taproom. Abigale must have heard it before, for she frowned and so must have Vittorio. “A night elf?”, he interjected. “I thought they were just a myth. A boogeyman. Something the people up north in Paavi tell their children so that they may stay home at night” “Much like vampires, huh?”, Iiro chuckled.”Never heard of night elves before, but the Sword King killed one of them, so obviously they are not immortal. Can’t be worse than the vampires, can it?” Raidri shrugged. “Perhaps”, he admitted. “But here’s the thing. Shakagra are creatures of the Nameless God, much like vampires are. There has to be a connection between the two of them” “I can track the knight”, Abigale offered and the Sword King gave her an appreciative nod. “That would be most splendid”, he replied. “But it doesn’t help with the problem at hand. We got a baron to deal with, a son to rescue and now, it seems, the goblin’s friend as well” Kobold shook his head. “Bodyguard”, he corrected him. “I don’t pay friends” “Regardless, it appears we must get into that keep. The baron is our next lead, though it seems likely the trail won’t end with him as I first hoped”, Raidri summarized. “Before you arrived, Maximus expressed a desire to approach the baron openly, if not necessarily with full honesty. By using his status and mine, we can secure a meeting with the baron, during which we can coax some answers out of him” “Talking?”, Kobold barked and his voice was raised. Iiro had met him as a calm man, the kind that remained in control even in dire situations. Right now, however, he seemed understandably shaken. “That bastard has Eret. I’m telling you, we need to sneak inside the dungeons and get him out of there. You’ve seen the gallows tree. You really think that man can be reasoned with?” “I don’t”, Raidri admitted. “But talking will get us closer to him, in blade’s range once things inevitably sour. I adhere to Rondra’s virtues whenever possible, but any honour is wasted on the Nameless God and his servants, as the lioness herself once decreed” Kobold shook his head. “And what if he sees it coming? Because he’d have to be mighty daft to let you near him with those twin blades of yours”, the goblin growled. “And if we alert him in any way, I bet he’ll kill his prisoners” “Sneaking into the keep is just as risky”, Maximus brought up. “Besides, you might be good at this, goblin, but I am a knight of the lioness. I am not the right man for subterfuge. I want to talk to the baron. I owe him that much. And if talking fails, then I will challenge him to single combat. If even a hint of the man he was remains, then he cannot refuse” “Pretty big ‘if’”, Kobold hissed, his narrowed eyes darting around the group. “Any other opinions? Because I won’t sit by idly while Eret suffers gods knows what in that bloody dungeon!” A moment of silence passed, while the goblin and the knight glared at each other. Then, Abigale cleared her throat. “How about we split up?”, she asked. “Maximus and the Sword King lead a group that enters the keep openly, under the guise of diplomacy. Meanwhile, Kobold, me and a few of the others sneak into the dungeons. That way, you can fight without risking the prisoners” “We’d also stretch our forces thin”, Maximus disagreed. “And it doubles the risk of discovery. One slip up from you and our cover is blown. One slip up from me and he will send men to the dungeons. We would overreach, plain and simple” Kobold gave a surprising nod. “Aye, that we would. Means we’re going to do it my way. Talking to that vampire is absurd. I know it, you know, we all know it, or are you so blinded by your honour that you cannot open your eyes to a simple truth?” It was a harsh statement, brazen even and clear, stark anger flared up in Maximus’ face. “What did you say, goblin?”, he growled. He would have jumped up had Raidri not placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him down with one hand and without any effort. “Easy, Maximus”, the Sword King spoke, his tone stern, but calm. “The goblin has quite the tongue on him. Be careful, for a less patient man would have removed it from your mouth” Kobold, himself visibly agitated, took one deep breath. “I… fuck, you’re… not wrong”, he admitted. “It’s just… Eret’s a good lad. I’d like to tell him some day. This whole fuckery happened because I tried to play hero. We wouldn’t even be in this land if not for me. So I’m going to do whatever it takes to free him from that dungeon” “I get that”, Maximus admitted, his voice calmer again, though anger remained visible in his sharp eyes. “If my son is in those dungeons, then I will do the very same. Trust me that my approach is the right one” Kobold sighed. “I know that you believe that”, he replied. “Trust me that I know better” “Now, now, my new friends!”, Raidri intoned. “Why don’t we settle this? As your senior, I should decide” His smile was disarming and Maximus gave him a disgruntled nod. “That would be only fair, Sword King”, he admitted. Kobold hesitated a moment longer. “Don’t think I got a choice in that”, he sighed, placing one clawed hand on his weak leg. “Go on, choose” Raidri smiled at him, calm and not without kindness. “Alright, I think I know what I'd like to do”, he said, before he glanced at Iiro. “What do you think, Iiro?”, he asked, immediately turning the attention towards the sellsword, whose eyes widened. “Me?”, he asked and Raidri gave him an impatient nod. “Yeah, you”, he said. “Don’t look at me like that. You proved your guts when you faced me. I can trust a man like that and want to hear what you're thinking. What would you decide, if it were up to you?” [Approach the baron openly] [Infiltrate the keep] [Propose to split the group and do both]
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Post by GMS Freeman on Oct 25, 2023 4:42:08 GMT
[Propose to split the group and do both]
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Post by diversegnu on Oct 26, 2023 6:00:09 GMT
[Approach the baron openly]
Might not be the smartest choice but I think it's the one Iiro would make given his obvious respect for Raidri.
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Post by InGenNateKenny on Oct 30, 2023 3:40:14 GMT
[Infiltrate the keep] Sounds way cooler. Mhm. Although to be honest, I actually was very torn on this. The other choice, I suspect, could lead to our characters ending up in the dungeon anyway. But perhaps it would be productive? It's hard to say. At least it's not clear which choice will win. I do think splitting up is a bad idea.
The grizzly Italian-American vibe, like something out of a Martin Scorsese movie or Robert de Niro film, is a very interesting contrast to this legendary hero with swords and a religiously-minded knight. The mashing of genre archetypes is quite engaging. I suspect this cultural difference will play a major factor into how these characters work together going foward (perhaps this is something I should have remarked upon several parts ago).
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Post by Tales93 on Nov 6, 2023 3:01:58 GMT
[Propose to split the group and do both]
This was a hard choice, but it is possible that having the group be split would keep the vampires occupied and distracted while Kobold's group rescues the hostages/prisoners. Just as long as the best fighters meet the vampires directly in case they get violent. Hopefully, they are clued in on their weaknesses before they meet, just in case.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Feb 13, 2024 23:08:13 GMT
[Infiltrate the keep] Sounds way cooler. Mhm. Although to be honest, I actually was very torn on this. The other choice, I suspect, could lead to our characters ending up in the dungeon anyway. But perhaps it would be productive? It's hard to say. At least it's not clear which choice will win. I do think splitting up is a bad idea. The grizzly Italian-American vibe, like something out of a Martin Scorsese movie or Robert de Niro film, is a very interesting contrast to this legendary hero with swords and a religiously-minded knight. The mashing of genre archetypes is quite engaging. I suspect this cultural difference will play a major factor into how these characters work together going foward (perhaps this is something I should have remarked upon several parts ago). Aye, that is the vibe I am going for with Kobold. I think in our world Kobold would most definitely be into organized crime, he'd feel right at home as a mafioso even if he's definitely some shade of grey in terms of morals. This, of course, heavily contrasts with the more classic fantasy heroes he interacts with and this is part of why I enjoy writing him so very much. Of course, this will also lead to problems with the more honourable members of this ever-increasing group of oddballs he finds himself interacting with. Maximus and Raidri, for example, while firm and honourable knights, are also both quite reasonable and pragmatic. There will be other match-ups that I am greatly looking forward for that will be hilarious by comparison.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Feb 13, 2024 23:10:00 GMT
[Propose to split the group and do both]
This was a hard choice, but it is possible that having the group be split would keep the vampires occupied and distracted while Kobold's group rescues the hostages/prisoners. Just as long as the best fighters meet the vampires directly in case they get violent. Hopefully, they are clued in on their weaknesses before they meet, just in case. Hm, this is true. In that case, the best fighters, people such as Raidri, Maximus and Iiro will meet the vampires head on. At least in case of the baron, his weakness is easy to guess, he's a knight and a companion of Maximus, who is a priest of Rondra, the goddess of valiant combat. His daughter, who unlike him is confirmed to be a vampire, might be a more difficult case. We'll see a lot more of that in Iiro's next part and it should be a blast.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Feb 13, 2024 23:15:48 GMT
The Voting is closed!
Kobold is going to propose to split the groups I have expected this choice, to be honest. While choosing one option over the other would have led to a larger group doing the task, splitting the group is not exactly unreasonable here, especially with so many specialized characters in one place. Kobold would be useless in a fight, whereas Maximus would be useless in a stealthy situation. Now, at the very least, each member of the group can fully utilize their strengths. The next part will be out right now. I have been writing on this one for a while inbetween the holidays and two particularly stressful parts of my education. Let's just say, I can handle writing for my stories and working in a hospital. I absolutely cannot do the same while working at my latest station, which is a daycare for people with dementia. That was taxing work which I would not wish on my worst enemy. The people there have all been lovely, I enjoyed working with them, but it has been mentally draining. I am glad to have put that one behind me, but for the better part of one month I got basically nothing done after work and I hope to never have to work there again. I have a newfound appreciation for hospital work, which I presume was the reason why I have been sent there to begin with. In any way, the part is written and I hope you enjoy it. It is a Kobold part, continuing about an hour after Iiro's last part, so I don't think a proper recap is necessary in this case.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Feb 13, 2024 23:16:18 GMT
Kobold Kobold was no stranger to human dungeons. A childhood spent in the slums of Festum meant that he grew up accustomed to all sorts of crimes, most of which would see a simple goblin thrown into the cells and left to rot. His particular flavour, back when he had been young at least, had been thievery and he had thought himself quite good for a while. Until the incident that left him with a limp and forced him to rethink a few aspects of his life. Back then, he had sworn never to see a jail cell from the inside ever again. This time, the stakes were higher than that. He had an inkling that the dark baron of Menzhome would not be content with throwing him in jail for what they were about to attempt. No, he would kill them and his daughter would drain them dry, if the rumours could be believed. By now, Kobold was almost certain that they could. Night had fallen upon the town and that’s when they made their move. Against his own wishes, they had split up. Iiro had decided upon that and the rest seemed to agree with him. Even the Priest of Rondra, easily the highest authority within their group and of a firmly differing opinion, deferred to Iiro’s choice, likely out of personal respect. Kobold knew neither enough to hold the same opinion on them, but he owed Iiro for his little help against the thugs, so reluctantly, he agreed. As such, Iiro had taken Maximus, Raidri, Joanna and Relin with him, while Cilie had opted to stay behind and keep an eye on the injured Tobrian whom Abigale had risked everything for. Had risked Eret for. Even now, Kobold found himself quietly glaring at the woman’s back, as she cowered before him in the alley. She was a good acquaintance and he trusted her well, but Eret was… well, Eret. Probably the only human he knew who was willing to work for a goblin, not just with one. That alone made him special, enough for Kobold to risk one of his few rules. Just once, he was going to do something foolish for someone else. Vittorio was with them, a welcome addition to their little group, as well as Darbrek, who had experience as a locksmith. The four of them made for a surprisingly potent combination, with Kobold’s brain, Darbrek’s dwarven brawn and the skills of two mages. And still it was not enough to ease his nervousness. If anything went wrong, he’d much rather hide behind a warrior such as Maximus, throwing him to the wolves if need be to get away. It was not something he was proud of, not something that came easy to him, but at his core, Kobold was a survivor, more than anyone else in this colourful group of misfits. Quietly, the four of them had watched Iiro’s group walk up the steep path that led up to the keep. The seat of Baron Dustward was towering above Menzhome like a silent beast. Kobold was gazing out of the alleyway, his short stature and keen sense of sight allowing him to track Iiro and his companions. He spotted two guards in front of the gate, but even he could not see into the tiny nooks behind them, to the inner walls, where an unknown number of guards might be present as well. He saw, as Iiro’s group stopped in front of the gate. They were too far away for Kobold to hear what they said, but after checking them for weaponry, the guard waved them through, allowing only Sir Maximus to keep his holy blade. Even the Sword King gave up his prized twin blades, much to his visible chagrin and knowing fully well that they were worth as much as the entire keep they were about to enter. That much was expected, of course. Kobold could only hope that Iiro and his companions would not run into any trouble. While nobody would dare to disarm a Rondrian, Maximus alone would not be enough against the shadows that lurked behind these walls. His own group was only slightly more well-armed. He himself carried a small dagger with him, though he had no illusions of being able to defend himself against one of those heavily armed guards. Darbrek had a short axe by his side, but he was a craftsman first and by no means comparable to the mighty warriors of his kind. And of course, neither Vittorio nor Abigale were armed at all. The very notion would go against the Codex Albyricus, the arcane law written by Basilius after the Mage Wars. “So, how are we going to do this?”, Kobold asked. When he glanced back at the keep, he noticed only one guard remained at the gate, the other having escorted Iiro’s group inside. Vittorio moved to his side and followed his gaze, a smug smile on his face. “My dear goblin, it will be shockingly easy”, he proclaimed. “After all, you have two mages by your side and not just any. Shall we show him what they teach us in Grangor, esteemed colleague?” “We shall”, Abigale confirmed, her own smile mirroring that of the man. “Though my specialty lies in exorcism, they taught me the standards of illusion just the same. You’ll find it fairly versatile. Getting in there won’t be the difficult part” Something in her tone caught Kobold’s attention despite her apparently positive outlook. “What will be?”, he growled and her smile grew thinner. “I doubt it’ll work against vampires”, she admitted. “And the scale of our powers is limited as well. We should use them only when we have no other option” “Ah, quit the false modesty, Miss Sithko!”, Vittorio chuckled. “This, I dare say, is what I have been waiting for. A chance for Master Crawford to show these uncouth northlanders the worth of a proper mage. Worry not, Kobold. There is more to the two of us than what meets your eye” His optimism was contagious, but Kobold had no idea of knowing if it was misplaced. Abigale was a mage, yes, but he had rarely seen her use her magic for anything flashy, anything he’d deem useful in his line of work. And getting into a dungeon unseen, well, that’d be plenty useful. “Yeah, yeah, cease your premature bragging, peacock”, Darbrek growled. “Just get us in there and don’t leave us when things go south” Vittorio lifted his wide-brimmed hat. “You have my word, Master Dwarf”, he spoke. “And it seems the time is right. Come and be amazed” He spoke and moved with the ease of a true conman, Kobold realized. Abigale had warned him of the mage and Kobold was wary, but not for the reasons she’d expect. No, he was wary because Vittorio reminded him of himself. A human, dandy version of himself, yes, but fundamentally comparable all the same. If things would go south, Vittorio would be the first to abandon them. Kobold would do the same, but he had no illusions that his leg would make this difficult. No, Vittorio was just like himself in these regards, a useful man to know, but not particularly reliable. He and Darbrek flanked the two mages, as they made their way up the keep. The guard saw them at once, of course, that much would be impossible to avoid. But Vittorio had assured him that he could deal with the man afterwards and something in his voice made Kobold believe him. As they came closer, he noticed a handful of guards patrolling the walls, but they paid little mind to four lightly armed travelers. The lone remaining guard at the gate was a different story altogether. He was heavily armed, wearing thick chainmail reinforced with a sturdy steel breastplate, as well as a thick cloak to keep him warm in this hellish winter. A helmet concealed the upper part of his face, protecting the nose but leaving the mouth open, which the man wisely covered with a woolen scarf. A halberd rested on the wall next to him, one hand always placed on the weapon, but as they approached he grabbed it with both hands. He did not point it at them yet, but the message was received. “Halt!”, the guard intoned. “What leads you to the court of Dustward of Mersley-Boarstribe?” His tone was a low, menacing growl and his glare was fixed on the limping goblin. Good… the less attention he paid to the actual danger, the better. Vittorio took the lead here, stepping in front of them and raising his open hands. “Why, salutations, good man!”, he spoke. Kobold paid close attention to him and he saw the movement of his hands. It was a simple sleight of hands. With the right hand, he made a grandiose gesture that caught the guard’s attention. The left one, which was lowered and not particularly threatening, performed a number of precise signs in quick succession. Kobold was far from an expert on mages, but he knew that with some effort and skill, they were able to cast spells in silence, using only their hands or, in the case of particularly skilled practitioners, their thoughts alone. “I was wondering if you could kindly let us pass. We have business down in the dungeons and it would be simply splendid if you could help us reach them”, the mage spoke, his tone lower now and his words charged with something that made Kobold’s fur stand up. “What do you say… friend?” When he said those final words, something changed in the man’s gaze. His hostility was gone in an instant and his attention was now entirely on the mage. A thin, but genuine smile appeared on his face. “Friend?”, he asked. “But… of course. My dear friend” Holding the halberd with one hand, he used the other to pat Vittorio on the shoulder. “Come inside, you and your companions”, he spoke, as he turned around, now one arm wrapped around the mage’s shoulder. As he led them inside, Vittorio glanced at Kobold, a look of confident satisfaction on his face. It would have been infuriating, but truth be told Kobold was amazed. This was in stark contrast to Abigale, who seemed surprised, perhaps even a little bit horrified by what she had just seen. “A Bannbaladin, Vittorio?”, she hissed, as she grabbed him by the upper arm. Immediately, the guard shot her a glare and gripped his weapon tighter, his slightly dumbfounded smile only returning when she let go of the mage at once. Vittorio gave her a mildly apologetic look. “My good friend here won’t let any harm to befall me”, he spoke. “So please, criticize me all you must, but don’t get touchy” Abigale narrowed her eyes. “That was a Bannbaladin, right?”, she hissed and he gave her a nod. “Domination magic is a dangerous tool, Crawford. Not something you can learn at Grangor either. Who taught it to you?” Vittorio shrugged. “A useful friend of mine”, he stated. “Besides, this is harmless. The elves use that spell all the time” “To express their friendship, not enforce it”, Abigale hissed. “I don’t have to remind you how screwed you’d be if the wrong person were to find out about this” Vittorio shook his head. “Which is why I only show this neat little trick to people without any fondness for the Banray”, he explained. Kobold shot him a grin, much to Abigale’s annoyance. “What, it is useful”, he admitted, watching in awe as the previously hostile guard led them through the dungeons, entirely oblivious to their chat. It was a little bit unsettling, admittedly, to see the man’s will eroded with a few tiny gestures, but there was no harm done, right? This was different from the Domination magic he had heard about, the ones he had seen before, where someone’s will was broken, their mind enslaved. Here, all this guard was doing was a little favour for their new best friend. And the guard did that favour exceptionally well. He led them past a series of corridors, then down a flight of stairs. Other guards crossed their path, but the presence of the gatekeeper was enough to ease their concerns. No one suspected a thing. It was, as Vittorio had promised, shockingly easy. Too easy as well and that put Kobold on the edge. Nothing ever worked out that well for him. “It’s down there”, the guard said as they stopped in front of another set of stairs. Beyond that, Kobold saw darkness, but more than that, he smelled something that made his fur stand up. Blood, sweat and an overbearing scent of fear and death. This was no ordinary dungeon, not of the kind he had ever seen. The guard’s face said it all. “You must be careful down there, my friend”, he spoke towards Vittorio. “The baron, he…” He paused and Kobold sensed an opportunity. “Yeah, what about him”, he asked and immediately, the guard shot him a cold, hostile gaze, until Vittorio gave him a nod. “You can tell him. You can trust him”, he claimed. The guard let out a sigh. “The baron was a good man”, he mumbled, his voice now a hushed whisper. His eyes darted around, focussing on each shadow as if he expected something to pop out at any moment. “Serving him was more than duty. It was an honour to me, to many here. He treated us well, knew each of his servants by name. It’s been that way since he took over from his noble father, about three decades ago” “What changed?”, Vittorio asked. The guard shrugged. “Damned if I know”, he admitted. “You hear about that shit all the time, people changing over time, growing odd over the years. Only with the baron, it was not a slow change. One day he was his usual self, stern but caring. Next day, he was… I don’t know… a changed man. Crabby. Ill-tempered” The man shuddered. “Cruel as well. I saw him hack off the hand of a servant who took some food from the kitchen for his family. The old baron would have never done such a thing. At first, we thought he was ill, but it’s been months and he’s only gotten worse since then. The people here, they have begun to fear the shadows” “And his daughter?”, Kobold hissed, which caused the man’s eyes to widen. “She is a monster”, he replied openly. “Lady Ulgraine has always been wily and capricious, but she was a caring woman with a good heart too. Now… well, there’s a good reason the only men left in the castle have a mug as ugly as mine. All the good-looking servants ended up dead, unless they had the mind to flee after the first string of murders” “She killed them?”, Vittorio asked and the guard gave him a grim nod. “The lucky ones”, he admitted. Suddenly, distant footsteps caused him to flinch. “I must go”, he spoke. “Me being here with you, it’ll only put you in danger. It’d be best if you follow me. Leave this keep and this shadowed city before they take note of you” His tone was pleading and for one moment, Kobold was not sure if there was genuine concern, or if this was truly only the spell speaking. If it was, then this was some impressive magic. Useful as well. Domination magic was rare north of the Tulamid lands and he had not yet had the chance to add one of its practitioners to his ever-growing list of acquaintances. Perhaps Vittorio would prove a useful contact. “We can’t. We need to go down there”, Vittorio spoke, as he extended a hand. “But you take care, friend. We couldn’t have done this without you” The guard shook his head, before saluting in front of the rest of them. Then, he marched off and the moment he was gone beyond the corner, Vittorio began to stagger. Darbrek was there, holding him and when the mage wiped something from his nose, Kobold could see blood. He looked pallid and exhausted. “By the Twelve, I thought he’d never stop…”, he sighed. “That was… taxing” “As I said, dangerous”, Abigale hissed. “What were you thinking, Crawford?” Vittorio shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”, he mumbled and she shot him a fierce glare. “I thought you were going to shield us from view. Do some illusion magic. Stun the man for a minute or two. But that… what would have happened had you collapsed in front of him?” A pained smile flashed across Vittorio’s face. “That’s where you’d have stepped in, dear colleague. That, or Darbrek’s axe. But rest assured, this will be the last spell I’ll cast for the next few days. I need sleep. The rest will be up to you” The dwarf gave him a grim nod, as he took the lead, axe in hand. “Alright then…”, he spoke, his tone firm, but Kobold knew him better than that. Darbrek was not a warrior and wouldn’t have it in him to kill a man. Kobold himself, he could probably do it if not for his physique. And Abigale… she was a good person and that was not an ill thing by itself, but right now, he’d rather have another scoundrel such as Vittorio by his side, or maybe even a proper black mage. Darbrek led them down the stairs, grabbing a lit torch from one of the walls as they descended into the darkness. The dungeon down there made Kobold’s fur stand up. The stench of blood grew stronger, almost unbearable, but he pushed on, for his heightened senses noticed something else. A faint moaning, a man in pain. There were living people down there. Perhaps Eret was injured and for him alone, Kobold would not turn around, even if all of his old bones screamed for him to run. All of his primal instincts were begging him to flee, as his kind would usually do when faced with such darkness. There were few great warriors among the goblins, their heroes were cunning and resourceful instead. And Kobold, he was all of those things and by no means a warrior. By no means a hero. That’s why he was still alive. His eyes adjusted well to the twilight and he could see the cells below far better than his companions could in the dim light of Darbrek’s torch. He immediately saw where the blood came from and his stomach turned as he saw the corpses. Some were fresh, piled up in the foremost cells with deep lacerations across their bare chests. They had been bled out, the crimson liquid gathered in troughs. Others did not show any obvious injury, but given how gaunt they were, Kobold could only guess that they starved to death, forgotten in this hellhole. The moaning came from further down and now that he came closer, Kobold was certain that it was not Eret he heard there. “Quiet, love”, a woman hissed and in one of the far cells, Kobold spotted a figure rising from the ground, slowly approaching the bars. He pointed towards it. “There’s survivors down there”, he whispered and Darbrek gave him a grim nod. “Oi”, he spoke down the hallway, his muffled voice travelling far in the stunned silence that followed. “Anyone there?” For a moment, things were quiet, but Kobold could see better than the rest of them. One figure was approaching the bars, glaring towards the torch. Towards him, as he was certain. “You are not the baron’s men”, the figure hissed. Her voice was that of a woman, tired, but firm. Next to her, Kobold spotted another figure on the ground. That was where the moaning had come from. “No shit”, he sighed. “What gave me away, the fur or the claws?” As they came closer, he could see her more clearly now. The woman was tall for a human, with a well-toned build. Her light blonde hair hung down her shoulders, damp and brittle and her facial features were fair and strong. She must have been here for a while now and though she was standing tall, he could see that she was trembling. She was not in good condition. Neither of them were. By her side sat a young man, roughly of similar age. Even though it was hard to make out, with her standing and him sitting on the ground, he was probably slightly shorter. Though it was always difficult for Kobold to judge when it came to humans, he was probably considered exceptionally handsome by their standards, with short, red hair, a chiseled jaw and tired, green eyes. They were both dressed in the ragged remnants of once-expensive clothing, but where the woman’s attire was as clean as it could be in these damp cells, his were covered in dry bloodstains. “What is a goblin doing in Menzhome?”, the woman asked, her voice spiteful with distrust. Kobold shrugged. “Taking in the sights. Though I doubt either of us can recommend the local dungeons” He took the lead now, approaching the cell and mustering the woman as she towered above him. “The name’s Kobold” “Kobold?”, another voice hissed in this moment and the goblin barely held in a sigh of relief as he recognized the voice. There was movement in another cell, a bit further down the hallway from the one he was standing at, but in the faint light of Darbrek’s torch, he made out Eret, seemingly safe and sound. “Good to see you, boy”, he greeted him. “But do me a favour and never play hero again” “Eh, I figured you’d come for me”, Eret spoke with infuriating confidence. “I also figured I might get a raise for my heroics. Could have been worse. Could have been you in this cell” Kobold narrowed his eyes, before he turned back to the woman. “I told you my name, so how about we get the introductions out of the way?” The woman gave him a nod, her hostility fading only slowly. He could understand her well. In her stead, he’d be distrustful as well. “Walpurga of Lionshead”, she revealed and that was a name he recognized, not one he expected here. The same could not be said about Vittorio, who exhaled sharply. “The Princess of Meadows!”, he spoke, a bit louder than he should have. She flinched at his loud voice, before shushing him. “I take it the man by your side must be your husband then. Prince Dedric of Tobria, if I am not mistaken?” The injured man gave him a nod and Kobold could see how pallid he was. Tired, injured, weakened. Someone had bled him thoroughly. “In the flesh”, he sighed. “You don’t seem too surprised, kind sir” Vittorio shook his head. “We’re… well, I for one have been sent by your father-in-law. Duke Waldemar sent us to investigate and he mentioned that you have been sent before us. I half expected to meet you somewhere down the road, but truth be told, I thought we’d find you dead in a ditch instead of in the baron’s cells” With these words, he took an elegant bow in front of them, though he staggered slightly from his earlier exhaustion. Abigale held him back, preventing him from slamming his head against the prison bars. “Vittorio Crawford, at your service” Walpurga’s glare grew more severe. “Charmed”, she growled. “But I suppose it is good to hear that my father sent more men out there. This whole thing, it’s… it’s bad, not going to lie. There are nameless things at work here” She lowered her voice, even though Kobold was certain no one else could hear them. “Vampires”, she admitted. “We know”, Kobold assured her. “Even killed some already. The leads brought us here to Menzhome, to the heart of this darkness” To this, Walpurga shook her head and her gaze softened, as she slowly seemed to realize that this goblin in front of her was an unlikely ally. “Not the heart of it”, she disagreed. “Dustward and his bitch of a daughter, they are servants as well. Slaves, more like. They answer to a higher power” “The bright queen”, Dedric mumbled. “That’s what Ulgraine called her” He spoke that name with venom, almost like a curse. “Whoever she is, even that bloodsucker is afraid of her” Kobold glanced at the man’s injuries, barely covered by his ragged shirt. “She did that to you?”, he asked and Dedric gave him a tired nod. “She spared us for now, us and Marcel over there” He weakly pointed into the darkness, roughly in Eret’s direction. “But recently, she developed a taste for noble blood, as she put it. She’s grown bolder. I don’t think she nor her father expect to make it out of this alive. Means they got no use for us as hostages any longer” “I mean, she is a vampire”, Abigale interjected. “She was practically dead the moment she got turned. She is a vampire though, right?” Walpurga confirmed what they already knew with a firm nod. “She and her father both”, she clarified. “It seems she got turned first. Gods know where they got her. She has always been flighty. Prone to… distasteful relationships. A midnight tryst out in the countryside perhaps… I bet she was an easy target. And through her, the baron got turned as well and my father lost a valued bannerman” “We trusted him”, Dedric sighed. “Approached him openly, unwilling to believe the signs that pointed towards his daughter. We… well, I was certain we could talk it out. Find a solution together. Instead, he drugged our food the first night we were his guests. We woke up in these dungeons, what… weeks ago?” “Three weeks”, Walpurga confirmed. “All this time, I only saw the baron once. Ulgraine comes down here almost every day. Finding a new plaything, some petty criminal most of the time. These cells were full when they dragged us down here. Now… seems like the people of Menzhome have begun to fear their baron too much to get on his bad side. I suppose she gets her blood from somewhere else, whenever she’s not draining my husband at least” Her knuckled were white around the bars. “Let me out of here and I’ll settle the score”, she spoke, giving Kobold a mild glare. “My father will reward you well, goblin, if that’s what you’re hoping for. He wasn’t, but he was not one to turn down a reward. “That would be most welcome, princess”, he chuckled. “Abby, can you do anything about those locks?” His companion nodded hastily. “I know a spell for those”, she admitted. “But it’ll take a few minutes. We need to hurry. The others might need us upstairs” “Others?”, Walpurga asked and Abigale gave her a nod, replying before Kobold could. “Our companions. A few people sent by your father. Sir Maximus Montclair is among them and Raidri Conchobair” This brought a sigh of relief to Prince Dedric’s face, but his wife looked only more concerned. “Under other circumstances, the Sword King’s presence would be much appreciated, but if he is up there with the baron, he is in grave danger. Dustward is cunning. He wasn’t in the past, I remember him as a noble man, but now… he is downright devious. Lured me in and invited me to dinner. I know Sir Maximus well and Sir Raidri at least a little and neither will be one to shy away from common courtesy. The moment they accept his food, they will join us down here, locked away and waiting for whatever those fiends have in store” “Well, then we better get going”, Darbrek growled. “Relin’s with them and I made a promise to look out for that boy” While Abigale approached the lock, he himself moved further down the darkness, towards Eret. Kobold followed and now with the torch closer, he could see that there was another figure in that same cell, lying on the ground. He was a young man, his eyes closed and his breaths shallow. From what Sir Maximus had said and from the strong resemblance this younger man had to the knight, this had to be his missing son, the one whose companion Maximus had buried in front of Menzhome. His chest was bare and wrapped in wet, bloody bandages. Eret glanced over his shoulder at the unconscious man as soon as Kobold reached him. “They dragged him here half an hour ago”, he explained. “The Lady Ulgraine was with him” He shuddered and Kobold realized how unusual this was for his companion. Eret was a man of the north, of the true, ice-cold north. Few things truly fazed him, but this time there was genuine terror in his gaze. “She looked me in the eyes, Kobold. Told me that I’d be next and that she wouldn’t leave enough of me for a second time. That woman… she’s a demon, I’m sure of it” Despite the situation, Kobold could not hide a smile of relief, though he played it off with some playful mockery. “What, are you afraid of a fair damsel now?”, he chuckled. “I thought you’d be elated by all that attention” Eret did not reciprocate the smile. “Just get me out of her, quick”, he hissed. “You wouldn’t jest had you seen her. Her eyes… there was nothing human within them. It was worse than Elbaran, way worse. She’s even more rotten than he ever was. Kobold remembered his interrogation of the Whorescarver. Elbaran had called his acts a mercy, as if killing those women instead of giving in to his true urges was somehow a decent thing of him to do. Now, seeing the state Marcellus Montclair and Dedric of Honourstone were in, perhaps there was some twisted merit to it. “Darbrek?”, he asked and the dwarf gave him a nod, handing him the torch with a grunt. “I am not an expert locksmith”, he admitted, as he pulled out his tools. “But those are simple locks, nothing compared to those made by my kind. Give me a few minutes, maybe I’ll get them open. If not, Miss Abigale will need to try her luck. And if all things fail, we got my trusty axe with me. I’ll smash them open before I leave anyone down here” Quietly, he began his work. Kobold would have done it himself, but he hadn’t picked a lock in over two decades. He had gotten rusty and slow and he was not afraid to admit it to himself, if not necessarily to any of the others. As such, he leant back, letting Darbrek do the manual labour. His eyes darted through the darkness beyond the edge of the torch he was now holding, his senses alert. Things were silent upstairs, which he interpreted as a good sign for now, but he knew that getting out of the keep would be difficult at best. Vittorio looked pale and had to lean against the bars of the cell behind him. He would be of no help right now. At the same time, he knew that Eret was quite resourceful and could hold his own in a fight. While he knew little about this Princess of Meadows, she had an impressive build for a human woman and she seemed eager for some retribution. Perhaps a bit too eager, for he would much prefer to just get out of here with his life intact. “There, all done”, Darbrek grunted with satisfaction, as the bars of the cell creaked open. Immediately, Eret turned to the man on the ground. “Hey”, he spoke gently, as he touched the man’s shoulder. There was no reaction at first, but then his eyes fluttered open, weakly taking in his surroundings. He groaned something, his face a grimace, before his senses returned to him. “I… what… who are you?”, he asked, his voice groggy and laced with distrust. “We’re friends”, Eret claimed and Kobold could not stifle a grin at the expression on the injured man’s face. This was Meadows after all. It was not every day that a goblin was considered a friend in these lands. “I’m Eret. These are Kobold and Darbrek. We’re getting you out of here” The man gave him a weak nod. “Marcel”, he introduced himself. “Marcellus Montclair. If you are friends as you claim to be, you must be alert. There are dark things at work in this keep” “We heard a thing or two about that”, Kobold growled. “A few friends of mine are taking care of it right now. Your father among them. He’s upstairs, probably already driving a stake into that baron’s heart” Marcel’s eyes widened. “Father is here?”, he gasped. “Oh no… no, we must warn him!” He tried to rise from the ground, but weakly collapsed on his thin mattress, unable to even stand without aid. “Father and Baron Dustward… they were friends once. He will give him the benefit of the doubt, but he mustn’t. I did, despite all evidence for the contrary and he…” Tears welled up in his eyes. “He killed my friend. My companion. He is a monster” This time, the man seemed genuinely shaken. It was in this moment, that Kobold realized how young he had to be, perhaps roughly twenty summers old. A goblin of his age would be considered a seasoned adult already, but things were different for humans. “I heard tales about such creatures”, Marcel continued. “They are nameless beings, cursed with hunger. Vampires, that’s what my grandma called them. I never believed in the old tales, until the baron’s daughter put a knife to my chest to draw blood” He shivered at the memory of it. “She drank it and so did her father” “Then let us put an end to this”, Princess Walpurga growled. In front of her, the door swung open, as Abigale had finished her incantation. She cracked her knuckles. “Much better… thank you mage”, she spoke, as she stepped out of her cell. Behind her, her husband rose from the ground. He was in better condition than Marcellus, but not by much. Neither of them could hold their own, Kobold realized. They would slow them down. In different company, he’d be the first to suggest leaving them. “I agree with Marcellus”, Walpurga continued. “Maximus needs our aid. He might know what he’s up against, but actually seeing it is another thing entirely” She shook her head. “I know him well. Seeing his friend turned into such a beast, it’ll shake him to his core”, she added. “Even the finest knight would falter. I say we go up there and finish this. I for one yearn for some proper retribution” “I agree”, Abigale interjected. “We cannot leave them up there all alone. If the baron has no qualms taking the Princess of Meadows as his prisoner, then I dread to even imagine what he’ll do to our friends” Kobold shrugged, albeit half-heartedly. “And the Sword King”, he growled, which brought a smile to Walpurga’s face. “Sir Raidri is with them?”, she exclaimed. “In that case, they will be quite alright. That man has faced worse than vampires. Regardless, I want to join in on the fighting. I owe that daughter of his a proper beating for what she did to my husband” Kobold sighed, knowing fully well that this was well and truly beyond his control now. Usually, he’d run, or swiftly hobble away at least, but he had seen the look in Eret’s eyes. The boy was similarly inclined for retribution. Worse than that, he was not one to turn away from his allies. Kobold wouldn’t call them friends yet, though he was partial towards Relin. And under no circumstance would he leave Eret right away, not again. “And what about them?”, he asked instead, glancing from Marcellus Montclair to Dedric of Honourstone. The latter was at least able to stand on his own, but Marcel was in a bad condition. Without aid, he would never make it out of here. Walpurga understood at once and concern for her husband outweighed her righteous fury by far. “We cannot leave them on their own”, she spoke. “If I am to leave Dedric in this… this hellhole, then he won’t stay alone” “I’ll stay”, Vittorio spoke at once. “I am just barely holding it together” He managed a weak smile into Abigale’s direction and Kobold could see that his nose was bleeding again. “It seems you were right, dear colleague. That was some dangerous magic. Impressive, I wager, but not something I’d like to do again” Abigale raised an eyebrow. “Will you be alright?”, she asked, her voice betraying at least a hint of concern for her fellow mage. “He will be”, Darbrek spoke up in Vittorio’s stead. “Because I will be here with them. I’m not much of a warrior. Against these guards, I might be able to hold my own, but vampires and worse? That’s not something a respectable dwarf should meddle with” “That’ll do”, Walpurga spoke. “In that case, we need only a trip to the armoury and then you’ll have my sword. That bitch Ulgraine will dread the day she laid hands on us!” She placed one hand on her husband’s back and for as fierce as she had been just moments ago, the look on her face was now surprisingly tender. “We’ll come back for you, my love”, she promised and the Prince of Tobria replied with a weak, but honest smile. “You always do, don’t you…”, he chuckled. “If you stop by the armoury, then I’m with you as well”, Eret growled. “Not sure how big a help I’ll be, but I won’t back down now” With these words, he turned to Kobold. “I assume you’re going to stay here?”, he added and though his tone was neutral as always, Kobold could sense something in it. Disapproval perhaps? No, that’d be horseshit. Eret knew of their arrangement. He was the one putting his neck out there and Kobold was the one paying him. Perhaps not as much as the boy deserved, but it worked well for them so far. Kobold was no hero, by any means and he was the first to admit to it. But then why, just why, was he feeling something… anger, perhaps? It was a feral sensation, seeing the injured son of Sir Maximus just behind the one man he was closest to and knowing just how easily their roles could have been reversed. He glanced down at his sharp claws, his fur bristled with anger. “It will be dangerous”, Abigale remarked. “But if you’re with us against those beasts, then you are most welcome. We couldn’t have stopped Elbaran without your wit, after all” [Stay with Marcellus and Dedric] [Go upstairs with the others]
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Post by drdestroyer18 on Feb 15, 2024 22:45:15 GMT
[Go upstairs with the others]
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Post by GMS Freeman on Feb 16, 2024 6:15:48 GMT
[Go upstairs with the others]
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Post by InGenNateKenny on Feb 17, 2024 23:47:42 GMT
[Stay with Marcellus and Dedric] Who knows, maybe Kobold will be useful here...methinks him going upstairs is a bad idea. Sure, people could underestimate him, but easily hurt him. Plus, Kobold might want to speak with Vittorio more.
I like the idea of the vampires using the dungeons as a fridge to raid every night, like how cattle must feel before being killed. It's a dark idea, though by nature of these vampires not being as savage as that boy one, it's cleaner than it would otherwise be.
Hope you keep strong through your work! It's so noble and I know your family would be proud.
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Post by Tales93 on Mar 11, 2024 1:37:39 GMT
[Go upstairs with the others]
It might be considered out of character but he has been having development whether he likes it or not. He did just say, that he did not want to abandon Eret after just now finding him again.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Apr 7, 2024 15:34:31 GMT
[Stay with Marcellus and Dedric] Who knows, maybe Kobold will be useful here...methinks him going upstairs is a bad idea. Sure, people could underestimate him, but easily hurt him. Plus, Kobold might want to speak with Vittorio more. I like the idea of the vampires using the dungeons as a fridge to raid every night, like how cattle must feel before being killed. It's a dark idea, though by nature of these vampires not being as savage as that boy one, it's cleaner than it would otherwise be. Hope you keep strong through your work! It's so noble and I know your family would be proud. Aye, this is essentially the pantry of Menzhome keep for the vampires. It also casts a really dark implication on the unusually high number of executions that have happened lately. After all, even though Ulgraine is not a savage beast, nor as insane as Elbaran in Baliho, she still quite obviously kills her victims in the end. The comparison to cattle is a fitting one indeed! Thank you for your kind words. I am still extremely happy with my work, it is easily the most fulfilling thing I have done in my life yet and beats all my other attempts at having a career. My only regret is that I did not start it years ago. The best part is, I think I finally manage to settle into a better mindset, where I can focus not just on working, sleeping and surviving, but on my hobbies once again, such as writing. I know I have made many such attempts over the past year, but I am really confident that this time I can manage to finally improve my schedule again, because I have not felt this inspired and liberated in over two years. Maybe not two parts a week like in the earlier FoT days, but if I manage to improve my schedule over the course of this year to the point where I can consistently release two parts for each story every month, then I will be so damn happy.
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