Shadows in War: A Lore of Darkness Chronicle

The role of herald seemed to be falling to Eadwine pretty regularly now, so he jumped in before Thorgrim could speak up. Torvus looked a little panicky.

Besides, the unsheathed sword of Mydas would be recognised by any Ghenraen: hopefully it would strengthen their case.

The one who hailed the cart had the look of a corporal: the light in Eadwine's eyes made it difficult to tell.
"Good evening, corporal," he said hurriedly. "You do the Lord's will with zeal. We, the Band of Thorgrim, are trying to aid an elf whom has fallen deadly ill. We believe he may have history with those in the East Bastion. Pray, let us pass so that we may determine if they can assist: it is a matter of urgency!"

"He will do nothing of the sort until terms have been made and negotiated in favor of his Lordship. Civilians, Sellswords and vagabonds, anyone not permitted by myself, are expressly prohibited from trespassing further along the east main until i have established the motives and security of Van'tess. Having you lot riding up and down the main like hell bats and banging on gates potientially controdicting our mission would be increadably counter productive." The voice was clear, calm and filled with authority. It was Lieutenant Morsel. She took hold of the lamp and brought its light to bare revealing the warband.

Torvus was greatful that Eadwine stood up, he wasn't sure he could be trusted to be diplomatic. It was a good speech, short and to the point but not so as to be blunt, too bad it fell on bureaucratic ears.

"Ten' Y'ai coie gwaith, edans uma mona sai-coiasira avaene anta." (For a short lived people, humans do spend much time without need.)

Growing tired of the needless delays and the urgency of the matter at hand Torvus considered how they could get to the Bastion quickly, this Lieutenant would not be disuaded her authority and it would take too long to get the Lord involved, in fact that may even be pushing matters too far. Then it occured to him, the Iron Mandrakes had achieved this in daylight, surely Torvus could manage it alone in the dark. As the Lieutenant finished speaking Torvus chose his moment to act, unfortunately it was just a moment too late.

Torvus leapt from the cart just as the Lieutenant lit it with her lamp, it must have been a quiet watch that night as a bustle of commotion could be heard, sounding like every guard there had noticed the elf. As his feet hit the ground Torvus took off and Lieutenant Morsel cried halt, in the name of something or other. Thankfully a short dash would put Torvus around a corner and out of the line of fire, but the guards would be on him soon. Risking a glance over his shoulder to the cart, he hoped his allies would understand and not come to too much trouble, Torvus ran on as the commotion behind him grew.

It was only a few moments later that a trio of guards rounded the first corner, unfortunately there hadn't been a decent side alley, staggered roof, or pile of stacked produce to be had; cursing the clean streets and matching facade of the buildings Torvus grew keenly aware of the possibility that impatient guards with firearms didn't like to be ignored, and he had thus far failed to heed any of their demands to stop, regardless of whose name they made them in. Maybe it was concern for his brother or maybe it was the urgency of the chase, but Torvus failed to hear the guard come to a stop or the cocking of his pistols hammer, but he did hear the shot ring out.

The man was either an atrocious shot or it was intended as a warning, but the shot was a blessing in disguise. The bullet impacted a wall to Torvus' left, forcing his attention towards a dimly lit side alley, perfect for an escape. Darting into the alley Torvus could hear the guards yelling, but all he made out was "After him!" Slowing his pace and his breath Torvus began to move quietly, keeping to the shadows while steadily putting distance between himself and the mouth of the alley, if he could get in deep enough their torches wouldn't be enough to reveal him. The first two guards made the mouth of the alley, the chase having laboured their breathing; one carried a torch lighting barely five metres into the alley, this disadvantage caused them to slow their approach; the third, their errant pistolier, caught up shortly and was ordered to light the lamp he had. Years of stalking the beasts of the wild had taught Torvus discipline and despite the proximity of his pursuers, their repeated commands to turn himself in and insistence that he had no way to escape, he continued his silent progression. Luck it seemed was finally with him as the end of the alley presented Torvus with what may as well have been stairs, stepping off a barrel with a quick vault up to a low rooftop, Torvus was all but out of reach of the armoured guards. Over the grumbling of the guards Torvus heard the distinct sounds of lamp glass being slid into place, the third guard raised the lamp with hatches on all but one side closed to direct the light better, he managed to light a figure with a bow at full draw. The shot was clean and the lamp had managed to silhouet the nearer guards making avoiding them easy, after the crash of glass had subsided and the alley had grown dark Torvus spoke "Lle caela soora hae-faarea" (You have followed far enough) before turning and dissapearing over the rooftops.

The walls of the Bastion grew nearer and Torvus descended from the rooftops, sneaking in would be foolish, if at all possible and he had no intention of alienating those that might help. Taking a moment to look out for city patrols, Torvus realised they would have to be mad to come this close to the Bastion, it's allegiances unknown as they were. Approaching the gates unarmed Torvus presumed he was being watched, despite the apparent lack of any lookout; "I come on behalf of my brother, Dante Antair, he is ill and our healers have no idea what ails him. I seek an audience with any who can tell me of his malady or where he may have acquired it."

Torvus sure was quick!

Eadwine was pretty sure that Torvus had escaped; Torvus wasn't carrying any glass, so the smashing noise must have come from one of the guardsmen. This supposition was confirmed when three weary watchmen came puffing back into view without the elf.

The warrior nodded to Thorgrim, still at the reigns, and thanked Torvus' quick thinking. Only then did he deign to break the silence.

"I suppose he's learned some tricks in the last eight-score years," Eadwine offered dryly.

He deliberately didn't use Morsel's correct title, just to spite her. Even before the jibe he could practically feel Morsel's frustration radiating from her, and he loathed her for it. She had seemed dutiful and reasonable this morning, but now she was revealed as a pompous stickler; just the sort that rankled Eadwine's nerves.

Still, he didn't want to pick a fight. For starters, he was now outnumbered 3-to-1. But, more than that, he felt that it would be profoundly wrong to use Mydas' weapon to fight these people. It would be a betrayal, and Eadwine would not countenance it.

He decided to try to mollify the Lieutenant. It might be useful to stay in the area anyway, until Torvus showed up again.

"Lieutenant Morsel. It seems that my errand to the East Bastion is over. Perhaps I may offer my services to you, as one servant of Lord Brightlen to another? I could assist in patrolling, or the like. Thorgrim could then-sedately, to be sure-return to our companions and inform them of the elf's absence."

After a few long moments that nearly provoked further disappointment and frustration the gates were raised, only high enough to allow the self announced visitor to enter. Torvus stepped beyond the gates, hopeful that the raising was as much a gesture of good will as it was a necessity that allowed passage.

Torvus tread cautiously across the unlit and deathly silent yard of the Bastion. On this same day, this yard had been consumed in chaos and death, no it had the air and feel of a grave yard.

When Torvus had reached the center of the yard with intention to travel further, he noted the appearance of a dark figure standing in the main threshold of the Bastion. He then notice two others, one at the entrance of the east rampart and another at the entrance to the west. All three began to approach Torvus. As they drew nearer, Tovus quickly realized that the approaching custodians were identical. It was at this moment the partially opened gates were lowered.

Torvus now behind locked gates, and surrounded by high walls was standing unarmed in the silent yard before Mannah Roth, Mannah Roth and Mannah Roth.

Each Roth was clad in the same haunting suit of plate armor he had been seen wearing when he executed Mydas earlier that day. The gravity of his stare weighed in three fold. Though it seemed desperation and determination had tempered Torvus allowing him to rise above the overwhelming gaze of the three Roths.

The three Roths spoke in uncanny unison. The rumble of not one, but three responding to the indirect question orated at the gates earlier. "I am one such person. I know what ails Dante"

Although what the priestess was doing was still very new to her and she didn't fully understand what to do, she felt something within the elf instantaneously pull on her magical subconscious. Her initial thought was to withdraw when she felt the magical pull, but knowing that both herself and Merryn didn't know how to treat the stranger, she continued following the magical trail, hoping for at least a hint as to what was happening.

She regretted her choice not to withdraw when she could, for she knew when she overstepped the line. Finding herself in a warped reality, Adrysse knew she had entered the veil; she could feel the magical energy everywhere, and even though she knew how to harness a degree of magical abilities, what she felt in this realm overwhelmed her. With her magical senses overwhelmed, she felt as if all her other senses were being assaulted too; all she could hear was an unbearable silence, and her sight was distorted with black, white, grey and distorted shades of dark reds and light blues.  

Finding herself in a dark, twisted forest, she found herself trying to keep her balance and equilibrium; as she spotted the elf in the distance, she followed after him slowly. As she followed the stranger, she noticed dark silhouettes moving through the woods further ahead of herself. Feeling very overwhelmed and out of her depth, she wanted to reach the elf as fast as possible and try and find a way out, though she doubted there was one. She could feel her fears start to set in and become more insistent and when she rounded the next set of trees, she found herself looking at a tree so horrendous she found herself stopping in her tracks.

The grotesque tree was leafless and would have looked otherwise completely dead, if not for the pulsating lesion sacks and thick web-like structures with dismembered elves within them. From where she stood she could not tell whether they were still alive or not, but the looks of torment and horror on their faces were enough to make the priestess approach with extra caution. Trying to push through her overwhelming thoughts, feelings and senses, she approached the elf at a faster speed and decided to try and call out to the stranger.

She soon regretted that choice when all the dismembered elves started chanting as one, over and over, causing the priestess to feel oppressed and completely out of her depth. Resisting the urge to curl up in a ball on the floor and make herself as insignificant as possible, she saw a strange hulking black creature start to emerge from within the tree. Even though all the voices around her were affecting her, the voice that emerged from the creature seemed to reach into the deep, dark corners of her soul and tear her apart from the inside.

Trying to keep herself from tearing apart at the seams, she finally reached the elf and gripped his arm like a vice as the shadowy creature continued to emerge. When she saw the state the stranger was in, with his eyes so milky white, she could tell she was completely alone in this world. Her overwhelming feeling of hopelessness took ahold of the priestess and she was just about to give in to her fears when she felt a sharp pull on the back of her collar; she was so surprised by the sudden jerk she released her hold on the stranger. Blinking her eyes, she found herself back in her body, with Wylliam, Dorn and Merrick looming over her. With the force with which she had returned to herself, she had flung herself off of the stool she had been seated on and into Merryn, causing them both to become sprawled onto the floor.

"Get back!"

Hearing Wylliam's cry after he was certain the priestess was conscious and self aware, the rest of the companions moved to the edges of the room. With no chance to apologise to Merryn, she grasped her and crawled to the closest wall. Still feeling very overwhelmed, she could only watch as the stranger on the table started to thrash and convulse, breaking his bones in the process; Adrysse flinched at every sharp crack and snap that occurred within the room. After the stranger had broken free of his restraints he appeared to be half thrown and half jump at the ceiling before cocooning himself in the sticky webbing that he was excreting.

When the incident was over, Wylliam exclaimed, "By all that choose the light... What were you lot doing."

Not even being able to form words to even try and explain what the priestess had just experienced, she hugged her knees to her chest and started crying. Even though she was no longer in the warped reality that was the veil, she could still hear the shadowy creatures' voice and could still feel it trying to tear her soul apart.

Standing between the figures, Torvus couldn't understand the need for the display. He had seen Mannah Roth fight and surely the man did not think Torvus a threat, though it occured to him, at a distance the mere pressence of the Iron Elf was such that a weaker will would have failed and yet here he stood before three, and although he could feel that pressence, he held strong.

Facing the visage of Mannah Roth before him Torvus all but plead "Ro naa amin toror', amin agar, amin akh. Nyara amin sut fallan-ho." (He is my brother, my blood, my duty. Tell me how to heal him) "Whatever it takes, I must try. Aid me in this and I am yours to call on."

Feeling the weight of all that had occured begin to catch up with him, Torvus' resolve began to strain, fear began to gnaw at the edges, fear that the news would not be good. Torvus paused, breath almost held in hope that there was a chance.

Merick's hand drifted towards his broadsword that he had sheathed at his hip but the site of Dorn's axe and the wildness of the dwarf dissuaded him of that notion. Everyone was so damn on edge that the wrong move could end with someone dead.

The center of the room was dominated by the formerly occupied surgery table and the cocoon that had grown on the ceiling from Torvus' brother. It still dripped webbed mucus and Merick was suddenly very thankful that he had never touched the body. He didn't want to become some sort of whatever the hell that thing was.

Billy's question felt like it was accusing them of what had happened and Merick was enraged at the stupid bastard's tone. When Adrysse started crying, he let loose on the prick. "We don't know what we're f#$king doing!" he shouted at Billy. Merick's temper was getting the better of him and he could see the dwarf firmly grip his axe. "This whole thing is f#$king crazy! That thing," he pointed at the cocoon on the ceiling, "is Torvus' brother. He collapsed at the tavern and we could see that he was sick so we brought him here. We don't know shit about what's going on."

Merick ran his hands through his dreadlocks and he nervously eyed the thing that had grown on the ceiling. Adrysse's crying had faded to quiet sobbing on the floor and he could see that Meryn was trying to comfort her. Even so, Meryn looked like she had aged years in the last hour and was almost on the verge of tears herself. Merick felt like curling up and crying as well because this was scary shit that he was not prepared for. He suddenly wondered if this was how the higher ups back in Auskell felt before they all died.

Billy just stared at them impassively, his wooden drake mask betraying nothing of his emotions. Dorn still held his axe at the ready but he always seemed to have one eye trained on the ceiling.

"I don't know what Adrysse was doing," Merick admitted as he sighed, his anger having cooled. "I think she mentioned that she wanted to try something while the others went to the Bastion to see if the Mandrakes knew anything about what was going on. Whether it was magical bullshit or something else, I don't know. You would know more about that stuff than I would Billy."

Merick backed into the wall and slowly slid down as his resigned himself to the situation. "F#$k all of this, I don't want to deal with this shit," he said to no one in particular. He pressed the palm of his hands into his eyes to try and get rid of what he'd seen but he could still hear the stupid dripping.

"Torvus is going to be super pissed about what happened to his brother."

As Torvus took off into the night, Thorgrim simply sat in place, axe rested sheathed and non threateningly across his lap. He kept his silence at first, as much to keep th situation calm as to keep guardsmen here and cautious but placid whilst the elf made his escape.

At the very least he would not make appearances to be party to this willful resistance of the law, Thorgrim could be of little help to Torvus with ill will of the local guards.

"Lieutenant" th dwarf began, standing up on the cart front "A plot is afoot. As newly deigned sentinels of Tudor Towers we saw it our duty to make action, It is our Duty we do, as you do yours. Neither need clash."

Using his axe as a crutch the dwarf stepped down from the cart and walked up closer to the Lieutenant and spoke quietly. "The Elf has acted rashly, but his brother is caught ill and he is not thinking straight. Let us look into where to go from here. The lords Apothecary has been informed but we haven't had time to aquire papers, a fault of our own no doubt. But we have the lords Faith, and would see it well spent. But you have experience and rank in this place so tell me, how may we best work together in this."

Mannah looked on as Torvus was clearly growing in desperation and frustration, but Mannah had not survived for nearly a millennium by acting carelessly. After all, a suspicious mind was a healthy one.

During the seconds of tense silence (a normality when dealing with Mannah), the Iron elf analysed Torvus and his motives. This wanderer's actions to this moment had be a contradiction to the abilities Mannah assumed her was capable of (if he was anything like his brother). With weapons slung and having announced himself before entry, moreover unguarded by friend or ally. Mannah looked to the silent ramparts veiled in darkness. None of the Mandrakes had risen an alarm and so it was certain that this wayward elf had strayed into the Bastion completely alone.

The Roths spoke in uncanny unison once more. "You will follow me"

Three Roths consolidated and began a confident stride back to the main entrance of the Bastion fortress. Once inside Mannah Roth spoke again, but this time only one spoke. "Sisters, you may leave us."

With that, the guise of two Roths flickered. Their forms briefly engulfed in a waved of cascading leaves, turing over Like a simple card trick. In an instant, Torvus went from being in the presence of three Roths to one. Both were now in the company of two women, identical in every way bar their hair color. These were the deadly assassins that flanked Mydas, delivering a flurry of mortal wounds before the Iron Elf took the tyrant knight's head from his shoulders.

The twins smirked as they turned, disappearing deeper into the Bastion's lower halls, as if they were returning to a post. Torvus was still coming to grips with the miraculous transformation that had just occurred, but his attention was stanched when he noticed Mannah had begun to move up the central stairs.

Where ever they moved, any where in this Bastion, it was quiet. Too quiet. The darkness had eyes and their every move was being weighed. Mannah lead them both down the stone halls to the war chamber, quietly gesturing for Torvus to close the door as he stepped into the room.

The room was large, large enough to fit the grand designs of Tudor Towers. A perfect reflection of human ingenuity and pragmatism. This room was certainly part of a fortify structure. Reinforced stone, braced carving, joints and supports partially disguised as stoic detail. The room was furnished practically, with only local and kingdom heraldry mounted along the walls along with weapons hung partly for show but also for accessibility during times of unplanned need.

Mannah moved to the room's strategy table. Like the other's Torvus had seen, it was large, but as all else in this hall it was designed to serve its purpose only, lacking the details and carved intricacies depicted on the one serving in Tudor Towers. The Iron Elf removed the fur cloak pinned to his dark menacing pauldrons with bulky steel clasps. As he placed it on the table Torvus noted it was the pelt of what would have been a rather large Black Bear. Mannah then removed his gauntlets, placing them upon his thick fur cloak staring at Torvus as he did.

As before, like looming thunder Mannah spoke. "Elu dem arl dar et soom sar eal" (you brother is not ailed by natural illness). Mannah's movements were as sharp and deliberate as his speech. He moved over to a refreshment table and filled two wood goblets with water. Taking his, he then gestured to Tovus to retrieve his before moving back to his original position at the strategy table.

"Cas tem var lel, ulldo mi um dres do car arrem. Eth dae ku los nar shae lu cos mae dar" (Lay concern to rest, your brother will not die. At least not by that which currently ails him). Mannah continued to speak the bastardized tongue of the ancient Eladrin dialect. "Tell me Torvus Antair, what do you know of the cursed tree?"

****************Somewhere along the east main*******************

Torvus' sudden departure caught all of guard. It would be safe to say that all present expected this to some extent, but despite this, the action still came a surprise. As a handful of her men disappeared into the darkness of the city labyrinth comprised of its twisting alley ways, more guards flocked to he halted cart in response to the commotion.

Morsel was livid, absolutely beside herself. She was a Ghenraen had had grown up with the dark stories of Roth the Bloody Handed. The reaper in the dark, wielder of the doom horn. Morsel was a dutiful woman and always did her best to avoid acting on here-say and speculation. This is what had prompted her to request the historical recounts of Roth's transgressions in the past. While most were far fetched, and seemingly interwoven with wild bardic exaggerations, Morsel had personally seen what remained of the Town, Linsfeild. Where the town once stood in the north west of Brightwater, now lay a barren scar of salted earth once scorched by unholy fires. Abandoned ruins and stacks of rubble, whispered memories of homely stores and hearths for the quaint and the peaceful, but now were little more than markers for a mass grave.

Now, some fifty years later, this avatar of malevolence had resurfaced and had taken up residence in a East Bastion formerly held by a Ghenraen Chevalier. It was Morsel's appointment to ensure that Van'tese was not the sight of an all out war that would likely reduce the city (or surely the East District) to the same fate as Linsfeild. Now in the wake of her appointed and seemingly impossible task, a band of sell sword misfits threaten to provoke the terrorist before delicate negotiations have even been entered, yet alone concluded. They risk the safety of the city and lives of all who call Van'tese home on a whim. The off chance that the Bastion's resident Harbinger would, and knew how to, aid in their desperate action. It was a gamble, senseless and reckless to say the least (at least in the Lieutenant's eyes).

Thorgrim had stepped off the cart after initiating an attempt to bring the boiling situation to a mild simmer. He approached Morsel with an openness he had observed in diplomatic engagements many times prior and spoke low, offering amends. When he finished Morsel waved a signal in silent command. Two soldiers secured the horse as the many others who had recently arrived on the scene surrounded the cart rifles at pointed at their mark. Mosel would not stand for this blatant disregard for the safety and and order of Van'tese. With little attempt to restrain her fury she spoke.

"I care little for the well being of a single nameless elf matched against the the safety and security of Van'tese, his lordship's resident city. I do sympathize of course, but do not mistaken that for a lax in duty. I have been tasked not only with calming the chaos of these streets, but further establishing what this nameless reaper, a well known and notorious terrorist, wants and why he has seen fit to slaughter scores of the royal guard and a Chevalier on Brightlen land. I shouldn't need to iterate the diplomatic fallout that will inevitably follow such radical actions. The Elf and his supporters are indescribably dangerous, they have expressed no elegance, and thus we cannot say without certainty that he is not here to raise the city to scorched earth! Now here you are, gallivanting through my hard work threatening to provoke a sleeping bear, before we have even established if it is tame or wild. I will not stand for this transgression, and the only reason i have not shot you for your interference with official business and blatant disregard for the lives of the Ghenraens of Brightwater is simply because you travel in company with the this supposed Champion! I appreciate your offer master dwarf, however given the actions of your companion, honourable or not, it is clear you have no regard for the rules of this city, sighting them only when it suits purpose. The 'Champion' and your good intentions will not shield you from detainment, and each of you as the late Chevalier, are not beyond justice. Put them in irons and confine them to the prison spire. I will not afford them leniency or ignorance that would only allow them the opportunity to return before security is obtained. The rest of you, continue the search for the elf. I will not suffer a moment more of this interference."

As Eadwine had noted earlier, they were outnumbered. More so when additional guard rallied to the confrontation in support of the provoked Lieutenant. Without physical protest, the remaining members of the warband were taken from the cart bound by wrist and ankle in irons and ushered into the back of a secure wagon. They had gotten Torvus this far, but now they were detained, it was all up to him now.

**************************Back at the Lab************************

Content with Merrick's vulgar explanation Wylliam grabbed Adrysse, pulling her to her feet. He threw a knowing glance to Dorn as he made haste with the disorientated priestess out of the operating theater. Dorn gripped Meryn's wrist in his large meaty hand and unceremoniously dragged her from the room behind his more elegant companion. The Dwarf didn't bother to turn when he called to the mercenary remaining in the room. "Bes beh on meh heels merc, les yee wesh ta fend oot wat we beh runen from".

Merrick dashed from the room following those before him, Dante still thrashing violently suspended in the room he was leaving behind. No sooner had he step from its confined the door was slammed shut, muffling the agonizing screams and the grotesque symphony of Dante's splintering bones and distorting entrails. Dorn had taken to constructing a barricade comprised of the laboratory's furnishing. As he did, Wylliam step lively to Adrysse. The priest was in a pseudo state of shock, she had once more taken to hugging her knees to her chest at the foot of one of the lab benches. Wylliam crouched beside her one hand on her shoulder and another on lightly caressing her check. "Lady Adrysse, tell me. Tell me, what did you see!"

It was in the moment the four were distracted from their present dealings. The menagerie of jars, test tubes and vial in the room began to inexplicably boil. The contents of each boiling over covering the bench tops in varying foamed substances. The air began to fill with growing adversity as the various alchemy concoctions also began to smoke. Dangerous vapors began forming a vicious cloud collecting about the roof's supporting struts. Wylliam looked up, he wished he was afford the moment needed to apprehend the details he needed from Adrysse but the situation was escalating further. Before any further words were spoken, Wylliam swept up Adrysse in his arms and carried her from the Laboratory out into the open snow draped court yard of the Towers. As before Dorn, Meryn and Merrick followed. Through the windows and the still wide open door, the four could see the clouding vapors growing larger. The mixing smoke began to react violently to itself lashing the interior of the Lab with small tongues of ethereal electricity. A foreboding sense tugged at each of the witnesses as the situation climaxed.

The cloud reached critical capacity. Its electrical arch began in indiscriminately lighting the foamed pools across the lab benches and setting the collection of tomes and scrolls alight preset in within the hall. Then the building itself seems to inhale sharply before unleashing a explosive roar that sent flaming wood and scorch stone howling in the the freezing night. The building (what was left of it) was still engulfed in flames. Meryn cried out in agony. Her life's work, all of it set a light. A part of her, a large part of her felt as if it had just been viciously ripped from her very existence. She collapsed to her knees, arms stretched out before her wailing with tear streaming down her face. She wanted to rush into the flames and attempt to salvage the ruin before her, but the lose was so great she found herself paralyzed.

Just as they began teasing the idea that it was over, the flaming debris began to shift and topple. From beneath the piles, a web veiled figure began the rise. As it did, with each new inch of height achieved, another layer of the thick web pealed and burned away. The figure was standing where the operating table would haven been but it did not take the same form as the elf they were forced to leave behind. The tortured figure rose to a height near eight feet tall, the silhouette appearing vaguely normal until it reached the waste. From that point the being appeared to have the figure of a large arachnid. Eight long needle like legs supporting a spider like abdomen. Wreathed in spines and exposed fleshy sacs excreting toxic mucus. The creature's form was dark and gaunt, yet lean with stringent bouts of muscle. beneath the beast's breast protruded to seemingly bladed mandibles and across his brow opened a curtain of eyes.

Partially lit by the surrounding flames and quaffs of charged alchemical smoke, the creature sharing likeness with Dante's original form postured aggressively. It then roared at the four onlookers, his bottom jaw splitting at the center opening outwards revealing an impressive collection of serrated fangs. The creature then lifted a huge portion of wooden beam that once supported the roof of the lab, before hurling its flaming expanse at the fearing four. The reach of the flaming beam was ample enough to hit all four, throwing all to the ground from the sheer force. The impact had knocked all unconscious but Merrick was able to watch the quickly blurring creature climb unhindered vertically up the outer wall and into the night before consciousness left him.

Music for this Episode:

Permitting himself to be bound physically, Eadwine focused on restraining his temper. "You'd better not handle that sword; if you take it from me then it is to be delivered to the Lord," he said forcefully to the soldiers binding him. He looked over at Thorgrim being arrested, still covered in whisps of web, and wondered why none of the guards had bothered asking about it. Blasted underlings taking orders from petty bureaucrats!

Once he and Thorgrim were esconsed in the wagon Eadwine permitted himself a moment of physical anger; he kicked out at the bench opposite him (as best he could with his feet bound) and hissed 'blast!' under his breath.

As if Morsel could do anything to prevent Roth doing whatever he felt like!
And what of Dante's illness? It was no normal malady, that was clear. It was important to Van'Tese that they found out what was going on. What if there were more like Dante? Or if he were contagious?

As he began to calm down Eadwine assured himself that he'd acted responsibly. He had not impeded the law, and---contrary to Morsel's beliefs---he didn't believe they were 'poking a sleeping bear'. If there was a bear it was assuredly very much awake! No, he'd simply acted out of respect for Torvus and his fellows.

Eadwine sighed and tried to relax; nothing for him to do but wait it out now.
Hopefully Torvus and the others would come out unscathed.

Waiting in those tense moments Torvus couldn't tell if he was being appraised as a threat or merely being intimidated, but after a short pause and glance from Mannah Roth to the ramparts Torvus was told to follow.

As the trio of Roth's walked ahead of him one of them spoke, and Torvus' feeling that the vanishing female assassins were close proved to be true. The transformation was miraculous, the visage of Roth falling away like as many leaves from a tree, leaving the twins smirking as they left.

Torvus scarcely noticed the inside of the Bastion as his thoughts returned to his brother, he hoped Dante could hold on, he hoped he could be saved. Torvus was drawn from thought when Mannah Roth spoke "Your brother is not ailed by natural illness" to which Torvus reflexively brushed at the webbing still clinging to him. Moving to retreive the water offered to him Torvus was relieved at the statement that the ailment wouldn't kill Dante, and then immediately concerned at the mention of a cursed tree. "I've seen many trees, but none that I would describe as cursed. Is this tree needed for a cure?" He asked hopefully.

Thorgrim took his detainment with dignity, and no amount of haste, he was after all old by even dwarfish standards.

He had faced the Lieutenants rant, but wasn't really listening. He was counting. By the time she was done it was too late, Torvus was free and Thorgrim was satisfied he had done his part to aid his companions escape.

It wasn't until they were in the cart that he began to analyze the girls words.

"Fret not M'boy" he said gingerly to Eadwine. "They do what they think they must. For they are still ruled by fear. Old Redhand may be a Terrorist but you cant deny he is good at being one. The lass is scared and feels the need to do something, because if she realised she could do not anything the fear would break her. And many besides. And Torvus us an elf, and villains the Mandrakes may be but if he trusts his brother with them then he will be fine."

The dwarf raised his voice and said aloud "As for us, Its lord Brightwater who we shall answer too. Let the runes fall where they will and at days end we shall see where we stand."

Mannah paused, needing to respond physically to Torvus' misguided question before giving a verbal response. Mannah continued the conversation in Elven, a supposed condition of their interaction initiated by Torvus in the yard upon greeting.

"No. This 'tree' is not like those you would find yourself surrounded by in a woods of the natural world." Mannah took another sip from his cup and circled the table as if he were stalking Torvus as he moved to retrieve his prepared cup.

"Until recently, the Iron Mandrakes were under the leadership of the one we called Draktharn the Reaper. It was by his leadership, or rather his demand, that those loyal made the pact to the Cursed Tree. In short, the tree is an Abyssal Manifestation, a daemonic axis by which the pledged gain unnatural power. The boon of the cursed tree was powerful, many were ill suited to the so called gifts of the tree and died when the pact was concluded. However, those who were not found wanting became imbued with profane energy, and so the Mandrakes were born." Mannah began to remove his breast plate, loosening the straps and undoing the clasps. The information was detailed, too detailed. Torvus mused that Mannah was once a Mandrake himself. Which lent support to the claims that he was once a warlord that terrorized the Ghenraen Vale.

"The pact of the cursed tree granted many powers but not without consequence. The short of it all is, the pledged would have eight years of unconditional power as bestowed by the tree. However, during the ninth year the pledged's will would be tested. Those found unworthy would slowly transition into a denizen of the Abyss, a spawn of the tree, loosing mind body and soul to its corruption. Those who prove worthy are able to keep their body or mind, in rare cases both but all loose their soul. If your brother is in the condition you describe, he has been found wanting. You must do as i have for the dozens of mandrakes before for him, and the dozens more that will fall here after."

Mannah with his breast plate now removed, was exposed. He wore only a simple linen singlet which did little to cover the scaring that covered every inch of Mannah's body. Seldom few were caused by bouts of war, as one would expect given the quality of the armour he so often wore. No, these scars were deliberate, sigils carved into his flesh belonging to innumerable religions. Entire passages from sacred texts scratched across his arms and back. In addition to this consensual flagellation, Mannah had a coarse burn scar patched across his right eye reaching his upper check bone, forehead and back to his ear. He moved back to the table and spoke again.

"Behead him now before the change is complete. Do not attempt to remedy his condition as any healing practiced only accelerates the transformation. The task of saving the damned is an impossible path, one made more difficult if the pledged has given into the reaping."

Torvus went to query further but almost as if it were timed purposefully, Torvus saw the darkness of the night recoil against the sudden burst of light caused by a distant explosion. The instantaneous burst of light momentarily outlining the monolithic frame of Tudor Towers before the foreboding scene faded back into darkness.

Mannah turned at the sound of the distant eruption, he gaze far reaching looking out across the urban expanse. "I might assume you have reached me too late Torvus. It would seem the nature of your visit has changed just as your brother would have by now. I would amend your original question. You do not need to know how to save him any longer. As i have said, that task is impossible. You now need to know how to kill him."

Adrysse was in an absolute state of shock. She was conscious but she wasn't completely present; she was aware of herself but that was it... She felt light but heavy at the same time; she felt like she was going to regurgitate her whole stomach's contents... Her lungs felt like they were collapsing in on themselves and it was a race as to which was going to burst first; her heart or her brain. She felt conflicted on so many different levels, she still felt that consuming hopelessness, but most of all she could still hear that creatures' voice inside her head, threatening to tear her apart from the inside.

Covering her ears to try and block out the creatures' voice, she hadn't been paying attention to anyone in the room with her. She couldn't hear what they were saying, and she couldn't see who was who and where they were; whether that was because she blinded by her tears or because of something else the priestess wasn't exactly sure, but she didn’t care either, she just wanted the voice to shut up. Clutching her head tighter and sobbing from the pain the voice was creating for her, she was completely oblivious to Merick, who was yelling at Wylliam, and Meryn who was trying to console her.  

For someone who was usually very sensible and could reason with her own mind to process thoughts rationally, Adrysse couldn't even think; the voice consumed everything that was her; her thoughts, feelings, senses. She felt like she was drowning in a big black void; she didn't know up from down, left from right. The only thing that was as strong as the creatures' voice, was the feeling of hopelessness. She didn't know how to fight this creature nor did she want to try to fight this creature; it was too overwhelming... she just wanted silence.  

The priestess felt something new bubble up, something familiar and something she hadn't done since she was little; she wanted to scream. She wanted to let all the overwhelming feelings and sensations she had in her head out; she wanted to scream until her lungs hurt and her throat burned. Just as she felt she couldn't take anymore and wanted to give in to the overwhelming hopelessness, she felt a sharp pain hit her across the back of her head, and then finally silence. Adrysse willingly followed the peace that the unconsciousness brought her.

Thorgrim's analysis seemed sound, so Eadwine began to relax a little. His mind fell to pondering what to do once this mess was resolved, assuming it ever was.

Thorgrim had counted out 100 silver pieces for each of the band. That was enough to pay for one month of Zaccheas' extortion money, but Eadwine would need to keep some for supplies. He'd make sure that at least five and seventy of the pieces found their way to Auskell.

If he managed to keep hold of the sword past tonight he'd need a proper sheath for it too. Some new torches, a dagger frog, reserve money for food & lodgings...

The young scholar shifted uncomfortably, trying to stop his arms from falling asleep. Maybe a bit of sleep wasn't out of the question.

Mannah Roths words hung heavy in the air, according to him the mission to save Dante had not just failed, it had been futile all along. For a moment Torvus could remember the eager look on a young Dante's face as his older brother took him into the wilds, finally considering him old enough to be trained. The hope and determination of a youthful elf turning to frustration and finally annoyance at the difficulties of the wild, and temptation at what might be gained if only you had the resolve to take it.

At first it was small and petty acts, Torvus cleaned up where he could but it got worse, eventually Dante ended up with the Iron Mandrakes. Torvus lost track of him for the better part, but on occasion he would hear news of the Mandrakes, once again he would help survivors if there were any, food and labour mostly; but Torvus held hope for Dante, hope that he could be saved, that he could be brought back. Torvus had hoped that finding Dante again would present another chance to save him, and he wasn't ready to give up.

"No" Torvus put down the goblet, looking upon the scars across Mannah Roths chest "You survived, and from the looks of it you didn't just pass the trials, there was more. So there has to be a way, there has to be something I can do to recover his mind, body and even soul. Isn't that what you want for the Iron Mandrakes?"

Torvus began to pace as his frustration built "You don't seem a fool, so surely you know how they speak of you, your reputation and of course the reputation of the Mandrakes. Surely you didn't slay a tyrant and bring a veritable army of potential 'denizens of the abyss' to the city on a whim. And, while being there for those who have been found wanting, and those who yet will, is admirable, is it enough? There must be more!" Torvus had reached the opposite side of the table from Mannah Roth and was almost shouting, he stared at the elf hoping for something other than resignation or an appology.

Mannah listened on as the young elf before him, a mere fraction of his own age, swelled with determination and defiance. The Iron elf stood expressionless, but he had provoked the wandering wilder and found all he had hoped for.

Mannah let the silence settle, so that passions would simmer to understanding. Torvus could not comprehend the gravity of what he was asking, not yet. Nor would he be prepared for the task Mannah would set before him.

"You are wise not to believe me a fool, Torvus." Mannah turned away from the window. Only by the elven eye could the dim light of the raging fires in the courts of Tudor Towers be seen. Mannah thrust his penetrating stare into Torvus. "You are right though. I have not acted on a whim, and there is...more. Despite your admirable resolve however, your are not prepared for the trials of this task. Though I know the bonds of blood well and I will see you rise to the challenge."

Mannah's words were foreboding, the loomed over Torvus' imagination as it was allowed to run wild in the absence of definition. Mannah stepped purposefully around the table, collecting a blank scroll, along with ink and quill. Mannah stopped in front of Torvus, placing the scroll and scribe tools upon the table. Torvus was suddenly assailed by the Iron Elf's sillage, a definant aroma of religious oils and incense. Mannah spoke, his unnerving presence weighing down of the ranger once more. "Write as I say, wanderer. Speak the words you write before a tree, marked with the symbol of the cursed tree drawn in your blood under a crescent moon. Should you survive this trial, bring me the blood of the provoked denizen and together we shall walk the path of liberation."

As Tovus reached for the quill Mannah lashed out grabbing his hand, his stare unyielding. "But know this Wanderer. Once you start down this road, the only way is forward, and the trials will be treacherous."

**********************************A little way past the East Cross*******************************

The horse drawn prison wagon was moving at a frustrating pace for Thorgrim and Eadwine given their most recent cause. While the elder dwarf seemed content with their efforts this evening, the current predicament was no less than trying for his scholastic comrade.

Despite their frustrations, the two accepted their detainment and as they moved off the East Main, over the East crossing bridge,  and into the lower market districts. At this moment they realised they were afforded a compulsory reprieve from their toils.

************************************ Two Weeks earlier ***************************************

Sitting at a desk was a man wrapped in garbs denoting nobility. To all he had met, he might have appeared unassuming or certainly unremarkable beyond this fact. However, this particular man was anything but, because of his condition. In truth, those who have met him would instead describe him as uncanny or haunting in appearance. This was because the man's visage appeared perfect in every way, symmetrical even. Skin and body pure and free of unsightly blemishes. His hair seemed as if each strand was assigned a position, like soldiers in procession. His teeth and nails, untouched by daily toil and his eyes were wholly milky white and glassy. Despite his appearance, the man was almost certainly human. He was seated in a room canvassed with high reaching book shelves burdened with countless tomes, filled to bursting with a wealth of knowledge.

Upon his desk was a great many notable texts and journals filled with thoughts both scholastic and personal. However, at this moment the man focused on two in particular. The first was written upon a heavy parchment mounted upon two elegant scroll rods. In addition to the decorative illustrated frame baring the mark of Anvil Gate and a seal depicting twin vees, one above the other in a regal blue, over crossed spears, upon a round shield, there was a masterfully penned contract. One most notably signed by Earl Rayne Gothard of Anvil Gate, Ambassador Edrik Bronbar, Mannah Roth, and Hambard Boffig in addition to several others.

In hand, held over the unravelled contractual scroll was a letter with a broken wax seal bearing the now cracked sigil of the Crystalforge clan. The letter was of size and craft designed for transport by raven. Upon it was a message in dwarven. The man, in spite of his perfection, was gripped by sorrow. He placed the dwarven correspondence aside with care before retrieving a blank sheet and his quill. Pressing the ink dipped quill to parchment the man began to scratch his message upon its surface. "My former comrade, and revered member of the Vale Vanguard, Mannah Roth. I regret to inform you, one of our own has fallen..."

Episode Song:

Torvus dilligently copied the verse he would speak, writing in a barstardised mix of Elven and Common and where each language failed him, copying the words phoenetically. He presumed with whatever magic this was that the words would have to be spoken correctly.

Reading over the script Torvus considered his path, and decided that this would be the end, together he and Dante would live or die, and Dante's path would be corrected along with Torvus' failure.

"So, this denizen, do I need to kill it alone or should I gather aid?"

Mannah having wandered during his dictation was now back at the window. He turned from the city's portrait once more and looked Torvus in the eye. "You will most assuredly need help"

"Then I have a warband to gather" Torvus turned to face Mannah "I will return with that which we need, have the lookouts watch for me" Torvus began for the door "I'll return without guards, so if they are present then something is wrong" and with that he left.

Not knowing the fate of Thorgrim or Eadwine Torvus decided to return to the only place he knew he could find allies, Tudor Towers. He only hoped the damage wrought hadn't harmed anyone.

The wagon trundled along loudly upon the cobbled streets, the lack of noise at this time of night causing the sound to appear all the louder.

This night had been quite the mess. Torvus was right to take the risk, and Thorgrim respected him the bond to his family. But his escape had been poorly launched and uncoordinated. Had he waited Thorgrim could have drawn the spotlight and enabled the elf to leave undetected, perhaps then him and Eadwine could have been ready to ferry him back with whatever news he bore out. More time would be wasted this way, and it was something the band were running low on. Thorgrim wondered again if they would all follow him to strike at the heard of the undead horde before completing Adresse's bonding. She would need it done before they went again against the Necromancer, But the assuredly smaller force would have a lesser commander, and the Dwarf had faith that they could take it down, They had to Take it down...

Looking across the wagon Thorgrim saw Eadwine was clearly still frustrated...

"Don't be too worried me' lad. They cannot keep us long, and Despite the Lieutenants protests this can only serve to our advantage and the lords. I've forged many Military Alliances in my day, and i can tell you this is not a Situation for Genrean political stalling. Ally's are best forged in times of trial, and This is as such, if we are right about the connection to the Mandrakes. Helping their boy can only serve well. And more over The lord should want to meet sooner rather than later."

The elderly dwarf leaned in close to Eadwine "The 'Dawns Hand' still has not arrived, but its like as not their on their way. If they arrive then Roth will have a stronger position than can be surmounted. If this is all to go sour then the Lord having an excuse to intervene sooner would lessen the bloodshed, ancestors forbid it come to that with the amount of foes arrayed before us..." Thorgrim looked knowingly at the young human "But that is not what troubles you.. Is it lad?"

After being immensely frustrated Eadwine tried to calm himself by reviewing what he knew of broadsword fencing, but that just reminded him of Milburga, then Charlotte, then the whole blasted mess he was in.

When Thorgrim spoke up calmy and with a stoic assurance Eadwine was left feeling somewhat ashamed. He had been so focused on his own agenda that he had quite managed to overlook the greater situation at hand. Now feeling almost weepy, Eadwine spoke his heart to Thorgrim. Not in a gushy, mushy way; he gave a precise recounting of everything that had happened since he had received news that he was to join the Crusade, leaving out nothing.

Eadwine was careful to keep his voice low enough that the guards could not hear.

"And now, now that I'm finally in a position to make some change---some difference---I find myself blocked by a Lieutenant who can't see past the end of her own nose!" Eadwine chuckled weakly and gave the dwarf a wry smile, recognising the hypocrisy of this complaint. "I'm bound up in events that go far beyond me, Thorgrim. As are you."

Still, Eadwine felt better for having explained himself. At least now he could be calm when brought before the Lord in bonds.

Thorgrim listened to the youth's story as the wagon trundled on. With the greater picture the Dwarf felt he began to understand now.
The boy has great promise. He is like Adresse. he thought to himself Ancestors guide me, if I could only See what Merric's virtue is as well as those two

"Aye lad, That we are." he said aloud. "We need but try do what we feel is right and Trust in the Ancestors plan" At the confused look he got back Thorgrim took a moment to explain, after all the boy had said of himself it seemed only right Thorgrim respond in kind, at least to a part. "My own story is old, and Much to painful to recount without a warm hearth and too much ale. Suffice to say I've lost as much as you have to gain m' boy." the Old Dwarf smiled encouragingly before continuing.

"However, For the lions share of my life I was part of the Clan Temple of the Ancestors. It's akin to your Church, But far less Dogmatic and Far more Philosophical. Ill not bore you with the long of it less you truly want to know, But the short is What you call the Light we refer to as the Will of our Ancestors. I guess it would be apt to say we see the Light as the combined force of all the Good of those who came before us, It is what becomes of a Good Dwarf, Or man, or anyone else When they Pass."

Thorgrim explained how when he was young he had fussed very little over such matters, But after having an accident had retired to the Temple of the Eldars after a time. The temple was entrusted with the Moral and Philosophical raising of Dwarvish children, as well as guardians of Tradition and Hereditary knowledge. He told of how his wounds had left him slow, but he felt gained a great understanding of the Ancestors, or the Light by the human toung as he was beginning to believe.

Suddenly the Wagon stopped some shouting could be heard outside, it seemed they were going thru some portcullis and were closing on their destination.

"By miraculous opportunity my affliction was undone and it was as if i had Awoken from slumber, only to arrive at the End of all Things. I cannot think that it is just an accident that i am Here. I feel deep in the Forge of my Heart that there is a reason for my return, That fate follows me and those around me. Adresse was proof of that, The day i guided her where she found the Ardent Crest. That was no accident chance, Nor do i think was meeting with you, or Torvus, or even that Rouge Merric."

Thorgrim placed a meaty gnarled hand on Eadwines shoulder "We are all of us made of stronger stuff than most, Master Eadwine. And so we shoulder burdens that others cannot. Not because we have to, But because we can. Because saving our worlds goes beyond any one of us."

The Wagon slowed down. "Worry not for your parents Lad. And don't split your pay just yet. Tomorrow ill Set up for one Hundred Silver to be sent to your parents. But not all at once, In smaller packages of Ten to Fifteen at a time, And as cheques to your parents so that it get's to them safely and they ensure payments are accounted. Too much at once and that Bastard will simply extort them further, He will probably try anyway if he hears what's become of you, Champion. We can call it a loan if it makes you feel any better. In the meantime spend that pay gather war-gear to match your new Blade. Hard times are ahead, and we will need to face them well prepared, Follow me in this and i Swear that when the time comes we will end this 'Zaccheas'."

Thorgrim lent in close with a dire expression and said "You do not let a man live, who threatens your family"

Eadwine was deeply relieved: here was a way to satisfy his duties to his family, his Lord and his warband. He had already thrown in his lot with Thorgrim, but now there was a measure of understanding between them too.

He contemplated where he could purchase armour and tried to gauge what he could safely wear.

Now turning more pensive, Eadwine considered Thorgrim's interpretation of the Light. Eadwine was not a religious man, largely because he didn't find the structured doctrine and heirachy of the Church of Light appealing or useful. Their aloofness and unwillingness to enter into Kingdom politics---improving the lot of the common folk---was irritating and seemed, to Eadwine, hupocritical.
He wasn't sure that he entirely supported Thorgrim's 'ancestral good' theology either, but at least it wasn't afraid to get its hands dirty.

As they trundled on, Eadwine's thoughts turned back to Adrysse, Merrick and Torvus. How were they? And was Dante hanging in there?