“No one knows how exactly the First Dark Tide came to be. The ones after though have also unknown origins but the symptoms are far easier to comprehend. What we can gather from historical records is that much like an actual tide, it comes in waves. First, there are minor events, mostly unconnected in nature. Things such as raids, famine, and sickness occur in the distant hinterlands. To most it would seem like coincidence, a spat of unlucky harvest or just misfortune from more active raiders from the fringes of civilizations. But they are all spurred on by something, something that dwells deep past the frigid north and in the blasted blighted lands that stretch into endless wastes. Something there calls to its servants, and like moths to a flame, slowly but surely, the corruption will seep back into our world.
- Gaius Arcantos, Historian, Ambassador to Khazad Undelum, “The Dark Tides: Preparing for the Worst.”
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Rot. Rot was in the air, the ground, even the very essence of life and mana were rotting. It was a sickly, disgusting feeling, of corruption, of darkness. It dredged away at the world as if it had known nothing else, tearing away at the fabrics that bound the land together. It infested souls meant once for the glory of the heavens, only to find themselves be shunted into damnation through no fault of their own. There would only be one way to free these damaged souls from their plight, through holy light and fire. The town would need to be purged to prevent the foul contagion from spreading.
Mila narrowed her eyes at the Harweald, the town’s streets devoid of life, but worse, devoid of the dead. She clenched her teeth at that observation, her scowl turning into one tinged with concern. If they didn't get slaughtered in the streets, then the orcs were never in here. And if the orcs weren’t there and the villagers aren’t outside… She sighed, a disappointed scowl overtaking her face. Then they must fear the light judging by the sunlight still shining through, and if they fear the light then… they might be too far gone to be saved.
Ash too noticed the stench of decay and corruption, his nose wrinkled in disgust as she tried to whine against Mila’s orders.
“C’mon, just a little more. Then we’ll get the hells out.” Mila cooed.
Ash blew his nose and resolutely shook his head but still prepared to move. Mila noticed his motions and smiled, loyal and dependable. They would be safe from the corruption, her wards would make sure of that. Though it would only hold back more basic forms of the darkness. If the corruption was more powerful, more malevolent, even she wasn’t sure her wards would hold.
Now however, she had already begun understanding the motives and strangeness behind everything. The orcs were building palisades but not siege engines because they were going to quarantine the town. The oppressive atmosphere came from the fields, the ground, and the air that was polluted by corruption. What fresh air remained hung heavy against the onslaught of darkness that threatened to overwhelm it. The fields too showed noticeably more decay the closer she got to the town itself.
Rows upon rows of unharvested crops, all wilting and blackened, with sickly vomit coloured liquids leaking out of their breached shells welcomed her approach. The fences that once kept predators at bay were also rotted and foul, the wood creaking under its own weight. Soil that once could support life now only belched out whatever blackened bile had infested the earth, the tar-like liquids leaving a goopy viscous trail from the pustules in the ground. We’d need to purify this entire area. She muttered a few prayers and spurred Ash along, the horse letting out a final dissenting nay before he finally began trotting forward. Mila knew he was concerned, for the closer they got, the worse the situation was going to be. Not only that, but Ash wouldn’t be able to gallop as easily and in turn it would make any exfiltration for more difficult. Just hang on buddy.
Plans always failed, and the one she and Annalise had come up with needed to be scraped. No longer could they simply retreat back towards Fernsreach or other twos. They had to reach the inquisition as soon as possible and alert the others of this growing pestilence. Oh fuck, if Annalise was exposed to this. She gripped Ash’s reins tightly and the horse tensed up at once, his instinctual reaction to his rider’s frustration clearly felt.
“Hyah.” She spurred him forward and his trot turned into a half canter half gallop as they raced towards the town.
Her mind grew foggy from recollecting the lessons she learned. Reviewing the teachings of the church as she sorted through them at a dizzying pace. They had trained all inquisitors to recognise the dangers of corruption, the signs of its manifestation and the ever present Dark. She had hoped her lessons would mostly remain just that, lessons, but it seems as if that would change soon enough. The closer they drew to the town the more clearly she began to understand her predicament.
For, unlike the undead or supernatural abominations that required rituals or active magics to raise or sustain, blight touched creatures barely needed such, asides from the foul darkness that first awakened them. If the undead were the souls that had been forcefully dragged into mortal shells to serve an insidious master, then the blight touched would be souls that had become imprisoned by a corrupted host. Like the town houses that lost their color, the once lively buildings sat silent and crumbling as every part of it began to rot away leaving naught but rubble behind. The residents were more than likely also decaying within the quiet facades of their dwellings.
The Putrid Dwellers as they were colloquially known, or ‘Those who dwell in decay’ are unlike shamblers or zombies in that they are still very much people. No necromantic magics powered their limbs. Thus when one gets battered, it breaks just like a normal human. Technically, they were still people, though the inquisition purges them all the same. For it is not their soul that was dragged back, only the flesh was corrupted and through that, the victim would eventually lose all sense of control as the body surrenders to the corruption. First, hideous boils and blackened pustules begin forming on a victims skin, then lesions bleed corrupted blood, finally the host is set onto a path of eternal hunger. Nothing more than a creature left to consume anything and everything. Once at that stage, they would roam around endlessly, seeking out their next morsel before eventually decaying; their rotted, weakened bodies giving way without enough sustenance. They were like some soulless automaton. Except the whole time, the person that once controlled the body would still feel and hear what happened, maybe even see if the eyes weren’t rotted off. All while they were unable to react.
It was a horrifying thing and Mila grimaced at the thought of losing control of herself. Banish such doubt, we have a task at hand. Foul air whipped at her face as they raced into the town proper, the once dour but still joyful atmosphere was now reduced to nothing but a sickly ruin. The sun thankfully still pierced through the thickening layer of tainted air that hung above the town, the light keeping the dwellers confined to the darkness. Many houses were also being physically warped as diseased pustules and blackened veins burst through their walls, hungrily lashing out at anything that passed by, friend or foe. Squelchy little blobs of diseased flesh also now lingered upon the road, their disquieting noises when popped making her flinch every time Ash rode over one.
The once clear roads now felt like an alien environment, their windy bends and turns like gnarled arteries pumping out corruption from the the diseased pustules. A few bodies were also scattered about, the lucky few who were torn apart piece by piece and perished well before now. They had been picked clean, few scraps of flesh remaining on their mouldy bones, their blood having been transformed into some strange fleshy gelatinous substance that inhabited the ground where they fell. To Mila, the eerily empty streets were much like Melisgrad, the residents biding their time and hiding inside dark alcoves awaiting the sun’s departure. A little too similar. Could it be? That this is some testing ground for a pathogen or parasite? The pustules and corrupted matter are a definite sign of the Dark, but we’ve had occasional outbreaks before just from accidental unearthing of buried evils. This feels different than that, almost as if they were deliberately targeted. If only I could ask how the orcs are already quarantining this place, they must know something.
She slowed her breathing and cleared her mind, trying her best to lower her exposure to the corruption. But the unnerving sounds of low groans and creaking of wood as Ash’s heavy presence had alerted the remaining residents. They would have to be careful. In the recesses of hollowed and decaying buildings, she could see the sickly yellow eyes of countless townspeople, their diseased mangled forms languidly shuffling about, their eyes burning with the unceasing hunger of the corruption in their veins. The stench too grew foul. Soul, death and decay intertwined in equal measure to birth a disgusting scent that overwhelmed much of her control. Mila coughed quietly into her arm, minimising her noise and spurred Ash along, the horse’s face twisted into his own version of disgust.
They powered through the streets and Mila recognised the square in which the tavern sat in, a sole pained horse hitched outside. The ranger’s. The square itself was nothing more than another sign of the corruption, the buildings that once stood proudly there having been reduced to sickly husks of their former selves. Within this once busy area too were countless dwellers, all silently swaying in place, all turned to her. The gaze of dozens bought a small shiver to run down her spine, but she had more pressing concerning. She muttered a soft prayer and dismounted, rushing over towards the tavern when something large slammed into her.
Pain bursted from her shoulder and she felt herself crashing to the ground as the unexpected force threw her backwards. Fuck! Ash neighed in concern as Mila unwittingly let out a cry of agony. She turned her head to find an arrow shallowly embedded into her shoulder, an expertly calculated shot. Her eyes widened at the sight, at the thought of what had happened when the doors to the tavern flew open. Betrayal, I’ve been betrayed. A bow dropped to the ground as the ranger staggered out, trying her best to support a malformed humanoid. Kimmie, shit.
The tavern maid was covered in lesions, boils and strange scars as she lurched forward, held back only by the ranger from falling. Even from where she was, Mila could see the tavern maid’s weakened breathing, the life struggling to remain inside her decaying body. Blackened veins pulsed within her and her eyes were almost glued shut with corrupted ichor, parts of her skin were flaking off and her legs were twitching uncontrollable. Annalise on the other hand scared Mila. The ranger’s eyes had hints of madness and insanity within them, Mila’s eyes meeting Annalise’s and finding little comfort from what she saw.
“You…” Mila grunted, slowly picking herself off the ground.
“Don’t try to stop me.” Annalise growled absently.
“Nooo… stop…. “ Kimmie gurgled, trying futilely to stop the ranger, “She… she…”
“Ranger what are you doing?” Mila snarled.
“We’re getting out of here. Getting out. And you’re not stopping us.” Annalise screamed.
“Listen Ranger, I know you’re emotional about this but-”
“Don’t start, don’t try to stop me. I’ll… I’ll shoot you again.”
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“Ranger…”
“No! No! I’m not losing everyone again, I’m not losing. No. No!”
“Annalise!”
“Don’t you dare, I know what your types are like. You’d sooner kill all of them before even trying to look for a cure, before you even… even…”
“Listen, we can’t let this spread we can’t allow this outside of the town. We’d risk an outbreak and the fate of the realm. Focus, Anna. Please.” Mila pleaded.
Annalise gave her a sad yet intense stare, the ranger just shuddering in place. Kimmie looked more than on the edge of death, yet the ranger dragged her along nonetheless, hoisting her onto their mount. She's lost her saint damned mind.
Ash nervously nuzzled the back of Mila’s head and she tapped his nose, trying to calm the horse. Mila gritted through the pain and yanked the arrow out of her shoulder, her mouth unwittingly letting out a howl of pain that startled even Ash. In an attempt to distract herself, she turned her gaze to the tavern. What she saw within was a mess of bubbling fleshy pustules and bloodied body parts, the ranger having evidently done some exterminating before Mila had arrived.
“Ranger…” Mila groaned, “Think about what you’re doing. At least with the inquisition… we-we could treat her or at least keep her quarantined, if you just take her out like this-”
“She’s dying Mila, she has no time. I have no time. I must. I must save my friend, must save my love, my everything.” Annalise chuckled darkly, her eyes unfocused and distant. She's losing it.
“But think about your friends, the others. Sophie and-”
“They’d understand, Sophie would understand. She’s lonely, lonely like me, so lonely.” Annalise muttered.
“Anna…”
Annalise ignored her pleas and the ranger mounted her horse, the animal giving off a disgruntled neigh before submitting to the ranger and her diseased companion.
“You’re making a mistake.” Mila yelled to no avail.
The ranger mounted up and hurried her mount along, carrying with her Kimmie’s battered form. Fuck.
Mila pulled herself up and to her dismay found the residents of the town gradually filtering out of their houses. Goddess help me. She stood, frozen in confusion at the rapid escalation of events and filtered out the one truth that she had been able to acknowledge. Annalise had taken Kimmie, an infected and diseased townsperson away and was now on her way out of Harweald. In a panic, Mila scrambled to her feet and grabbed onto Ash, half clambering up the mount and quickly trying to spur him along.
“After her… after her!” Mila yelled.
Ash dithered for a moment of too, wondering if his rider would right herself before he jumped into a gallop and raced after the ranger. Mila half dangled off the horse as they gave chase, wincing as she threw all her effort into righting herself and dragged herself upright through great effort. The sun was thankfully still on her side and the dwellers remained inside, though not for much longer as they screeched and hollered at the sudden noise that erupted from her confrontation with Anna. Guttural groans and screams echoed all throughout the town and for a brief moment Mila could swear she could hear the same screams that rang throughout her home, the same suffering that was visited upon them so many years ago.
Ash was thankfully just as afraid and required no motivation to get them out of the city, powering past pustules, streets and houses with ease. Mila was thankful for his company and even more grateful for his steady nerves. Mila allowed herself a moment of respite, taking a few steady breaths to calm her own frayed nerves. Given the slight clarity, she quickly drew a sigil above herself and prepared herself for the pain to come.
“Freings.” She spoke.
Fire flared up where the sigil was and Mila grimaced as tainted mana was purged to create cleansed mana, the process drawing even more of her normal energy than usual spell casting. Reluctantly, she moved the fire close to her and screamed in pain as she seared the outside of her open wound, making sure to purge any impurities that might have snaked their way onto her body in the time she spent in pain on the ground. Sweat evaporated and blood almost boiled before she was satisfied with the process, the pain almost sending her into unconsciousness. Tired, broken, and in agony, Mila could barely focus on their chase until loud war horns sounded from outposts around the basin.
Her eyes turned to find figures pushing their wargs forward after something that dashed into the treeline. Shit, she’s getting away. She pushed Ash along and the two finally broke free from the boundaries of the town, making their way into the open fields outside which also opened them up to be spotted by the orcs.
Her attention was then turned to several oncoming riders, their muscular wargs maintained a short distance away from her as they moved to block her path. Crap, this is it then. Damn, damn, dammit it all.
The orcs held their distance as the riders chasing Annalise also disappeared into the treeline. Seeing this, Mila leaned into Ash and let herself slump over the horse, slowing him down to a canter as a few orcish riders made their approach.
“Halt now!” A heavy voice bellowed.
Mila defeatedly sighed and slowed Ash to a trot, but keeping her hands on his reins in case she spotted a chance for a quick getaway.
“I… I mean no harm.” Mila stammered out, suddenly exhausted.
“Halt now human.” The orc roared as he approached.
Mila offered little resistance and just looked tiredly at the orc, the large muscular brute donning heavy iron war plates and helmet, his warg also oversized and protected.
“There is no leaving this town.” He declared, “Return to your home.”
“I…” Mila paused, running her tongue over her now dried lips, “I come in the name of the holy inquisition of Astralis, I… I need your help.”
The orc stared at her before he turned to his surrounding riders and they all burst out laughing.
“Oh holy inquisitor,” The large orc mocked, “however shall we help.” He snorted.
Mila felt a small fire burn within her at the insult and sat up straighter, her tiredness pushed aside to more appropriately confront the blasphemer.
“This town is condemned to the plague and must be purged. For that I need your help in prevent the outbreak from spreading further.”
“Oh? And what reason do we have to listen to a frail little waif like you? To believe you.”
“I see that you’re setting up a quarantine, but unless you purify the land in front of the walls then-”
“Then the darkness will spread. We know.” The orc growled, suddenly a lot more serious, “We are not simple minded idiots.”
“I never implied that,” Mila began and winced from the wound, “But, I can tell you know what you’re doing here. That’s not the problem. It’s just that…”
“That?”
“That before coming here, I was a part of a caravan. We thought you were sieging the town so we sent them out to call for help.”
That made the orc scowl and his gaze turned hostile, casting an accusatory look at her.
“I know. My mistake. But I want to make up for that and to beseech you for help.”
“Go on.”
“The rider that made it out, she… she was carrying an infected person. She wanted to save her and is refusing to listen to reason. I need to stop her, we… need to stop her if we don’t want this to spread further.”
“Heh, and what makes you think we’ll help you.” The orc snorted.
“Because you’re making this quarantine.”
“So?”
“It means you’ve experienced this before, that you’ve had to deal with this plague.”
The orc grew silent and gazed at her, his hostile expression turning to a serious one tinged with doubt. But, also with a hint of curiosity now entering his eye.
“And what if we have?”
“Then you know how dangerous it is. And… considering your sudden arrival I take it you’re fleeing something.”
The orc rolled his eyes and sighed, “This is why I hate humans, so nosy and observant sometimes.” He gestured at the basin around them, “You are correct, my tribe has fled over the Frostwinds, now there’s a only a few of us who remain.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because our home is inhospitable? Hostile to life?”
“No, why are you here? Now?”
He snorted once more and pounded a gauntleted fist into his chest, “Mighty Ezkul demanded we subject ourselves to his Gods, his teachings, his demons. We resisted.”
“Mighty Ezkul?”
“Hah, of course the humans would forget his name. Mighty Ezkul, high warchief of the orcish clans, greatest protector of the clans, defiler of humanity…”
“And?”
“And now ruiner of our people.” He finished with a snarl.
The dots connected within Mila’s head and she nodded, “The outbreak is his doing isn’t it?”
“Too observant.” The orc hissed.
Mila turned to look at the cursed town then back at the treeline. The inquisition had a duty and she would preform it however she could. “Do your rituals work?”
“Ritual?”
“To hold the corruption back.”
“Yes.” He snorted derisively.
“Then do what you can and here,” Mila rifled through her bags, drawing some wary glares from the nearby orcs until she pulled out a small sheaf of paper, “take this.” She held it in front of her.
“What is that?” The orc asked, jumping off his warg and landing with a heavy thud.
“A letter, but the design is etched there.”
“Design?”
“I want to cut a deal, I’ll offer protection to your tribe, you maintain this quarantine until help arrives.”
“And how would you do that?” He snorted.
She wiggled the paper again, “The design, have your tribe paint them on the palisade walls. If any Goddess fearing people stop by they’ll recognize it, mark of the Inquisition, should stop any rash actions anyways. Don’t know about Meltonian heretics though.”
“And are we not heretics?” The orc growled, but moved forward warily to grab the paper.
“You are, but I’d rather stop an outbreak however I can, before I judge you for your Gods. No way to convert you if we’re all dead.” Mila grunted.
The orc responded with a grunt of his own and handed the paper to another rider, trading a series of guttural orcish grunts as they spoke in a different language. Mila waited whilst they chatted and he turned back to look at her.
“And what is the sacrifice we must make for this? Humans never trade things for free.”
“I just need a few riders to back me up as I chase the escaped rider down. The outbreak must be halted at all cost.”
The orc burst out with a loud hearty laugh and grinned. “Hah! Is that all? Fine!” He bellowed, “Have those four assist this strange human, and make sure they obey.” He followed up with a threatening growl.
His assistant tapped his fist on his chest and rode to the other riders who were hanging back. Mila could see the exact moment the information was fully revealed as they all let out expressions of confusion and exasperation.
“And how do we know you’re not infected yourself?” The orc leader spoke once more.
MIla silently sketched out a sigil and the orc nodded.
“A mage, should have figured.”
The two of them looked at each other for a minute before they traded nods, the inquisitor and orc having come to a silent accord.
"Go now, my honor guard will assist you themselves. Of betrayal have no worry. They are loyal to a fault." The orc grunted.
"Thank you." Mila replied, "You don't know-"
"Save your platitudes for if we meet again. If you ever end up near Red Fist territory, then we will speak again."
Mila looked at his fists and found that indeed, his gauntlets were painted red. The riders around him too had red paint on their knuckles. Relieved, unsure but a little more calm at having reached an accord she let out a deep sigh.
"Inquisitor Mila." She stated.
"Warchief Drashank." He replied after a beat.
"Until we meet again."
"Until then."
She spurred Ash forward, the horse letting out a soft hiss when he passed the wargs. The four honour guards in the distance gradually moving in and assumed positions around her flanks, warily keeping a safe distance just in case she was infected in someway. A sensible action. She sighed once more. Dammit Annalise, what the hells did you just do?