Candii just can't believe how intense and real this situation feels to her. Her friend is in danger, a magical SWAT raid team is gathering intel on the church. Carrie-Anne is so genuinely birdlike and intelligent that Candii had forgotten that the vulture is a summoned familiar. She feels terror pounding in her heart as Moranth receives a messaging spell from Rick. Moranth growls viciously in an ancient tongue, the words (She assumes they are expletives) cause the air to warp and shudder with his rage. The warps cause her to see the colors of whispered doom and taste the vibrant scarlet darkness. Moranth snaps his fingers once, and every person under his command looks right at him. She can’t even tell if the snap is a spell. “Our scouts have engaged. Our grace period is over. In two minutes, we’re breaching with the partial plans we’ve listed so far. Remember, we have three friendlies: A skeleton, a pixie, and a shape-changing bird. For everyone else, I authorize any and all force as necessary but aim to subdue unless attacked. MOVE!” Moranth shouts the last word so loudly that it almost seems like a haste spell hits the whole group. Moranth turns and glares at Candii and Krop. “I may not be able to control that damn pixie, but I can punish his friends to make him miserable. The price for his actions is your displeasure at feeling my displeasure. You’re off the raid and forbidden from the command center. Leave now, you will be summoned after the raid.”
Candii’s gut clenches with horror. Her body forcibly turns to leave, as her guild contract states she must obey lawful orders while under conscription. She cries her objection. “Please no! I just want to make sure they’re alright.” Krop just sighs and walks beside her.
Moranth snorts and makes a cutting motion with his hand. “This is the consequence of Rick’s actions. Be sure that you visit upon him every ounce of your displeasure that you can, for as long as you can. I will punish your party for every misdeed that little monster performs. He’s one of this world's most notorious adventurers. He’s immortal, and more than a little insane. Direct punishments never work. Either leave his group or convince him to behave. Now, get out of my way. I’m trying to save your friends.”
Candii screams with frustration and tries to swallow the knot of fear, outrage, and nausea choking her. Her stylish boots strike sparks from the cobbles as she stomps away.
Three minutes later, Moranth leads three high-level adventuring raid parties into the cathedral of Salvatore’s Service. “Guild raid everyone! We have cause to detain you on suspicion of kidnapping and unauthorized attempts at summoning, among several other charges. Lay down any arms and dismiss all spells. Failure to do so will be met with increasing levels of violence, up to and including deadly force.” Moranth shouts before he takes a breath and continues. “I repeat, this is a sanctioned Guild raid. Surrender and you will be detained pending charges. Resist and risk death. The building is surrounded.” Mages work with fighters and rangers, freezing any who resist in place until their stronger companions can slap restraints on them and push them down. The on-duty priest explodes in apoplectic rage at their invasion of this holy site. He sends a radiant ball of smiting energy into a nearby adventurer, who screams and burns before Moranth brings his hand down toward the priest. With a word, the priest collapses to the ground as if yanked by chains all over his body. The priest can only emit a keening wheeze of agony from his mouth as blood bubbles on his lips before the drops violently fall from his lips and slap the ground with more force than expected. “Clear,” he shouts before another fifty guild members enter to begin processing the arrested clergy. One alchemist administers a potion to the burned adventurer, and he’s back on his feet and standing with his squad.
Moranth nods and begins speaking. “As planned, break into three groups. Squad One, secure the upper floors, squad 2, main floor, and basement. Squad 3 follows me into the secret catacombs. MOVE MOVE MOVE.”
Moranth has always liked this squad. Listed under the guild charter as team Terror-taury, they are, by far, the most unorthodox of his teams. But damn, do they get the job done. The towering female minotaur rampages through walls, doors, and targets alike. Wielding a stylized great hammer with a few tweaks. One side is a big meat tenderizer. A square head with a grid of metal squares that form pyramidal peaks. The other side is a deadly spike with flanges carved into its sides until it creates a star-shaped spike. Her name is Raechon and her every swing either launches her target or punches great holes. He watches with admiration as she does both to one armored man. Her hammer smashes into his legs, causing very unpleasant crackling crunches to accompany his agonized screeching. Then, as he’s flipped horizontally by the force of the blow, the minotaur spins, flipping the maul before punching the point into his still-falling torso. The force of the blow is so powerful that his chest plate collapses into his ribs and the point of her hammer bites through his guts into the stone beneath.
Riding in a harness on her back is a goblin. Compared to her martial mount, this little lady seems a trifle with her stylish goggles and delicate little handheld invention. But she’s possibly even worse. Cackling with glee, she loads strange jars into her–Moranth doesn’t know what to call it. But it launches things so…hand catapult? She loads a fragile little jar and launches it at a clumped-up group, moving to intercept and take down her bullish mount. The jar shatters and releases a soporific mist. All but one fall asleep. Silchen the goblin points at her with her free hand and points in front of Raechon while shouting an incantation. Raechon, hearing Silchen’s words, swings her hammer at the empty air in front of her. There’s the sound of a reality-breaking vrrrwop and the man who resisted the sleeping gas is surprised to find himself face-to-chest plate with Raechon. He has time to blink in surprise before the maul crushes his head like a melon. Following behind those two come three more members of the team.
An angelic-featured man wearing simple robes follows behind. His empty palms are tattooed with a sword balancing a scale with a shield on the backdrop. The marks are the symbol of his Deity. Largos, goddess of order and duty. His face is serene as he walks among the injured captives, muttering a prayer for the fallen and giving last rites to those who died. With brushes of his fingers, he stabilizes the wounded. Not restoring their wounds but preventing them from bleeding out. Vigil walks as if he’s contemplating the teachings of his lord. Scarcely sparing a glance at his fighting allies. Raechon takes a wound, and he glances over and speaks a word. Golden light envelops her and the wounds close. One of the combatants takes that moment to slip past the minotaur and charges Vigil. Vigil points and commands him to hold, and he freezes in place. His horrified eyes are the only part of him that can move as the fourth group member steps up.
This human male is wearing a breastplate and light greaves. He has a long sword and dagger at his hips, a bow in his hand, and a kite shield on his back. He calmly stows his bow, steps forward, and pulls out some manacles. Careful not to touch the frozen figure, he lines up the cuffs to the man’s wrists. The frozen man watches in horror, as the manacles snap closed around his wrists. Suddenly, able to move again, he continues his downward sword stroke, attempting to take down the human who’d manacled his wrists. The human smirks, his almond eyes dancing in his tanned face as he grabs the chain, slightly redirecting and adding his own force to the strike as he steps aside. The man’s sword shatters as it slams into the ground, then the man’s face is mashed into the shattered sword as the human yanks his manacled wrists down and back. Elias grunts in satisfaction as he pulls his dagger and pommel strikes the temple of the fallen templar.
The final member of the squad walks in, covered in leathers and furs. He rubs his mossy beard as he surveys the scene. Kormath’s kind gray features soften his large build and craggy muscles. His amber eyes are calm. On his back is a log. It’s banded with leather and has small holes. A firbolg is a rare sight in these lands. Kormath turns to Moranth and smiles. “Would you like my friends to scout ahead?” Moranth nods. “Alright, my friends, let’s do good work today.” At his words, a swarm of bees erupts from the log on his back. Flying down every hall and checking every door. Kormath looks at Moranth and reaches behind the log. Another group of bees crawls out, working together to carry a small bite of honeycomb still dripping with honey. “My friends say that you seem upset. They wanted you to have this. They still remember the enchantment you laid on their hive to make travel easier. They want you to know that there is always honey for friends of the hive.”
Moranth accepts the honeycomb and pops it in his mouth. It was chewy and sweet. “They have my gratitude, Kormath. And some scouting would be greatly appreciated.” A hive of bees coordinated by a druid can scout massive areas very quickly, and less than a minute passes before Kormath and his bees finish.
“Guild master, there are three major pockets of hostiles down here that we could scout. Two seem to be choke points near sleeping areas. They did not stop my scouts, and there is little of immediate interest behind them. Though, we will have to go through them to get to the last. If I had to guess, then I’d wager that not only is that last group between us and what we’re looking for. But the allies inside are putting up a large resistance. The last group is twenty-strong, and we can’t see past them because they’re trying to burn past a boat of all things. How someone managed to shove a boat down here is beyond me. But it screams ‘Adventurer tactics’ to me. But with all that smoke and so many enemies, my bees couldn’t pass. The smoke alone left them lethargic and crabby.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Moranth snorts. “That does sound like a ‘Rick’ move to me. Sure, let's just throw a three-thousand gold magical boat in the hallway to slow people down. Well, have your squad clear the first two, then we can handle the big group together.”
Kormath salutes, then turns to his fellow teammates. “The guild master has kindly given us the gift of two entire groups of targets to neutralize. I know you all have new designs and techniques to test out. But lives are on the line. You’re allowed to have your fun. But today’s fun has an added requirement, just for an extra challenge. Efficiency is key! The faster and easier your targets drop, the more points you earn! Currently, Vigil is in the lead with a score of seventy-five. Silchen and Raechon are tied for second with scores of fifty! Let’s see if they can even the score. Also, Elias, a score of twenty points is just sad. Have you tried doing better?”
Elias makes an obscene gesture at Kormath before moving into formation. “Go copulate with a tree nature boy. It’s better than your zero.”
Kormath snorts. “I’m the party leader. It’s worth a hundred points just being in charge. Bonuses if we achieve objectives flawlessly, and negatives if preventable mistakes occur. Right now, I’m sitting pretty at one-hundred and fifty.”
“WHAT?” Roars Racheon. “You said Vigil was in the lead due to his job being hiding in the back, stopping people from dying. You liar!”
Kormath shakes his head with disappointment. “Come now, this happens every time. My points only accrue at the end and are a set number. There’s no point paying attention to my score till the end. Plus, my job is to motivate you. Poking you with Vigil’s score makes you more productive. So does lecturing you in this patronizing tone.” He claps his hands as she snorts in outrage. “So, do better! Now, go smash!” He waves her forward with an insouciant flick of his wrist.
“I’m going to imagine every enemy has your smug face as I smash them!” Racheon shouts as she clomps forward.
“Good job motivating yourself! You’re just so cute when you’re angry like that!” says Elias, his tone syrupy.
“RAAAHHHHG!” Shouts Racheon as she charges the next choke point. Silchen screams and curls into a ball on Racheon’s back.
Vigil sighs as he finishes stabilizing a few more. “Please don’t use me as a point of strife. It’s against my beliefs and is dangerously close to a form of violence. None of us want to earn Largos’ disfavor.”
“Noted.” answers Kormath. Team Terror-Taury proceeds to blast through the remaining resistance like an up cast fireball. Kormath smiles as his bees sting faces just in time to cause counters to fail and spells to backfire. He blinks in surprise as Silchen hits a clumped group of three with some magical jar and reality warps. All three vanish with a clap of thunder so loud that the others standing close by clutch their ears and scream through cracked teeth. “What in the hells was that?” he murmured.
Meanwhile, Racheon manages to gore someone on her horn so hard that when she stops, he flies off and crushes two more from the impact of his body alone. Elias’ score still lags behind. But everyone knows he doesn’t care about the contest. He is the glue. He fills the gaps and lets them have their glory. Still, Moranth is impressed once again. This team always gets the job done. Today didn’t disappoint. Moranth glances to his right as Vigil sighs sadly. “Something wrong Vigil?” Asks Moranth.
“I just question the morality of such brutal measures against these people,” Vigil spoke. Gently closing the eyes of a fallen enemy paladin. The boy couldn’t have been over seventeen years old.
Moranth grimaces and nods. “The crimes that their superiors committed carry the death penalty. Impeding us on the execution of our warrant carries the same penalty.”
Vigil frowns. “I doubt these foot soldiers had anything to do with those crimes. I question if they’ve even heard who was raiding their temple. I suspect their superiors just told them to resist against armed invaders. They may even fear we are here just to slaughter everyone.”
“We wear the sigils of the guild. Their glow signifies that we act under local and inter-guild law. They should know at a glance that we are on the side of the city.” Moranth counters.
Vigil shakes his head. “If you’d shown up at my temple and desecrated it with the blood of my fellowship like this, I’d resist you no matter what legal signs you’d born. I can’t fight, but I’d force you to cut me down before I’d let you slaughter so wantonly. Such heresy against our gods is intolerable. Our loyalty is to our lords first and the city second. Such are our oaths.”
Moranth frowns, walking alongside Vigil as he continues his healing work, trailing the vanguard of the raid. “And what of their victims? The crimes of their leaders? Their gods know the rules of this city, of the actions of their faithful. Are we to allow these leaders to hide behind their innocent faithful even as they kidnap and murder other innocents? Are your temples not allowed to form under the knowledge that they must follow the laws of the state?” He sighs as well, rolling up his sleeves as they approach the final and largest pocket of resistance. “I sympathize. But these deaths are not our fault. We did not fail these people. Their gods did when they chose to sanction breaking the law and committing capital crimes. Salvatore’s service may no longer even be welcome in this kingdom, should their actions continue. They may even be labeled as a dark pantheon to be purged on sight should this corruption continue.” Moranth began intricate stances and complex gestures. Pulling a black marble from his robes, even as Vigil throws out shields to protect him from incoming attacks and Elias uses his shield to block even more. “Your gods are powerful and demand obeisance. But they would do well to remember that without the faith of man, their divinity will wither and fade. They are servants and shields as much as lords and shepherds. This is their crime, and these poor souls picked the wrong side.” With that, he starts the spell.
Space bends and creaks as arcane words fall from Moranth’s lips, and everyone’s stomach suddenly feels like concepts such as up and down momentarily lose meaning as the world’s pull begins to shift. The defenders shout in fear as many try to dive away from the ominous epicenter of Moranth’s gaze. This proves to be a fatal mistake for many, as they crash against the ground with many times the force they should have. Several more are crushed by the boat’s remains that they had tried to hide inside for cover. The boat itself is crushed, as if an invisible sea monster had crumpled it in an invisible fist. Fifteen defenders are down. Killed or maimed by his spell. The final five surrender. Their eyes burn with terrified fury at the knowledge that someone had invaded their god’s temple and there was nothing they could do to stop it.
Moranth orders them to stand together to one side and begins to calmly traverse the rubble-filled hall. Behind him, Squad Terror-taury restrains the prisoners. He stops beside the open door. “Attention, this is a guild-sanctioned raid. Please disarm and present yourself for arrest. Resistance will be met with all necessary force. I am guild commander Moranth. If you wish to survive, speak your surrender now.”
“Bonza timing bloke! Nobody alive in here but us guildies–Well I say alive, Julius might not fit that description, but you know what I mean.” Rick calls out merrily.
At his words, Moranth steps inside and pulls something out of his component’s belt. Gently holding it between his fingers. “No living hostiles? No unliving enemies?”
“Nah, mate, just us.”
Moranth chants for a second and the air warps once again. “Then shut the fuck up, you chaotic bundle of idiocy.” He throws the item he held–A small cocoon–at a surprised Rick. His body lights up with a rainbow film that seems to crush his form inward. For a second, he resists fists and feet pushing against the film before he collapses into himself, then balloons back out into a bull-snake that slaps softly against the stone floor. Rick’s snake face looks around in confusion. Visibly disoriented by the sudden change and loss of flight. Finally, he catches sight of his long reptilian body and his head jerks back in surprised alarm. He pauses, and his tongue instinctively flickers to taste the air. A move he obviously didn’t expect, as it causes him to jerk again as tastes he has no words to describe fill his reptilian brain. Finally understanding what has happened, he turns his slitted eyes to Moranth. His gaze is full of reproach. Moranth sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Two centuries of being one of the most powerful men on this planet and one mission with that mad pixie causes me to lash out at him with magic. He might just be the most annoying thing on this plane.” The snake makes a sound that was probably meant to be a scoff but sounded a bit more like a strangled hiss. Moranth looks around, spotting the corpses, damaged guardians, and bits of what looks like disassembled bone with silver inlays. “Where’s Julius and His familiar?”
Moranth looked around in silence, waiting for him to call out. After a few moments, an annoyed hiss regains his attention. “What?” He asks, looking at the glaring snake with ‘innocent’ curiosity.