Elder Moros sat within his secluded room built of the same smoothened wood as that of the training room, dressed in his blue and green robes, he opened his eyes to stare lazily at Tunde and his team as they entered his abode. Cold yet inquisitive eyes watching them as he gestured for them to sit even as they paid their respects to him, the servants and workers of their tiny vessel bustled around the ship, leaving echoes of the footsteps everywhere. Initiates all except for the captain of the vessel being an early ranked disciple, one of the numerous lesser families that served the clan.
Tunde hardly had any conversation with the captain who preferred to be heard than rather seen, even the initiate workers shying away from him once they realized he was a high-ranking disciple of one of the outer families of the clan. It settled wrongly within him, realizing that they viewed him in the same light he viewed the disciples of the clan when he had just arrived, Rhyn being the number one example of that.
Either way, his efforts at attempting to try and shift that image fell on deaf ears, the servants mistaking his efforts to bond with them as straight-out orders, Isolde had shaken her head at his efforts.
“They would rather go unnoticed, no matter what you do, initiates within the sight of disciples have never been a good thing,” she said.
“Think of it like this, if you make an enemy, and they know you have servants or even initiate friends, but they can’t get to you, who’s next?” she asked.
Frowning to himself, he understood her point, and the realization that he was sharing the same vessel as the teacher of the disciple he would face in battle was not something he could take lightly. Calmly watching the elder, Moros produced a silver disc, tapping its surface as white inscriptions blazed to life before the disc gave a faint hum and the familiar features of elder Joran with his white blindfold revealed itself, elder Moros nodding stiffly as Tunde, Isolde, and Draven bowed as well.
“I trust you’re doing well?, no problems?” the cracking voice of elder Joran said in greeting.
Elder Moros sighed predictably.
“None, venerable elder, elder Moros has been of most help through our journey” Tunde replied, glancing at the elder who ignored him.
“State your reason for this call Joran” elder Moros said.
“We draw nearer to the mines; we cannot afford our presence being found” he added.
“With an ego as big as yours, I’m surprised they hadn’t seen you coming from the moment you left Jade Peak” Elder Joran replied as Moros’s gaze seemed to grow cold.
“We do not have time for your antics, state your goal, or I cut off this communication,” Elder Moros said.
Tunde internally wondered why Elder Joran derived such pleasure from taunting Elder Moros, wincing at the fact that the elder might decide to take it out on him and his team in ways he would not see coming.
“Relax Moros, believe me, you’re going to enjoy my next words, not so much for you Tunde” Joran said, growing serious.
That drew Moros’s curiosity as he stared at Joran, Tunde sat straight, a sense of impending trouble looming over him as he nodded.
“The truth is, you three were meant to be decoys, scouts really, the clan expects you all to die at the mines, but die slowly enough that it would buy them enough time to muster the forces of the clan to come down hard on the Corespawns,” he said.
Tunde froze, unsure of what he was hearing, trying to find the hidden meaning in those words but coming up short.
“Pardon me,” Draven said, his voice hard as elder Moros shook himself from his stupor.
“But does the elder mean we were sent here to die?” he asked again.
Tunde glanced at Isolde, seeing she was lost for words, her hands squeezed together in a fist as she seemed to tremble. Tunde took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he waited for the elder to continue.
“Yes, in fact, elder Moros here would not interfere the moment the miners are onboard the vessel, odds are, he’d be happy leaving you all behind, especially you, Tunde” Elder Joran added.
“You dare discuss clan secrets with mere disciples?” Moros growled; eyes alight with his lightning affinity.
“I have the authority and permission of the two lords, calm yourself, Moros, you have disciples watching,” Joran said with a light smile.
Tunde could see the look of smug superiority he had always attributed to elder Joran, wondering what the elder had done.
“Why?” Isolde asked, her voice hardening.
“What crimes could we have possibly committed to warrant such a cruel fate?” she continued.
“Your lives are left in your hands” Moros replied.
“Whether you live or die isn’t as fatal as my fellow elder here would have you believe” he added, gesturing at Joran.
“Oh?, so you’re saying you would come to their rescue when they inevitably fall upon the horde of Corespawns?” he asked.
“What is this madness you’re brewing Joran?” Moros asked, turning his full anger on the elder.
“Why would you place such weight on their shoulders before such a vital mission?, on your disciple no less” he added.
Tunde simply watched the elders discuss, seeing Elder Moros in a new light, it was obvious the elder disliked him, but had Elder Joran painted the other elder in such a light that Tunde didn’t for once considered if the elder was evil as he had assumed he was?.
“Because I’d rather tell them the reality of their situation, both good and bad” Joran replied.
“What good could come out of this?” Draven asked, blurting in as Elder Moros glanced at him, eyes flashing.
Tunde found himself gripped with terror as he genuinely thought the elder would erase Draven from reality, no doubt it might cause irreparable damage to the vessel supposedly meant to return them home, but his first priority would be surviving in the first place. The elder seemed to calm down, Joran clearing his throat before speaking.
“As I was saying, the good part is the fact that I’ve been able to negotiate a sort of reward should you survive, one that you would all be glad to hear of,” he said.
“And what could that be?” Moros asked cautiously.
“a pathway to advancement” he simply said.
“explain” Moros simply said, eyes narrowed.
“Well, seeing as they’re about to walk into unknown dangers, the lords have decided, that should they survive, as bleak as that sounds, house Dark Fist would have the honor of building its base within the area of the mines themselves!” he exclaimed, proud of himself.
The entire room grew silent, elder Joran turning his head as he glanced at them.
“Wow, I expected more happiness from you three,” he said.
“Not Moros though, doubt he ever smiled in his life” he added.
“What could you possibly gain from such an endeavor?” Moros asked.
Tunde wanted to ask the same question as well, the mines were reputably a passageway to the wastelands themselves, one used by the various merchants who landed on Bloodfire instead of passing the long route to the other cities leading to the heartlands of the empire itself.
“Really Moros?, I do understand how the disciples wouldn’t, but you?” he said.
Moros said nothing, simply staring at Joran.
“And what were the terms of such a deal?” he asked.
“Finally,” Joran said sighing.
Then Tunde saw the true visage of the elder he knew, the cold meticulous planner as he listened to every word.
“Disciples of house dark fist, listen well to my words” he started.
Tunde watched Draven and Isolde freeze from their state of hopelessness, somehow the words of the elder cutting through to them.
“Your mission will be as follows, within the limit of three days, you will find those Corespawns, you will do as much damage to whatever they’re doing out there and you will end their threat to the clan” he ordered.
“Whatever means you use is not the clan’s business, the eradication of those Corespawns take precedence, whatever you find along the way is yours, loot-wise and all, no taxes or such” he ordered.
Tunde glanced at Elder Moros who said nothing, watching as Elder Joran spoke, when he finished, he folded his hands.
“If those are the orders of the lords, then we will follow them to the best of our abilities,” Moros said as the communication disc waned, the image of Elder Tunde cutting off.
Elder Moros turned his full attention to them, staring wordlessly for a few seconds before speaking.
“Do any of you have questions about the insane manner of mission your supposed patron just placed on your shoulders?” he asked lightly.
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Tunde glanced at Isolde and Draven who said nothing, perhaps warring with the nature of the mission within them. Isolde raised her hand gently as Elder Moros nodded at her.
“Venerable elder” she started.
“Would it be possible to withdraw from this task?” she asked.
Tunde restrained himself from glancing at her, understanding where she was coming from.
“Oh? Does the lure of advancement not sit well with you?” he asked, Tunde suspected sarcastically.
“Not when I’m not alive to see it” she replied.
“And you?” he asked Draven.
The large ascender glanced at Tunde before shrugging.
“The road to advancement is paved with trials” he replied.
“I’ve been an initiate all my life, suddenly he turns up and I advance to disciple, might as well see if the hegemons’ blessings extend further to my destiny,” he said.
“I see, and you would willingly place your life in the hands of a wastelander?” he asked again.
“Not necessarily, but if it would lead me further along my path then yes” he replied.
“Disciple Isolde,” Moros said as she sat straight.
“Your request has been denied” he responded.
Tunde heard the glee in his voice, elder Moros might not be as evil as he had suspected, but he was petty to his core. He saw the light die out of her eyes as he glanced at her, Isolde turning to him before looking away in shame.
“Your patron has so willingly decided to throw your lives to the proverbial wolves” he continued.
“Something the clan already decided to do,” Tunde said, cutting in.
Elder Moros turned his full gaze on him even as he cycled his Ethra fast, preparing himself for retaliation at cutting off the elder.
“Me striking you would reduce you to a pile of charred meat” Moros sneered.
“So no, I would derive my pleasure in watching you flail about down there in the mines, and maybe, just maybe, when you beg for my help within the mines, I might save your excuse of an existence, wastelander,” he said.
Tunde saw red, but even still, he maintained his breathing, calming himself as the elder taunted him. Nodding satisfactorily to himself, Moros continued.
“We draw ever closer to the mines, this ship will drop you at the borders of the mines where you would need to go in on foot, we, on the other hand, will take the vessel to bombard the mines and rescue the miners or what’s left of them in a flash attack and withdrawing backward to the checkpoint where you now know the bulk of the forces of the clan coming to liberate the mines would gather” Moros explained.
“Pardon me elder, but why don’t the lords simply come and clear up the mess themselves?” Tunde suddenly asked.
Logically, it made no sense to delay things like this, not when the mines were the main source of income for the clan itself. Elder Moros blinked at him like he was stupid.
“You want lords, to deal with at most tier 2 threats?” he asked in a condescending tone.
Tunde swallowed slowly, berating himself inwardly for voicing his concerns like he was talking with Elder Joran, it was another stark reminder that just because he had found favor in the eyes of one elder didn’t mean he would from another no matter how he tried.
“I believe what disciple Tunde is trying to say is- “
“And you believe to correct me as well in my assumption?” Moros said, cutting off an already sullen Isolde who had tried standing up for him.
He bowed stiffly.
“Forgive me, I’m still naïve in the ways of the civilized,” he said softly.
If Elder Moros had been expecting him to apologize, it didn’t reflect on his face, instead, he sighed.
"a few hours into this journey and already I see how this would end in nothing but failure” he replied.
“You may leave, in five minutes we reach the borders, there I leave you to your fate,” he said dismissively.
The three disciples bowed, Isolde hastily leaving to avoid them as Draven stood at his side, the two leaving wordlessly as they returned to their quarters. Closing the doors behind him, Tunde sat on the wooden floor of his small room, a small bed, a wooden desk and the bare walls of his room were his sole companions along with the still constant hum of the vessel itself.
He was an early ranker of the disciple rank despite what his body said, and even as he crossed his legs and closed his eyes, willing his Ethra to cycle continually in preparation for their drop into a territory whose surroundings he had no idea. He felt alone, somehow naked, without the guiding voice of Elyria or the brutal truths of Thorne, he was all alone to chart his path. Opening his eyes a few minutes later as a knock sounded on his door, a servant initiate opening it with a bow.
Nodding, he was up on his feet, swallowing his fears as he moved out, meeting up with a silent Isolde whose one eye looked red-rimmed, Draven on the other hand simply kept a grim look, and the newest addition of a large axe strapped to his back. Together they moved towards the upper deck of the vessel, meeting up with elder Moros who stood there, the winds whipping at his robes as he turned to them.
“Once you land, follow the map provided to you all, and may the hegemons protect you,” he said like he didn’t believe it.
Tunde watched as the sky vessel began to descend through the clouds and unto the brown dusty terrain, sharp-looking rocks and sparse grass littering the entire area, the distance smoking with what Tunde guessed to be the location where the stronghold had once stood. The moment the vessel got close to the ground, he was vaulting off it, Draven and Isolde in tow as the trio landed with a crunch before shooting off with raw speed towards the supposedly hidden entrance of the mines.
It was said to have been abandoned by the clan when its deposit of jade crystals and other minerals had run out, leaving it a husk. Tunde watched as the vessel took to the skies again, pushing deeper into the distance as screeches filled the air, Tunde activated his Ethra sight and watched as large shapes shot for the vessel. He was about to cry out in alarm when from the vessel came flashes of lightning and the booming of thunder, the creatures instantly disintegrating from existence, Tunde staring slack-jawed, smelling the tanginess of the weather like it was about to rain.
********************************
Atop a mountain within the Verdan mine territory, a Corespawn opened his eyes, large wings unfurling as raptor-looking eyes pierced the distance, watching as an entire flock of servant wind griffins were wiped out of existence. Uslog swift talon, tier 2 beast kin flapped his dark brown wings and took to the skies, tearing through the winds like a blade before landing with a gust of wind in front of the large rock structure hastily constructed deep within the mining lands. It would have taken an average tier 2 or disciple as the humans called themselves at least a few minutes to get to the base of the beast kins, it had taken him a few seconds.
His lesser kins, the tier 1, knelt in submission as he passed, knowing better than to stare him in the eye, it would lead to their immediate execution, a firm hand was needed lest they tore their leash. Walking deeper into the structure where the two other tiers 2 stood, watching as their lesser kins finished carving the odd shapes unto the ground, its body glowing pale green.
Uslog had misgivings about the nature of what they were attempting, he’d rather spill the blood of rankers, and take the normal path of advancement for their kinds than this, but then again, if it worked like how Jath promised, then they could usher in a new age for their kind, at least, those who followed Jath in his rebellion. The leader of their horde, Jath black claw turned as his feline ears twitched, their brother at arms, Kurl along with him.
“they’ve arrived, a tier 3 along as well,” Uslog said.
Jath frowned, black claws tapping his jaw.
“That was seemingly fast” he replied.
“Do we withdraw our lesser kins from the mines?” Kurl asked in his deep voice, features hidden behind the retractable stone helm his features were currently hidden under.
If Kurl was the guardian of Jath, not that their leader needed it, then Uslog was his blade, the one their enemies wouldn’t see coming before he struck.
“No, whatever forces they sent, they couldn’t have mustered their powers that quickly” Jath replied, turning fully to him.
“It’s a reaction force, a jerk at our boldness, no doubt here to save what remains of their miners” he continued.
“Let our kins off their leash, and the captured tier one beasts as well, draw the attention of their adept away from the true nature of our work, kill some of the miners as well, those who worked on it, can’t have them spilling to the empire just what we’re doing here” he ordered.
Uslog’s eyes flicked to the glowing carvings on the ground and then back at Jath.
“How long?” he asked softly.
Jath’s eyes faced him in that eerie quiet manner of his, making absolutely no noise, a creature of pure stealth.
“Soon brother, soon, not even the one called king would be able to hold us back any longer,” he said.
Uslog gave a terse nod before turning and taking to the skies, realizing to himself that it wasn’t the wasteland king he was bothered about as he gave a scream that echoed through the skies, towards the direction of the vessel.
**********************
Moros stood before the charred and smoking bodies of the lesser Corespawns he had brought down from the skies, the servant initiates of the house combing through the wreckage of the living quarters of the miners as what few were topside were quickly taken into the vessel. Whatever remained of them beneath the surface would be left to their fates for now, the vessel couldn’t take much of them seeing as it had only come to survey what was left of the mines before the clan brought its true might to bear.
Still, Moros wrinkled his nose in distaste as with a flick of his hand, his blade rings floated around him, eyes turning to the skies and the Corespawns that darkened it, shrieks of raw rage coming from them. They were the equivalent of initiates, simple-minded humans who had taken the lazy part and reaped madness in return, slaves to the feral nature of the beasts they consumed. He had no mercy for them, not after he had seen their work, the bodies of the various miners torn limb from limb, even signs of them being consumed.
His blade rings, four in number, flew upwards as they began to rotate with pure speed, lightning crackling from them as they first gathered the energy before releasing them in bolts of lightning Moros grabbed with his hands, feeling both his heart and nascent forming core resonate with the Ethra forged lightning itself. Able to generate lightning from the natural Ethra in nature that the blades gradually stored, Moros had been gifted the weapon by artificer Iphan himself, forged from the remains of some unknown tier 3 creature.
Making up for the shortcoming of his that would be completed when he advanced to lord rank, dominion, the ability to influence the environment within the ranker’s affinity, turning it to their advantage. Most adepts so far along their rank had stable control of this third technique, Moros though, had been able to maintain his rank as one of the three great adepts of the clan with his implementation of the weapons. It was what secretly irritated him about Joran, the other elder having complete mastery of dominion despite only being a peak adept.
The rumors were that Joran could advance at any time; however, no one knew why he decided to stay as an adept. Moros though could care less as he whipped the lightning around himself, controlling the various bolts with his pure willpower and control of his Ethra, tearing dozens of the Corespawns from the skies above when a particular form tore through the skies, drawing his attention.
Chuckling to himself, he twisted the bolts, nodding appreciatively as his form nearly got vaporized but escaping with the help of his seemingly large wings. Whoever that Corespawn was, he was stronger than the average ones, which meant he was one of their leaders, and with one move, Moros chased after the Corespawn, projectile technique fused with his imbuement lashing lighting through the skies like tentacles, the creature twisting and turning with all the agile grace of one of the numerous sky predators of the wastelands.
He got a good look at the humanoid turn monster as it opened its mouth to unleash some sort of sonic attack. Moros halted from where he vaulted from cliff to cliff, putting space between them even as the creature immediately turned and shot skywards, climbing rapidly before escaping through the clouds, cradling one burnt hand.
Moros tsked, annoyed that he had fallen for the escape trick of the Corespawn before turning back in the direction of the vessel and watching the initiates fight valiantly, the canons of the vessel powered up and blasted the Corespawns that assaulted the construct. Tearing backward towards the vessel, he stored the image of the Corespawn in his mind, he would need to take his wings when they came back to take the mines, it would be a good trophy for his wall.
**********************
Creeping their way through the narrow passage till they got to the entrance of the mines itself, Tunde placed one hand on the sealed rock tunnel, channeling resonance as he disintegrated the rocks to sand, vengeance glowing softly even as he realized with surprise that the weapon even augmented his resonance as well.
“Well, that certainly improves our odds of stealth,” Draven said. As sand poured down the worn stairs.
“The tunnel leads down to the abandoned shaft and living quarters of the miners that once dug this place” Isolde added.
Tunde’s eyes saw clearly down the tunnel, nodding to himself as he turned to the both of them.
“Ready?” he asked.
Draven grabbed the axe from behind his back, Isolde drawing her blades before nodding hesitantly. Tunde was aware of the issue with Isolde, but they were about to begin their journey, now was not the time to bring it up.
“Good, light crystals ready?” he asked again.
“Still sure you don’t need one?” Isolde asked, glancing hesitantly at what was no doubt his glowing eyes.
Tunde turned to the tunnel, staring at the lines of yellow and green Ethra that interwove, lighting up the tunnel for him.
“No, I don’t” he replied before he moved, pushing into the tunnels along with Isolde and Draven, leaving the booming noise of canons and adept Moros behind.